#she didn't seem to love him all that much

[mariasont]

hi pookie! <3

i loved loved loved the recent lipgloss fic! could you write smth about perfume? like bimbo! reader smells sweet asf and all of a sudden reid (or hotch) comes into the office smelling suspiciously sweet

tytyty!! <333

Suspiciously Sweet - S.R

a/n: hiiiiiii pookie!!!!!!! thank u so much for requesting i loved this lololol

masterlist

pairings: spencer reid x bimbo!receptionist!reader

warnings: fluffiest fluff, established relationship, spencer's relationship almost being exposed, hotch saving his ass, hotch hinting to having a secret girlfriend (aka my girl bimbo!assistant)

wc: 1.3k

You had a very distinct scent. This wasn't a bad thing, no, far from it. It was sweet and intoxicating, it reminded him of ripe peaches in the height of summer and cherries soaked in syrup, with a hint of something citrusy that reminded him of lazy afternoons in the sun. Was that too poetic? Spencer wasn't sure.

He noticed it everywhere. In the office, where it announced your arrival before you said a word. He noticed it at home. His pillows, his sheets, even the collar of the sweater you'd borrowed once—it was all steeped in the same honeyed scent that lingered after you left his bed, as if you were something he couldn't wash away—not that he wanted to.

This was why Spencer had started sleeping in on weekends when you stayed over. It wasn't laziness—not exactly—but how could he resist staying wrapped up in the thing that reminded him most of you?

Especially on those mornings when you were still half-asleep and clingy, burrowing into him with sleepy little hums, like you were trying to fuse yourselves together, and somehow, it worked. Your scent didn't just stick to his things, it stuck to him, sinking into his skin and leaving him a little dazed by the time you finally rolled out of bed.

Sure, he could rationalize it with some scientific explanation about heat transfer, molecules, or something equally clinical. But science (and he hated to admit this) didn’t account for how it made him feel.

Unfortunately, those feelings, didn't do him any good when one of those slow mornings he was becoming so fond of turned into an emergency call from Hotch about a case.

Now, he found himself here, hunched over the impossibly small sink in the jet's cramped bathroom, scrubbing his hands raw for what felt like fortieth time today. The scent wouldn't budge. It was as though it had soaked into his skin. He knew it was his fault—he couldn't seem to stop his hands from roaming across every inch of your body morning.

It wasn't that he minded smelling like you, but focusing on case details and running probability algorithms became infinitely harder when every breath reminded him of how tightly you had wrapped yourself around him just hours before.

He let out a bated breath, shutting off the sink before pushing his way into the main cabin of the jet. He found his way to his favorite seat, third back on the left side, which happened to be located far enough from the engines to minimize auditory distractions.

Morgan looked up, sniffing once as Spencer slid by. "Man, I don't know what it is, but something smells good in here."

Spencer tensed, his stomach dropping. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, and he fought the urge to whip around. Surely it wasn't that strong. It couldn't be.

Rossi glanced up from his crossword, brows furrowing.

“Huh. I was thinking the same thing. It’s faint, but it’s nice. Like fruit or… maybe something floral?” Rossi’s nose wrinkled as he added, “Certainly an improvement over Morgan’s cologne.”

Spencer ducked his head so fast it could've looked like a nod, his cheeks burning as he avoided everyone's gaze.

JJ came out of the coffee area moments later, glancing at the case file in her hand as she passed him. She stopped abruptly, sniffed the air, then frowned.

"Wow, Spence, you smell really good. Did you finally cave and buy cologne?"

Spencer blinked up at her, every ounce of blood in his body rushing to his face.

"Uh, no," he said flatly, trying to mask the embarrassment. "I suppose I woke up smelling like this."

Technically not a lie.

He was acutely aware of everyone's eyes on him. Emily tilted her head, brow furrowing before a wide grin spread across her face. Not a good sign, he concluded.

"Wait a second," she said, pointing at Spencer. "That smells exactly like outside of Cruz's office. I pass it all the time."

Spencer cleared his throat, his fingers tightening around the armrests as his mind scrambled for an explanation—any explanation—to divert their growing attention. He could practically feel the walls closing in on him. He was doomed. This was it.

Spencer’s pulse was thundering in his ears, his face still flushed, when Hotch finally set down his pen.

For a second, Spencer braced himself for the worst, the horrifying moment when even Hotch would add to his scrutiny.

"That smell? It's the same hand sanitizer Cruz keeps in his office. He offered it to me after a meeting—probably the same stuff Spencer borrowed when he spilled his coffee this morning."

Spencer looked to Hotch, mouth opening and closing before nodding as if in agreement. "Yeah, that's... probably it."

The rest of the ride passed, to Spencer’s immense relief, without further incident. Morgan gave him a few odd looks now and then, but Spencer was too preoccupied, his thoughts spinning as he tried to figure out why Hotch had saved his ass.

When the last of the team finally stepped off the plane, Spencer hung back, letting the others pass. Hotch did too, falling in step beside him. His pace was slower than usual, his gaze fixed forward, but when he spoke, his voice was loud enough for Spencer to hear.

"Word of advice, Reid—next time, carry mints and a travel sized bottle of something unscented. You'd be surprised how much that helps."

Spencer’s head whipped around, his face going a deep shade of red. Hotch, meanwhile, kept walking, his expression completely neutral, as though he hadn’t said anything at all.

—

"He said what?"

You were laughing uncontrollably, the kind of laugh that made your shoulders shake and left you gasping for air, your hands grabbing him for balance. Rollers filled your hair—a ritual you'd patiently explained to him before—and loose wisps curled around your face. And your smile, well, he was perfectly certain it was the prettiest he'd ever seen you.

"Yup," Spencer confirmed, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

You froze mid-giggle, eyes narrowing.

"Wait, wait, wait—how does he know that? Is Hotch speaking from experience or something?" You blinked, then gasped dramatically. "Oh my gosh, what if Hotch has, like, a secret girlfriend? What if it's someone at the BAU? What if it's Garcia?"

"It's not Garcia, and it's definitely not a secret." Spencer raised an eyebrow, glancing at you as if the answer was obvious. "Hotch has been dating his assistant for years. He thinks it's some big secret, but it's... not. He picks her up lunch at least twice a week, and his closed-door meetings with her? Not as inconspicuous as he thinks."

You gasped, practically bouncing in place as you grabbed Spencer's sleeve. "Shut up! I didn't know that! I love her clothes. Do you think she'd tell me where she shops? That red skirt she wore the other day was everything."

“You don’t need any more skirts,” Spencer said, his fingers finding the sensitive spot between your hip and ribs, pinching just enough to make you squirm on the countertop. “If your closet gets any fuller, you’re going to have to rent out a second apartment just for storage.”

You giggled, tightening your legs around him and clinging to him like a koala, your arms looped snugly around his neck.

"That's why I have your apartment," you said, sticking out your tongue. "Plenty of space for my skirts, and you get to see me model them. Win-win."

"When you put in like that, it's kind of hard to say no."

He leaned in as he spoke, his lips brushing against yours softly at first, teasing and testing, like a flicker of fire before it catches. You giggled into the kiss, your laughter blending into his smile. The kiss deepened, honey-slow and sweet, golden warmth spreading through his chest as you pressed closer, closing every last bit of distance between you.

When you pulled back, his lips still tingling, you grinned. "Wow, you really do smell like me."

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[perfumedanger]

I KNOW this has to have been explored in about 12,000 fics already, but sometimes I wonder how much of Dean's love for Mary is Jane Seymour style in as that she just didn't live long enough to fuck up his idea of her. What would their relationship in the now be if, when she heard wee baby Sam crying, she'd gotten out of bed and realized she had to pee REALLY badly and took two minutes to take care of that first, thus missing the demon and her untimely fiery death? Now she gets to live and Sam and Dean get to grow up with a mom.

Does she eventually get dragged back into hunting, since hunters never retire, they just die, and thus the boys get pulled in as well, no matter how much she might not have wanted that?

Does she manage to shield them from that aspect of her life, so mom just comes home beat to shit every now and then, and gets to be the parent that misses all Dean's baseball games and Sam's mathlete competitions?

Do her and John stay together now that their job making apocalypse vessels is done? (things seemed like they were getting rocky while she was preggo with Sam)

Or maybe they just have the world's most white bread, suburban life ever recorded. Bake sales, braces, teaching Dean to drive the wood paneled station wagon, sending Sam to summer science camp. Everything is perfect and picket fences. ...and then Sam gets snatched off to Apocalypse boot camp in Cold Oak and gets double plus killed to shit because he doesn't know anything about demons or hunting things or carrying anything heavier than box of vegetable oil from his teenage parttime job at the local grocery store. And Dean sure as shit has never heard of a crossroads demon, so he can't wander off and make a deal to get Sam back. So now Sam is dead and Mary gets to decide if she's going to come clean about the whole demon deal/hunter thing, and make Dean fucking HATE HER for leaving them unprepared for what was coming and thus being DIRECTLY responsible for Sam DYING, or if she's going to stay quiet and hope that it never comes out and makes Dean hate her for all of the above AND keeping him in the dark about everything.

And sometimes I wonder if I think too much about how things COULD have gone if they just changed this one little thing. Or that thing. Or maybe this other one.......

fucking dean winchester who reads kurt vonnegut and harper lee and can shoot a gun with the best of them and knows how to talk to kids and doesn’t trust easily but loves fiercely and is the best damn hunter the world has ever seen and drinks too much because he cares too much and makes the greatest homemade burgers and keeps a photo of his mother by his bed and ugh.

[rosenclaws]

Can you write about flat!reader x any Logan, where she is insecure of basically having no tits (like me) so she wants to keep a shirt on during sex and stuff and Logan notices and stuff lol

warnings: SMUT, MINORS DNI, fem!reader, dirty talk, mirror sex, doggy style, creampie, insecurity, the reader says self deprecating things about themselves, light choking, breast play

a/n: YES YES, I'm flat as fuck and I am super self conscious about them. These mfs look like mosquito bites on god. (I hate them so much bro just let me get some work done PLZ) Anyways Im doing this with Worst Logan bc I love him. Anyways.

Sometimes it was hard dating a man like Logan. It wasn't hard to love him, no not at all. Even with the baggage he claimed to have come with, it wasn't hard to deal with the nightmares or the moments of deep loathing and insecurity. You loved him and because of that being able to help him through it all was easy.

What was hard was dating a man who was over 200 years old and looked like a Greek fucking god.

The first time you ever saw Logan without his shirt was when you were visiting Wade. Logan walked out in nothing but pajama pants. You shamelessly eye-fucked the man before you. He was ripped. Strong arms, a six pack, big thighs, and a handsome face. Even after you started dating and managed to get him on a diet that was more than whiskey and cigars he was still unbelievably hot. You should feel lucky to have a man like that worship you and you love and appreciate him to death. The problem is that you felt like you couldn't compare.

Logan loves you and you know he does but when you're looking in the mirror you can't help but notice you're lacking in one specific area. Your boobs. You were flat and the world seemed to never let you forget it.

Cute tops you could never wear because your chest couldn't keep them up. Jokes about being flat as a board. You couldn't even hold them in your hands. You hated them. Logan never said anything about them but you were always too afraid to bring it up.

So you sat in this limbo of deep insecurity.

"Sweetheart? You still in there?" Logans muffled voice comes from behind the bathroom door.

Shit you didn't mean to be here for so long. A shower had turned into staring at the mirror. You covered them in your hands, pushing them together and huffing when they just looked sad. The events from earlier in the night replaying over in your head.

Ever since Logan showed up in the universe he had garnered some attention. The Wolverine was hard to hide. People would point and whisper whenever they saw him. Gossip about who he was and why he was here. It was all pointless to Logan. Still in the bathroom of the bar you managed to catch a conversation.

Two beautiful women talking about your boyfriend and how badly they wanted him. Talking about flirting with him and taking him home. It just hurt a little. Sure Logan could care less about anyone's advances but yours but they had truly gotten into your head.

Would Logan want someone who had...better assets?

Would he want a woman who's breasts he could hold, squeeze, rest his head on? It was silly but they were the one thing that you honestly just didn't like about yourself so it was hard to think logically about it.

"I'm coming in." Logan's voice calls again. You curse quietly as you scramble to get a shirt on. The last thing you wanted was for him to see you like this. Logan's eyes shamelessly look you up and down as he enters the bathroom. A small smirk growing on his lips as he leans against the door. You bite your lip as you look down towards the counter.

"Sorry, I just wanted to take an extra long shower." You lie, smiling at Logan.

He hums and pushes off the door. He comes to stand behind you, his arms snaking around your waist. You were dressed in nothing but a shirt and underwear and Logan liked it. A lot.

"Should've joined you. Could have helped get your back." Logan purrs, his growing bulge pressing against your back.

“Oh please we’d still be in the shower if you had joined me.” You tease, slipping out of his grip. Logan furrows his brows as he follows you like a puppy to bed.

"You say that like it's a bad thing sweetheart."

As you lay on the bed Logan crawls in-between your legs, resting his head on your stomach. He purrs as you reach and run your fingers through his hair, scratching his head in all the spots you know he loves.

"Not a bad thing honey, but our water bill isn't a fan." Logan gets up on his knees, a devilish smirk appearing on his lips as his hands snake up your legs.

"Fuck the water bill, If I want to fuck my gorgeous girlfriend I will." You giggle as he dips his head down. The scruff of his beard tickles your skin as he nibbles on your thighs.

"Fuck baby, I can't get enough of you." He kneels between your legs and his hands slip up your body. The moment his hands go under your shirt you flinch. You didn't mean to flinch but you did. It was a small movement but it was there and Logan felt it immediately.

"What's wrong?" He asks as he takes his hands away.

"Nothing." You smile and reach up to pull him closer but he doesn't budge. Curse his super strength. He gives you a look and you sigh.

"It's nothing Logan, it's stupid and small."

"Sweetheart you gotta talk to me," Logan huffs. He's been working on this whole, communication thing and while he's not known for his empathy he can clearly see there's something bothering you.

"I just..." He looks at you again and you fall back into the pillows.

"Its these!" You say pointing to your chest.

"Huh?" "They're small and stupid and I hate them!" You lift your shirt up and huff in frustration. Logan's eyes widen as he stares at your bare chest. A stupid smile forming on his lips.

"I'm not seeing the problem." You put your shirt down and he pouts.

"I'm serious Logan. They're small and flat and...and..." You struggle to find the words as Logan just chuckles.

"So what?"

"It's not funny!" You snap and Logan's face morphs into concern.

"I just, I wish they were bigger is all. I mean sometimes I see other women and...It's hard sometimes." You curl into yourself, your arms covering your chest protectively. It felt silly to bring up right now but the thoughts wouldn't go away.

"Hey, look at me sweetheart." Logan coos. He lays next to you. Gently snaking his arm around your waist to pull you closer.

"Please?" Reluctantly you turn your body to face his.

"There's my pretty girl." He tilts your chin up to meet his eyes.

"Look I'm not the best at this but I can tell you one thing. You're fucking perfect." He leans in and kisses your neck gently. Your eyes flutter close as he gently rolls on top of you.

"You are beautiful, gorgeous, hot. I could go on and on sweetheart." His hand slips up your shirt and you let him slowly peel it off you. He grins as his lips move down to your chest. His thumb comes to play with one of your breasts while he latches onto the other.

"Logan..." You moan as he teases you like he loves to do.

"I know you hate them but I fucking love them. I could spend hours playing with them, looking at them, sucking on them if you let me." You bite your lip at his dirty words. The insecurities being pushed out Logan's hands.

"I don't care how big they are, what the look like. Because they're attached to my girl and I love my girl." Logan reaches down and rips your panties off of your body. You gasp in surprise as he takes your legs and spreads them.

"Feel how fucking hard you make me." He groans as he grinds his cock against your body.

"Get on your knees baby." You don't hesitate to listen. You get on your knees and face the headboard but Logan has other plans.

"No, I want you to watch your pretty tits as I fuck you." He growls in your ear as he moves you to face the mirror on the wall.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head at his gruff voice. Fuck he's hot. You're practically dripping onto the sheets already and Logan plans on taking full advantage of that. Slowly he slides his cock into your cunt, taking his sweet time as he stretches you out.

"So good, taking me raw." He says with a smirk. He wraps his hand around your neck to help support you as your legs shake at the feeling.

"I know baby, almost there just a little bit more." He praises.

You nod furiously, wanting to take all of him no matter what. When he fully bottoms out you let out a small cry. He shushes you softly, pressing kisses to your cheek as you get used to the stretch.

"Feel alright sweetheart?" Logan asks and you nod. Slowly he moves his hips, soaking up every whine that falls from your lips.

"Fuck, you're just made for me aren't you pretty girl." You can't take your eyes off of the mirror.

It's pure and utter filth. You're disheveled, tears pooling in your eyes, Logan's hand is still wrapped around your neck. You look fucking hot. You can see his muscles flexing with each devastating thrust. The look of pure desire on his face as he fucks you.

"Logan please I'm gonna come." Your hips start to move to meet his thrusts.

Logan growls as he grabs onto your hips and pushes you into the mattress. All you can do is watch yourself take it as he fucks the life out of you. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as Logan breaks you apart. Your body feels fuzzy as your orgasm washes over you. Logan lets out a loud groan as his hips slam into you and stay there as he comes.

"Fuck...Look at you." Logan sits back, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you up. You hum as your head falls onto his chest. A tired smile on your face.

"So fucking perfect." Logan hums.

"Right sweetheart?" You mumble something unintelligible and Logan taps your face.

"I want to hear it." You shiver at the intensity of his voice.

"I'm perfect." Logan tilts your head up.

"All of you?" He asks.

"All of me." You repeat after him.

"Good," He kisses your temple.

You sigh as Logan starts to massage your shoulders. The insecurities have been washed away, only bliss left in its wake. Logan couldn't comprehend your dislike for your body, he saw you and only saw the best.

