#when those words have never even come out of his mouth?

[vrystalius]

Not saying “I love you“ back to the Squid game men.

How will they react if you don‘t say it back? In what scenario would they not say it back to you?

Pairing: The Recruiter, Thanos, Nam-gyu, Dae-ho, Gi-hun, In-ho x gn!reader

Summary: Them not saying “I love you“, their reaction to you not saying “I love you“

Genre: fluff, a lil bit of angst sprinkled on top

(Pre-Squid game)

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳

Gong Yoo // The Recruiter // The Salesman

♡— Him not saying I love you…

It barely ever happens, really. He adores everything about you, from your face, voice, body and the ground you walk on; that man is ready to worship you like a devoted follower would to the most merciful goddess. Therefor he would always be aware of how to make your day a little better, even if it‘s just a small “I love you” or a gentle kiss here and there.

The first thing you hear from him in the morning is a groggy voice mumbling a small “Good morning love...” into your ear while warm kisses were trailed down your back.

While standing in the kitchen and searching the fridge for any signs of a tasty breakfast, a small “I love you, I‘ll be back later!“ would echo slightly through the apartment as the front door closed.

Once, he did forget to say his usual I love you on the way out. He thought about how he possibly could forget? You‘re probably overthinking everything now and think what you might‘ve done wrong or do to offend him. You didn‘t, though! He was just too caught up in perfecting his appearance because his damn hair refused to obey and submit to his meticulous styling.

The poor man was almost scared to come home. As some sort of peace offering, he bought some of your favorite take-out food alongside some dessert, flowers and a new bracelet he thought you might like. Anything to try and make you know that he does really love you.

“Apologies, it completely slipped my mind. It will never happen again my sunshine. I love you.”

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳

♡— You not saying I love you back…

His face may be neutral and his expressions calculated but his features soften up immensely when you show even an ounce of affection. His smirk shifts into a dreamy smile, the crinkles around his mouth shifting and becoming bigger, his eyes twinkling just a little. He just can’t suppress when you even look at him.

Your kisses and words energise him, gift him life, so whenever you don’t give him that little boost of dopamine, he gets visibly more tense in a way.

The silence that followed after his usual “I love you my darling, I’ll be back later!” was almost eerie to him. He stuck his head back into the kitchen to check if you even heard him. You glanced back at him for a moment and gave your husband a dismissive head nod. So you did hear him?

Silently, he left the apartment and went on with his usual day during that time of the year. For some reason, today he is especially looking forward to slap his elders for loosing a damn children’s game. His face remained neutral and had his usual smirk on his face, but deep inside, he’s offended, confused, worried, stressed; all the negative emotions someone can feel after their spouse doesn’t reincorporate ones affection.

Do you want a divorce? Because hell no, he’d never let you go no matter how hard you

But once he got a little text message on his phone that read a simple: “Need cuddles in bed later pls. Got some snacks too. Love you.”, all of his worries washed away in an instant. You probably were still too sleepy to answer this morning.

A smile spread over his face as he thought about slipping into your arms tonight. Isn’t it ridiculous how he melt like putty in your hands?

“You forgot something this morning and it did worry me a lot. But it doesn’t matter, it’s silly anyway.”

Thanos // Su-bong // Player 230

♡— Him not saying I love you…

It’s actually quite rare to hear Thanos say “I love you” word for word. He still feels awkward committing himself to the relationship you have and those three magic words feel so heavy on his tongue, so he’ll rephrase them to suit his level of comfort. “Love ya”, “Thanos loves you” and “Me too” are his ways to dodge the action to reincorporate those sweets words you shower him with.

Thanos only really says “I love you” if you two are alone, sober and you holding him in your arms. To be cradled by someone he admires, cares and loves so much makes him want to cry for some reason, but he suppresses those emotions and instead buries his face in your shoulder as your hand soothingly runs up and down his back.

Those are the times you hear a small “I love you…” being mumbled against your warm skin.

So quiet it’s almost unnoticeable, yet it was there. You know Su-bong needs time to get used to everything, so you’ll settle with a small audio message-rap in reply to your usual “I love you” text message.

“Back to the kitty ‘cause she kinda pretty, I can’t stop looking at her ti- ti- ti-face.. Anyways, thinking of you babygirl. Iloveyatoo.” (You barely caught him saying this the way how quietly he mumbled it into the mic)

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳

♡— You not saying I love you back…

It’s fine. It’s cool. You don’t have to reassure him every day that you love him, it’s totally fine. You still love him like you did the day before.

It causes a deep panic inside of Thanos when you don’t give him his usual “I love you” text in the morning after he had woken up. He kept checking his phone like a madman, while he was brushing his teeth, peeking his arm and head out of the shower in the middle of shampooing, staring at his text messages while microwaving himself an convenience store meal. Nothing.

Not wanting to reach out first and appear clingy, he decided to write you like he is not having a full blown eternal panic attack. A small voice message here, a picture of his food there, a selfie from the bottom to show off his double chin, anything really.

You replied like normal but still, his eyes searched for the three key words. I. Love. You.

Thanos doesn’t want to admit to himself or to anyone for that matter that your calls, texts, hell, you coming over is like the most addictive drug to him. And he had his share of all kinds of colourful drugs.

His foot was nervously tapping the ground while his finger kept ringing your poor doorbell until you were forced to answer. He gave you a close look up and down, his lips formed into a pout of sorts.

“You okay? You didn’t text me you love me this morning. It’s totally cool and all but like… do you want to break up with me or something?”

Nam-gyu // Player 124

♡— Him not saying I love you…

Similar to Thanos, at first, Nam-gyu barely ever told you how much he loved you, liked you even. He just assumed you already knew and his actions were enough. A small side hug there and ruffling your hair here had to be enough for the rest of the week anyway.

He is guarded, afraid of commitment and to be frank in belief that you’re using him for the longest of time. Maybe you’re just “dating” him to get access to high-end drugs, all kinds of clubs or whatever else reason there is there to date him but for love.

You had to say those three magic words first for him to get comfortable with the thought that you are actually just want to date and love him. It came to him in the middle of a night shift at a random club he was supposed to promote. A moment of enlightenment.

Nam-gyu hid in a bathroom stall with his phone and ignored whatever the couple was doing next door, writing you a whole paragraph about what he was thinking, feeling, before deleting everything again because he thought he’d come off as some kind of pussy if he’d sent that.

His first time telling you how much he loved you was at your place. A casual evening watching some random movie you picked out while being arms deep in a bag of chips and dressed like a homeless person, Nam-gyu was staring up at you as if you were the most beautiful person in the universe even during this ungraceful moment of yours, admiring you in silence until finally…

“I love you.”

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳

♡— You not saying I love you…

Did he fuck up again? Do or say something wrong? Don’t you love him anymore? Was there someone else?? His thoughts go ballistic as he stared at the screen of his phone with a deadpan-expression, trying to shake the crippling fear and nervousness off while looking nonchalant.

Nam-gyu’s finger kept hovering over the call button to check on you in case something happened because there could be a whole other person talking to him by how there were no affirmations at all.

He doesn’t want to appear clingy or too attached to you as that may scare you off or even disgust you, so Nam-gyu’s casually mention that one time you didn’t say “I love you” while fidgeting with his ring, trying to appear indifferent about it while intensely watching your facial expression shift to try and detect if you’re lying about your reasoning or not.

Your boyfriend is afraid to not be good enough, too much, too little. Your little affirmations give him reassurance, every day a little more until he’s full convinced that you do really, really love him.

“Hey, uhhh. Did you forget anything today?… No? You sure? Mkay.”

Dae-ho // Player 388

♡— Him not saying I love you…

Never happens. Either he is dead and not able to reply to you or already said it multiple times throughout the day. Dae-ho has separation anxiety and gets nervous when he doesn’t have you in line of his sight or not around him in general, that’s why he always tells you how much he loves you whenever he can.

Off to the bathroom? I love you. Bringing the trash out? I love you. Getting dressed? You’re gorgeous and I love you. You could be simply existing and Dae-ho would bury his face in your neck and mumble a soft I love you into your warm skin, his lips planting a soft kiss here and there.

Dae-ho is just a little scared about saying his usual affirmation in front of his family, mostly his father. He’s a very affectionate and physical man but he still wants to look like the tough-marine-son his dad wants to see.

His sisters know better though, they see how their brother’s eyes twinkle in delight when you help his mom out in the kitchen with the dinner.

He does make it up to you after coming home though. Your boyfriend will stuff the leftovers his mom gave him into the microwave and usher to you made yourself comfortable on the couch while he makes some preparations to completely pamper you for the rest of the evening.

Sometimes Dae-ho’ll even try to flirt a little but he’s still a little awkward in that department.

“Hey, do you want some snacks with that? A drink? O-Or am I enough of a snack…?”

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳

♡— You not saying I love you…

Every time Dae-ho tells you that he loves you, you always reply with equal enthusiasm. How could you not? That golden retriever of a man gets that almost childish smile of his whenever you kiss his cheek or just tell him that he looks handsome today.

Once, you tested how he’d react when you don’t give him his hourly dose of dopamine by deflecting or ignoring his touches.

As his arms securely snaked around your waist and gently pulled you against his torso, you paid him no mind and continued to stir the ramen in the food container. He watched the noodles move in circles and gave your waist a gentle poke, trying to pull your attention to him. Dae-ho’s eyes slowly dimmed and the edges of his smile turned downwards.

The silence made him seriously nervous. You could feel his rapidly increasing heartbeat drum against your back.

“Hey… is everything okay? Did I do something wrong? I’m sorry. Can you talk to me?…”

Gi-hun // Player 456 (post s1)

♡— Him not saying I love you…

Gi-hun always reassures you of his love, even during arguments. He wants you to know that he cherishes and loves you for the rest of his life and that you are his everything. Whenever he doesn’t say I love you, something must’ve happened.

He has been missing for a whole week and you had no idea where your boyfriend went. Gi-hun didn’t leave a note, a voice mail, no nothing!

And after he returned and suddenly began giving you expensive gifts, the same boyfriend that used to ask you for money to get himself an convenience store dinner, now began buying you new headphones, bracelet and whatever else you even eyed.

It was nice, sure, but you were more worried about his mental state. He was paranoid and quiet, kept checking his whole body for some kind of tracker and barely ever spoke what was on his mind. Gi-hun began having panic attacks and you were barely able to leave his side because of how terrified he was to leave you alone.

He barely touched you, gave you kisses or affection. He changed after whatever happened during that week he went missing.

While running your fingers through his hair, trying to make him fall asleep after being awake for two days straight, he sleepily stared up at you through his dyed-red hair. His voice was quiet, broken almost.

“I’m sorry. Please… know that I love you. I love you so much.. Don’t leave me, please… please...”