But if you needed a reminder every now and then, he would be happy to give it to you.

[mimipolo]

hey :) could you do a nam-gyu fic where thanos is flirting/put claim on the reader, but she clearly like nam-gyu more. just him dealing with his attraction for her, but still trying to be on thanos' good side

Nam-gyu x reader

I don't know if I did this right I had like five different ideas for how it could pan out so I hope this is alright

| ₊˚⊹ᰔ

You were content with the idea of completely ignoring Thanos, his odd claims and even weirder way of flirting. Sure, it was fairly entertaining but it wasn't something you planned to put up with for long.

That was until he walked up to your bunk with a friend in towe. A friend that immediately caught your eye.

"Ayy Senorita!" He draws out in his usual musical tone, behind him a man that looked uninterested, perhaps even annoyed to be there making you grin slightly.

"Aren't ya gonna come down." A whiney voice calls up to you, his face pulling into a frown as he crossed his arms.

"Dude, this a waste of time let's just go." He's still behind Thanos, a hand already on his shoulder, nudging him slightly, hoping to convince him to turn back, and as his gaze went from him to you he stops. The eye contact he made with you was so undeniable you actually looked at the rapper directly for once, startled by how your heart suddenly raced.

"I think I'll stay and eat up here...thanks though." Your refusal immediately has him grumbling as he dramatically pivots to walk away. But his friend hangs back a small moment longer, the brief acknowledgement held a value only you two could fathom.

"Come on Nam-su we outt." Thanos drawls lazily, his arms in his pockets as he swayed from side to side.

"Nam-gyu..." He sighs defeatedly, it was pretty clear this wasn't the first time and likely wouldn't be the last time he'd have to correct the rapper of his name.

Nam-gyu huh? You wouldn't like to admit it but you kept the name close to your mind, maybe he'd favour you for remembering it. Which was a weird thought to have for someone you hadn't actually properly met yet.

You hoped to though.

And he did too, when Thanos was insistent on getting you to eat with them he was almost instantly irritated. Why? What was the point of that? From the beginning he wasn't a fan of any distractions that could lead Thanos away from him, it was inconvenient and if he wanted to win he needed both their focus on that damn cash prize.

What he hadn't prepared for was the you. You who Thanos had miraculously spotted among all the bland people in this weird murder game. And he would never admit it, especially not to him that he understood why he was so hooked on you.

And with that came a jealousy. A deep, seething jealousy that came from nowhere. Now he was frustrated with himself, Thanos and you. And the worst of it all is him actually being just as bummed you didn't come down to eat with them.

| ₊˚⊹ᰔ

From then on there was this tense love triangle between the three of you which Thanos held no part in. You had no intention of making it clear to the man you weren't interested, first of all: it'd be too much of a hassle, and second because of his favour you've been able to survive games you probably wouldn't have. So you'd put up with him, no big deal.

The only thing, no, person making this harder was Nam-gyu. He was also seemingly smart enough to judge it's best to not make any big move as you were both benefitting from being close to Thanos. But it was painfully clear his attention was always on you, his eyes only snapping back alive at the mention of your name during the moments Thanos seems to talk forever. Having to tip toe around the unspoken attraction towards each other was fine by you, exhilarating even. But you're really starting to wonder if Thanos really can't notice when you and the longer haired man only glance between each other whenever he flirts with you.

Apparently the small amused smiles and prolonged eye contact wasn't enough for Nam-gyu. This could end badly if he was caught but he couldn't care less at this point, this whole time it's just felt like the two of you were saying a million things while saying nothing at all. And he'd actually be damned if he let Thanos hold him back from talking to you. He believed you felt the same, it's not just anyone that looks at him so fondly and sees him as an individual. You saw him like he was someone familiar and when he lies awake, he's convinced that's why he's so drawn to you.

Which is also why he's sneaking to see you during lights out. Was this a good idea?

Probably not.

But he'd already climbed past a snoring Avengers threat so he might as well see it through. He sucked in his breath harshly when he heard the familiar snoring pattern pause when he finally made it to the ground. His heart only relaxing when it fell back into rythmn. Not that he was too worried though, he had thousands of excuses on the tip of his tongue. A benefit that came with being a pathological liar.

He is oddly greatful that the majority of the people that were on your bunk had died, the only remaining players being two beds above yours. Meaning he didn't need to sweat about not waking anyone on his way up. As he begins climbing he draws to a question. What if you're not even awake? Even worse what if you are or he wakes you up and you think he's some weirdo. He physically shakes the thought away as he continues his ascent, he just needed to see you, then he'd go back.

It was odd being able to see you so up close, watching the way your chest rose and fell with each breath. Seeing you like this calmed him down and made him want to fall asleep himself.

He freezes when you shift and his hair brushes your nose, your face scrunching up as you waft away the unwanted texture with a groggy hand. Eyes squinting open to see a stunned Nam-gyu instead of a stray price of fluff from your pillow.

What, is he doing here?

You gasp sharply, immediately sitting up and accidentally banging your head against the bed above you in your rush. He's quietly shushing you as you hold your head in whine in pain. You only look back at him when the pain has slightly subsided, hissing one last time before tear pricked eyes meet his.

"The hell are you doing here?"

"Can't I come to see you?" You squint at his words, they pissed you off, obviously he could but you were literally sleeping?

"You came to watch me sleep?" You ask sarcastically, grinning knowingly as he groaned and rolled his eyes.

Seeing as you weren't entirely put off by his night visit he crawls onto your bed fully, catching you a bit off guard but you make no objection against it which makes him strangely glad.

"Thanos isn't any good, you shouldn't be with him." He says bitterly, when you don't say anything immediately after he looks away from you and runs his hair behind his ears.

"...And you're saying you are?" you say with the slight raise of your brow.

You were just fucking around you already liked him more from the moment you saw him. Long disobedient hair and an angular face and a surprisingly sharp tongue when provoked. Ticking most of your boxes, you just wanted to see how he'd respond.

"Nah... but I could be better, than him at least." He says with a small huff which makes you laugh slightly, and he immediately notes he's never heard it before.

"I'll see you to that." Your words make his heart seize up but in the way when he's won when he didn't expect to. The carefree act he had going was going to crumble if you kept being so casual with him.

It's only now he feels the tensity of the situation, sitting in your bed in an area mostly secluded. He was actually feeling nervous being around you without Thanos there as some barrier to the two of you. You're looking at him expectantly as if waiting for him to make some smart ass response but you're so pretty right now. Your eyes on him and him alone. He's keeping quiet because if he spoke as he was now... he couldn't promise he wouldn't immediately embarass himself.

Instead he looks between you and the wall, his eyes scanning your face each time before he looked away. Despite the chaos of feelings reeling from inside him his face was mostly unreadable. The only thing telling you anything was his jaw tightening and loosening, maybe chewing the inside of his cheek.

You tilt your head to see if he'd look at you if you were more in his line of view but he only locked eyes with you for a moment before looking up.

He was nervous?

The thought made your chest swell even though you knew he was probably just deep in thought. Either way your fighting back a smile as you take his face in your hands and place a soft kiss on his lips. It was honestly amazing how he came back to reality from the contact. Staring at you with wide confused eyes as if questioning why you would even do that.

And when you start to laugh to yourself quietly he's chuckling flustered beside you. His lips pursed tight to not let the grin on his face appear, but his feelings were clear in the new softness in his eyes.

Nodding lightly like he's fully savoured your presence he's manoeuvring himself to leave your bed, giving the underside of your knee a light squeeze before settling on the ladder.

"G'night..."

"Night Nam-gyu."

The first genuine smile of the night freely slips onto his face, making your own smile appear before he's making his descent back down. Grinning to himself like an idiot all the way back to his bed because he managed to get the girl Thanos saw first.

| ₊˚⊹ᰔ

Ever since then it's been this mutual joke between you two. You're holding back a snicker as Thanos serenades you because Nam-gyu's right behind him rolling his eyes and mocking him.

Nightly routines of him visiting your bed comforted you on those nights you couldn't will yourself to sleep. There's been more than one occasion he's stayed the night and forgot to go back to his bed and when questioned about where he was so early in the morning it's always "Needed to piss". He's glancing back at you accusingly as if you forced him to stay (you asked repeatedly very nicely.)

I love him sm I'm gonna cook him into a lasagna.

[vmlnrzmp4]

𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘣𝘭𝘶𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘤𝘬 𝘥𝘢𝘥𝘴 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘥𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘳.

cw: hurt/comfort

itoshi sae

after a long day of father-daughter date at the mall full of "papa, i wan' this!" "papa, i wan' that!"—little natsuki got every toy she pointed at. and who was sae to deny his little princess?

you showered your daughter with your kissys as they got back home, her chuckling at the ticklish impact on her chubby face, "ma, look! papa got me all this!"

your eyes widen in horror as you see sae carrying two large bag in his hands that hardly held the tea party kit, barbie dress up kit, pretty pink princess dresses and what not.

"itoshi sae," you said sternly, "what did we talk about spoiling her too much?"

sae simply shrugged, placing the bags down as natsuki takes out the toys, "she asked nicely."

"sae. we agreed on one toy," you looked at natsuki as she busied herself setting the tea party kit on the floor without a care, "one."

sae followed your gaze to where natsuki sat—humming to herself as she sets a tiara on her head, "she looks happy..."

your gaze soften as you look at sae. he was trying. he really was. trying to be a good father, "sae," you cradle his face, "love, you're an amazing papa. but let's teach her boundaries hm?"

he sighs, "yeah. that goes for you too."

"excuse me?" your smile dropped as you put your hands on your hips, "how am i spoiling her?"

he huffs, "all the kisses you gave her the moment we entered the house?"

"i may or may not be wrong," you say, glancing at natsuki who seemed too busy placing barbie dolls on the makeshift chairs as she pours them tea, "you sound a bit jealous of your own daughter there."

"...so what if i am?"

"then i guess ive to spoil you too," you say, planting a quick peck on his lips that made natsuki gasp.

"ma and papa! you both kissy kissy!"

"that's right. me and ma very much kissy kissy."

you laughed at that. god, it was so rare for sae to say cheesy things like that. but when he did, you made sure to never let them out of your heart.

"ma, i wan' kissy! papa's kissy too!' she sets the little plastic cups down as the extends her arms open for her papa to carry.

both of you place multiple kissys on her face.

"god," sae exhales, "we really need to work on the boundaries."

itoshi rin

the rain was pouring for a while now, seeming to die down slowly but not fully—when papa rin and sakura decided to step out of the house wearing colourful raincoats(obviously she wore a colourful one, in contrast to her papa who wore a grey-black one.)

papa rin watches as she goes from puddle to puddle—jumping on them as she lets out little giggles.

"hey no—" rin tired stopping her when she got to a big, deep puddle. but it was too late and—

splash!

she slipped and fell, the mud messing her raincoat as well as her face. her papa hurried to pick her up, consoling her as tears ran down her face. he took of a delicate handkerchief from his pocket to wipe the mud from her face.

"you're ok, you're alright," he carries her in his arms saying that her face is still pretty in an attempt to calm her down.

"still pretty?" she looks at him with the big doe eyes of hers.

"the prettiest," he kisses her forehead, "just like your ma."

"noooo, ma's prettier!" sakura declares, "i'll get more pretty when i grow up!"

rin kisses her forehead again, "let's go home. no more puddles for today," he says softly.

"haiiii~"

sadly, the after math was that sakura stayed in bed, her ma and papa by her side while she laid sick. you caressed her hair, whispering sweet nothings and saying that she'll be fine and her papa held her hand.

when she fell asleep, you placed a mwah on her forehead before turning off the lamp light beside the table. you got up but rin didn't seem to move. he held her hand, looking at her—his expressions nonchalant but the sadness in his eyes lingered.

"it's not your fault," you place a hand on his shoulder, "she's fine. she's strong."

he hums, getting up, planting a kissy on her forehead as he walks out of her room, you following, shutting the door behind. and when you did, he immediately pulled you into his arms, burying his face into your hair as he seeks for comfort.

"don't worry. besides kids are meant to step into puddles and play with mud," you pull away, cradling his face, "you're a wonderful papa."

isagi yoichi

little yuki was starting to get frustrated—the puzzle pieces would just not come together, no matter how much her little hands work on them. she works hours and hours on it. and when they finally did join together, her papa had to pour water on it.

it wasnt his intention to really. it just happened as an accident, "yuki, princess, im sorry—" but it was too late as yuki sobs, running off to her room.

later that night, you find the space beside you empty. worried, you got up from the bed, quietly heading out. you see the kitchen lights on and there he was. your husband trying to solve the puzzle pieces together.

you call his name softly, he looks up at you, telling you that he's going to be fine. he just needs fifteen minutes.

you sit beside him, helping him sort the pieces together, "you're the best papa, you know that?" you assure, "yuki loves you so much."

the next morning, yuki woke up, rubbing her eyes as she walks into the kitchen. you greet your princess with a kissy, settling her down on the chair.

her eyes widen at the puzzle pieces that were once scattered—now together.

"it's your papa," you say, "he worked on it all night, yuki."

yuki immediately turns to her papa, hugging him tightly, "i love you papa!" her papa smiles, wrapping his arms around her, mumbling you a thank you.

michael kaiser

earlier that day, papa michael had gotten into a tinsy argument with his daughter. and as a way to get them to talk to each other, you decided to have a family time at the park. but anne refused to talk to her papa even tho he says he'll make it up to her.

you and michael walked behind as anne skips stones in front of her—kicking them with her foot.

you glance at your husband, seeing the look on his face that broke your heart. you reached for his hands, intertwining your fingers with her, "hey, it's gonna be ok," you assure and as a response, he only squeezes your hand tighter. "mihya, you're not a bad parent,"

he hums, "what if i—"

"you're not failing her," you halt him, not letting him finish that sentence, "anne loves you so so much."

he lets out an exhale, his shoulders relaxing at your reassurance. he brings up your hands, brushing hsi lips against your knuckles.

"ma! ma!" anne cried out, her voice full of panic.

she immediately runs to you, hugging your legs. confused, you look to see a stray dog appearing from behind the tree.

your eyes widen as you pick her up into your arms. but the thing was—you couldn't protect her, not with your fear of stray dogs too. you simply hugged her tighter as you turned around, squeezing her protectively.

michael steps in between, shielding you both from the dog.

"anne, come here," he calls as she looks up at him, "come to papa."

"...papa, 'm scared," she hugs you tighter.

"trust me, princess," he reaches out for her, "it won't do anything to you. not when your papa is here. i won't let it do anything to you. you're safe with me."

gently, he takes her in his arms, crouching down to the dog, as the barks fade away. michael reaches out to pet it—flinching at first—the doggy leans into his touch, "see? completely harmless," he reaches out to take her hand in his as he places it on the top of the doggy's head.

anne smiles, continuing to pat the dog's head while simultaneously clinging onto her papa.

after all, his arms were her safe place.

[midnite-c6]

I also wpuld like to be thanos' and nam-gyu's dog ngl! idk nam-gyu just seems like a regular to pet shop and the cashier asks how's your precious girl how's your puppy!! as he's buying some treats and he's muttering yeah real lovely we've been doing some obedience training because she's been troublesome lately.. nam-gyu getting you a dusty pink collar and leash save me..

WOOOF PURRR HISSS BARKK YOURE SO RIGHT its actually so filthy the things id let these two do huhuhuhuhuhu . feral rn.

nam-gyu x hybridpuppy!reader | thanos x hybridpuppy!reader warnings: 18+, DARK content, degradation, sex, READER HAS EARS AND A TAIL!!

nsfw below already -> !!

nam-gyu ʕ⁠•⁠ᴥ⁠•⁠ʔ

he sighs, "she's been making more messes lately." the pet supplies owner would just laugh at the statement, "oh, sir, you should get used to it by now. but, i thought you've already trained her?" she asks, considering he was a regular, afterall. "i did, but she's been acting a bit more stubborn recently, maybe she just needs a collar now, it's been long overdue." the shop owner would only nod and smile. "ah yes, you should've bought her one when you first got her! a collar helps the dog know who it belongs to, and who is its owner." he chuckles, seemingly lost in thought as he grabs the plastic bag with the pretty pink collar and the matching leash he generously bought you, he bows his head. "well, miss, i'll get going now, thank you." as he heads out the door, the woman could only think how much of a sweet boy he is, taking in the responsibility in taking care of a cute puppy..

except, the puppy was you! like it always has. you'd see him come back, opening the door as you immediately cling onto him, "on your knees, go." he orders, and you immediately comply! you love him so much! and when he puts the pretty collar he bought for you, seeing how his name was engraved on the pendant, you'd truly know who you belong to. now he's easily gotten you into a doggy (ironically) position, he wasn't even moving, the only thing he was doing is tugging on your leash to get you to push in and out of him. you'd obviously choke, but he knows he's trained you at taking a lil' bit more. "ah.. fuck, move will you? my hands are getting tired from tugging you around." but it takes all your energy to move, you were too sensitive down there.

"you don't want me to donate you to the doggy pound, would you now?" "n-no, sir .!" you didn't want that!! you loved nam-gyu as your owner :< "then, do as i say, dog."

nam-gyu was a bit cruel on you, yes, but he wouldn't go as far as be careless with you... he's kept you to be a home dog, only meant to be sheltered.

thanos ʕ⁠•⁠ᴥ⁠•⁠ʔ

thanos- on the other hand, oh this man is careless with you:< he'd literally treat you like a puppy on the street! he's too busy with clubbing, partying, smoking weed, and being a famous rapper, he forgets his time with you. the nicest thing he does though is he'd buy you pretty clothes, pretty lingerie, but sadly you barely catch glimpse of him when he's sober. he's always high and thankfully happy, but when he's high and not-so-happy... well...

when he comes back from clubbing all night, you'd hear the door finally open, it was your beloved su-bong!! you'd immediately pepper kisses all over his cheeks but he'd push you to the ground. it seems he might've gotten into a fight at the club, or worse, he'd meet the person that scammed him, and you could only whimper, knowing that the best stress reliever is you. and whenever you wag your tail in excitement for anything, it just makes him hard as hell.

he'd have you face down, ass up, so he'd have full view of the wagging tail that was wagging just for him! he doesn't need a leash, he could just painfully tug on your tail! now his hand was pressing a vape past his lips, whilst the other was pressing your head down to the pillows, he loves hearing your muffled moans because you're still so loud even with them! volume down, will you? his dick wet with your slick, his thrusts going from fast and rough to slow and still rough, "are you in heat?" you'd try your best to shake your head. "jeez, you bitch like one" he complains, a particularly harder thrust than the last. even leaning in to take a painful bite onto your puppy ears. "i should definitely train you more, right, princess?" wasn't having his cum dripping out of both your holes enough?? D:

bonus:

you'd obviously only be loyal to one, but if they raised you together, then.. they've trained you to be loyal for the two of them, you can't have one without the other, and when you're too impatient, already humping su-bong before nam-gyu gets home, he'd punish you for that !

HEHEHE I REALIZED I HAVE SM HEOMWORKS THAT I have NOT DONE BYEE.

[vettelsvee]

Hello! I hope this is the correct way to request..., can you write a lewis story for prompt 28? It can be something like, reader is a new wag and there is some online hate, and lewis comforts them. It's completely fine if you don't wanna do this story, Thank you!! 💞

DON'T LET THEM SAY THAT. YOU'RE BEAUTIFUL | Lewis Hamilton

Lewis Hamilton x Actress!Reader

SUMMARY: Lewis and you decided to make your relationship public in Maranello before 2025 Formula 1 season starts. However, love from fans isn't there as you expected ↳ REQUESTED: Part of VEE'S F1 PROMPTS LIST (VOL. I)! Feel free to request anything you want <3 Hope you liked it anon! 💖

WORD COUNT: 2043

WARNINGS: Age gap (reader is on her early 20s and Lewis is 40), fans acting like crazy, hate towards Y/N

VEE'S NOTES: I received this prompt on the inbox today and I don't know how I wrote, corrected, translated and corrected once again it today. Also, first ever Ferrari!Lewis fic I'm so emotional right now. Not really happy with the result since like Y/N in this fic, I have many intrusive thoughts about my writing and I didn't have the best of the weekends, but hope you enjoy it anyways! Remember that I appreciate your comments, feedback, as well as reblogs, thank you so much! :)

© VETTELSVEE (2025). please, do not steal, copy or translate my works. thanks for reading!

The whirlwind of emotions you’ve experienced since your relationship with Lewis Hamilton became public has been unimaginable... and that’s putting it lightly.  

Although you were somewhat used to the spotlight thanks to your rising career as an actress, flashes from cameras, crowds shouting for you to turn around so they could get a picture, and the occasional fan asking for a photo or autograph, the world of Formula 1 was completely new to you.  

You couldn’t deny that you were unhappy with how drastically your life had changed. The man who had just joined Scuderia Ferrari had become everything you had ever imagined in a partner. kind, undeniably caring, and, most importantly, empathetic enough to understand how overwhelming this sudden rise in fame was for you.  

Lewis had noticed how down you’d been ever since he decided to post those photos of you both in Maranello. You had both agreed to go together so he could test one of those legendary red cars for the first time, fully aware that people would inevitably start talking. That day, you decided to make your relationship public after keeping it a secret for about six months, agreeing that it was best to do so before the 2025 season began.  

Despite it all, despite how much you had started closing yourself off in the following weeks, Lewis remained by your side, making you feel like the most important person in the world. But it was becoming increasingly difficult for him, especially when all you did was act like everything was fine on the outside while you were slowly destroying yourself inside.  

The nightmare began with small comments on the photo Lewis had uploaded to Instagram, just you, posing timidly in front of the Ferrari while he held you around the waist, smiling like never before. At first, the comments didn’t seem like a big deal, with people just wanting to know more about your relationship or if it was serious. But soon, the messages started pouring in, insults and threats far worse than you had ever imagined, many of them coming from underage girls. Eventually, you had to disable comments on every single one of your photos, no matter how old they were.

However, what truly became a living nightmare for you were the Twitter threads and, especially, the accounts dedicated exclusively to Formula 1 wags. They were relentless, tearing you apart, analyzing your every move as if dating one of the 20 drivers on the grid was equivalent to committing first-degree murder.

“She’s just looking for fame now that her acting career is taking off.”

“She doesn’t deserve someone like Lewis.”

“She’s too young for him.”

“And let’s not even talk about how ugly she is… have you seen her?”

You sighed, throwing your phone onto the couch with such force that it ended up crashing onto the floor. But you didn’t even bother to check if it was broken. You had promised yourself you wouldn’t read any more comments, wouldn’t even open your Instagram account, yet you couldn’t resist. After all, you were human, and the weight of it all was becoming too much to bear, even more than you were willing to admit to Lewis, to whom you hadn’t fully opened up yet.

The hotel room in Tokyo, where you and Lewis had decided to stay for one of your last vacations before the season began, fell into complete silence. The only sound that filled the space was your muffled sobs.

“And who even is she? Nobody knows her.”

“Lewis deserves someone better, that’s for sure.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, spilling down your cheeks faster than you could wipe them away.

You couldn’t understand it. It felt so unfair... Why were you being treated this way just for loving someone? Why did people throw venomous words at you without even knowing you, without even trying to? Did being a fan of Lewis automatically mean they had to hate you?

You tried to relax, to break free from the spiral of thoughts that only led you to overthink, but it was impossible. Once your mind started down that path, the only thing it knew how to do was tear you apart from the inside.

As you tried to steady your breathing and quickly wiped away your tears, a knock echoed at the door.

You pulled yourself together as fast as you could, forcing a smile while glancing at your reflection in the mirror. You swore to yourself that you’d do everything possible to pretend that everything was fine, that you were fine.

But the moment you opened the door and saw Lewis, drenched in sweat from his gym session and pulling out his earbuds, you immediately turned around and rushed into the nearest room, the bathroom, locking yourself inside to keep him from seeing you like this.

“Come on, Y/N...”

Lewis knew you too well by now. No matter how hard you tried to convince him otherwise, he could see right through you, he knew you were struggling, and struggling pretty badly.

He didn’t do anything at first. He didn’t know what to do. He was afraid that whatever he said or did might only make things worse, might make you shut down even more. Instead, he rested his forehead against the closed door, feeling defeated, thinking of ways to make you feel worthy enough to stop torturing yourself over what strangers were saying online, people who knew nothing about your relationship and even less about you.

Eventually, you decided to come out. Lewis saw you, completely defeated, and he cursed himself for letting things get to this point. What had he done wrong to make you feel this way? God, you were just a girl in your early twenties who had recently made the leap to Hollywood stardom after moving to Los Angeles at sixteen, waiting tables in a run-down bar, and facing countless failed auditions until you finally landed the role that changed everything.

“Hey, love,” Lewis spoke as gently as possible, his eyes scanning your red-rimmed ones and your tangled hair. “What’s wrong?”

He knew exactly what was wrong, but he wanted you to be the one to speak, to let it all out.

You took a deep breath and pointed at your phone, still lying on the floor. A nervous knot tightened in your stomach, and your hands began to fidget anxiously. As if on cue, tears started streaming down your face once more.

“I just… I don’t understand why they have to be like this. What did I do to deserve this? Am I not good enough? Not pretty enough for you?”

Lewis sighed. He had known from the beginning that not everyone would accept your relationship, but the amount of hate you were facing was beyond excessive. He was exhausted by the senseless comments and social media accounts created solely to spew hate at you. And even more, he was tired of becoming tabloid fodder, followed everywhere by paparazzi eager to capture any moment they could.

Seeing you like this hurt him in ways he couldn’t even describe, and it made him feel miserable.

“Hey, Y/N… look at me.”

Despite speaking to you firmly and holding your hand, gently rubbing your skin with his thumb to calm you down, you didn’t respond. Lewis then cupped your chin delicately, forcing you to look at him.

“I know I’ve told you this a thousand times, and I also know that with how stubborn you are, you probably won’t listen to me, but don’t let what they say about you bother you,” he wanted to say, but all he really cared about was you. “What matters is that I love you, okay?”

“But... why does it have to affect me? Why did I used to not care about anything, and now I care so much about the opinion of strangers?” you asked, hesitantly, biting your lip in an attempt to relax.

Lewis moved even closer to you, wrapping his arms around you. He hated seeing you like this, especially when before all of this started, you were a light in his life, and it was him who used to lean on you when race weekends got overwhelming.

“Because you’re human, babe,” he replied, pressing a kiss to your forehead and holding you tighter. “Even though we sometimes say the opposite, we all care about what others think of us, especially when all they want to do is bring us down.”

“But... what if they’re right? What if I’m not what you deserve?”

“Do I need to remind you again that they’re wrong?” Lewis said, pulling you slightly away so your gazes met. “You need to remember how much you mean to me, but more than that, you need to remember who you are and all that you’re worth. That’s all that matters.”

You didn’t say anything else. Instead, you buried your face in his chest, once again crying quietly to avoid him seeing you like this.

“I’m ugly, Lew. Really ugly,” you confessed without lifting your head. “I don’t even know how you love me, or how you agreed to be with me after all those months we spent talking and hanging out as friends, or…”

“Hey, hey, hey, don’t let them say that. You’re beautiful. You’re beautiful, and you’ve always been, alright? Anyone who says otherwise needs to get their eyes checked.”

You laughed, and Lewis felt that as a small victory.

You closed your eyes, trying to calm yourself down. For the first time in a long while, you pushed aside the intrusive thoughts, the destructive comments you saw daily on social media, and allowed yourself the luxury of, for just a moment, trying to stop torturing yourself and accepting that there were things you couldn’t change.

Lewis’s words, while brief and somewhat familiar to you, brought a peace you hadn’t felt in days. You did your best to let the tension in your shoulders melt away, slowly separating from him and moving your arms bit by bit.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you, Lew,” you whispered, once again wrapping your arms around his waist, wishing you could never let go of him.

“You don’t have to worry about that,” Lewis chuckled, planting kisses on your forehead. “I’m never going to leave you, and I hope you’ll never leave me either.”

Neither of you said anything more. Your bodies remained close, exchanging shy kisses, making promises that everything would get better as you both talked about the changes you’d face in 2025. That was enough for you both to know things were going to be okay.

You both understood that the big, risky changes you were taking, especially your relationship, were going to be difficult, just like what was happening with you and the wave of hate you were receiving. But once you stopped giving it too much importance, or rather, no importance at all, no one would stop you as the newest couple in Formula 1.

“Hey, listen to me, please... I’ve been thinking about something.”

Lewis’s words caught your attention as you were starting to drift off to sleep in bed. You straightened up, your hand still intertwined with his.

“How about we take a walk, and you can get to know the city a bit?” he suggested. “You know… we could go eat out, hit up an arcade, or maybe…”

“Can you get me a stuffed animal from one of those weird claw machines?!” you interrupted him, excited, which made Lewis burst out laughing.

“Of course, I can get you a stuffed animal, or buy you all the ones you want.”

You smiled, and as Lewis went to the bathroom for a shower, you began to prepare for the day. That moment was exactly when you realized you needed to trust yourself more and, specially, just as Lewis valued you. Because if there was one thing you’d learned from him in the short time you’d been together, it was that, no matter what you did, you’d always be the envy of others, so you just needed to remind yourself that you didn’t need to feel worse for living the life you’d always dreamed of and, moreover, you worked hard to have.

[alessiathepirate]

Squid Game

SMILE FOR ME: Hwang In-ho/Frontman/Oh Young-il x fem!reader

Summary: Manipulation - that was his greatest weapon...

Notes: English isn't my first language. I apologize for any mistakes I may have made while I wrote this short story.

Warnings: swearing, referenced PTSD and/or trauma, emotional manipulation, referenced death, referenced betrayal, heavily implied obsession, (Gi-hun and reader are besties, since the writer aka me loves him too much to not baby him)

●●●

She doesn't smile anymore...

That was In-ho's first thought when he met her in person for the first time.

And oddly enough - since he played a pretty big part in the cause of that - he really missed that: her smile.

There used to be something about it - something special.

In-ho had watched and sat through his fair share of games; and during those every player's positivity, hope and smile disappeared after the very first game. They acknowledged the consequences of failure - and accepted the fact that there's nothing they could possibly do about it. Even if they found some allies or friends, they never smiled again. Not really. Only with those false, fake ones.

But not her.

They were different - her and Gi-hun, especially.

Even after red light, green light; after the dalgona; after the tug of war -- they still smiled, especially with each other. They sat down to eat with their group and they shared stories, the old and fun ones, and those could make their teammates chuckle.

In reality, In-ho thought, it must've been to keep themselves and the others calm. To give them a false sense of security and hope.

In-ho couldn't exactly say when was the exact time she stopped smiling. The marble game; player 067's death or player 218's betrayal... It didn't really matter - the when. What mattered was the fact that she changed - and In-ho didn't like, even though he should've.

There was still a small shine in her eyes whenever she talked to Gi-hun and Gi-hun alone, but it wasn't the same...

It wasn't the same at all.

●●●

"Gi-hun..." her voice made In-ho turn slightly, as quietly as possible, so he could watch their interaction play out. "I'll take over. You need to get some sleep."

In-ho watched as she sat down next to Gi-hun, her thigh pushing his, so he would get a move on. During moments like these, she almost looked like the old her -- cheery and playful; still, it was only almost.

"You don't have to. I'll keep watch, I'm not tired anyway. You can go back to sleep."

She pushed his thigh again; and even though her lips didn't curl upwards into a smile, her eyes seemed happy.

"You are still a terrible liar, Seong Gi-hun..." her hands pushed his chest, so he would move. "Now go before I make you."

Gi-hun reacted the same way she did - he didn't smile, but the muscles around his eyes softened. He seemed calm, almost safe as he looked at her.

"Promise me you'll wake me if anything happens."

Her lips twitched.

"I promise." she punched his shoulder playfully. "Now go."

Gi-hun got up painfully slowly, as if to give her time to change her mind, and then did what she said. He lied down, pulled the covers over himself and after a few moments, he closed his eyes.

In-ho watched her for a while. He witnessed how all the tension and stress disappeared from her shoulders when she thought no one was watching. He saw how she let the sadness she was truly feeling appear on her face.

She seemed oddly calm.

In-ho let the minutes go by, he waited patiently until he was sure no one else was awake; and then he walked up to her, letting her shake in fear from the sudden presence behind her.

"Young-il." she whispered as she let out a long breath. "You scared me."

"My apologies." he said, almost frowning at how she immediatelly went back into her protective shell - she didn't feel comfortable around him, unlike the others, and In-ho didn't like that at all. "Would you mind some company? I can't sleep, we might as well keep watch together."

She looked up at him, clearly contemplating what she should say.

"Be my guest." she said in the end.

He sat down next to her, and watched as she pulled her feet further away from him. Silence began to set in - but In-ho wouldn't let it win. This was the first time he found a chance to talk to her alone, and he wouldn't waste it.

"You and Gi-hun seem to be close."

She turned to look at him in the darkness as if she could figure out his real intentions.

"We are." she said. "I've known him for years. I don't understand how it affects you though."

In-ho almost smiled at the accusatory tone.

"I'm just making conversation." he said, trying to sound kind. "And I noticed that you only talk to him and no one else."

She seemed irritated - ready to curse him out, to tell him to shut up or wake Gi-hun up, so he could come to her rescue.

In the end she just scoffed.

"I don't have much to talk about these days."

"Or smile about." In-ho added and this time he let himself smile at the look on her face. He might as well test her - her and her trust, the holes on her shell. "You seemed ready to sacrifice yourself - during the first game. The same goes for Gi-hun." he tilted his head slightly. "I think I just don't understand what you're doing here. You won the previous game. You have all that money to spend... Yet you two are here; and you seem unhappy."

She swallowed and then took a deep breath. She didn't know what she should say and how she should say it. She was completely at his curiousity's mercy, which didn't seem to have a filter - and she couldn't find the right words for an answer.

In-ho's lips curled upwards and he chuckled before she could come up with an answer. His laugh confused her even more.

"I'm sorry." he continued. "You just don't seem to trust me very much."

She pointed at his jacket's number without hesitation, then at the 'O' sign - the sign what previously had been 'X'. She looked him in the eyes before answering.

"The last 001 I trusted turned out to be a liar and an asshole." she pulled her legs up and hugged her knees to her chest. "So I apologize for not trusting you. Besides, your name is Young-il and you are player 001?" she scoffed. "Either the guards have a great sense of humor and they gave you that number, or you're a bad guy with zero creativity."

In-ho wanted to laugh. Really laugh. Even though her trust-issues made her unable to have fun, they made her more fun.

What would be the right reaction? Half a chuckle maybe, plus a small smile.

Then, In-ho waited. He waited for her facade to break - and it did. Because even though she changed, she still had characteristics every human had -- well, most had --: regret.

He waited for her too feel remorse. He waited until she was drowning in it for being too harsh. He waited and didn't say anything.

"That big pile of bloody cash is in a motel room." she said suddenly as she continued to hug her knees.

"What?"

"You wanted to know about the money. Well, it's in a dimly lit motel room." she explained.

In-ho chuckled. "Really?"

"Yeah." she nodded, but this time there was something about her expression: as if she just admitted to herself that the picture of a fortune in a motel room is oddly funny. "As for the sacrifice part - there's nothing wrong with helping others."

"I'm not saying there is." In-ho explained. "It's just that most people in here are selfish. They would choose to save themselves instead of others." he stayed quiet for a while, letting his words sink in. "But you and Gi-hun still choose to save them. All of them."