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳

♡— You not saying I love you back…

Your boyfriend called out to you but you didn’t quite hear what he said, so you replied with an “yeah!” and just hoped that that’s an appropriate response to whatever he tried to tell or ask you. It wasn’t.

Gi-hun stood there for a couple of moments, waiting on your reply to yelling “I love you!” across the whole apartment. When nothing came, he didn’t call out to you again. You were probably busy with something or don’t want him with your right now, he gets that.

Later though, thoughts of self-doubt began to cook up inside his mind. As he bit all his nails to shreds he overthought about how you had enough of him now. Maybe you are falling out of love now after how the death games fucked up his mind and body. You’re surely fed up with his paranoia and secretive behaviour, how much he has been obsession over finding a weird salesman. Surely.

The metallic taste that spread inside his mouth after biting the skin surrounding his nails began to open and bleed finally pulled Gi-hun out of his self-destructive thoughts that continued to circle like a toy train. Picking up his throwaway phone and choosing the one contact he saved on every single burner phone he had as “Reason to smile ❤️” and pressing the call button.

“Gi-hun? What’s wrong?” Your voice forced a small smile to form on his face. He hesitated

“Hey. Just wanted to ask if I should bring some take out home tonight. That’s all.”

In-ho // The Frontman // Player 001

♡— Him not saying I love you…

It’s purely just to tease you. When bored, In-ho will make you his greatest entertainment.

He likes making you annoyed and flustered, so he’ll intentionally ignore you just to make you react and pout at him adorably while he was trying so hard to keep his stone cold face and not break into a shit-eating grin and maybe even pull on your cheek to make you whine even more.

In-ho adores your whole being and cherishes all of your affections, so he’ll let himself get showered in them any tome he can.

Expect you to he cuddled up on his lap while he was leaning back in the leather chair, mumbling a complaint about how you covered his whole face in kisses but managed to miss the bridge of his nose. He will not allow you to move off his lap until you covered his whole face in kisses again as compensation for that mistake of yours.

So, In-ho’ll intentionally not give you affection so you pay even more attention to him. He is like a cat in that way weirdly enough.

Once you finally break his facade, the flood gates will open and you will be showered, bathed, drowned in his affection, physical and verbal.

“Fine. I’ll say it just because you’ve been so good to me today. I love you, my dearest, lovely darling.”

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳

♡— You not saying I love you back…

In-ho has a dedicated frequency on his walkie-talkie for you, so he can call in and ask you to come to his office for a kiss that cannot wait, to inform you that he is in the bedroom and retiring for the day or just to tell you that he loves you randomly throughout the day.

Of course, you’d always reply back with your own gadget, but to pay back his infinite teasing he has done to you, you decided to ignore him the way he sometimes does to you. Payback.

Your husband called into your frequency. “Dove, are you free right now? Come to my office, I miss you.” and so your game begins. You simply ignored his request and continued getting comfortable in your bed and all the sheets surrounding you, grinning to yourself as you awaited the next time In-ho calls in again, for which you don’t have to wait long for.

“Darling, I am waiting. Do you want me to send someone to pick you up?” Your grin widened as you heard how impatient he was slowly getting with the lack of your response. “I can see you in the bedroom.” That one caught you off guard. Did he install cameras in your shared bedroom??

Almost on cue, your bedroom door opened, revealing the masked Frontman. His shoulders were tense and you could feel his intense state through the mask. You stared back, not expecting how quickly your husband would cave in and visit you himself. Innocently, you batted your lashes at him.

In-ho slipped his mask off and carelessly tossed it on the nightstand. “Why are you ignoring me? Are you upset or just moody?” Unimpressed, you silently glared at him. He gave you an equally uninterested look and leaned down to your face to give you a small peck on your cheek. “Not enough. More.”

A chuckle escaped his lips as his lips cracked into a smile.

“Demanding, aren’t we? Fine. As you wish.”

💠

Author’s note. Thank you for reading <3

Watch me announce that I’m going to post In-ho’s yandere profile and proceed to get hit with the most ungodly group-assignment in Chemistry. Anyways, take this as an apology! Had to write a little fluff for them since the only thing I’m finding is smut 🙏😭 I’m not complaining but this fluff prompt came to me like a truck during a class of mine. It was originally inspired by this post and I made a similar one before for the Demon Slayer hashira. Check it out if you’re interested!!

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!!

Take care of yourselves <33

[mggslover]

spencer and readers first fight ! can you possiblyyyy do something along the lines of spencer said something sassy/petty/mean which results in reader giving spencer the silent treatment and he crashes out begging for her to speak to him 🤓☝🏼

your first fight with spencer genre: slight angst, fluff word count: 1,7k a/n: i've been so excited to write this one! honestly way too long for a drabble, but i hope you enjoy it

“That’s okay. Your mind wouldn’t be able to comprehend a concept like this."

Spencer didn’t understand the gravity of his words before you huffed out a sigh, placing your hands on your knees as you lifted yourself up from the spot next to him on the couch. His eyes followed your body as you walked straight toward your shared bedroom, opening the door before shutting it behind you with a bang. The click of the lock echoed through the now silent living room.

Spencer sat frozen in place, his gaze fixed on the door as if you’d magically reappear in front of him.

Everything about your body language hinted at you being angry, but he couldn’t grasp why. He replayed the situation back in his head in an effort to decipher the reason.

You had cheerfully greeted him when he entered the apartment. He’d been away on a case for several days, not having had the time to speak to you over the phone or give you any updates on how he was doing.

As much as he preferred keeping clear boundaries between his personal and professional life, Spencer couldn’t resist telling you the details of some of his cases when coming home. Not when the psychology behind the unsubs fascinated him so much. And especially not when you eagerly pulled him toward the couch, pushing him down onto the soft cushions as you handed him a cup of freshly brewed coffee, ready to hear about his day.

You sat cross-legged in front of him, eyes twinkling with admiration as he told you about today’s case. He explained how he discovered a pattern in the way the unsub took his captives, using the numbers 11235 — the first five numerals in the Fibonacci sequence.

He noticed the frown forming between your brows as he got into more detail.

“Can you explain that to me? I don’t get it,” you asked.

“That’s okay. Your mind wouldn’t be able to comprehend a concept like this.”

Spencer wasn’t lying. He remembered how his coworkers had blankly stared at him when he analyzed his theory — how Emily made eye contact with JJ, their silent looks saying there he goes again, and how Hotch had to cut him off to tell him to get to the point. It wasn’t like he didn’t want to explain it to you, he just didn’t see the point in doing so, not when he knew this was a connection only he could understand.

After a couple of minutes, there was still radio-silence. Spencer got up and walked to the bedroom, knocking softly on the door. “Angel? Can you open up for me?”

“Just go away, Spencer.”

Your voice cracked, like you had been crying, and the sound made his heart sink.

“Please open the door so we can talk. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“What’s wrong?” Your scoff vibrated through the door. “I don’t even want to talk to you if you can’t understand what’s wrong.”

Spencer swallowed hard, his hands turning clammy. He didn’t like confrontations and especially not with you. You’d never fought before. Rationally, he knew fights weren’t necessarily a bad thing — conflicts usually stemmed from deeper fears and feelings that get triggered, and confronting these feelings could lead to creating an even stronger bond. But right now, all he wanted was to turn back time and make sure those words never left his mouth.

His mind blanked in situations like these, so the only logical fix he could come up with was to call Derek.

“Hey,” Spencer spoke through the phone, balancing the device between his ear and shoulder as he nervously paced through the living room.

“Hey man. What’s up?”

“I messed up.”

Morgan’s chuckle sounded through the speaker. “Our genius making a mistake. Who would’ve thought the day would come?”

Spencer sighed, losing his patience. “It’s serious.”

Derek paused before responding. “Alright, slow down. Tell me what happened.”

Spencer repeated the conversation for what felt like the hundredth time that day, his guilt accumulating with each repetition. He gulped when he heard Derek take a sharp inhale at the other side of the line. He could almost see him shaking his head.

“Okay,” Derek began. “Now listen to me. When it comes down to it, all women are the same, they just need some loving and appreciation. Go buy her some flowers before the store closes.”

Spencer didn’t need to be told twice. He glanced one last time at the still-locked bedroom door before heading out.

Thankfully, Spencer’s apartment was close to downtown. He hurried into the first flower shop that he spotted, his eyes scanning the bouquets until they landed on a pair of bright colored lilies. The outer corners of the petals shone with a radiant shade of pink, fading into a soft white at the center.

He cleared his throat as he placed the flowers on the counter. “Can I have these, please?”

The woman behind the counter started wrapping them in pink paper, reaching out for lint to tie a bow. “Trouble in paradise?”

Spencer blinked, not often experiencing someone seeing right through him. Besides his coworkers. And you.

“Ya know, I see so many men come in here on the daily. You can just tell they got in trouble with their lady; sweating bullets and rushing to pick a bouquet the second before the store closes.” She twirled the bouquet in her hand as she pulled on the strings of the lint bow. “At least you picked a nice one.”

“Do-,” Spencer hesitated, his voice softening in an uncertain whisper. “Will she forgive me after this?”

“Depends on what ya did,” she answered with a lift of her shoulders. “What I can tell you is that flowers don’t do much fixing.”

Damn it, Derek.

The florist turned around, rummaging through a drawer, before pulling out an envelope and sliding it across the counter.

“Write,” she stated in a single syllable. “We need words. We need to know that you care, and we need you to put more effort into it than paying ten dollars.”

With a new plan in mind, Spencer hurried home. The apartment was still silent when he returned, the door firmly closed and no signs of you having left the bedroom. He sighed and made his way to his desk, shoving aside piles of books and papers until he had enough space to write. He opened the envelope the florist had given him, and carefully pulled out a sheet of blank stationary.

My Lover Dearest,

It is ironic that I have read so much poetry and so many books in my life, and yet I cannot find the words to describe how much you mean to me.

Sometimes, I find it difficult to believe that someone as wonderful as you would want to be with me. That I’m allowed to deserve the love that you give me.

My mind works in strange ways, and as much as you’ve praised me for it, it can work as a curse as well. I am scared to overwhelm you, to talk your ears off (which would be a shame, because you have beautiful ears) to the point that you grow tired of me.

I never had the intention to cause you pain, or to initiate that you’re any less brilliant than you are. You are the brightest part of my life. I feel grateful every time I get to talk to you, and I would love nothing more than to explain any concept you’d want me to. I’m sorry for not having understood that before.

I love you. I love you. I have been wanting to tell you this in a special way, please know that I am not just saying this to ask for your forgiveness. I love you.

Sincerely, Spencer

The clock chimed 03.00 a.m. by the time Spencer finished his letter. His hand ached and he could barely keep his eyes open as he stumbled to the bedroom door. He turned the handle, but it wouldn’t budge. With a resigned sigh he slid the letter under the door and sat down against it. It didn’t take long for exhaustion to overtake him.