She tilted her head.

"I asked myself if I'd like to be a rich murderer or a dead person who chose to save others." she said, her tone turning sad. "I chose the latter." In-ho's lips twitched from trying not to smile, when he noticed that she stretched her legs, no longer being careful around him. "I guess I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I was to ever cause someone's death. Besides, everyone here has someone to go back home to; I don't. Gi-hun's here and my only other friend isn't even really my friend." she shrugged. "So then why not help?"

Her knee almost touched his.

Trust. That was what he wanted.

"People who think they don't matter are the ones who matter the most." In-ho looked at her. "Are you sure that playing hero is the best decision you can make?"

She shook her head. "What do you mean?"

In-ho let out a fake chuckle.

"You have people who love you, who think you are important. I'm sure of it." he leaned forward. "And heroes, even if they succeed in the end, don't usually have an easy journey. There are losses - and consequences."

"You think I don't know that?" she started to get angry again. "What do you know about loss?"

"Everything. Sadly." he sounded more honest than he intended to be - and she noticed it too.

Regret. What a beautiful human emotion.

"Oh, God. I'm sorry." she said as she looked at him with remorse in her eyes - her body language showed no fear or protection. She gave up, she showed him the real her. "I didn't know."

"No need. You couldn't have known." he gave her a weak smile - he showed weakness so she would do it too. "Although when I sat down I thought we would speak about something more... fun."

The muscles in her cheeks twitched and In-ho knew she was so close to smiling, yet she held it back.

She looked around the room, looked at the beds and the people who were sleeping in them. In-ho followed her gaze.

"Well then..." she began, not yet knowing what she'd say in the end. "You are a good fighter. I mean you beat up two guys without even lifting a finger." the compliment sounded nice coming from her. "Police or military?"

In-ho wanted to grin.

"Good deduction. Both, actually. And thank you."

"I have a friend who's a cop. Well, I don't really know if he is my friend, but he seems nice regardless." she intertwined her fingers. "Next time I see him, if I see him at all; I'll have to ask him if he knows some... ancient martial arts too."

He just chuckled.

"Who knows... He might surprise you."

They stared into the darkness for a second, since one of the other players started to move around. In the end it turned out to be just a woman, who was having a nightmare - she soon sat up in bed while breathing heavily.

"If we're talking about skills..." In-ho began, so he could get her attention once again. "You are surprisingly good at ddakji."

Her lips twitched and he knew he wasn't too far from getting that smile.

"Yeah, I am." she admitted. "I'm much better than Gi-hun at the very least. You should've seen him playing against that recruiter guy. He was horrible! Absolutely horrible!"

"And you?"

"I beat him almost always. He must've been... quite annoyed."

Suddenly her lips curled upwards into an honest, teasing smile. The muscles under her eyes twitched, as if they have forgotten how to act during a smile.

In-ho found himself smiling too. It was like going back in time and seeing her old self.

Sure, this smile wasn't that pure and innocent, but it was a start. A pretty good start.

"You know, Young-il, I wish I could say the same, but you were God-awful at paengi chigi..." she giggled and pushed her fist against her teeth to not be too loud.

"Yeah, I was. It's not one of my proudest moments."

She continued to laugh and by the look on her face she herself couldn't tell what was so funny. But once she started to giggle there was no going back - years or surpressed emotions came running out as small wrinkles of joy appeared on her face.

In-ho joined her and as the final test, he put his hand on her knee, then he leaned in.

"Quiet, you'll wake up the others..." he said through a small laugh.

She let his hand rest on her leg as she tried to quiet down.

"I'm sorry. I don't even know what's so funny - but damn I needed this."

Got you, he thought as she leaned back, resting her bodyweight on her hands, while letting his touch linger.

Despite everything, all that change, she was still the same person with the same weak points on her shell. In-ho knew them all - he had watched her play her very first game.

"I missed your smile..." the sentence rolled off his tounge before he could've stopped himself.

She giggled, not noticing the major give-away on his perfect mask.

"Careful..." she warned him and for a moment In-ho thought she put the small inconsistencies together -- but then she continued: "I might think you're flirting with me."

"I wouldn't even dream of it." he said; realizing she let her vigilance leave her completely with a grin.

"Good." she sighed. "Now tell me, is there anything else you absolutely suck at?"

In the end In-ho got what he wanted - he always does. Trust, honesty - smiles... It didn't matter.

He had her on the hook too, her and everyone else, and there was no amount of doubt what would be able to ruin his perfectly painted picture about himself and the situation.

Doubt. He could use it against them.

That's what he does best after all.

[annab-nana]

After that gut punch of an angsty fic (said with love because it was written beautiful) can we get some fluff. Maybe one where Eddie comes home late and finds us sleeping on the couch because we tried waiting up for him….

Your writing is incredible 💜

aw thank you angel 😍 here is some tooth-rotting fluff for ya

warnings: not proofread, use of petnames (love, angel, sweetheart)

❀ masterlist ❀

you glanced down at your watch for what felt like the twentieth time that night. at this point, you were having a staring contest with the door, but you kept letting it win to check the time.

"’i'll be home by nine’ my ass," you muttered while getting a bit frustrated with the shorthand of your watch. it wasn't that little piece of metal's fault that eddie was later than he said, but the fact that it was almost pointing to eleven annoyed you.

eddie always commented on your stubbornness, and tonight was no different. you refused to get up and go to bed without eddie. you would sit there on the couch, leaning your head on your hand and your elbow on the arm of the sofa, until eddie walked through that damn door.

"she is going to kill me, gareth," eddie said exasperatedly as they loaded the last of the equipment into his van. "do you hear me, man? she will kill me."

"i hear you," gareth commented, tossing a rolled-up aux cable haphazardly in with the rest of their stuff before slamming shut the van door on his side. eddie shut the other. "and guess what? you say that every time you think she's going to be mad at you, and nine times out of ten, you're overreacting. you really messed up that one time at her grandma's lunch though."

eddie's shoulder rose when he took in a deep, steadying breath. "i thought i told you to stop bringing that up."

gareth's sputtering laughter echoed in eddie's ears as well as throughout the back alley behind the venue they were at. "i can't, man," gareth spoke between chuckles, "it's too funny."

eddie cut his eyes at his best friend who quickly straightened up his act before he ran a hand over his face and let out a sigh. "okay," eddie started, "i'm gonna go home. wish me luck."

gareth rolled his eyes at eddie and walked to his own vehicle, shouting to him, "you'll be fine!" over the growing distance between them.

eddie braced himself for the worst when he began to unlock the front door of your shared apartment nearly two and a half hours after he told you he'd be home. he really didn't mean to be this late. his gig started late, which meant that it ended late. then, the place was packed for the band that followed them, so getting their things out was difficult. it already took a little bit to pack it all back up in eddie's van. then, there was traffic getting out of the venue and heading home.

however, when eddie opened the door, he was met with a sight he liked a lot more than he anticipated, even if he was overthinking your reaction. you were passed out on the couch, and he could tell by your position that you didn't fall asleep there willingly. you were sitting up still, but your body was curved over the arm of the couch. your arm on the sofa's was sticking straight out, your hand limp at the end of it. it seemed you were using your bicep as a pillow, and how your neck was bent to achieve such a position was sure to leave some discomfort later on.

as quietly as he could, eddie slid off his shoes and jacket and set down his keys. then, he turned to the adorable sight that was you and made his way over to you. he squatted down in front of you, delicately kissing your cheek with his thumb. in a moment, your eyes fluttered open to meet his and a small smile pulled at your lips.

"hey, angel," eddie greeted in a gentle voice, eyes full of love and adoration for you.

"hey," you spoke softly in return. you picked your head up slowly and reached your arms up over your head to stretch.

eddie felt like his heart was going to burst at the seams with how much he loved you. he didn't know it was possible to feel this much until he met you. his big brown eyes watched you before you let your arms settle in your lap. tenderly, he reached for one of your hands and asked, "you ready for bed, sweetheart?"

"mhmm," you replied in a hum as you brought your free hand to your eye to rub it.

eddie's heart was seconds from combusting, but he miraculously managed to keep it under control. he squeezed your hand in his and rose to stand, you following his actions. he leaned forward to press a light kiss to your temple and whispered against your skin, "let's go, love."

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[glitterquadricorn]

His name is Chuck - LN4

+summary: what do you get a man that can literally get anything he wants at a moment's notice? why a puppy of course! +pairing: Lando Norris x Reader +warnings: mentions a pregnancy scare, mentions cheating (no cheating happens), semi-edited. a/n: this was supposed to be out months ago... oops. I do not give my permission to have my work reposted. I do not give my permission to have my work translated. If I'm notified that you've stolen my work or claim it as your own, you'll be asked to take it down before I'll report you. End of discussion.

What do you get someone that can afford to get anything their heart desires? It seemed like nothing that came to mind was good enough. She could get him the same thing she did the first year they were together for his birthday, which was a brand new, muted orange, lace lingerie set. But repeat birthday gifts were tacky in her opinion. And it's not like she couldn't get him another one of those boudoir books because the last time she did, it led to a pregnancy scare.

Whenever his birthday did come around, they'd most likely wouldn't even be in Monaco, much less in England. It's sometimes hard to plan things around his racing schedule but she wouldn't have it any other way.

"What are you watching?"

Jumping, placing a hand over her chest, "Jesus Christ, Lando! What is wrong with you!"

Lando laughed as he walked around the couch and sat next to her, noticing she was watching the most recent video Mclaren posted of him playing with puppies. Y/n saw the corners of Lando's mouth turn upwards into a smile. It was at this moment she knew what she was going to get Lando for his birthday. Only problem was where she was going to get it and where she was going to keep it until his birthday.

"I had a lot of fun playing with those puppies," he paused. "It makes me wish we weren't so busy traveling to and from countries for races, you know?"

"I can rearrange and clear some things from my schedule so I could be with the dog at all times."

"There's no need to do that, love."

Y/n saw a flash of sadness in Lando's eyes before he rested his head on her shoulder. Despite him saying she didn't need to move things around; she wanted to because that's what you do when you love someone. So, when Lando went off to go stream with Max, she texted Alex.

y/n -> albonooo

how much do you love me?

albonooo -> y/n

what did you do?

y/n -> albonooo

it's not about what I did, but what I'm about to do.

I need a huge favor.

albonooo -> y/n

I feel like I'm about to regret hearing you out but carry on.

y/n -> albonooo

Lando's birthday is coming up and everyone knows that Lando is a hard man to shop for. Mclaren recently did a video playing with puppies and I wanted to get him a puppy for his birthday.

albonooo -> y/n

okay, so what does this have to do with me?

y/n -> albonooo

I'm glad you asked!

When I get the puppy, I need somewhere to put them until his actual birthday.

albonooo -> y/n

Why me though?

y/n -> albonooo

if you and Lily got another animal no one would question it. In case you forgot, you guys practically have a zoo.

albonooo -> y/n

fair.

Now that she had a place to put the puppy once she got it, the next step was to talk to someone over at Battersea. The first phone call she made, no one answered. No one answering wasn't that big of a deal since they were probably busy, and she'd just call back later. When she called back hours later, the woman she spoke to was less than helpful. In fact, she wasn't really directing her in the direction she wanted to go, and the frustration was growing by the minute. Her fingers rubbed her temple, wondering if getting Lando a puppy for his birthday was a good idea.

And the search for a puppy didn't get any better as the weeks went by. Every time she thought she had found the perfect puppy, something would happen, and she'd be back at square one. But just as she was ready to give up and throw the towel in, she had gotten a call from her aunt saying a friend of hers' dog had puppies five weeks ago and could come and pick one out.

There's just one issue.

This person was in England and she's in Monaco.

When she told Lando she wasn't able to attend the Brazilian GP because of a business meeting back in England, he had reassured her it was fine, but she could tell from his eyes he was a little upset. Seeing that look in his eyes made her feel guilty for lying to him since she's never lied to him about anything in their relationship. She had to remind herself that it's a gift for this birthday and it'll be one that he'll never forget.

Arriving in England, the drive to her aunt's friend's house was long since they lived pretty far out, but she didn't mind as she watched the landscape change from the bustling city where houses were stacked on top of each other to the wide-open meadows of the quiet English countryside.

Soon, the uber was turning onto the long rocky driveway leading up to a large stone home covered ivy. Standing outside was a man who she assumed to be her aunt's friend.

The man held his hand out for her to shake. "You must be y/n! My name is Richard."

"That's me," she smiled. Richard led them in the house and into the sunroom where the sound of puppies playing warmed her heart. "Oh, my goodness! They're all so cute!"

Richard stood off to the side, "If have you any questions, don't hesitate to ask."

"What breed of dog are they?" she asked, sitting down on the floor. The puppies surrounded her until she threw a ball, but there was one that didn't move from her side.

"Jack Russell Terrier." Richard smiled when the one dog that didn't move from her side crawled into her lap and fell asleep. "Seems like you've been chosen."

"Seems like it."

A warm fuzzy feeling washed over her body as she gently scratched behind the sleeping puppy. In her heart she just knew this was the dog for Lando. Pulling an orange collar from her pocket, she fastened it around his neck, making sure it wasn't too tight.

"You got a name picked out?" Richard said, pushing off the door frame, gesturing to her to follow him.

"No. I'll let my boyfriend pick a name since it's going to be his birthday present."

"A puppy is quite the birthday gift."

"Yeah, but when Lando did that video with those puppies, I could see that look of longing for a puppy, but with our schedules it was not practical for us to get a puppy. Now that things have settled a bit, I want to get him the puppy I know he wants."

Richard reached into a drawer and handed her a manila envelope. "Everything you need is in there."

"Thanks again for this. I was beginning to think I wasn't going to find a puppy in time."

"It's not a problem, y/n." Richard came from around the desk, "Let me walk you out."

The two quietly talked about how the season was going as they walked to the front of the house, but the feeling of anxiety was there. And that anxiety feeling was still there when she knocked on the door of Alex's apartment to drop the puppy and supplies off.

"Alex, please tell me I'm not crazy for getting Lando a puppy for his birthday."

Alex, who gently scratched behind the puppy's ear, "Oh! You're for sure crazy-"

From further in the apartment, Lily shouted, "Ignore him, y/n. I think it's cute you got Lando a dog for his birthday."

Alex watched as the woman shifted her weight from left to right, mumbling under her breath and waving her arms around frantically. "Y/n, listen. Lando has been wanting a puppy for the longest time, so this is a good gift."

"You think so?"

"Yes! Now head home before he finds out you've been here."

The reassurance from Alex made the anxiety she was feeling fall off her shoulders. And as she walked down the hall towards the elevator, she crossed her fingers' hoping Alex was right because at this point, there was no going back.

One of the hardest things she's ever done was keep this big of a secret from Lando. There were a few times were she nearly slipped but thankfully caught herself. But Lando clocked her nervousness and made a mental note of her odd behavior. It wasn't like y/n to act this way, so did something happen? Did she cheat and was hiding it from him?

As it got closer to his birthday, she got more fidgety, which again was not like her. Y/n wouldn't cheat on him, would she? No. She wouldn't. He knows her better than herself. Maybe it was something else, and his mind was just making things up.

Lando woke the morning of his birthday and instinctively reached over to the other side of the bed and noticed you weren't there. Instead, was a note.

If you wake up and I'm not there, I only went to pick up your birthday present from Alex. This is around the time you say, 'she didn't have to get me anything,' but I did. I wanted to. I'll be home shortly.

Love, y/n.

He laid there wondering what y/n got him that she had to go pick up from Alex. It had to have been something big that she couldn't have just kept at their place. But then again, if she did keep it at their place, he probably would've found it and ruined the surprise.

"Listen, when I left this morning daddy was still sleeping, so we got to be quiet."

daddy? what?

The door to their shared bedroom slowly opened and the head of his girlfriend peaked from around the corner to check to see if he was still sleeping and when he wasn't, the door quickly closed.

Lando tossed the covers back, walking over to the door. There stood y/n, but his eyes instantly went to the puppy in her arms. "Uh... who's dog is that?"

"You weren't supposed to be awake, but he's yours."

"Mine? What do you mean?"

"Remember when I said I had a business meeting back in England and couldn't go to the Brazilian gp? I did go back to England, but it wasn't for a business meeting. It was to go get this little fella."

"You got me a dog for my birthday?"

"Yeah," she nodded her head, handing the puppy over to Lando. "I could tell you wanted one when you did that video with puppies at MTC, so I went above and beyond to get you a puppy."

"Does he have a name?"

"I've been calling him Chuck because an actor from a tv show I watched as a kid and their name was Chuck Norris."

"Chuck. His name is Chuck."

---

tagging:

@patzammit @mrspeacem1nusone @alexxavicry @catswag22 @eugene-emt-roe @bibissparkles @cherry-piee @khaylin27 @evie-119 @green-thots @2pagenumb @myescapefromthislife @ironmaiden1313 @lottalove4evelyn @mynameisangeloflife @newlifeforus @jxnellat @loloekie @c-losur3 @czennieszn @d3kstar @reiofsuns2001 @sweate-r-weathe-r @itsjustkhaos @hiireadstuff

[holyguardian]

Aerith drew strength from Roran's bravery. Even when he was afraid and sad, he still led with compassion. He was only a young boy but his heart was big and full of love. That much he proved when he found his voice and hugged each of Nikolaos' family. He was a good kid. Had it not been for their son, he wouldn't be standing here to hug them, or to promise to them that he would always talk to Nikolaos in the Lifestream.

She hadn't drawn too much attention on herself. Perhaps it would be noticed, how the Cetran Princess held back long after was expected of her.

Or even how the Lucian Prince stood at her side, gently twining his arm around hers to seek her hand with fingers interlaced. It almost tickled a smile from her. Almost. Instead she gave a small squeeze.

"... I should go inside the temple now. I'll start my prayer, it will take some time." Her head finally turned, and the corner of her lips hooked up in a quick little smile. "Wait until the last few have finished talking. I... feel a tingling, I don't want to get my hopes up but..."

Her head shook. She wouldn't speak it out loud. "I'll see you soon." Her other hand reached to briefly touch his cheek, an affection and polite little farewell for now.

The Princess walked into the temple alone. Her footsteps seemed so much louder in the great open space as she approached the far end. Where offerings would be laid out to their Gods, and where priests and priestesses would offer blessings, she knelt down on the polished marble floor and bowed her head, hands clasped in her prayer.

This was holy ground.

Like the sacred pools of the forgotten city, there was a feeling of... not being alone...

That was how Somnus and the family would find her. It was a silent prayer, and a slow one. Even with the small delay of crowds, by the time they entered the temple she hadn't pulled her answer yet.

It was a long couple of minutes before a faded, distant sound started to rise as if from the floor beneath. Small flickers of green, orbs clinging in the air around Aerith, and then a gentle song rising up, stirring her hair and her clothes, the breeze washing over the family as column of green rose up.

It hung there for another moment, like a doorway, one that could lead to their beyond.

A sandled foot stepped forth. The green shimmering, taking form as a soldier walked between the praying Princess to greet his family one last time. Nikolaos had answered his call with a smile spread upon his face. There, but not there. Touches were feather light. His families hands would ghost through him if they tried to hold on tight. There were tears, relief, echoed little sobs as they struggled to find the words good enough for a final goodbye.

But it was Nikolaos himself who promised he was not truly gone. That he would walk beside them even when they could not see him. He caught the Prince's eye, lips split into a grin. It was just a quick greeting. He ran in a half-jog, a shimmering green trail in his wake and he brought his hand to clap on Somnus' arm, it could almost be felt. He leaned and whispered some words only to him, grinned even wider, then returned to his family for the last few minutes he had left. It was as long as Aerith could give. As long as Nikolaos' soul could linger. He gave hugs all around, already beginning to fade, but before he was completely gone, before his soul rejoined that beautiful chorus stirring around them, he took a moment to kneel beside the Princess and utter one little thing. His final goodbye was a wave a thrown kiss to those he most loved. And then... the slow return of silence... the breeze left them, the melody of other voices too.

The gentle green glow faded out and finally the Princess lifted her head. She pushed herself up slowly, and if she seemed weak in her initial movement, it was because she had used every last drop of her mana to make the moment possible. Draining didn't even begin to cover that spell. Yet she still stood tall. And finally she turned to his family. "Nikolaos said... thankyou for not dropping the urn, even though it would be funny."

He could feel her fingertips on the back of his hand. It was… such a small gesture. And yet it almost made him look over to her. Somnus could stop his head from turning entirely. Instead forcing himself to stare ahead.

But he was grateful. Grateful for her noticing such little shifts within himself. It was unreal, how she did that. She left small traces on his soul... and it seemed she did so on the pyre, too.

Somnus saw the small greenish glimmer when she placed down her farewell to Nikolaos. He could not decipher her words, but he knew those were not meant for him anyway. She was strong.

And he needed to be that too. When it was his turn to face Nikolaos’ family, Somnus knew what was expected of him. What he expected of himself. Instead of just a bow, he got on his knees. Like Gilgamesh had done. Like the commander of Nikolaos’ troop had done. Asking for forgiveness for failing as comrades to their son and brother. Asking for their blessing in the future to avenge him. Promising to banish the Daemons and Plague.

The sharp stones burrowing into his knees and hands almost did not register at all, as Somnus bowed his head down one last time, before getting up. Piercing like his sword that had ended Nikolaos’ suffering hours earlier.

The young Prince had finally managed to walk himself, his parents tailing right behind him. Roran had had a pure heart. And innocence abound – until this day. But those characteristics still shone through. Instead of a few words, like most strangers to Nikolaos’ family, the boy said something. And then proceeded to hug each member of them. Somnus could see how hard it was. For him. And for Nikolaos’ family. There were tears streaming down suntanned faces. Yet Nikolaos parents held no ill will towards the child. They crouched down to his level, a hand on his shoulder, another tousling through blond hair.

This was the boy their son had fought for. And they would not kick that ambition with hatred and grief. Their smiles were sad, but genuine.

It was a long process. A long ritual. The night pitch black when the masses slowly started to leave. Gazes lifting to the embers that flew high to the stars from the pyre that engulfed Nikolaos’ body – and freed his soul. Prayers and chants slowly dying down. Very few were left. But Somnus remained at Aerith’s side, a bit off, but now finally taking her arm. The strictness of the ritual was fading. The time for their own approach was coming. This time it were his fingers intertwining with hers, as he whispered.

"You tell me when I should start talking to them. They will not leave until everyone else did."

[unintentionalseductress]

Why does everyone portray Caleb to be 'dark romance, zade meadows' coded? :/

Yeah he's got yandere traits to wanna keep her forever and for himself but he never implies that he'll hurt mc- instead expressing a fierce desire to protect her, so why do ppl write ffs Abt him being manipulative? Making him have 'rough jealous s*x' in which he's spewing a bunch of hurtful things just to manipulate mc to his liking?

I guess it's because of the initial show of possessiveness in his trailer, but literally every love and deepspace guy is possessive so why portray him so darkly?

I like that you portray him more realistically to his character and not so ooc because that's what it feels like most of the time

Hello there anon! I'm glad you think my portrayal of Caleb feels more realistic than some other interpretations. I really don't know where this concept of comparing Caleb to Zade comes from since Zade literally r**es the MC in that book and I simply can't picture Caleb doing that?

This might be a much longer response than you'd expected and I'm sorry, but I've been taking little notes as I went through Caleb's memories, anecdotes, and myth. I feel like most of the people that are portraying him in this sadistic way simply didn't read all the material and just clicked through to get the diamonds.

So let me start by saying, all the other 4 LI's met MC quite recently, meaning they had no say in her life and weren't there when the Chronorift Catastrophe occurred. They met her as an adult, when she'd had time to put herself together and act like a rational grown woman.

Caleb met her at the worst time in their lives as a child until Josephine adopted them. They trauma bonded and after all they've been through together, they're extremely possessive of each other. Not just Caleb, but even the MC as well. She's just as paranoid and possessive about Caleb as well, and this is evidenced in their memories which I will delve into shortly.

But imagine being so close and growing up with this person that you think you know like the back of your own hand. She and Caleb appeared to be quite close up until the explosion. Now MC had to deal with the loss of her second family, and possibly the love of her life. Yes, I said it. The love of her life, because after going through the memories, there's nothing that can be said to change my mind that these two weren't in some kind of relationship before Caleb's death.

Now Caleb is back. MC is wary of him, she's scared to be possessive of him like she was because she knows what it's like to lose him. Caleb has no idea where he stands in her life, and inside it's because he knows he fucked up. He realizes he wants her back, the same woman who was just as obsessed and possessive of him like how he was with her and he has no idea how to fix it.

Caleb imo slides into the tip of the yandere iceberg because of that scene in the main story where he says he'll rebuild their house in Linkon and they can move in together etc. To me, that's the effect of the chip (more to be discussed about that below), and also him literally breaking down because MC said his worst fear to his face; she doesn't need him anymore. How do you recover from having the one person you've loved for most of your life look at you with so much hate and say they don't need you? (reminded me of Sylus a little bit when he's told MC is disgusted by him) For him to be truly yandere, he would have locked her up then and there but he doesn't. He backs off, allows her to get back to her life unharmed, and he keeps himself busy with work. That doesn't look like true yandere behavior to me.

NOW. MYTH EVIDENCE. The part with the chips. The chips seem to exacerbate certain feelings that already exist and take them to the extreme, hence why people who are chipped are very emotionless and almost have a robotic character to them, perhaps to avoid the pain of being emotional. In his myth, we find Caleb actively fights the chip, and it puts so much strain on his body that he falls unconscious or goes into fits. I think that 'yandere' scene is because the chip and his body are at odds with each other. Even MC when she chips herself, finds herself being manipulative of Caleb, trying to make him think of memories that were only half-truths. They're both obsessed with each other, and without the chip, it was fine, but with chip, things get crazy.

Also, I think it's safe to say, Caleb hasn't shown yandere tendencies towards MC in the past pre explosion, beyond telling her to be careful during missions or to let her know when she got hurt. He wasn't upset because she wasn't staying at home, he's upset because she's hiding things from him (like when she lied about getting scratched by a cat pre explosion).

NOW ONTO THE MEMORIES. Because omg, there's so much evidence in the memories that Caleb realizes his limitations in his ability to care for her. In their bond memory Rain's Embrace, when MC is asleep on his shoulder, Caleb literally says something along the lines of "I promise not to be so overprotective of you." He says something similar in Endless Summer and Exclusive Aftertaste, stating he knows his tendency to protect her isn't good for either of them.

And to show how possessive MC was of him. In the memory Longtime Yesterday, we find out Caleb was super popular in college and many girls tried to befriend him by giving him bento boxes. His friends teased him saying "Miss Apple" helped him avoid having to accept the bento boxes. MC literally sulks all the way back to the airport and when Caleb asks her what's wrong she goes, "You have a Miss Apple," like that was a perfectly plausible explanation. Miss Apple turns out to be a hairtie that Caleb took from MC that has apple shaped beads on it and he wears it (presumably on his wrist) all the time, which drove away unwanted attention from other girls. MC was so upset prior to hearing this, and Caleb reassures her that he doesn't want anyone else's attention but her's.

In Borrowed Promise, which occurs when MC is still in high school, Caleb is visiting from college and MC has a fight with a friend who is a girl (important). Caleb notices she's unhappy and takes her to a fair of sorts to cheer her up and she tells him she's worried someone may not like her anymore. Caleb tries to act nonchalant but you can tell he's thinking MC has a boyfriend or a crush and he goes "their loss but oh well you're not for everyone." It's at this point she tells Caleb it's a girl and he's dumbfounded but his relief is evident.

And my favorite, Stage Observer. MC is helping Caleb empty his dorm since he's about to graduate from college and she finds an envelope tucked away in one of his books with cutesy apples on the surface. She mistakenly thinks this is a love letter and then gives a very confused Caleb the cold shoulder for the rest of her visit. Then on his graduation day, she softens and helps fix his tie as he's about to give his valedictorian speech. During this time, she admits she's scared about him finding someone else and he says he worries about her meeting someone else too, but he's happy having just her and grandma in his life. In his speech, Caleb talks about how people go through their whole looking for meaningful connections with people but he's fortunate to have found the one person he knows he can count on. Afterwards, MC runs to him and gives him what I think is their first kiss. And why does she do this? She says, "I kissed you so you can't have a girlfriend now!" Caleb is confused and then she finally admits seeing the envelope. Well guess what? It turns out the envelope actually holds a good luck charm she had sent Caleb but the cover got ruined so Caleb replaced it with the apple envelope. He teases her but the ending implies they now know how they feel for each other and that was the start of a more romantic relationship between them.

So there. MC is just as possessive and obsessed with Caleb as he is with her. He knows that and it's because he's so in tune with these feelings that to him, his actions don't seem out of line, because that's how he expects her to be with him as well. I think like the other boys, his love is limitless, he literally says, "I love you more than you realize" in his myth. He's struggling with mental health and trauma and I think people just want to downplay him for various reasons without delving into the complexity of his character, or the incredible history he has with MC, not from a past life, but in this very real, present one. He was there with her during a time when she didn't know a Xavier, a Rafayel, or a Sylus (maybe Zayne since Caleb mentions him).

There. It feels good to get this out. I will end this by saying, sure, Caleb qualifies as a dark romance, maybe a mild yandere, but definitely, nothing along the lines of Zade because I genuinely don't think he'd want to hurt MC by doing something that could hurt her or violate her consent.

I'm open to more discussion on this. And a reminder about my usual policy; if you have nothing nice to say, scroll on by.

[winxanity-ii]

⌜Godly Things | Chapter 25 Chapter 25 | love's labyrinth⌟

╰ ⌞🇨‌🇭‌🇦‌🇵‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌ 🇮‌🇳‌🇩‌🇪‌🇽‌⌝

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At the royal table, Telemachus sat stiffly between his mother and Andreia, the rich tapestry of the feast unfolding around him. His plate was mostly untouched, save for a few bites he'd forced himself to take to avoid suspicion.

The air was thick with the mingling scents of roasted meats, spiced wine, and honeyed fruits, but none of it managed to stir his appetite.

To his left, Andreia was in the midst of an animated conversation, her voice melodic but sharp enough to cut through the hum of the gathering. Her hands moved gracefully as she spoke, her words punctuated with occasional laughs that were as polished as the silverware on the table. 

To anyone observing, she might have seemed the picture of charm and grace—a perfect guest, a potential match for Ithaca's prince.

But Telemachus wasn't paying attention to her.

His eyes drifted past the shimmering goblets, past the dazzling decorations that adorned the courtyard, and locked onto the one figure he couldn't seem to tear himself away from.

You.

You were on the dance floor, your laughter ringing out like a bell amidst the music, your blue dress twirling as you moved effortlessly with the rhythm of the song. A group of dancers surrounded you, including Kieran and Callias, their faces flushed with excitement and joy.

But for Telemachus, it was as if the entire scene blurred into the background, leaving only you in sharp focus.

Your smile—so bright, so genuine—was a stark contrast to the carefully crafted expressions of the nobles and guests seated around him. There was no artifice in the way your eyes lit up, no calculated charm in the way you threw your head back in laughter when Kieran spun you around too fast and nearly stumbled.

It was real. You were real.

Andreia's voice broke into his reverie, her words cutting through like an unwelcome breeze. "Prince Telemachus," she said smoothly, leaning slightly toward him. Her tone was light, but the undercurrent of expectation was unmistakable. "What do you think of the decorations? The blending of Ithaca's colors with Bronte's—it's quite striking, isn't it?"

Telemachus blinked, forcing his gaze back to her. He nodded absently, the words barely registering. "Yes, quite," he murmured, his tone devoid of the enthusiasm she likely hoped for.

Andreia tilted her head, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly as she studied him. "You seem distracted," she observed, a hint of something sharper creeping into her voice. "Is everything alright?"

"Fine," he replied quickly, his lips pressing into a thin line. He picked up his goblet and took a long sip of wine, hoping it might help to mask his obvious disinterest in her conversation. It didn't.

"Really? Because you've barely said a word all evening," she pressed, her tone now laced with what might have been genuine curiosity—or something closer to annoyance.

Before he could respond, another burst of laughter erupted from the dance floor. His head turned instinctively, his eyes finding you again. This time, you were dancing with Callias, the two of you caught in a lively spin that left your faces flushed and grinning.

Telemachus' chest tightened at the sight.

Andreia followed his gaze, her sharp eyes narrowing as she tracked where his attention had strayed. She didn't say anything immediately, but the slight twitch at the corner of her mouth spoke volumes.

"Ah," she said after a moment, her voice quieter but no less cutting. "I see."

Telemachus stiffened, his grip tightening on the stem of his goblet. He turned back to her, his expression carefully neutral. "See what?"

Andreia's smile didn't reach her eyes as she gestured subtly toward the dance floor. "She's... captivating, isn't she? The way the crowd seems to revolve around her, the way she lights up the space. It's no wonder she's garnered so much attention lately."

Her words were smooth, almost complimentary, but Telemachus could hear the undercurrent of envy, the subtle jab beneath the surface. He didn't rise to the bait, instead setting his goblet down with deliberate care.

"She deserves it," he said simply, his voice steady but firm. "Everything tonight—she's earned it."

Andreia's smile faltered, just for a fraction of a second, before she composed herself. "Of course," she said, her tone light once more. "How generous of you to think so."

Telemachus didn't respond; his gaze had already drifted back to the dance floor, where you were still caught in the glow of laughter and joy, oblivious to his turmoil. After a beat, he sighed quietly, dropping his gaze to his goblet before muttering, "Excuse me, I think I need some air." Without waiting for a response, he stood, smoothing his tunic before slipping away from the royal table.

Andreia's sharp eyes followed him, her lips pressing into a thin line as he exited the grand hall. But Telemachus didn't look back. He felt suffocated in a way that no amount of festivity could ease. He passed through the heavy double doors; the distant sounds of music and laughter muffled as he entered the quieter corridors of the palace.

As he walked, the tension in his shoulders eased slightly, though the unease in his chest remained. He wasn't sure why, but something had shifted recently. A distance between you and him that he couldn't quite name but felt acutely all the same. It had started subtly—small things he might not have noticed if he weren't so attuned to you.

At first, it had been minor—a missed smile, a hurried excuse to leave when he approached. He had brushed it off as coincidence, thinking perhaps you were simply preoccupied. But as the day went on, it became harder to ignore.

Every time he sought you out, hoping for a moment to talk, to share in the quiet understanding that had always been there, you seemed to slip away. And each time it happened, it left him with a gnawing sense of unease.

He recalled one time in particular. It was hours before the feast started when he spotted you in the palace halls, chatting with one of the older maids. He had started toward you, eager to steal a moment before the day's activity pulled you both in different directions. But as soon as you noticed him, your expression had shifted—eyes widening, lips parting as if in surprise. And then, just as quickly, you had turned away, muttering something to the maid before disappearing into the palace.

It wasn't like you. The easy camaraderie you had always shared now felt fractured; the invisible thread that connected you stretched thin. He had replayed those moments in his mind, searching for answers.

Had he done something to upset you? Said something thoughtless without realizing it? The question gnawed at him, carving a hollow space in his chest.

Stopping in one of the quieter hallways, he leaned against the cool stone wall, running a hand through his hair. The muted hum of the feast echoed faintly in the distance, but he barely registered it. His thoughts were consumed by you—by the way your laughter on the dance floor had felt like sunlight breaking through clouds, yet he couldn't ignore the way you'd avoided him all day.