The repeated knocking of the door against his back woke him.

“Spencer?”

Your voice sounded like a siren, and he instantly scrambled away from the door, allowing you to open it fully.

You stood there, holding the envelope in your hand as your eyes softened when you glanced over him, mouth forming a small oh. “What are you doing here?” you asked in worry.

“The door was locked,” he answered, voice still hoarse from sleep.

A curse escaped your lips as you pressed your hands against your face. “I am so sorry. I must have fallen asleep with the door still locked.”

Spencer’s lips lifted into a small smile, relieved that you hadn’t locked him out intentionally. “It’s okay. Orthopedists actually recommend sleeping on the floor from time to time. Sleeping on a hard surface encourages a more natural position for your spine, which can reduce back pain. It even strengthens certain muscles, so the pressure on your body evens out. As a matter of fact, anthropological studies have shown that-”

He stopped mid-ramble, blushing when he noticed the faint smile tugging on your lips.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “I’ll stop,”

“Don’t you ever stop,” you replied as you lowered yourself on the ground next to him. You reached for his hands, placing them into your lap.

Spencer’s blush deepened, and he struggled to suppress a grin. Your encouragement reassured him, and he went on about groups in Japan and Tanzania who experience significantly lower rates of back pain due to their minimal use of furniture.

“Spencer,” you gently interrupted after a while.

He blinked at you, seeing the gleam in your eyes as you adoringly stared at him. “Hm?”

“I love you too.”

[angelicjas]

"WHY DONT YOU LOVE ME DADDY ? "

starring ꒱ gojo, s. geto, k. nanami.

sum ꒱ plethora of jjk men to fuel your daddy issues — which we all know you secretly have

wc: 2.3k

@warnings! ꒱ daddy!kink, age gaps, p in v, basic sex stuff, filthy smut, cumming inside, cunnilingus, degrading, praise, not rlly proof read, kind of buns but oh well. dumbification kinda, i think thats it lmk if not !!

SATORU GOJO; the sugar daddy.

that new bag you eyed for 2 seconds last week? you find it on the dining table with a note that simply writes, ‘enjoy baby!’. your amazon cart? shein cart? bought with fast shipping, no matter how expensive or full it is. those cute pants you keep seeing everyone on tiktok gloating about? bought and on your nightstand.

satoru, loved to spoil his baby in all sorts of shiny jewels and designer, he loved to see the big smile on your face no matter how many times he’s bought you things. when you go out for girls night? he’s sending you with a stack of money, the size and weight of atleast 1000 dollars cash, throwing it down as if it was a mere 20, his only request was to call him if you or your girls needed anything.

but what satoru loved most, was buying you pretty lingerie.

“mmh!- fuck. .” pap, pap, pap. was the only sound that could be heard in your shared bedroom, your body was wrapped in a light blue lace satoru had bought you, the light color matching his eyes beautifully, the panties were pulled to the side, since he claimed he just ‘had to fuck you with it on.’

“fuck baby, you look so gorgeous with this. .” he pants in your ear heavily, he had your legs on his shoulders, ankles to his ears,

“yeah, mmph- you’re taking me so well baby.”

you could barely register his words, the only thing on your mind was how fucking deep he was, you could feel him in your stomach as he hits that spongey spot deep inside over and over.

your jaw seemed to be stuck in a permanent ‘o’ shape, the only thing coming out of your mouth was the pornagraphic moans that you couldn’t seem to hide even if you wanted too.

your body was bouncing with every thrust, your eyes rolling to the back of your head on a particularly hard thrust.

“yeah, fuck- mhm, you look so fucking pretty, holy shit.” gojo never seemed to shut up during sex, even as he moans inbetween every word. he just felt like he had to let you know how good you look and feel.

the pleasure he was feeling made his body want to roll his head back so bad, but he refused to look away from the fucked out expression on your face.

gojo could also never keep his hands off you, caressing your hips, to your waist, down your arms.. groping and pawing at any skin he could get his greedy hands on.

his mouth was no better, when he wasn’t talking your ear off he’s kissing you sloppily, mostly containing of teeth clashing and tongues colliding more then actual lips touching, or kissing down your neck in a poor attempt to muffle his moans.

“t-toru!” you barely whimper out as more tiny ‘ah, ah, ah!’s leave your lips, he shushes you gently with a sinister grin plastered on his face. “I know baby, I know. you can take it thought right?” he whispers moving his head next to your ear, nipping at your skin lightly.

“hmm?” he hums in question, as if you were even able to answer.

“yes!, yes! holy fuck, yes!” you weren’t even quite sure what you were saying yes to at this point, the repeated jabs to your g-spot making you dizzy, you could feel the pleasure slowly become overwhelming.

“mmm,” he hums and speeds up his hips impossibly faster, causing more moans to usher past your lips unexpectedly. he tilts your chin to look at him, making you kiss him as your teeth bump together and your tongue’s tie. “good fucking girl.”

he breathes into your mouth as his eyebrows furrow, he knows you’re just as close as he is.

“g-g’nna cum!” you just barely find the words as you had been fucked utterly senseless. he hums in delight into your mouth before pulling away, kissing and sucking at your neck sloppily,

“cum baby, please.” he begs as he feels you clench around him and chant his name like a mantra.

hearing his name swarm out of your mouth mixed with the way your tightness squeezed around his cock, it sent him over the edge aswell, moaning even louder then you as he buries himself deep in your wetness, letting the ropes of his warm cum spill into you.

SUGURU GETO; the kids you babysits daddy.

It’s probably wrong, the way the same night you tucked his girls into bed after reading them a sweet story, you’re downstairs getting fucked over the kitchen counter.

it was a side gig, an attempt as a broke college student to get some money, eventually you grew to love the two girls you babysat as if they were your own. it also helped that their dad was a fucking smokeshow.

the way you’d run home and tell your girlfriends all about how hot the kids you babysit's dad is, “id call him daddy.” you speak into the phone as you all giggle, in that moment you can also feel your heart drop to your stomach as you hear someone clear their throat from behind you.

“call who daddy sweetheart?” you hear your friends exchange “ooo’s” and laughs through the telephone as you slowly turn around, much to your horror, and see the same man you were just erotically speaking about..

“such a whore baby, is this really the way my children's babysitter should be acting? hm?” he had you in a mean arch, pounding mercilessly into you, the only sound throughout the kitchen being your muffled moans and the squelching beneath you two. you were bent over the kitchen counter, the same one you’ve made the girls food countless time.

it was wrong, you’re sure of that, but its hard to think about that when the only thing on your mind is how fucking deep he was, you swore you could feel him rearranging your guts with each harsh thrust, he knows how to hit that spongey spot deep inside with perfect precision over and over, much better then all those stupid college hook-ups you had.

“s-sugu!, so deep! . . s-shit!” you hear a menacing laugh behind you, mocking you.

realistically, suguru always knew you found him attractive. he could tell by the way your eyes lingered a little to long when you thought he wasn't paying attention, but he always was. he kept a keen eye on you because, frankly, he was also head over fucking heels.

he thought you were the cutest little thing, always showing off in those cute dresses and skirts that hugged your body so tightly, even the days where you wore sweatpants and tracksuits he found himself drooling, still imagining what was underneath.

call him a pervert all you want, especially going for a girl so much younger, so naive. but you were just as much of a pervert. always bending over a little to far in front of him, showing off your cute dainty panties. hugging him a bit to tightly as you left, making sure your boobs pressed riiiight up against him.

which is why he wasted no time bending your little slutty ass over as soon as he could.

“cmon baby, do what you told your friends, yeah?” his head tilts lower, giving open mouth kisses over your neck and down your back, groaning against your skin everytime he feels you clench around his cock.

“mmm-!” you could barely form a coherent thought, hearing the ‘schlick, schlick, shlick’ noises of your messy cunt drooling around him.

“f-fuck! can’t- jesus-!” you stutter out, your eyes crossing as you throw your head back impossibly farther, making suguru reach for your hair and grab it into a sloppy ponytail.

he pulls you by the makeshift pony so your right up next to his own face, “not gonna ask again, little girl.” the husk in his tone, the vile words he’d say, all made you clench tighter and moan louder, biting your bottom lip until it was raw and swollen from trying to contain them.

“s-sorry!” you moan out, the sound of your skin clapping with the wet noises echoing louder throughout the kitchen.

“daddy! fuck fuck- daddy, daddy, daddy!” you can barely contain your screams as he hushes you gently, all with the same sly smirk on his lips that hasn’t left ever since he walked in on your little phone conversation.

“thatsss it,” he groans feeling his own orgasm creeping up. “atta girl, so fucking good.” you felt like you could cum from his words alone, tightening around his shaft once you feel that familiar pleasure consume you.

“c-c’mming!” is all you can manage to get out before it hits you like a fucking train. your legs are shaking, eyes rolled back, uncontainable moans spilling from your lips.

looking at your disheveled state, suguru moans against you burying himself deeeep inside your tummy, what really pushed him over that edge was one more small tight hug from your pussy, causing warm ropes to shoot into you as you squirm, still trying to recover.

“whoopsies, maybe you’ll just have to carry our own kids, hm?”

oh fuck.

KENTO NANAMI; daddy issues daddy.

your relationship with your father was…never great, to say the least, it caused a few problems in your life, sure, but the main one, was the attraction you had in much older men. your friends never understood, i mean, why don’t you want a young guy that can handle you? or a guy your age you can grow old with?

they didnt understand, of course they wouldnt. an older man can throw you around much better then any young guy you’ve been with ever could.

which is why nanami, who you happen to meet at a bar, is practically your dream man ever since the moment you laid eyes on him.

“come here often handsome?” you sit next to him with a seductive smile, leaning your elbow on the bar and resting your cheek on it. he simply turns to look at you, and with an amused huff shakes his head.

“very nice sweetheart,” you can feel your heart swoons at the name. “but im far to old for you.” tch, yeah right.

you aren’t exactly sure how you got where you are now, whether it was the booze, your head being clouded with lust, or maybe both, but your seated in the back of his fancy ass car, with him between your legs.

“you don’t have to do that y’know, if you don’t want too.” you pant looking down at him, I mean afterall no man you’ve ever known has ever really wanted to eat pussy. yet, he still shoots you a perplexed look, shaking his head aggressively.

“I want to,” the words catch you off guard yet make the ache between your thighs even louder. “need to teach you how a real man does it, hm?”

you moan simply at his words and nod your head, throwing your head back as he continues his work kissing along your thighs, humming here and there.

he eventually, comes face to face with your glistening cunt, blowing on it causing your legs to squirm shut, before he quickly grabs ahold of them, now putting your knees allll the way up to your chest, you whine at this before it quickly gets cut off with a real moan once he swipes his tongue through your folds, humming into your wetness.

his tongue swirls around, collecting and swallowing every ounce of your slick as if he was a dehydrated puppy. you’ve never been eaten out with so much . . pleasure? every guy that’s done it before was either terrible at it, completely missing and licking the lips, or just plain hated it anyway.