Telemachus sighed, his hand falling to his side as he stared at the flickering torchlight illuminating the corridor. He couldn't shake the feeling that something had changed, that there was a wall between you now where there had once been none. And he hated it.

Pushing off the wall, he started walking again, his steps slower, more deliberate. He wasn't sure if he was ready to face the feast again, to return to Andreia's sharp eyes and honeyed words.

But more than that, he wasn't sure how to face you—not when the memory of your bright smile felt so far removed from the quiet distance you now held him at.

As Telemachus stood in the empty corridor, staring blankly at the flickering torchlight, a voice cut through the silence like the sharp edge of a blade, dripping with sarcasm.

"Wow, you sure know how to turn moping into an art form, don't you?"

Telemachus jerked, his head snapping up to locate the source of the voice. His eyes darted around the hallway until they landed on... a boy? A boy who wasn't just standing there but floating a few feet off the ground, one leg crossed over the other as though lounging midair. The boy's golden curls glinted faintly in the dim light, his cherubic face twisted into a grin that was anything but innocent.

"What the—?" Telemachus stammered, stepping back instinctively, his heart racing. "Who are you, and how did you get in here?"

The boy ignored the question entirely, instead tilting his head as he surveyed Telemachus. "You're just as serious as they said. Honestly, I thought royals were supposed to be fun. 'Ya know, with all the having power over other people and stuff."

Telemachus blinked, bewildered. "What are you talking about? And what do you mean 'they said'? Who—"

"Oh, this is going to take forever," the boy groaned dramatically, rolling his eyes. He stretched his arms over his head lazily, the motion causing his toga to slip slightly off one shoulder. Then he pointed a tiny finger toward the small wings fluttering behind him. "Take a guess, genius."

Telemachus squinted, his mind racing as he pieced together the image before him: the golden curls, the wings, the glowing quiver of arrows slung across the boy's back. Slowly, realization dawned, and he felt his jaw tighten.

"Eros," he muttered, the name tasting strange on his tongue.

The boy gave a mock bow, his grin widening. "Ding, ding, ding! We have a winner! Took you long enough." He floated down a bit, resting his chin in his hands as he leaned toward Telemachus, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "I've been watching you, you know. You're almost as dramatic as one of my love-struck mortals."

Telemachus bristled, his confusion giving way to irritation. "Watching me? Why? And don't compare me to—"

"Because it's entertaining," Eros interrupted, cutting him off with a wave of his small hand. "Do you know how dull some of you mortals can be? You, at least, have some flavor. All this pining, all this angst—it's like watching a tragedy unfold in slow motion."

"I'm not pining," Telemachus snapped, his cheeks flushing slightly despite himself. "And I don't have time for games, so if you have some divine purpose, get to it."

Eros laughed, the sound light and mocking. "Oh, you are fun. So defensive! You're practically screaming, 'Yes, I'm in love, and I have no idea what to do about it! Help me!'"

Telemachus stiffened, his eyes narrowing as he glared at the boy. "I didn't ask for your opinion, nor help."

"Too bad," Eros shot back, spinning lazily in the air. "Because I have a lot of them. And here's one for free: you're making this much harder than it needs to be. You're thinking so much, it's a wonder you haven't combusted yet."

Telemachus clenched his fists, his patience thinning like a taut thread ready to snap. "What do you want?" he demanded, his voice low and firm.

Eros gasped dramatically, placing a small hand over his chest like he'd just been struck by a mortal blow. "So cold, Your Highness!" he whined, floating closer, his tiny wings flitting behind him. "Here I am, offering my invaluable presence, and you act like I'm some common thief in your hallways."

Telemachus raised a brow, unimpressed. "If you're not here to meddle, then why are you here?"

Eros' pout disappeared, replaced by a sly grin. "Business," he declared, straightening up midair and crossing his arms. His golden curls seemed to glow faintly in the torchlight, making him look every bit the picture of an angelic child—if not for the mischief glittering in his eyes. "And that business, dear prince, is you."

Telemachus frowned, stepping back slightly. "Me? Why?"

Eros flipped upside down, lounging as though gravity was an afterthought. "Because watching you wrestle with your own emotions is like watching a bird try to fly while tied to a stone. Entertaining? Sure. But it's getting repetitive." He righted himself, landing on the ground with exaggerated grace. "I'm here to give you a chance—a very generous one, if I do say so myself."

Telemachus narrowed his eyes. "What kind of chance?"

Eros smirked, stepping closer until he stood just in front of the prince. Despite his small frame, his presence felt far larger. "A chance to sort out your girl troubles, of course." He tilted his head, his curls bouncing. "Which you may or may not have." His smirk widened. "Though, let's be honest, you totally have them."

Telemachus' jaw tightened, the subtle heat in his cheeks betraying him despite his efforts to stay composed. "I don't need your help," he said firmly, though his voice lacked conviction.

"Oh, don't be so serious!" Eros exclaimed, throwing his arms up in exasperation. "You mortals always think you can do everything the hard way. Newsflash, princeling: that's why you're all so miserable."

Telemachus hesitated, his internal conflict playing out in the tension of his posture. He wanted to say yes, to grab hold of whatever help this meddling god could provide. The thought of winning your heart, of seeing your bright smile aimed only at him again, was almost enough to sway him.

But something held him back—his own sense of integrity.

"It's... not right," he said finally, his voice quieter now. "If... If I'm going to win her heart, I want to do it the right way. Honestly. Without... tricks."

Eros groaned, dragging a hand down his face as if Telemachus' answer had physically pained him. "You are boring," he said, his voice dripping with disdain. "Fine, Mr. Morals. I'll give you points for effort, but do you really think she's going to notice you if you keep skulking around like this? You need help, whether you admit it or not."

Telemachus straightened, his expression hardening. "I don't need your arrows or your schemes, Eros. If she's going to choose me, I want it to be because she truly wants to—not because you nudged her emotions in my favor."

Eros studied him for a moment, his mischievous smirk fading into something almost thoughtful. "You're serious about this, huh?" he said, more to himself than to Telemachus. Then, just as quickly, the smirk was back. "Alright, fine. If you're so determined to stick to the 'noble' path, I'll give you an alternative."

Telemachus raised a brow. "What kind of alternative?"

Eros grinned, the light in his eyes gleaming brighter than before. "What if I made Princess Andreia fall for you instead?" he offered, his tone casual, as if discussing the weather.

The reaction was immediate. Telemachus recoiled slightly, his brows furrowing in disbelief. "Andreia?" he repeated, his voice sharper than intended. "No."

Eros blinked, clearly surprised by the speed of the response. "No?" he echoed, tilting his head.

Telemachus straightened, his expression resolute. "Even if ____ might not want me, I wouldn't be able to give mt heart away. She's the only one that can claim it."

Eros stared at him for a long moment, his golden eyes narrowing slightly. Then, to Telemachus's surprise, the boy's lips curled into a small, genuine smile—one that lacked the usual mischief. "Well," he said, his voice softer, "at least you're not lying to yourself."

The sincerity of the moment lingered, rare and oddly grounding, but it didn't last long. As though realizing he'd allowed himself to be too earnest, Eros tilted his head sharply, his cherubic curls bouncing. His eyes darted upward, narrowing in focus, as if he were listening to something distant and unseen.

His nose wrinkled, and his expression twisted into one of utter disgust. "Ugh, gross!" he exclaimed, throwing his arms out dramatically. He gagged for emphasis, the sound sharp and exaggerated. "You're thinking about her again, aren't you?"

Telemachus blinked, startled. "What?" he asked, his tone defensive but wary, confused by the boy's unpredicatble emotions.

Eros spun in the air, covering his face with one hand like a dramatic actor in the middle of a tragedy. "It's so sweet it's nauseating," he groaned, peeking through his fingers with a squint. "How do you mortals even handle emotions like this? If it were me, I'd shoot an arrow at myself just to get rid of it."

The prince frowned, his arms crossing as he stared at the floating boy. "You're overreacting."

Eros dropped his hands, raising his brows as if Telemachus had just uttered the most ridiculous thing he'd ever heard. "Overreacting?" He leaned closer, his face uncomfortably close to Telemachus'. "Listen, princeling, I know love better than anyone. It's practically my whole thing, and I can tell you right now—you're drowning in it. Hopelessly."

Telemachus opened his mouth to respond, but Eros cut him off with a sharp wave of his hand. "But you know what?" The boy leaned back mid-air, resting his hands behind his head as he floated in a lazy circle. "If you're too noble to make a choice, then I guess I'll have to make it for you."

"What?" Telemachus straightened, his voice suddenly taut with alarm. "What do you mean, make it for me?"

Eros' grin turned sharp, a flash of teeth that seemed far too knowing for his youthful face. "Oh, don't worry about it," he said, his tone far too casual to be comforting. "Let's just say I'll give fate a little nudge. Call it an experiment." He shrugged, spinning lazily in the air. "You'll thank me later. Or not. Either way, it'll be fun."

"Eros," Telemachus warned, his fists clenching at his sides. "Don't—"

"Bye, princeling!" Eros interrupted, his voice sing-song and infuriatingly carefree. He lifted a hand in a cheeky wave, his wings fluttering. "Try not to mess things up too badly, alright?"

Before Telemachus could demand answers or stop him, Eros disappeared in a burst of golden light, the faint sound of laughter lingering in his wake. The hallway fell silent, the encounter settling heavily over the prince.

Telemachus stood there, his heart racing with a mixture of frustration and unease. Whatever Eros had planned, he knew it couldn't mean anything good—or simple. And as much as he hated to admit it, the boy's parting words gnawed at him.

Hopelessly in love.

He shook his head, his jaw tightening as he turned to leave the corridor and return to the feast. Whatever game Eros was playing, Telemachus was determined to face it head-on. If this was a test of his resolve, he would prove that his feelings for you didn't need divine interference to be true.

As he approached the entrance to the ballroom, the muffled sounds of music and laughter grew louder, the atmosphere vibrant with celebration. Stepping inside, the warmth of the grand hall washed over him, along with the mingled scents of roasted meats, sweet pastries, and spiced wine. His gaze instinctively swept across the room, taking in the swirling colors of Ithacan and Brontean finery blending together, the flickering glow of candlelight reflecting off golden goblets and polished silver.

And then, his eyes found you.

You were standing near the refreshment table, laughing at something Callias had said. He was beside you, animated and theatrical as always, gesturing wildly with a cup in hand while Asta, Lysandra, and Kieran chuckled at his antics. The glow of the lanterns above caught on the fabric of your dress, making the rich blue shimmer with every movement, and when you smiled, it was as if the entire room softened around you.

Telemachus froze mid-step.

He had intended to return to his seat at the royal table, to settle back into the rhythm of polite conversation and carefully chosen words. He could already hear Andreia's voice in his mind, ready to fill the space beside him with idle chatter. But just as he turned away from the sight of you, something caught his attention—a flicker of movement, just over your shoulder.

Floating behind you, as if he hadn't a care in the world, was Eros.

The young deity had a glowing pink bottle in one hand, its glass catching the light in a way that made it seem almost alive. Telemachus' breath hitched as he watched Eros tilt the bottle, pouring its contents into the cup you held. The liquid shimmered unnaturally as it swirled in your goblet, like stardust dissolving into wine.

And yet, not a single person around you seemed to notice—not Callias, not Asta, Lysandra, not even the servants bustling nearby. It was as if Telemachus was the only one who could see the god's mischief unfolding before his very eyes.

Eros' grin stretched wider as he caught sight of Telemachus, his golden curls bouncing as he gave the prince a playful, fluttering wave. Then, with an exaggerated wink, he disappeared, vanishing into thin air as though he had never been there at all.

Panic gripped Telemachus like a vice. His eyes darted back to you, and his stomach dropped as he saw you lift the cup toward your lips. There was no time to think, no moment to hesitate. Before he even realized what he was doing, he was moving—his body acting on pure instinct. He crossed the room in a blur, weaving between dancers and revelers with a speed he didn't know he possessed.

"Wait!" he blurted, his voice sharper than he intended as he reached your side.

You froze mid-motion, startled by the sudden interruption. Your eyes widened as you turned to face him, the cup still in your hand. "Prince Telemachus?" you asked, confused. "What are you—?"

Before you could finish, he took the cup from your hand in one swift motion, the liquid inside sloshing dangerously close to the rim. Without a word of explanation, he brought the goblet to his lips and downed its contents in a single, desperate gulp.

The sweet, otherworldly taste of the drink hit his tongue like a burst of sunlight, warm and intoxicating, but he forced himself to swallow it all, not letting a single drop go to waste. When the goblet was empty, he lowered it, breathing heavily as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

The table had fallen silent. You, Callias, and the others stared at him, utterly bewildered.

"Uh... are you alright, Your Highness?" Callias asked after a beat, his tone hovering between concern and amusement. "Because, damn, you looked thirsty."

Telemachus barely registered the comment, his gaze fixed on you as he tried to steady his breathing. His heart was racing, a mix of adrenaline and whatever magic had been in that drink coursing through his veins. He opened his mouth to speak, to explain, but no words came.

His mind scrambled for something—anything—that would make his actions seem less strange. Then, with a nervous laugh that sounded far too forced, he blurted out, "Oh, I thought you got it for me! Haha—my mistake!"

Your brow furrowed, the confusion on your face deepening as you tilted your head. "You thought... I got it for you?" you echoed, clearly not convinced. The disbelief in your tone only made his awkwardness grow.

"Y-Yeah!" Telemachus stammered, his hand already shooting out to grab a random passerby's cup off a nearby tray. The bewildered servant barely had time to react as Telemachus thrust the drink toward you with a sheepish smile. "Here you go! A replacement. Enjoy."

You blinked, staring down at the cup he handed you, your lips parting to respond. Before you could say anything, he hastily added, "Well, gotta go! Busy night, lots to do. You know how it is!" He waved awkwardly, already stepping back.

Just as he turned to make his escape, a chill swept over him, sharp and sudden, making his skin prickle. Before he could process the sensation, an overwhelming wave of discomfort crashed over his body. His muscles cramped painfully, his head spun, and a heavy dizziness pressed down on him like an invisible weight. He stumbled slightly, gripping the edge of a nearby table to steady himself.

"Prince Telemachus?" your voice was concerned now, but he didn't dare look back, not wanting to worry you—or worse, have you see the panic flickering in his eyes.

"I-I'm fine," he managed to mutter, his voice strained as he straightened with effort. "I just... I need to step out for some air."

Without waiting for a response, he made a beeline for the nearest exit, his steps uneven but quick. The moment he was out of the hall, away from the warm glow of the festivities, a snickering sound made his stomach sink.

Eros was floating in front of him again, lazily spinning one of his golden arrows in his hand. The little god's grin was wide and unapologetically smug, his golden curls bouncing as he tilted his head. "Wow," Eros said, drawing the word out with exaggerated amusement. "You really went for it, huh?"

Telemachus groaned, clutching his stomach as another wave of nausea rolled through him. "What... did you do?" he ground out, glaring at the god through the haze of his discomfort.

Eros burst into laughter, clutching his sides as he doubled over mid-air. "It wasn't supposed to go like this! You weren't supposed to drink the whole thing, you idiot!" He wiped a nonexistent tear from his eye, his laughter subsiding into mischievous chuckles. "It was meant to be sipped, not chugged like it's some mortal drinking contest."

Telemachus leaned heavily against the wall, his jaw tightening as he forced himself to stay upright. "Why would you even try to give it to her?" he demanded, his voice low but filled with anger.

Eros shrugged, completely unbothered. "Relax, lover boy. I wasn't going to make her drink it willingly. I had a whole plan!" He gestured dramatically with his free hand. "I was going to let her take a sip or two, then have someone bump into her to make her drop it, and let the magic work naturally. Subtle. Elegant."

Telemachus stared at him, incredulous. "Subtle? You call that subtle?"

Eros smirked, leaning closer, his golden eyes twinkling with mischief. "You're one to talk, Mr. 'I'll just drink this entire cursed concoction to save her.' You didn't even hesitate." He tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Actually, I'm kind of impressed. Stupid, but impressive."

Telemachus felt his anger rise, but before he could retort, another cramp twisted through his body, stealing his breath. He hunched over slightly, cursing under his breath as Eros floated closer, examining him with mock sympathy.

"Well," Eros said cheerfully, "on the bright side, at least you didn't ruin my fun entirely. Now we get to see what happens when someone takes a full dose of divine love magic. Should be entertaining!" He clapped his hands together, his cherubic face lighting up with glee.

Telemachus groaned again, sliding down the wall until he was sitting on the cool stone floor. "Get rid of it," he muttered through gritted teeth. "Undo whatever it is you did."

Eros snorted, crossing his arms. "Oh, no, no, no. Where's the fun in that? Besides," he added with a wicked grin, "it's not like you're dying. Just... experiencing the full force of what it means to have your heart wide open."

Telemachus glared up at him, his patience worn paper-thin. "I don't need magic to feel what I already feel," he snapped. "I already love her—without your interference."

Eros tilted his head, his grin softening slightly into something more thoughtful. For a moment, the boy looked older, wiser, his golden eyes gleaming with something far beyond mischief. "I know," he said simply. "That's what makes this so fun to watch."

With that, Eros gave him a little salute, his wings fluttering as he began to fade. "Good luck, Prince Charming," he called over his shoulder. "Try not to embarrass yourself too much when the magic kicks in."

And then, he was gone, leaving Telemachus alone in the dim corridor, his body aching and his mind reeling. His breathing was shallow, and every step he took felt unsteady, the tension in his chest coiling tighter with each beat of his heart. He muttered a string of curses under his breath, his frustration mounting.

"By the gods..." he hissed, running a hand through his hair as the dull ache in his stomach made him lean briefly against the wall. His fingers curled against the stone for balance, trying to gather himself. He'd just been humiliated by a pre-teen god with wings, his mind toyed with, and now his body felt like it was betraying him too.

"Stupid little brat," he grumbled, his voice low and bitter. "Should've been clearer it was meant for one sip—"

"Telemachus?"

The sound of your voice cut through the fog in his mind like a beacon. He froze mid-step, his spine stiffening as he glanced over his shoulder. There you were, your dress catching the light of the torches lining the corridor. Your expression was a mixture of concern and curiosity, and your voice softened as you asked, "Are you alright? You left so suddenly."

His stomach turned—not from the remnants of whatever Eros' potion had done but from the fact that you had followed him. Your kindness, your worry for him, felt like both a balm and a sharp blade. He quickly wiped a hand across his face as if to compose himself, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Ah, yes," he said, his voice pitched higher than usual. He winced at how unconvincing he sounded. "I just... needed some air. Too much dancing, I think. You know how it gets."

You frowned, taking a step closer, your presence both soothing and nerve-wracking at the same time. "You look pale," you said, your gaze scanning his face. "Are you sure you're okay? You were fine just a moment ago."

The genuine worry in your tone made his chest tighten again, a lump forming in his throat as he tried to think of something, anything, to put you at ease. "It's nothing serious," he tried again, though the weakness in his voice betrayed him. "Probably just... drank too much too quickly. I'll be fine in a moment."

Your frown deepened as you came to stand just a few paces from him, close enough that he could catch the faintest trace of your perfume—a warm, familiar scent that only made his heart ache more. "If it's something you ate, I can fetch some water?" you offered, your tone soft but insistent.

The thought of you fretting over him made his stomach flip in ways that had nothing to do with the lingering effects of Eros' meddling. He shook his head quickly, forcing a weak laugh. "No need," he said, straightening up and attempting to look more composed than he felt. "Really, it's not worth worrying over. Just my... overeager drinking habits causing alarm."

Your brow remained furrowed, and Telemachus could see the gears turning in your head, debating whether or not to accept his excuse. For a moment, he thought you might insist on staying, on pressing the issue further, and a strange part of him both hoped you would and feared it.

But then you sighed, your shoulders relaxing slightly. "If you're sure," you said softly, though the concern in your eyes lingered.

"I'm sure," he replied quickly, too quickly. He cleared his throat, forcing himself to relax. "Thank you, though. For checking on me."

You hesitated for a moment and Telemachus thought he might drown under the weight of your gaze. Then, with a small nod, you stepped back, your expression softening into something gentler. "Alright," you said, your voice quieter now. "But... if you're not feeling better soon, promise me you'll tell someone? Or at least sit down for a bit?"

The sincerity in your words made his resolve falter, and for a split second, he considered telling you everything—about Eros, the drink, the way you made his heart race every time you looked at him.

But he couldn't.

Not here, not now. Not when he couldn't be sure if it was his heart or divine meddling that had led him here in the first place.

"I promise," he said instead, the words feeling both true and hollow at the same time.

You smiled then, small but warm, and Telemachus felt his breath catch. It was the kind of smile that made him believe, just for a moment, that things could be simple. That he could win your heart without gods and potions and convoluted schemes.

"I'll see you back inside," you said, stepping back toward the ballroom.

Telemachus opened his mouth to respond, but the moment he shifted his weight, his legs buckled slightly, sending him stumbling forward.

Your gasp cut through the corridor, sharp and worried, as you rushed to his side. Without hesitation, you slid your arm around his waist, your other hand bracing against his chest to steady him.

"Telemachus! I knew you were lying," you said, your voice laced with a mixture of exasperation and concern. "You're not fine. Look at you—you're barely standing."

"I'm... fine," he insisted weakly, though the slur in his words and the cold sweat breaking out on his forehead betrayed him. He tried to straighten up, but you tightened your grip, determined to keep him upright.

"Stop it," you snapped, your worry bubbling into frustration. "You're not fine, and you're not fooling me. You're going to your room. Now."

He blinked at you, stunned by your no-nonsense tone. "But it's your celebration," he mumbled. "You should be out there enjoying it, not—"

"You're more important," you cut him off firmly, your gaze softening but remaining resolute. "I don't care if the whole feast is for me. If you collapse in the middle of the hall, it won't mean anything."

His throat tightened at your words, a strange warmth blooming in his chest despite the haze of dizziness clouding his thoughts. He wanted to argue, to insist that he didn't want to pull you away from your own night, but he lacked the strength to fight both you and his body's rebellion.

Wordlessly, he allowed you to guide him, his arm draped over your shoulders as you both staggered through the palace corridors. The weight of him leaning against you was heavier than you'd expected, but you pressed on, ignoring the strain. Every step felt deliberate, your shared focus narrowing to the simple goal of getting him to his chambers.

"You should've said something sooner," you muttered under your breath as you adjusted your grip on him. "Why do you always have to be so stubborn?"

Telemachus managed a faint chuckle, though it came out strained. "I could say the same about you."

You shot him a glare, but the corners of your lips twitched despite yourself. "This isn't the time for jokes, Telemachus."

"I'm serious," he murmured, his voice softer now. His gaze flicked toward you, lingering on the determined set of your expression. "You're stronger than you realize."

The unexpected sincerity in his tone caught you off guard, and for a moment, you faltered. But his weight shifted against you, snapping you back to the present. You didn't reply, focusing instead on navigating the last stretch to his room.

When you finally reached his door, you nudged it open with your foot and guided him inside. The room was dimly lit, the moonlight filtering through the curtains casting pale streaks across the floor. You helped him to the edge of the bed, where he sank down heavily, his head falling into his hands.

"I'll get some water," you said, already moving toward the pitcher on the nearby table.

"____, you don't have to—"

"Quiet," you interrupted, your tone leaving no room for argument. "Just sit there and breathe."

He obeyed, watching as you poured water into a cup with quick, efficient movements. When you turned back to him, your face was pinched with concern, but there was also a steadiness to your actions that made him feel strangely at ease.

You pressed the cup into his hands, your fingers brushing his briefly. "Drink," you instructed, sitting down beside him to ensure he did as you said.

As he sipped, his eyes flicked toward you, taking in the faint sheen of sweat on your brow and the way your breathing still hadn't fully evened out from the effort of helping him. "You shouldn't have to take care of me," he said quietly, his guilt surfacing despite his exhaustion.

"You'd do the same for me," you replied without hesitation, your tone firm. "So stop trying to act like this is some great inconvenience. I care about you, Telemachus. I'm not going to leave you like this."

Her words settled over him like a warm blanket, quieting the storm of thoughts swirling in his head. For a moment, he allowed himself to lean into the comfort of your presence, his usual defenses slipping away.

"You're impossible," he murmured, though there was no bite to his words.

"And you're ridiculous," you shot back, your lips quirking into a small, relieved smile. "Now lie back. You need to rest."

Telemachus complied, easing himself back against the pillows. His body felt marginally lighter now that he wasn't upright, and he let out a small breath of relief as the tension began to unwind from his frame.

For a brief moment, his eyes fluttered closed, the ache in his muscles giving way to an overwhelming sense of exhaustion. He could hear the rustle of your movements nearby, your presence grounding him in a way he couldn't explain.

"Is there anything else you need?" you asked, your voice softer now, the worry still lacing every word despite the slight smile you wore. Your hands fiddled absentmindedly with the edge of his blanket, betraying the nerves you tried to keep at bay.

"No, I don't—" Telemachus started, but his words faltered. His gaze flicked to you, his expression shifting as a strange warmth began to creep through him. It wasn't the usual comfort he felt in your presence, but something heavier, more insistent. The lingering chill that had plagued him since leaving the hall seemed to melt away, replaced by a slow-burning heat that spread through his chest and limbs.

He shifted uneasily, his jaw tightening as he tried to focus on anything but the way his skin seemed to hum with an unnatural warmth. It wasn't painful, but it was undeniably foreign—like an ember catching fire inside him.

You noticed Telemachus go utterly still, his usually sharp eyes now hazy and unfocused. "Telemachus?" you asked, taking a step closer, concern evident in your voice.

Your brow furrowed as you took in the sight before you. His face, pale just moments ago, had turned a deep red, the flush creeping down his neck. His chest rose and fell in uneven breaths, and his gaze seemed to waver as though he couldn't quite focus.

"Telemachus?" you called again, this time more urgently. He didn't respond at first, his head tilting slightly toward you in a sluggish motion. Your heart stuttered as you reached out, instinctively pressing the back of your hand to his forehead.

"You're burning up," you said, your voice rising in alarm. "Are you alright?"

He blinked slowly, his lips parting as if to answer, but his words were faint and unconvincing. "I... I'm fine," he managed, though his voice was hoarse and weak.

Your frown deepened as you noticed the subtle way his head leaned into your touch, as though seeking the coolness of your hand. It was such an uncharacteristic gesture for him—usually composed and self-assured—that it only heightened your worry. He wasn't being honest, and you knew it.

"Telemachus," you said firmly, your tone soft but filled with frustration. "You're not fine." You moved your hand away, only for him to instinctively shift toward you again, as if unwilling to lose the brief comfort your touch provided. "You were pale a minute ago, and now you're—" You stopped yourself, biting your lip as the sight of him, flushed and clearly unwell, sent a pang of fear through your chest.

Your mind raced with possibilities, each one more concerning than the last. Was this the lingering effect of whatever had happened at the feast? Had he caught some kind of illness? Or... was this something else entirely?

Your fingers twitched at your side as a thought crossed your mind. Maybe... maybe I could use my healing abilities. But doubt quickly followed. You hadn't yet tested the extent of your powers—what if you made things worse? What if this wasn't something you could heal at all?

Still, the sight of him—his usually vibrant energy dulled, his body visibly struggling against whatever was afflicting him—made you hesitate. You swallowed hard, feeling a wave of guilt for even entertaining the thought of not trying.

Telemachus let out a deep sigh, his eyes half-lidded as they stared up at you with an almost lazy haze clouding his gaze. "I'm... fine," he murmured again, his voice softer this time, as though the effort of speaking itself was too much. The words barely left his lips before his eyes rolled back, and his entire body went slack against the pillows.

"Telemachus!" you yelped, panic rushing through your veins like lightning. You lunged forward, your hands grasping his shoulders, shaking him lightly as if that alone could bring him back. "Telemachus, wake up! Please!"

Your heart pounded in your chest, each beat thunderous as you hovered over him, frantically trying to piece together what to do. A whirlwind of thoughts tumbled through your mind—should you call for help? Was there even time? Could you use your gift, untrained as you were, without risking something going terribly wrong?

"Come on, don't do this," you whispered under your breath, your voice trembling with a mix of fear and desperation. The sight of his still form, his chest barely rising with each shallow breath, was enough to make your throat tighten.

With trembling hands, you moved to touch his face. The warmth of his skin startled you—it wasn't the typical feverish heat; it was something deeper, almost like a flame radiating from within.

The moment your fingers brushed against his cheek, his eyes snapped open, and he sucked in a deep, shuddering breath as though waking from a long, suffocating dream.

Your relief was instantaneous but short-lived. "Telemachus!" you started to ask, your voice thick with worry, "What happened? Are you—"

Before you could finish your question, you found yourself abruptly yanked forward. The world tilted, and with a startled gasp, you realized you were no longer standing at the edge of his bed but sprawled across it, pinned beneath him.

"What—Telemachus!" you sputtered, trying to piece together what had just occurred, your hands instinctively pushing against his chest. The words died in your throat when your gaze locked onto his.

His face was mere inches from yours, and the sight made your breath catch. His skin was flushed, a deep crimson spreading from his cheeks down his neck, while his lips parted slightly as though he were trying to catch his breath. But it was his eyes that froze you—their usual warm brown was now darkened, lidded with an intensity that sent an unfamiliar shiver down your spine.

"____," he murmured, his voice low and uneven. It wasn't the soft, composed tone you were used to. This was deeper, rougher, and it sent your pulse racing in ways you didn't fully understand.

"T-Telemachus," you stammered, your hands still pressed against him, though your strength felt like it had evaporated. "What... what are you doing? You're—" Your voice faltered as his gaze flicked down, lingering on your face in a way that made your cheeks burn.

He didn't answer right away, his breath brushing against your skin as he leaned in slightly, his weight keeping you firmly in place as he kneeled. The heat radiating from him was overwhelming, and for a brief, dizzying moment, the air between you felt charged, crackling with something unspoken.

You gently pushed against his chest. "I-I think you should move, Telemachus." Your words were shaky, your mind scrambling for some semblance of composure as the intensity of the moment engulfed you.

But before you could say more, one of Telemachus' hands darted out, capturing both of yours and pressing them firmly against his chest. The erratic thrum of his heartbeat reverberated beneath your palms, fast and unsteady, matching the breathless tension filling the room.

"Do you feel it?" he murmured, his voice low and almost pleading, tinged with an unfamiliar vulnerability. His eyes bore into yours, half-lidded and heavy with emotion. "It's because of you—only you."

Your breath caught at the raw honesty in his voice. The world seemed to shrink around you, leaving only Telemachus, his warmth, and the rapid pulse beneath your fingertips; you were powerless to look away.

"I can't stop thinking about you," he continued, his voice thick with emotion. His other hand rose, calloused fingers brushing softly against your cheek, tracing the curve of your jaw with an almost reverent touch. "The way you laugh, the way you always know what to say—even when I don't deserve it."

You stared at him, wide-eyed and speechless, as he went on, his words spilling out in a hurried, unguarded torrent. "I notice everything about you—the way your hair catches the light, the way you hum when you're focused." His thumb grazed your cheekbone, and you felt your heart stutter in response to the sheer tenderness in the gesture.

"I love how kind you are," he said, his tone softening, almost as though he was speaking to himself. "How you always put others first. Even when you're hurting, you smile, and it's... it's unbearable sometimes because I just want to take all of it away."

Your lips parted, but no sound came. Every word he spoke tugged at something deep within you, leaving you utterly defenseless against the raw sincerity in his gaze.

"I don't care if it's selfish," he admitted, his voice trembling. "But right now, I can't think about anything else but you—what it would feel like to have you look at me the way I look at you."

You felt your pulse quicken, your chest tightening as his words settled into the spaces you didn't realize had been left empty. He was so close, his warmth enveloping you completely, his every word seeping into your skin.

"Please," he whispered, his forehead dipping to rest lightly against yours. "Tell me you feel it too."

Your hands trembled against his chest, the erratic beat of his heart matching your own. The weight of his confession, the intensity of his gaze, and the tenderness in his touch—it was too much and yet not enough all at once.

The room seemed to fade, leaving just the two of you in this moment of fragile honesty, teetering on the edge of something you weren't sure you were ready for.

Your eyes widened, your thoughts screeching to a halt. Was this a dream? Some vivid, otherworldly trick? Your heart was thundering in your chest, so loud and furious it nearly drowned out the reality unfolding in front of you.

You tried to steady yourself, but it was impossible. The prince—Telemachus—was so close, his presence overwhelming in ways you hadn't prepared for.

The intensity of his words, his gaze, his touch—it was too much. Your mind couldn't keep up. Every nerve in your body was on high alert, each beat of your heart a frantic drum. Overwhelmed and desperate to regain control, you forced your eyes shut, breaking the spell of his gaze.

"Telemachus," you whispered, your voice trembling. "You're not in your right mind. Whatever's happening to you—this isn't—"

Before you could finish, the heat of his breath ghosted against your ear, each word spilling from his lips like honey laced with sin, cutting you off. "Do you know how often I've wondered?" His tone was low, dropping to a husky murmur. His lips brushed against the shell of your ear—not quite a kiss, but enough to leave your skin tingling, alight with awareness. "How it would feel to taste you?"

Your eyes shot open in shock, your breath catching painfully in your throat. His face was so close now, impossibly close.

His voice softened into something darker, more primal, as his hand on your wrist tightened slightly, anchoring you in place. "Just a kiss, ____. One kiss—and yet, it's all I've wanted for so long." His flushed cheeks, the lidded haze in his eyes, the faint sheen of sweat on his temple—it was all too much. His lips hovered just a breath away, teasingly close to your own, his presence engulfing you entirely.

You tried to speak, to stammer out some response, but your voice refused to cooperate. "Tele—" you managed to get out, his name barely escaping your lips as your thoughts spiraled into chaos.

And then, just as abruptly as the tension had built, it shattered.

Telemachus' eyes rolled back into his head, his body going slack as he collapsed against you. A panicked gasp escaped your throat, your hands instinctively flying to steady him. His weight pressed heavily against you, the heat radiating from his feverish skin still tangible, still searing.

"Telemachus?!" you called out, frantic now, your voice rising in alarm. You shifted under him, desperately trying to support his unconscious form without losing your balance. "Hey, wake up!" Your heart clenched painfully as his head lolled against your shoulder, his breathing shallow but steady.

Panic and confusion swirled within you like a storm. What just happened? What was happening to him? Your thoughts raced, torn between the lingering heat of the moment and the urgent need to figure out how to help him.

With a deep breath, you steadied yourself, focusing on the immediate task. You couldn't let your emotions—or the overwhelming memory of his words and touch—distract you now.

Telemachus needed you, and that was all that mattered.

A/N: my boi down bad fr, had to show y'all how bad he's been feening for mc, lolz (see y'all in a week~ or sooner who knows)

Tag List: nerds4life246 ace-spades-1 uniquetravelerone alassal thesimppotato11 jackintheboxs-world kahlan170 akiqvq matchaabread danishland uselessmoonlight apad-ravya suckerforblondies jolixtreesunn dreamtheatre

[dragonotaku-justineverything]

It's been a while, idk if your still writing for RWBY but if you are can I ask for 5 ships reactions to Jaune getting a tattoo over his crotch reading "Property of" with their full names

I will likely always be writing for RWBY. It is what got me into actually writing and posting real content online, or at least the courage to finally start after dreaming to do it for years.