“mmh- shit. . . feels s’ good.” your head lolls back and more whimpers escape past your lips blissfilly, his lips curl to suckle your sensitive clit, causing you to grab at his hair and whine loudly.

“fuck- so needy baby.” he pants into your soaked hole, mixed with your arousal and his spit. “she’s never been treated right has she? poor thing.” he coos and speaks to it as if it was a real person,

the filthy wet noises emitting from between your thighs only turned you on more, between the constant torture to your clit mixed with his dirty talk? you knew you were a goner soon.

his tongue explored you as much as he could, thrusting the wet muscle into your opening as you needily moan from above him, the grip on his once put together hair, becoming tighter. he sped up, tongue lapping at your essence as he switches between suckling on your clit, to drinking up your dampness.

“s-shit! wait- . . nanami!” the sudden change in pace causes your legs to shake and much louder moans to escape your lips.

unfortunately, everyone that could see the car definitely knew what was going on inside. not only could they hear, but could probably see the car shaking.

your head flew back and your legs attempted to clam together again before a harsh smack! landed against your thigh, causing a whimper to escape your lips.

“keep ‘em open.” the man speaks between your thighs.

“’m close, so f’ckin close-!” the windows were fogged with heat already, nanami slurping at a quickened pace, never failing to reach the most sensitive parts inside of you.

you can feel your climax approaching, the warmth in your belly growing with lust,

“cum.”

was all it took for your legs to shake and your body to writhe and twist above him, he continues to gulp at your creaminess until you ride out your orgasm and have to practically push him off of you.

“wanna see how a real man fucks angel?”

hell yeah you do.

-

toji was supposed to b in this but i got lazy

[meadowfics]

delivery

hwang jun-ho x pregnant!reader

the policeman is excited for his daughter to arrive

warnings: birth

this is a continuation and part two to this

it all starts late at night, just as you’re getting ready to climb into bed.

you’ve showered, slipped into your comfiest satin nightgown, and are looking forward to finally getting some rest.

jun-ho is already under the covers, scrolling through his phone while waiting for you.

just as you move to sit on the bed, you feel an unexpected sensation.

at first, you freeze, wondering if you’ve accidentally peed yourself.

this has happened before, due to your daughter using your bladder as a soccer ball.

the thought of it happening again makes your cheeks heat with embarrassment.

“uh… jun-ho?”

you say hesitantly, your voice barely above a whisper.

your partner's head snaps up immediately, his protective instincts kicking in.

“what’s wrong? are you okay?”

he’s already moving to sit up, concern etched into his features.

you glance down at yourself and mumble,

“i think… i think my water just broke.” the words feel strange to say, and you can’t help but feel a little self-conscious.

jun-ho blinks a few times, processing what you’ve just said. then his lips curl into a small, excited smile that he’s clearly trying to suppress.

“really? are you sure?” he asks, but he’s already reaching for the hospital bag that’s been packed for weeks.

you nod, still feeling a little flustered.

“yeah, i’m pretty sure. i mean, i didn’t feel any pain, but—” you trail off, looking at the growing damp spot on your nightgown.

“okay, okay, no need to worry,”

jun-ho says, his voice calm but laced with excitement.

he places a reassuring hand on your lower back, then gently guides you to sit down on the edge of the bed.

“let’s get you changed first, and then we’ll head to the hospital. our girl’s on her way.”

as you change into clean clothes, with the help of jun-ho.. the man hurries around the room, triple-checking the hospital bag, your phone, chargers, snacks, and anything else you might need.

you can tell he’s trying to stay composed, but the way he fumbles with the zipper on the bag gives away his excitement.

once you’re ready, he helps you into the car.

during the drive, you start to feel mild contractions. they’re not too bad yet, but jun-ho keeps glancing at you every few minutes, asking,

“how are you feeling? do you need anything? want me to play some music?”

you laugh softly, despite the growing discomfort.

“i’m fine, jun-ho. just focus on driving. i’d rather not give birth in the car.”

at the hospital, jun-ho is by your side every step of the way. he holds your hand tightly as the nurses check you in, offering comforting words and even cracking a small joke to lighten the mood.

“guess i’ll finally get to see if all those birthing classes paid off.”

as your contractions intensify, jun-ho stays calm and steady, never letting go of your hand. he rubs your back during the worst of it, whispering,

“you’re doing amazing, y/n. she’s so lucky to have you as her mom.”

hours pass, and jun-ho barely leaves your side. even when you’re tired and in pain, he keeps encouraging you, telling you how strong you are and how proud he is of you.

"you're doing so well, sweetheart."

when your contractions start getting stronger, jun-ho immediately shifts into “coach mode,” even though he’s never officially done this before.

he sits beside you, holding your hand tightly, and says,

“okay, y/n, remember to breathe. in through your nose, out through your mouth..just like we practiced.”

during a particularly intense contraction, just when you're seven centimeters dilated.. you grip his hand hard enough to make him wince, but he doesn’t say a word about it.

he's faced worst while being a detective.

instead, he rubs soothing circles on your back with his other hand, murmuring,

“you’re so strong, y/n. you’ve got this. just focus on breathing, one step at a time.”

every time the nurse comes in to check on you, jun-ho listens attentively, nodding as if he’s taking mental notes.

afterward, he turns to you and explains everything in a calm, steady voice, making sure you’re not overwhelmed.

“okay, so it sounds like you’re dilating really well. that means we’re getting closer. just a little more, and we’ll meet her.”

at one point, he notices you’re getting tense and you start clenching your jaw during a contraction.

“hey, relax your shoulders,” he says gently, placing his hands on them and giving them a light squeeze.

“it’ll help with the pain. you’re doing amazing, y/n.”

when you start to doubt yourself.. you start to cry,

“i don’t think i can do this,”

jun-ho immediately shakes his head and cups your face with both hands.

“yes, you can. you’ve already come so far. you’re the strongest person i know, y/n, and you’re not doing this alone. i’m right here with you.”

between contractions, he keeps you distracted by cracking small jokes.

“if she’s as stubborn as you, it’s no wonder she’s taking her time coming out.”

when you glare at him, he grins and adds,

“but stubbornness is a good thing. she’ll be tough, like her mom.”

when it’s time to start pushing, jun-ho positions himself right by your side, holding one of your legs and encouraging you with every push.

“you’re doing it, y/n. just a little more. you’re so close. i’m so proud of you.”

at one point, you grab the collar of his shirt in frustration during a particularly difficult push.. the ring of fire as doctors put it.

instead of panicking, he stays calm and says,

“that’s it, take it out on me. you can yell at me all you want..just keep going. you’re amazing, y/n."

the moment your daughter is born, just after three hours of pushing.. jun-ho’s eyes fill with tears. he looks at her, then at you, and his voice trembles as he says,

“she’s perfect. you did it, y/n.”

when the nurse places your baby girl in your arms, jun-ho leans in close, his arm wrapped around your shoulders as you both look at her in awe.

“welcome to the world, little one,”

your man whispers, his voice full of love.

even as exhausted as you are, you can see the way jun-ho can’t stop smiling. he keeps glancing between you and your daughter, like he can’t believe how lucky he is to have both of you.

later, as the three of you settle in for some quiet time, jun-ho gently brushes his fingers over your daughter’s tiny hand.

“she’s got your nose,” he says softly, leaning in to kiss your forehead.

"thank you for being the best."

you mumble, tired from the pushing.

“thank you, y/n. for everything. i love you so much.”

"I love you too."

you watch him as he carefully cradles your daughter, talking to her in a soft, soothing voice about how much he’s been waiting to meet her.

in that moment, you know your little family is already filled with so much love.

masterlist

[headkiss]

anna oh anna. i see you’re taking spencer request and was wondering if you’d be willing to write something with a childhood friend visiting spencer and the team just embarrassing him cause they can tell they have feelings for each other?

love you anna💗💗

omg erin ik this request is old but i hope u love it anyway 🫶🫶 | 0.9k words of bestfriend!reid fluff!!!

Despite nearly a lifetime of friendship, today is the first time you’re visiting Spencer in Quantico.

You grew up as neighbors, and your friendship wasn’t a slow, gradual thing. Instead, one day, as a kid, you’d knocked on his door and declared him your best friend. He didn’t fight you on it, and that was it.

Whenever he goes back to Vegas to visit his mom, Spencer never fails to visit you, too. Sometimes he stays over and you fall asleep watching movies on your couch, sometimes he can’t stay any longer than a quick meal.

You talk on the phone at least once a week, and you text Spencer every day, though he rarely manages to reply with more than a smiley face because of his thing with technology. You know he reads them all, though.

All of that and still, you’d never been to Quantico until now.

Spencer always told you it wasn’t worth it, that there wasn’t all that much to see and he’d probably get called away on a case, anyway. Selfishly, you would have liked to stay in his apartment even if he was away. To snoop at all of the books he has lying around and be surrounded by him.

After much badgering over the phone, he’d finally invited you to come for a visit and you jumped at the opportunity.

Spencer’s excited to see you. He always is. But something about you coming to Quantico had always made him nervous, like if you got too close to his job, you’d be in danger. Or, less logically, like he’d have to share you with his team, in a sense, and he really liked having you to himself.

Of course, they know about you — he’s got a framed picture of the two of you as teenagers on his desk — but they’ve never met you. Spencer loves his team, and they’ve heard him speak to you on the phone and have asked him about you countless times, but so much of himself is involved in the job, and you’re almost like an escape for him.

Somewhere safe, somewhere separate.

He traces a fingertip across the top of the frame on his desk when the elevator beeps, and the sound of your footsteps reach his ears. He knows it’s you from those alone.

Spencer stands just as you reach the bullpen, and as soon as you spot him you let out a tiny squeal and rush over. He welcomes you into his arms easier than he does anyone else, your arms tight around his neck, his supporting the small of your back.

“Hi, Spence,” you say, cheek against his shoulder, smile in your voice.

“Hi,” he returns, his mouth a breath away from your hair.

Garcia and JJ are standing by the entryway of the bullpen, watching you and Spencer with these knowing looks on their faces. Emily walks up a moment later, just as you pull away from the hug and ruffle Spencer’s hair.

“Is that…?” she asks.

“Yup,” JJ says.

“And they’re just friends?” Emily adds.

“According to them.”

“Sweet, clueless creatures,” comes from Penelope.

Unaware, or maybe just uncaring, of your audience, you fiddle with Spencer’s tie, then his vest, “Look at you. So professional.”

“I actually dress like this most of the time.”

“And look at your badge!” You flick it where it’s clipped to his pocket. “Can I have one?”

“You’re wearing a visitor’s badge.”

“So not as cool.” You scan your eyes across his desk, pausing at the picture of the two of you. You hadn’t known that was there, and your heart squeezes a bit at the thought of him keeping it where he can see it. “Did you just put that picture there for my visit?”

“Of course not,” he scratches the back of his neck lightly. “It’s always been there. They like to tease me about it.”

“Spence,” you start, eyes flicking over his face. You want to say something stupid and cheesy about how sweet he is, about how warm that makes you feel. Instead, you say “You’ve even got your glasses on. Very smart, Dr. Reid.”

Back by the entrance, Rossi and Morgan join the others. “Reid’s friend from home?” Dave checks.

“Uh-huh,” Garcia nods.

“And they’re still just friends?” Derek points between the two of you.

JJ, Emily, and Garcia all nod.

“Kids,” Rossi sighs.

You push Spencer’s glasses back up his nose gently. “Or should I say, the resident boygenius.”

“How did you-”

“Oh, I met Penelope in the elevator. She’s lovely.” You turn around and wave at her.

She waves back, beaming.

It’s then that Spencer realizes the entire team has been watching your exchange all along. He closes his eyes and huffs before taking you over to them and introducing you, even though he’s aware they know who you are.

Derek turns his charm on a little extra when he says hello to you, and Spencer’s hands twitch at his sides, his brows scrunched.

When JJ and Garcia distract you with a story that’s sure to be an embarrassing one, Morgan nudges Spencer’s shoulder with his, “She’s pretty great.”

“She’s the best person I know.”

Derek doesn’t even pretend to be wounded at that. He only grins like he knows something.

Hotch watches through the window of his office, that barely-there upward tug of his mouth on his face. He hasn’t seen Spencer smile the way he does with you in a long time.

[chosove]

*tw!!! daddy kink!!! + a lotttt of size kink stuff!!! fem bodied reader*

I know he gets such a like…almost ‘selfish lover’ rep but in my humble daddy issue biased opinion, toji would 100% talk you through it like…

Everyone already finds him so intimidating, if not from his stature and general appearance, its his gruff voice and combative personality. He doesnt even mean to do it, he just always has that trademark scowl on his face that makes people afraid to say excuse me in grocery stores :(

Not you though, you still served him with your bright smile as he checked out of the store. You asked how he was and giggled at his flirty response of ‘why, ya wanna make my day better?’. I mean…other than his kids he never had people willingly make small talk with him, let alone laugh at his old man jokes.

Godddd he just gets so flustered when you look at him with your big doe eyes and say have a fantastic day :(

Thats why when he sees you on the dating app megumi downloaded for him (against his will), he feels his heart skip a beat. I just know he’s all nervous, thinking how dirty he is as a self proclaimed ‘old man’ finding such a pretty young thing attractive- i mean you could literally be his daughter. All these worried thoughts flitted through his head while he tried to decide, not realizing his thumb was just a littttttlllleeeee too close to the screen as he accidentally matched with you.

Oh.

Oh.

I mean it was an accident for him, but was it an accident for you? It couldnt be if you were texting him already, a message reading “hey there stranger :)” popping up on his phone.

And when you liked his simple response of “Hello.”, responding with “anything i can do to make your night better, toji?”, that couldnt just be a typo or misclick, right?

You made him feel like a teenager again, the butterflies he felt only becoming more intense when you asked him to come over n’ tell you in person :( he nearly jumped out of his skin trying to get ready, hands fumbling with that pinstripe button-up he’d been saving for something special (gumi’s grad or….i guess his first date in forever). It was only at times like this he wished he had someone to call to help him chill out.

Maybe after tonight that’d be you though? He hoped so at least, and even when you pulled him into your apartment, pushing him on the couch while he stuttered about getting to know each other first, he knew you were the girl for him.

It did take a while for him to actually get up to your speed- he didnt wanna break you or anything. You were just so, so desperate for him, tugging at his shirt while you grinded your clothed cunt against his beefy thighs, filthy words coming out of your mouth only making it harder for toji to take it slow with you.

“God you’re so big toji, feel like even jus’ your fingers can split me in half.”

“Couldn’t stop thinking about you, knew you’d treat me better than all the guys my age. Ya gonna fuck me right toji? Please?”

“C’mon toji…know you wanna breed me, bet it’ll only take one time for me to give you a baby. D’you want that daddy?”

It was no later you said that word that he was picking you up, throwing you onto the tiny mattress your studio apartment held. Yeah, he definitely wasnt getting out of this alive- but neither were you judging by the way his big hands began to unbuckle his belt, unzipping the pants you so graciously left a giant wet stain on, the outline of his cock in his boxers making your mouth water.

“See what ya do to me, pretty?” His deep voice spoke, one hand giving his throbbing dick a few much-needed strokes while he stared down at you like a wolf. “Nothin’ to say anymore, hm? C’mon, i liked hearing it all.”

He hadnt even pressed himself against you before you let out a whine, his hands resting themselves on your sides already being enough to make your hips jump. If it weren’t for the fact he was now intent on hearing more of those pretty sounds from you, he’d have let out a whine himself from how soft your skin felt against his worked hands. And when he slowly pulled your panties down your thighs, clenching his jaw at the sight of strands of wetness sticking to your pussy, he nearly came in his pants.

“Poor girl, bet this sweet pussy hasnt been treated right in forever hm?” The question nearly brought tears to your eyes, both from the truth of it and from the fact he began to thumb at your glistening cunt, the rough pad of his finger being the exact pressure you needed on your pulsing bundle of nerves. “T-toji i might cum alr-”you began, but you werent able to get your sentence out before his hand came down to slap against your cunt.

“What happened to my good girl from earlier? Y’know not to call me toji, little bird. Whats my name?” He whispered against the shell of your ear, fingers covered in your wetness now coming to play with your hard nipples.

Clinging to his shaggy hair like it was your lifeline, you nearly cried out as you came undone for him, the desperate moan of ‘thank you daddy’ falling from your lips. He smiled as you writhed below him, your body convulsing while he let you ride what would be the first of many orgasms that night.

[tsunaso]

"OH MY SWEET SUMMER CHILD"

pairing. (Implied) Omega!Mikey x Alpha?Sanzu x Alpha!male reader

synopsis. when Alpha Sanzu messes with the wrong omega, he learns the hard way that karma never misses. — 1.5k words part one.

warnings. mdni, amab reader, dead dove, drugging, (Implied) bitching, degradation, dubcon (due to altered state), physical restraint, dark omegaverse, humiliation, mentions of death.

alpha Sanzu who is a joke of an alpha. has little to no respect for beta’s nor omega’s, and acts like he can get whoever he wants when he wants. thinks that his looks will let him get away with harassing omegas, but karma always catches up.

alpha Sanzu who messes with the wrong omega one day and lives to regret it for the rest of his pathetic life. the omega who he had almost gone too far with was mated to the gang leader who owned the city!

　　　　　　　　　　　　⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽ ☆ ☾���∙⊱⋅•⋅　　　　　　　　　　　

“What the fuck is going on!?” Sanzu yells practically foaming at the mouth as he struggles against the ropes tying him to a wooden chair. 

“My my… what am I going to do with such a dumb fucking alpha, practically came here willingly, with the way you jumped at the smell of omagan slick.” M/n lowly purred as he strolled into the room. his scent glands work on overdrive as he pumps it out into the bare room. 

Sanzu instinctively starts to pump out his scent to try and dominate M/n’s but for some reason, his scent is a hint sweeter than usual, he makes a face but he doesn’t pay any mind to it.

“You know you're lucky that it was so easy to bring you in,” M/n face drops into a scowl. “Otherwise you would have been shot dead.”

“What are you even talking about?!” he rages, “Once I’m out of these stupid ropes I’m going to fucking gut you.” Sanzu roars with venom as he starts to growl.

M/n ignores whatever nonsense Sanzu is yapping about before sparking a lighter to light his cigar. He takes a puff before finally looking at Sanzu again. “You don’t even know why you're here… do you?” M/n says in mock pity as he lets out a quiet laugh. 

Sanzu finally stops posturing and really takes in the situation. His eyes dart around the room as he notes that he has been kidnapped to an unknown second location and is trapped in a bare room with a chair, mattress, sink, and toilet.

“Where am I?” Sanzu says quietly as he finally stops pulling at his restraints. His bright pink hair falls onto his cheeks as he tilts his head slightly. This action made his eyes contrast with his hair beautifully, you could almost say he looked cute.

M/n looks at him amused by what he is trying to do. “You’re in my-” M/n cuts himself off as he hears the door open. “Actually, hold that thought…”

M/n fully turns around to meet his mate's gaze. “Love! I’m so glad you came!”, he pauses “I know it must’ve been hard for you to come… here,” M/n says in a softer tone.

Sanzu’s eyes widened as he realized who had just entered the room. A relatively short man with long black hair and equally black eyes stared blankly at Sanzu. The man's face cringes before looking away and stepping closer to M/n.

“Is this why you kidnapped me? For some no-name omega?” Sanzu questions, his face mask of disbelief and shock. This was the omega he was messing around with in that club's alleyway!

M/n’s eyes narrow sharply, his scent souring in anger. “Watch your fucking mouth, you're talking to my mate.” M/n rages on, “You put your dirty grubby hands on my mate.” 

M/n clenches his fist, before letting out a quiet sigh when he feels his mate rest his hand on the small of his back. “This was the one that hurt you, yes?” M/n asks, turning to face his mate.

As soon as M/n says those words the tension in the room thickens as Sanzu’s mind races, as he tries to think of just who M/n is… did he really piss off such an important person?

The black-haired omega stiffly nods, a pinched look coming across his face. “I should’ve rocked his shit in that fucking alleyway” the omega lets out a growl, just thinking about the event made him angry.

Omagan pheromone starts flowing into the room like an angry river but, just as soon as it appears, it disappears. “Just.. leave me out of whatever you're about to do.”

Sanzu watches as the small omega struts away, he had never scented anything like that before. With pupils blown wide, he tries to come up with what it smells like but he can’t put it into words.

Why was he perceiving that omega's scent like this? He had scented him before… and he didn’t smell anything great, so why did he smell so different?

“Are you finally feeling the effects of the drugs?” m/n inquires, bending slightly to take in Sanzu’s ever-sweetening scent.

Sanzu blinked slowly, his pupils blown wide as the realization began to settle like poison in his bloodstream. His scent was sweeter. Too sweet. Like ripe fruit on the verge of rotting—cloying, wrong.

“What the fuck did you do to me?” His voice cracked as the first tendrils of fear curled around his throat.