Since you didn't specify, the five RWBY girls I used were picked using a random spinner app with a list of all the RWBY girls.

Emerald Sustrai

Emerald stared wide eyed at the green text print on her (recently agreed upon) boyfriend, right on his pelvis, just above his crotch. When he said that he had a surprise for her and started undoing his buckle, she rolled her eyes at the cheesy as hell way to start some foreplay.

Not that she wasn't ready to go along with it. He had whipped up a great dinner for them tonight and she was quickly realizing that she loved a man that could cook.

She was not expecting to see him show off a tattoo. And not one with her name on it. "What do you think?"

She wasn't too sure what she thought about it, but definitely knew what she wanted to ask. "Wow... it looks... good. My emblem is a nice touch I guess. But ummm... why did you even get it?"

Jaune let go of the hem of his shirt that he'd been holding out of the way, partially covering the tattoo. "W-well... When we talked about our pasts a while ago... you said you never really had or owned anything for yourself." Emerald didn't need that being brought up again, it was awkward enough talking about it with him the first time. She quickly just agreed with a sharp nod, not wanting to deal with it all over again now. "Well... I thought now... you could at least own... me. That you'll always have me?"

Oh.

Oh damn...

He could have definitely tried to sound more confident when saying that... but damn if that line didn't do things to Emerald. Both making her cheeks flush and her heart race.

And also getting her very turned on.

"You are getting so much ass tonight."

"W-what?!"

Emerald sashayed her way over to her blushing dork, her ass swaying side to side. "Use your semblance on me. Then you're going to find out just how much that ink of yours is going to pay off."

Jaune's earlier surprise was quickly being replaced by excitement. But he was still a little confused, which persisted even as Emerald reached him and lifted up his shirt with one of her nimble hands. But he was still confused. "Why do you want me to use my semblance on you?"

Emerald lifted her knee up between his legs to gently rub his crotch. "Because I want to make sure I can last all night with you~"

"O-oh."

"Yup. Now, boost me up and dick me down you mushy goofball~."

Emerald jumped up and let herself be caught by Jaune, his hands gripping onto her ass through her shorts and giving them each plump cheek a squeeze. Emerald wrapped her legs around him and kissed him as deeply as she could before he carried her off to the nearest bedroom, his hands and her body starting to faintly glow white and green as the door shut behind them.

---------------------------

May Zedong

“W-what is that!?” May felt her cheeks heat up with embarrassment when Jaune first started to lift up his shirt and pull his jeans down a bit. No matter how much she and him saw each other naked before, she still couldn't help but get bashful. However, when she saw the writing printed on his... very defined abs, her face went from warm to burning.

Jaune seemed to be catching some of her embarrassment since “W-well it’s a tattoo…”

May whined while she lifted up the collar of her jacket and the bottom of her beanie down, trying her best to hide her redding face from her boyfriend. "I know that! But why does it say that y-you're.... Why does it say THAT!?"

Jaune let his shirt drop, covering the tattoo again. "Well I-I heard about what those girls from Vacuo picking on you, and about what they said. And I just wanted to do something for you to make you feel better..."

"Why do you think this would make me feel better!?"

"B-because they said no one would... love you... and all that other stuff. W-well they're wrong! And this proves it! I-I'm sorry I couldn't be there to help you with those bullies at the time, but I got this to show you that I'll always be there for you in the end."

Now that stunned May, so much so that the blood receded from her face quickly and her jaw went a little slack. She stopped trying to hide her face, and looked at Jaune's. While his cheeks were very red, his eyes met hers and she saw the determination in them, meaning every word he said.

"C-can I see it again?"

Without hesitation or any question, Jaune lifted the bottom of his hoodie up again to show her the tattoo. A goofy smile dawned on his lips again.

...

May slowly walked forwards to him. When she was close enough, she slowly started to trace the inked skin with her index finger. Then she placed her hand on his abdomen, her thumb still rubbing the image of a hat in the corner, a hat that was nearly identical to her own signature beanie. "I-I like that it has my beanie... it's a really nice touch."

"S-so you like it?"

May slowly nodded, letting out a low, "Mmm-hmm", confirming that she did indeed like her boyfriend's tattoo. And it was certainly no lie.

"Eeep!"

Nor was it a lie to say that the squeak that she let out when Jaune suddenly hugged her wasn't adorable.

Jaune spun her around twice before placing her feet back on the ground. "I'm happy you like May! I really hoped you would. I just wanted to show you that I'll always be yours... because I love you."

May hugged Jaune back for a moment, only to pull back and plant a kiss on his smiling lips before flashing a rarely seen bright smile. "...I love you too, Jaune."

---------------------------

Blake Belladonna

"B-Blake? Are you okay."

Jaune's worried tone and question fell deft on two sets of ears, not that he really needed an answer. For Blake was certainly not okay... Her increasingly heavy panting and dilated eyes were a clear indicator of that fact. She didn't even bother trying to hide it because she thought her response was very justified!

Her boyfriend decided he wanted to surprise her in her room after a lovely date, so after waiting a decent amount of time to let him 'get ready', she walked in on him laying shirtless on their bed, with one of her favorite books placed on his toned abdominal muscles. She rolled her eyes at him at first, but it was only when she playfully snatched the book off his stomach for them to get the most fun part of the night started did she realize what his real surprise was.

Her name, tattooed a few inches above his crotch. And clearly listing him as her property...

Dust and Brother gods alike... that was so freaking hot. It was something she had never known she needed to see up to this point. Something so simple, yet unlocking something deep within Blake's mind and body. Something primal... lustful. And now that she had seen it, she knew what she wanted next.

Jaune yelped as Blake literally pounced onto the bed, landing above him and silencing his surprised noise with a kiss. A deep kiss. A VERY deep kiss. Her tongue wrestling with his, and trading their saliva while doing so, absolutely caught Jaune by surprise.

And he was just as surprised when she pulled away, their tongues still extended since they had been mid-kiss.

Blake looked down at Jaune, panting and blushing heavily. "This means you're mine now, Jaune. And I plan to enjoy every part of you tonight~."

"O-okay."

Blake ground her hips back and forth against Jaune's, getting some pleasurable friction between them and both moaning as she went over her growing erection in his pants. "I'm starting on top tonight. Does that sound good?"

Blake grinned as Jaune nodded to her, placing his hands on her thighs to keep her where she was. She reached behind her and unzipped her top. She wanted to waste no more time getting on with a very fun night with her, now very much marked, man~.

---------------------------

Robyn Hill (was bit of a new challenge writing for her)

"I-I thought I should show you m-my support..."

“So you got… a tattoo?"

"Y-yeah..."

"Of my name!?

"...yes..." Jaune nodded, slowly lowering his hoodie and shirt back down to cover his belly button and the green ink below it again.

"But if you wanted to show support for me, why did you get it down there?!”

He winced the smallest bit as Robyn raised her voice at him a little. “W-well… you seemed kinda… j-jealous when all of those moms of the kids I was a crossing guard for were flirting with me at your rallies… despite me telling them I was taken!” Jaune added the last part quickly when he saw Robyn’s gaze narrow when he brought up those hussies…

“So I… thought that this would be nice and I-I wanted to show you that... well... you're the only one that gets to see this part of me..."

Robyn was very silent, standing with her arms crossed and staring at him with a raised eyebrow. She was honestly having a hard time believing that he had really done something like this. He had seemed like such an innocent goodie two shoes when she met him. But… he did suggest stealing an Atlesian airship to get to Mantle in the first place… AND had asked her out in the first place… honestly, all things considered...

Robyn smiled as she uncrossed her arms and slowly walked towards Jaune. "Well... I do like seeing my name printed out."

"You do? Awesome! I'm so glad. I was worried tha- Mmmmh!"

Jaune was cut off as Robyn quickly grabbed him by the top of his chestplate and pulled him towards her. Her lips captured his own in a passionate kiss. One she was very much in control of. She had her fun for a few seconds before pushing Jaune back so they could both take a breath.

Jaune also took the break in the kiss to give a goofy smile. “That… that was nice…”

Robyn chuckled to herself, her grip on Jaune not letting go. “Yes, it was~. Now… How about I get through this rally quickly and then we go somewhere private where I can show you how much I appreciate your support~? Somewhere I can admire that tattoo fully while I sit comfortably on that face of yours~? Does that sound like a good idea to you Mr. Strategist?”

“Y-yes! S-sounds great actually!”

Robyn licked her lips and grinned as her hand grabbing Jaune's chestplate glowed green.

---------------------------

Bleiss Gele

Bleiss was nearly drooling when she saw her darling lift up his shirt to show off those dust shredding abs of his. But when she saw what it was he exactly wanted to show her, she nearly fainted from pure excitement and blood loss from a nosebleed.

It was her name! Right below her darling’s defined abs! It was all she could ever have dreamed about and more! This was amazing! No more skanks or bimbos trying to steal her man! Or they could try, but he has proof of her claim now!

“Oh darling, it's wonderful!” Bleiss squealed in joy as she jumped into Jaune’s arms. Jaune, being quick to drop the bottom of his hoodie he was holding up, caught her easily with his arms around her. The only trouble he had holding her up was from how much she was kicking her legs in joy. Her giggling was also so infectious that Jaune couldn’t help but chuckle as well.

“I guess you like it, huh?” Jaune slowly lowered his girlfriend back to the ground, but still kept her close in a hug. Mainly because Bleiss was still trying to squeeze the air out of him.

“Like it?! I love it! You know me so well darling!” If it was possible, her hug on him got even tighter. “I love that you are happy to show me off as your future wife like that!” Bleiss ended her sentence by nuzzling her head into Jaune’s chest.

“Hehe… well… I’m glad you like it.”

“I really do! And it’s even better because we match now!”

“...what?”

Bleiss’ wide smile shifted into a knowing smirk as she let go of Jaune finally and stepped back a small distance. “Guess it’s time for my surprise now darling~!” She turned around and flicked up her skirt, revealing something that made Jaune’s eyes widen and his jaw drop.

On her right cheek was her own tattoo. One quite similar to the one that he had gotten for her. And the yellow ink reading out his name over the Arc family emblem was very noticeable on her pale rear. 

Bleiss looked over her shoulder at Jaune, smirking confidently. “What do ya think~?

Jaune couldn’t respond. His jaw was still slack and his eyes were wider than dinner plates. He was having trouble looking away from such a sight. But the lower half of his body was very telling instead.

And Bleiss was happy to accept that version of approval. But she wasn’t done there either. With a shake of her ass, she asked ‘innocently’, “Hey darling, want to see if we can make our ink touch~?”

I didn't really know which version of Bliess's last name, so I picked Gele as that makes the most sense of what she'd like to be called being the (literal) black sheep of the family. She'd prefer to go by her mother's name and Jaune would absolutely respect that.

[hopeful-dawn]

I find it very interesting how incredibly sheltered Shadow is in the movie, not just compared to other versions of his character, but also to the other characters in the SCU. He doesn't talk a lot, so it's not overly obvious, but his flashback scenes were riddled with subtext. He's clearly an amnesiac when he first falls to earth, so he has literally no idea about... most things, and the military certainly wouldn't have seen fit to teach him about them.

Given the way they kept him locked up in a fluid-filled tube - despite him being awake, alert, seemingly uninjured, and still in his clothes -, and his own admission that they all seemed scared of him and thought he was dangerous, Shadow doesn't seem to have been treated like an actual person, much less a child. And given his reaction to Maria when she first interacted with him (i.e. confused and suspicious even after she was very playful and friendly towards him), she likely was the first person to show him actual kindness, too.

Which makes sense! In the games he was created for the express purpose of being able to cure Maria. She was there for him and cared for him from the start, and undoubtedly made sure he was being treated at least moderately well. And she would have had the leverage to do so, because they were on a civilian space colony where her grandfather, who loved her dearly, was the one spearheading the project. In the movies however, Shadow was an extremely powerful extraterrestrial of unspecified origin, with an unknown purpose for coming to Earth. During the Cold War. He was not a beloved creation; he was a potential threat who was being experimented on by the military.

There's no way that before Maria he'd have been given lessons in Earth cultural practices, or allowed to do things like watch movies or listen to music or even just roam freely throughout the base. They didn't trust him enough to. But without any memories of his own he'd have been easy enough to mold to their liking, so they did teach him how to fight, how to shoot a gun, how to ride a motorcycle, and how to harness his power, because they undoubtedly wanted to use him as a secret weapon against the Soviets and as a power source (why else would they keep him in a military base and store a bunch of containers filled with his highly explosive chaos energy? How else would he have learned how to ride a human motorcycle with such skill?). Weapons aren't people though, and potential threats don't get kindness, lest people get attached to them, and neither are taught anything they don't absolutely need to know to perform their functions.

So yeah. Poor kid was kept emotionally isolated and ignorant, until Maria came in and demanded better for him. Too bad that made her a liability to them, one they felt they had to get rid of after they decided that Shadow needed to be shelved until such a time that they could actually control him. Remember, they were aiming to shoot her, specifically. If they wanted to shoot Gerald or Shadow, they'd have done it at any point afterward. So even though it was an explosion that ultimately killed her, she was slated to die regardless. Gerald and Shadow were considered valuable; she was just a loose end who convinced Shadow he was a person and turned his loyalties from them to herself.

(Those kids never stood a chance. Even if they had escaped, they'd have been hunted down by the military, and she'd have been killed then instead while he was taken into custody. Their fates were sealed the second they stepped foot into that base. Shadow never would have been allowed to have a decent childhood, and Maria never could have treated Shadow as anything other than a fellow child and friend.)

And when he was brought out of stasis he had no time or inclination to fix any of that ignorance (because he was convinced he would die, along with the rest of the world). All of which puts him in a very disadvantageous spot by the end of the movie, because he's going to be so lost once he wakes back up on earth.

Does he know how to read in any language or how to do basic arithmetic? Does he know any geography or how to read a map? Does he know any first aid or wilderness survival skills? Since he wasn't created in a lab, does he need to eat and drink, and if so does he know what's safe for him to consume? These are all things he might need to know if he's going to try and survive on his own, and unfortunately he also almost certainly doesn't know how to use a computer or a telephone, which would be his main two ways of getting that kind of information if he can't outright ask anyone.

To take it even further, because of his amnesia, does Shadow even know that he's supposed to be a hedgehog?? Does he know what the chaos emeralds are, or that they're emeralds at all, or why he went god mode upon touching them? Does he know that Sonic survived after he passed out and fell to earth? And also, did literally anyone ever tell him Sonic's name??

[starrysan]

nouvelle vague

↳ ᴀʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ʙᴏʀᴇᴅ? [12]

pairing: korea local!yunho x new to city!reader [smau]

masterlist || prev chap || next chap

third person pov

y/n was working at their desk when they were called into their bosses office. “you asked for me?” when say walking into the office and sitting down. “yes i did” the boss hums typing on her computer. she gestures for them to have a seat though they were already seated.

"you've been here a few months now, yes?" she asks. "yes I have" y/n replies. "im sorry.. did I do something wrong? I thought I reported everything in a timely mann-" y/n starts. "nothing like that" their boss assures them.

"you've been doing great. really incredibly" their boss continues. "its not confirmed but we may move you back to the Australia branch" she drops finally to which y/n freezes on the spot. "i.. im sorry what?" y/n makes sure they heard her correctly. "the employment isn't going as well there since to be honest we moved a lot of people abroad this quarter" their boss continues.

"I was told i'd be here for minimum a year its barely been 8 months" y/n says in disbelief. "I know.. im sorry" the boss replies though it honestly didn't seem that convincing. y/n leaves the office in defeat. it of course wasn't confirmed but the fact that it could happen made them freak out.

they tried texting yunho who wasn't responding again but he's busy they shouldn't bother him its fine. they texted chris for a bit, texted san as well. started getting worried about yunho since he wasn't responding and started freaking out about their job again. they panic FaceTimed chris who picked up immediately.

"everything ok?" chris asked through the phone to which he got a quick "no" from y/n. they re-explain everything their boss had told them "I miss you so much but I also love Korea so much now and I know nothings confirmed but im still scared" y/n rambles. "everythings going to all work out y/n don't worry" chris reassures them.

"I know.. im sorry I shouldn't be freaking out right now" y/n sighs. "don't apologize" chris hums. "I cant confirm what will happen of course but youre strong y/n it'll all work out and be okay" chris finishes. "thanks chris" y/n says.

the two hang up the call and y/n goes back to trying to test yunho with no success. he was at work for another couple hours but they thought he'd at least be able to look at his texts. maybe he was sick of them already.

they tried not to think that way but it only made the thoughts they had in the back of their head stronger. he didn't really like them did he? who were they kidding.. he was too busy for someone as high maintenance as they were. they should have known he'd get tired of them.

maybe he was ignoring them to send them a message without actually telling them. that had to be it? did they do something wrong? did they screw up that bad that he didn't even want to talk to them. all these thoughts rushed into their head till they got an abrupt phone call from mingi that broke them from their thoughts.

"hi mingi" they say picking up the call. "y/nnnnn" mingi says excitedly. "what's up? hope im not bothering you I know you have work right now" he giggles over the phone. to not let him know the anguish they were going through they pretended everything was completely fine. "hi mingi" they chuckle. "yeah im good what's up?"

"just wanted to call you its been a hot minute want to hang out later?" he asks, y/n hears yeosang's distant voice telling him not to bother them at work. "tell yeosang I say hello" y/n hums. "sang y/n says heyy" mingi practically yells. "hi y/n" yeosang chimes in.

y/n got off the phone in a bit of a better mood. mingi always had that charm of helping them feel better. they decide not to think about the potential doom of leaving Korea and head home for the night. they send one last text to yunho wishing him goodnight before crashing and falling asleep.

a notification chimes just as they're falling asleep, from yunho..

extras!

y/n overthinks a lot

mingi #1 y/n cheer upper!

ty for reading!

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