M/n smirked, blowing out a slow stream of smoke that lingered in the air like a noose. "What do you think, Haruchiyo? Or should I say… soon-to-be Harumi?” 

He crouched down to meet Sanzu’s panicked gaze, tilting his head mockingly."That’s a cute nickname, isn’t it? You better start thinking of one because you won’t be the same 'big bad alpha' much longer."

Sanzu thrashed against the ropes again, his muscles straining, but it was futile. His movements felt sluggish now, like his limbs weren’t entirely his to command. The scent swirling off him was intoxicating—too intoxicating, and the disgusting sweetness of it made bile rise in his throat.

"You drugged me?" His voice was shaky, cracking on every syllable. He wanted to sound angry, but even he could hear the fear starting to bleed through.

M/n let out a low, mocking chuckle. “Oh, it’s so much more than a drug. You see…” He leaned in close, letting the embers of his cigar illuminate his smirk. 

“We’ve been working on something special for alphas like you. Arrogant pricks who think they can take whatever they want without consequence. It speeds up the shift—unlocks a side of you you’ve probably felt in your worst nightmares. You’re going to be softer, sweeter, more… submissive than you’ve ever dreamed of being. Just think of it as karma.”

Sanzu’s heart pounded in his chest as his body betrayed him further. The gummy sweetness of his scent thickened, curling around him like a noose. His mouth was dry, his skin too warm, and his thoughts felt like they were swimming in syrup.

“Fucking liar,” Sanzu spat, though it came out weaker than he intended. “You’re bluffing. This isn’t possible.”

“Oh, but it is.” M/n grinned and straightened up, casting a glance toward the door. "I thought about just killing you, you know. But, my mate is merciful, and I figured—what’s worse? Death or living the rest of your pathetic life as what you perceive to be at the bottom of society, as an omega? You’ll be crawling for scraps, begging for mercy, begging for attention.”

The sound of footsteps approaching the room pulled Sanzu from his growing panic. The door creaked open, and in stepped the omega mate once again, his dark eyes locked on Sanzu with unrelenting hatred.

“Still talking, huh?” the omega muttered. He crossed his arms, his posture deceptively casual. But his scent—it sharpened, cutting through the air like a blade. Even drugged, even in his haze, Sanzu felt the command embedded in it.

“M/n,” the omega said, his voice cool and steady, “how long does he have before it starts? The heat, I mean.”

Sanzu froze, his eyes snapping between them. The heat?

M/n looked at the omega with a knowing smile, shrugging casually. “Oh, not long now. A couple of hours, maybe? By then, he’ll be begging someone to knot him. Doesn’t even matter who.”

He exhaled more smoke, his tone darkening. “You’ll finally know what it feels like to be hunted, Haruchiyo. You’ll know what it’s like to be nothing more than a toy for someone stronger than you.”

Sanzu’s breathing turned shallow, panic clawing up his chest. “You’re lying! You can��t… You can’t fucking do this to me!” he snarled, but his voice wavered, and his pheromones betrayed his fear.

“Oh, darling,” M/n purred mockingly, leaning close enough that Sanzu could feel the heat of his breath against his ear. “I already have.”

The omega stepped closer, standing just within Sanzu’s line of sight. He tilted his head, studying him like one might a bug under a microscope. “He’s still posturing,” he said flatly. “Let me stay and watch when it starts.”

M/n arched a brow, smirking. “You’re so cruel, my love.”

The omega’s lip curled in a wicked smile. “I told you before—we should’ve killed him in that alley. But I guess watching him crumble works too.”

Sanzu wanted to snarl, wanted to roar, wanted to say something, anything that would put him back in control. But his body was growing weaker. His scent—the sickly sweetness was almost unbearable now, and the ache in his lower abdomen made his stomach churn.

He was losing.

And for the first time in his life, Haruchiyo Sanzu was terrified.

[midnightanxietytm]

Midnight visit

Author's Notes: I wrote this in one afternoon. It's a bit shitty but oh well. I just wanted to see MC match Caleb's freak and then double it because I know that girl is equally freaky and possessive.

CONTENT WARNINGS: Possessive behavior, mutually unhealthy relationship, self-awareness, mc being a freak, mc uses 'gege' to refer to Caleb once, manipulation.

Sometimes in the dead of night, you wonder if you should feel some sort of guilt over it.

But then morning comes, and there he is; making breakfast, teasing you sweetly, kissing your cheeks tenderly and telling you there’s nothing to worry about, that you two will be together forever and he will never leave you again. 

And when night falls, you wait for him to get home on the living room couch, just to pretend to be asleep by the time he gets home and have him carry you to bed...

When you had first reunited, you commented that he was different and he refuted; “What if I told you I was always like this?” And this got to you. It made you think back to your youth under a different light…

You remember that he’d put your shoes on for you every morning, that he’d walk you to all the way to your classroom, that he wouldn’t let you go out with any boys, even Zayne, unless he was present.

You also remember casually leaving your valentines day cards on the dinner table, pretending to be too sleepy so he’d put on your shoes for you, and flaunting to your colleagues that, yes, the upperclassman who came every day with you was your best friend. 

Maybe neither of you changed that much. Maybe you were both possessive and unhealthy.

“Caleb.” You call him in a whisper that night, after he’s set your ‘sleeping’ form on your bed and was ready to leave your room, acting as if you’d just woken up. 

Immediately, his eyes are on you again, and his smile is back on his lips. You reach out a hand and softly caress his face. “You’ve been coming home so late.” You whine softly. Your fingers tracing the small crease between his eyebrows. “I miss you.” 

You can see the moment your words hit him; his pupils dilate even more, the faint light coming from the windows would no longer be a good excuse for that, his breathing shakes just for a moment. Anyone else would have missed it, but you know Caleb. You know he’s softening.

“I’m sorry, pipsqueak.” He whispers, carefully holding your hand with his gloved one and planting a kiss in your palm. “It will be over soon.” He tries reassuring you, but unfortunately for him, you are spoiled, and you don’t take it well when he denies you things.

You frown and pout up at him. “I know about the professor.” A low blow. He flinches, his eyes widening, but you hold him by the collar and force him to stay right where he was, where he belongs. “You shouldn’t hide those things from me, gege.” An even lower blow. ‘Gege’ is too soft, too meek, it doesn’t match the cold tone that seeps into your voice. “We’ll deal with it together, allright?”

A protest begins to form in his mouth, but you cut it by sliding your hand back to his cheek, thumb softly pressing his lips. “You said we could rebuild our old house, right? We’ll do it, but you have to help me, alright? Let me help you.”

Pushing yourself into a more seated position, your other hand comes up to cradle his face. “How-” He swallows hard. You watch his adam's apple tremble with laser-focused eyes. “How much do you know?”

“Not everything, don’t worry. We’ll deal with it, and once it’s over you’ll never have to leave my side again.” A sickly sweet smile sneaks itself into your lips, your thumbs slowly caressing his lips.

Caleb’s breathing is shaky, his eyes dart across your face, clearly shocked at your sudden possessiveness and demanding attitude. You decide that it’s enough now, and slowly fall back into the comforting innocence and pliancy he’s come to expect of you. “Sleep with me tonight?” you ask.

Caleb shudders on your hands, but nods with a smile after it. “Okay.” He whispers. “I’ll change out of uniform.”

He kisses your palm again, and stands to leave the room.

A/N: Is it really a toxic relationship if they are both toxic? I thought they cancelled each other out! /s /j

[drag-ula]

SO IT GOES

rockstar!matt x fem!reader

content warnings : smut (p in v), fingering, oral (fem!recieving), strong language,

being in a relationship with one of the most popular musicians was exhausting. the actual relationship was amazing but the package that comes with it? literal torture.

she could cope with the fans begging for photos and autographs, in fact she was happy that they did that because of how much it meant to her boyfriend.

the worst of it was the parties. matt was always invited to these big events where he talks with other stars and guests. she was used to her boyfriend being busy throughout the night but when she has to watch another woman try and flirt with him…she’d never felt to jealous.

this has happened lots of times before and of course it would, he’s in a band but those little giggles coming from her mouth and the smile on his face were enough to make her blood boil.

she didn’t want to cause a scene, especially in front of all these big names. it was hard not to go over there and confront them, so to distract her mind, she went off to get another drink.

after a couple more drinks, matt walked up behind her, giving her a kiss on the neck as she ever so slightly pulled away. he gave her a confused look, knowing something was wrong instantly.

“hey, what’s wrong?” he asked, lightly grabbing ahold of her chin so she’d look at him.

she gave him a harsh glare, “i don’t know, maybe ask your new friend.” her words came out with a hint of poison as she tried to avoid his gaze.

again, he was having none of it. “could you just tell me what i did wrong?” he practically begged, watching her start to walk away.

he took a step forward and pulled her back to him. matt held onto her hand as he took her through the crowd and into a quiet, empty room.

“who was the girl?” she questioned, crossing her arms, making matt let out a small laugh.

he shook his head unbelievably, “that’s what this is about?” matt continued to smile. “wow, i didn’t think of you as the jealous type.” he began to tease her.

she blushed at his words, embarrassed to admit that it was the truth but he saw right through her.

“c’mon, you got nothing to worry about. you’re it for me, okay?” matt stepped closer, making her back touch the wall.

his hands began to move from her waist, down to the end of her dress. she let out a gasp at the sudden movement, feeling her face heat up.

“but there’s people outside.” she said, gesturing to the party still happening.

“then we’ll just have to be quiet.” he shrugged his shoulders, his fingers reaching the bottom of her underwear and slowly going up until he felt her wetness.

she let out a gasp as his fingers pumped in and out of her. “fuck.” she moaned, her eyes already rolling back from pleasure.

“you like that?” matt leaned closer to her ear, feeling himself hardening in his jeans at the sight of her.

“i’m gonna-“ she began to say, only for him to pull away from her.

he began kissing down her neck, not caring about leaving marks. “not yet, baby.”

matt crouched down onto the floor and lifted her dress again. he pulled down her underwear and immediately buried his face into her wetness.

she moaned loudly as his tongue moved up and down repeatedly. “yes, right there.” her hands went into his hair, pulling at it.

her hips slowly grinded into his face, feeling even more pleasure than before. “yes.” her moans grew louder as she went into her orgasm.

matt looked up at her and smiled, her cum dripping down his chin. he pulled off his jeans and underwear, revealing his cock dripping with pre cum.

“go sit down.” he insisted, pointing at the couch in front of them. she did as he said and watched as he sat down next to her.

she took his cock in her hand and started to pump him. he leaned his head back against the couch and groaned under his breath. “fuck, you’re so good at this.” he panted, watching as her hand moved.

matt grabbed her hips and placed her on top of him. she lined her entrance up with his cock and sunk herself onto him. she started to ride him at a fast pace, moans and groans coming from both of them.

“baby, i’m gonna come if you keep doing that.” matt told her, his hands going up her dress and squeezing her breasts.

she rode him faster, watching as he came undone. “fuck, yes.” he whimpered, guiding her hips as she started to get tired.

her eyes rolled back, “god, you feel so good.” she almost yelled, feeling herself orgasm.

they both panted, trying to catch their breath. matt pulled out and kissed her on the lips. “you did so well, baby.”

[sepherinaspoppies]

Only If For A Night

ꕥ series masterlist & taglist ⋆. 𐙚 ˚ masterlist ✧₊⁺AO3

⟢summary: In Dia De Los Muertos (Day of the Dead), she gets forcefully transported to Westeros and meets her favorite book character, Aemond 'One Eye'. She asks and begs for his help to send her back home after realizing this was a world she did not want to live in. Unknowingly to her, her favorite fictional man had already grown too attached to fully let her go.

⟢pairing: Dark! Book Aemond Targaryen x Modern! Reader

⟢warnings for this part: Mentions of dead bodies, Harrenhal visions, light gore, Ser Crispy Coleslaw, Aemond being jealous and horny.

⟢wc: 7,872

⟢gif credit: @peachysunrize but she deleted her acc so im sorry!

Chapter 3: Me and the Devil

She was doing her best not to lose her mind. She’s never been stuck in a situationship like this before. Or hardly knew anyone that had been. Stuff like this only occurred in…books. In which she was now in the middle of. 

She had so many questions yet no answers. 

She knew she had to come up with some sort of well thought out plan. But if she was being honest, she barely even had a pl. As Phoebe Buffay once said on an early episode of Friends. 

One thing was for sure, she was in the Riverlands. Harrenhal. Westeros. If she had her history correct, and she did, the year is currently 130 AC.

Rhaenyra Targaryen had just taken over the city of King’s Landing with the help of the Rogue Prince at her side. 

She recalls how this news caused Aemond to go on a seize of murderous rampage, killing the entirety of House Strong. The very same pile of dead bodies she saw in the outer yard, those were them. 

As much as she tried, she couldn’t get that horrifying image out of her head. Not now and perhaps not even the days to come. With every blink of her eyes, she saw them; bloody, decaying, eyes wide of what they felt before death: fear. 

Don’t throw up, don’t throw up. 

Not that there was much in her stomach to.

Shortly after Aemond had severed the guard’s head, she had literally thrown up just inches away from his feet.

He did not say much, only bringing a small green handkerchief from his pocket and wiped remnants away from her lips. Instead of being angry or disgusted, Aemond’s face exhibited only concern. 

Because of that she was escorted inside Harren’s castle with haste by Aemond’s orders. With the very little time she had, she tried to go against this but her words were swiftly overlooked and ignored.

She was brought into a medium sized room at the highest tower of Harrenhal. The room wasn’t much to look at. High stoned black walls with no decorations or personality. A canopy bed with multiple pillows and furs laid near the window with two nightstands on each side, holding lit candelabras. 

Facing the canopy was a vanity table with nothing but dried flowers and a dusted mirror that she couldn’t make out her reflection. It was obvious that no one had occupied this room in a very long time. The cobwebs, near all four corners of the ceiling, confirmed it. 

To the left of the vanity was a beige folding screen and behind it was a large white bathtub that she had been thrown in immediately upon arriving in the room by two older women.

After she had been bathed and dressed, a third woman delivered a hot cup of peppermint tea to ease the nausea. However, after they left she made sure to discard the cup, choosing not to drink anything, harboring feelings of distrust when she previously drank a cup of tea. 

The sound of the door being opened caused her to sit rigidly on the chair, thinking it was a particular one eyed prince entering the room. Instead, the knots in her stomach loosened as an elderly man made his way inside, offering her a simple smile before he set a leather bag he’d been holding on a nearby table. 

Her mouth opened, wondering who he was but as she assessed his gray robes and the several decorated chains hanging from his neck, he’d have to be a maester. 

Something close to a doctor in her world. 

“You have not touched the tea, my lady.” His voice was barely audible, gentle as he pointed out. “Are you allergic to peppermint?”  

“No,” she shook her head, her eyes landing on the medical supplies being brought to the rounded table. She recognized some of them such as the suturing kit, scale, gauze, scissors and a scalpel.

Her abuelo, Vidalio, had a collection of identical vintage medical supplies in his office that often as a kid she’d glance at in complete fascination. 

“Are you not partial to peppermint?” The maester questioned. 

“I’m not partial to drinking something that I did not see being made,” she added. After drinking that tea Alyssandra had given her, there was no way she’d risk doing that again. “Besides, peppermint is most known to target headaches. If you were to mix ginger and chamomile, then you have an accurate tea to treat nausea.”   

The maester lifted a bush eyebrow, cocking his head to side taking her suggestion into consideration. “Very well. I’ll bring a cup of boiling water—” He tried saying, only for her to sprint directly in front of him. 

“—there’s no need. I am well; as you can see.” She feigned a recovered smile.  

“I still am in need of boiling water to brew milk of the poppy, my lady.” 

It was her turn to gaze at him in wonder. “What for?” She inquired. She knew what milk of the poppy was. An opium made from the poppy flower to aid in severe pain and to anesthetize a person out cold in a deep sleep. 

It was also the same pearly liquid she read in A Game of Thrones that Grand Maester Pycelle used to treat Ned Stark after an altercation he had with Jaime Lannister, which gave the Warden of the North, strange dreams. ‘Poppy dreams’ otherwise known as hallucinations. 

As helpful as it was, it was also very addictive. Equivalent to morphine and fentanyl. As an intern at St. David’s Hospital, she’d seen how bad opioids took a toll on people. 

So it was safe enough to say she wasn’t going to be easily convinced to take it.  

The older man pointed at the swollen cut on her lower lip, where that asshole of a guard had slapped her hours ago. “The wound on your lip; I have to stitch it. I will use milk of the poppy to ease the discomfort when inserting the needle into your lip.” 

“I already said I’m fine.” She answers more firmly. She glanced at the multitudinous array of small amber jars on the table that contained different kinds of fine powders, liquids, dried herbs, seeds, and strange looking roots. 

She was able to make out a little bit of everything. Though, nothing of the sort would be needed for something so minor. Rubbing alcohol and perhaps a topical antibiotic ointment were as good as any. 

“Tis’ not what the prince thinks, my lady.” The maester abruptly murmurs out, fearfully looking at the door. If the prince were to walk into the room, seeing his guest not being properly treated as he demanded, he too would suffer the same unmerciful fate as his lord. 

“It’s a superficial cut! You can tell the prince, I don’t need tea or stitches.” What she needed was to get out of here and go home. 

“A topical amoxicillin ointment should be enough. Though, I don’t think it exists here.” In fact no modern medicine could be found here. This era was if not the same as medieval times, where people die everyday of infection or contamination due to the lack of antibiotics, antivirals, and vaccines. 

She felt lucky that all of her vaccines were up to date. 

Except maybe for her yearly flu shot. Fuck!

The maester tilted his head in surprise, “Are you a healer?” He asked, intrigued that she too knew medicinal practices. Most witches did not, if he believed the rumors around the castle.

She crouched down, eyeing the herbs that caught her attention.   

“Something like that. I know enough to know that I don’t need stitches. It’s just a little bit of swelling that will go down in a day or two if I ice it.” Though, she wasn’t sure how the maester would get ice in the Riverlands. If this was the North, ice wouldn’t be a problem. 

The maester, befuddled, nodded. Knowing that his endeavors to treat her lip were pointless, he slid her a small amber salve of bread mold.

She gave him a ‘what the hell is that?’ kind of look, in which he explained it was an ointment to prevent infections.

After a few series of questions, she realized that this bread mold was as close as what she was going to get to penicillin. 

A look of relief and ease plastered on the maester’s face as she delicately dabbed some of the salve on her wound. She was equivocal if the salve was meant to have a bitter taste or smell, but she kept her thoughts to herself as she wanted this visit to speed up. 

“What’s your name?” She asked while watching the man place his medical supplies in his bag with uttermost care. 

“They call me Maester Nywen.” He revealed. 

She pronounced his name repeatedly in her head, trying to remember if he was mentioned in Fire & Blood. Though, there was no record of him at all.

“I’m—” 

“I know who you are, my lady.” Nywen interjected. Everyone knew her name, including the walls of Haren’s castle. It was said she possessed otherworldly abilities unknown to men. 

In his many years serving House Strong, Nywen never came across her path. Never saw her in the flesh. Just tales and rumors. Some that he believed; such as her being his lord’s favorite out of his true born sons and daughters. Some that Nywen didn’t quite believe; like the rumor of her bathing in maiden’s blood to remain forever youthful. 

Looking at her now, her complexion differed from what he pictured. 

To her befuddlement, she had no idea how Nywen knew her name. She didn’t remember mentioning it to anyone, including the old ladies. 

This was all some weird mystery that was making her feel dizzy and unsettled. She only now wished she had some Ibuprofen or an Advil pill to dull the pain in her head. 

“If this is all, I must take my leave. Good day, my lady.” 

“Wait! I’ll go with you,” she called out, and the older man came to a halt before he exited the door. 

A look of sympathy came on Nywen’s face. “Apologies, my lady, but the prince ordered for you to remain here.” 

“Wait, what?!” She followed a close second after him, perplexed. Nywen gave her one last look of remorse, “I am sorry, my lady. You won’t be kept in here for long. The prince has some matters to attend to before he calls for you. Should you come in need of anything, ring the bell.” 

“Nywen!” She called out, but it was too late as the door was suddenly closed right in her face. The sound of a lock confirmed her fears.

She was alone again.

She wondered how abuela Selena was doing. The older woman, who’d been more like a second mother to her, had come across her mind a lot more now.

Had she known she was missing?

Of course she did; she was probably seriously panicking right now and sent out a search party to look for her. 

The pueblo was small, and it wouldn’t have taken her family long to figure out she wasn’t there or in any surrounding pueblos. She knew that wouldn’t hinder them from continuing their search for her. Her family were strong and brazen fighters and would stop at nothing to keep the family safe. 

She also wondered if her mother knew. Though, she already knew the answer to that. Her very overprotective mother, who calls every hour of each day, must have flown from the states the second she did not answer the phone. A heavy argument most likely would’ve happened between her mother and her abuela, Selena, for not keeping a close eye on her. 

Even if the fault had not been her abuela’s, she feared that her disappearance became a fresh new layer of conflict added on top of the decades long strife between her mother and Selena. 

She did not wish for that. For years, she’d attempted to push them together to communicate and get past whatever tension they had between them. She prayed that things would not escalate further between them in her absence. 

She could just imagine seeing them after all of this was over. 

But to pinpoint when? 

Now, that was going to be challenging. 

She was so high up in Harren’s castle that she wished she were some type of bird. A raven, perhaps. With great big and wide wings to fly to carry her away. 

Fly, a voice whispered next to her. 

Startled, she snapped her head up to the side in the direction of the voice. “What?” She asked with a shaky voice. 

You have wings. Use them. 

She glanced behind her shoulders, feeling for soft feathers but was met with bare skin and no wings.

“Liar.” She asserted back. And the voice responded something in return, though it was barely audible.

However, something in the room had shifted. It became darker, colder, and overall strange. The dark hairs on her arms stood when the flames of the candles blew out one by one by themselves while the hinges of the door creaked open. 

A thin curtain of light appeared at the end of the hall and her body seemed to sense some type of energy vibrating around the room, pulling her to leave now that the door was unlocked.

A part of her debated whether or not to take the risk and leave as this was exactly how people died in scary movies, by following strange energies. Another part of her said fuck it, sensing the energy as not evil or not good either. 

She let out a frightened gasp as the door shut completely from behind and the vibrating energy increased tenfold. The longer she walked throughout the corridor, she began to realize that the buzzing was actually a low humming sound echoing down the hall.

A song. 

Arrorró, mi niño 

Arrorró, mi Sol 

Arrorró pedazo

De mi corazón

Abuelo Vidalio would sing that exact song as a lullaby when she had trouble sleeping as a child. Which happened to be all of the time since she experienced very vivid dreams about strange people and creatures she did not recognize. Vidalio, with his soothing voice, would be there to sing the bad dreams away. 

Este niño lindo

Que nació de noche

Quiere que lo lleven

A pasear en coche

Could it be him? 

With trembling hands, she takes a peek through the slim opening. A large and nicely furnished room is set directly in front of her. It sort of reminded her of Vidalio’s private studio near the outskirts of her family’s home. Vidalio had a love for old vintage things like outdated medical books, scrolls, medical supplies, herb vials, maps, and furniture. 

Some of those things decorated the inside room. 

In the center, a man sat on a wooden rocking chair with his back towards her. She glanced at the carvings on the top rail of the chair; a three headed dragon, wolf, lion, some sort of sea creature, fish, falcon, stag, and a rose. 

Instantly, she knew who the rocking chair belonged to. 

“Abuelo?” She asks aporetically. Although she missed him terribly, she secretly hoped it wouldn’t be him. Since he, himself, had been dead for years. And it wasn’t like she didn’t believe in ghosts; she did. 

The humming impetuously ends before it begins, and so does the back and forth movement of the rocking chair. 

Purple eyes stare directly at hers like he’d been waiting a while for her to come in. “El niño no se puede dormir,” Vidalio addresses her in complete distress. (the boy can’t fall asleep)

His appearance made her halt on her tracks, he looked and dressed differently than what he normally looked like. She remembered him older, tanner, his light blonde hair styled directly away from his face, with more modern fitted clothes. 

Here he was younger with milky white skin that was untouched from the harsh Mexican sun; his hair slightly long and silver. And more importantly, his clothes were strange and old fashioned, almost aristocratic. 

The only way she knew for certain this was her abuelo, was by a polaroid her abuela took of Vidalio when he was young, were they both briefly lived in Cancun. 

How was it possible that he was here, in Harrenhal?

In Westeros?

How could it be?

Her lack of response causes Vidalio to continue humming the lullaby as he sways something tight on his arms. 

A boy, no more than eight, laid lifeless across Vidalio’s arms. Small cuts and bruises painted across the young boy’s small and delicate face and body. All while fresh blood dripped from the side of his chest, pooling down onto the floor.

He was bleeding out.

Yet, the boy was already dead. 

What was more harrowing of it all, were the boy’s eyes. They were a rich and dark violet color, wide, blinking and staring right at her.

Through her.

It was the only thing about him that was alive. 

Este niño lindo

Ya quiere dormir

Háganle la cuna

De rosa y jazmín

“We need to take him to a hospital,” she frantically suggested. Maybe the boy wasn’t completely deceased. Maybe all he needed was proper medical attention like a blood transfusion and a few stitches. 

“It’s too late.” Her abuelo pointed out. “All he needs now is the comfort of his mother.” Vidalio gives the boy one last hug before he stretches the body in her direction. 

“What?!” She exclaims, feeling the air in her lungs rapidly leaving her body. 

Surely, he didn’t mean the little boy was hers…

This didn’t seem possible. A mother is able to recognize the face of their own child. She’d hear on multiple occasions from mothers, at the hospital she interns in, how a sort of natural maternal instinct and intuition set in the moment they became mothers. 

She’d know if she had a child, but that boy was not hers. 

Or was it? 

“I- I need to go. This isn’t real. This-this isn’t true. You aren’t real. You are dead.” She says between ragged breaths, feeling a panic attack brewing in. 

She took a few steps back, only to be met with a cold hard chest. An older man, perhaps in his late sixties, with long silver-white hair and dark eyes, smiled warmly at her. Beside him, were six other men and a singular woman. 

She noticed that the two older men wore more modern clothes, while the others wore some sort of old fashioned clothes similar to Vidalio’s, embroidered by the same red design. 

“I’m sorry,” she let out an apology to the older man. The man, though, remained unfazed. He simply continued to look at her with tears in his eyes before he replied with a strangled voice. “Mama.” 

“No. Oh, no, no.” She shook her head, placing some distance between them. All of them. As if that would help them disappear. 

Yea she needed to get the fuck out right now. 

She eyed the door and ran towards the opening, leaving behind people that did not exist. For a moment, she believed she heard something but dismissed it as quickly as lightning. 

She saw people along her path but whether they were real or not she did not know or care for. Her goal was to leave. Leave this place, sapphire or not. 

Halfway into her sprint, she got the feeling she was being followed. So she ran into a solitary hallway and opened the first door she saw.

“You’re early.” 

She drew in a sharp breath as she came across the last person she wished to see right now, none other than Aemond Targaryen. 

The prince’s lone eye was practically sparkling when looking at her after being hours apart. She had been away for too long for his taste. 

Aemond would have preferred for her to come after everything– the wine, dinner, and dessert– were perfectly set up on the table as he had planned. 

Yet, she was here now. 

With the light blue with silver gown he specifically picked out. The colors itself reminded Aemond of House Arryn, a traitorous house that sided with the whore that was his half-sister. Though, the colors were at least better than that of House Strong. 

Aemond almost had the two women killed for even considering such bletcherous colors for his one and only to wear. 

Blind luck was bestowed upon them when another woman quickly brought an unused gown from her daughter’s armoire. Which was the one his love was currently wearing. 

She looked mesmerizing. Goddess like. The very Maiden in the flesh. 

“Are you alright?” Aemond asked as he noticed her out of breath appearance. 

Before she had a chance to say anything, a tall and dark haired knight came in; presumably after her as he was out of breath too. 

Aemond looked between Ser Criston and his one and only, and concluded that he’d been chasing her for some time. 

“Tis’ alright, Cole. No grave offense has occurred,” Aemond affirmed with a court nod. 

She blinked, assessing the man who was one of few to cause the civil war, Dance of the Dragons, between Aegon and Rhaenyra. 

He appeared just as he was described in the books.

Charming.

Though, she did not expect him to be quite so… short. 

Whilst Aemond stood exceptionally tall, Ser Coleslaw seemed no taller than five foot and eight inches. Perhaps that is one of many reasons he was such a misogynistic dick who couldn’t handle rejection. 

If she did the math correctly by the current year, he must’ve been in his late forties. Yet he had this youthful look about him that one wouldn’t have guessed he was reaching his fifties. 

Not that he would live to see his fifties. 

Days later he would die south of the Gods Eye.  

“Holy shit, you’re Criston Cole?!” She exclaimed not with fascination but with distaste lacing her tone. 

The Kingmaker placed a hand on the pommel of his sword, glaring at her with such vigilance. “I am. Have we met before?” 

“Not really–”

“Leave us, Cole.” Aemond snapped unexpectedly, causing her body to jolt at the intensity of his voice. 

Criston shifted his focus to the prince regent. “I think it would be wise if I stay, my prince. Wouldn’t want anything… unseemly to happen.” 

Oh. 

Oh.

At that, she took a few steps away from Aemond, placing as much distance between them as possible. 

The mere thought of her and Aemond together made her feel uneasy and very unsettling. He was a prince. Royalty. 

While she was the opposite of what he was. A simple commoner. 

Aemond kept himself from frowning at the space his love placed between. He clearly did not intend to take her today, as much as he desired to. 

His incessant desire and appetite would be sated the moment they were joined as one. 

Which would be soon, if everything went according to plan. 

“Leave us. It is a command,” Aemond said, tone much demanding and darker. 

Criston clenched his jaw in anger before he turned to leave. Just as he was about to shut the door he gave her one last look. 

There was no kindness in his cold green eyes. Rather he looked at her like the dirt beneath his boot that quickly needed to be swept away. 

“Do you always captivate this much trouble, my lady?” Aemond asks, just seconds after the door closes. 

She is only able to let out a hum as she feels all the words in her throat shrivel and dry up. 

Aemond’s white linen shirt hung loosely and unbuttoned against his chest; His pants were halfway unlaced. 

Aemond looked down at her silently, waiting for an answer from her. Yet she stood there gawking at the man in front of her, with his toned-pale chest on display, light silver trail of hair below his navel, leading to–

She apologizes quickly before rapidly turning around to grant him some privacy. 

Doing so caused Aemond to curl his lip into a smirk. She didn’t need to be sorry about her curious glances. Aemond thought to himself. Very soon, she’ll be well acquainted with his body; as well as he with hers too. 

Though, that day could not be any sooner. Much to his dismay, Aemond had to settle on that memory when she wore such sheer chemise. The same clothing he kept to himself after she was dressed, and used to pleasure himself with just moments ago.

“What makes you think that?” She added, her voice stammering a bit but she masks it with a cough. 

“You outran three of my guards, for starters, and managed to harm one of them. You also fled from your chamber without so much as a word,” Aemond breathed. “Will you hand me my doublet, please?” 

Her hands reached for the black leather doublet in front of the armchair, handing it back to Aemond with hands over her eyes. “Are you saying that I shouldn’t have run and let them have their way with me?” Anger, panic, fear and disbelief brewing deep in her stomach

“Seven Hells, no. That is not what I am implying,” Aemond expresses. “I am elated that you managed to defend yourself and run. But if your reason for fleeing was because you harbor any fear that it will happen again, I can assure you it will not.” 

She stilled for a moment, the hair follicles at the back of her head rose when she felt Aemond’s presence so close behind her. “As long as you are here, you’re under my protection. I will never let anyone or anything harm you. I promise you this.” 

The very gruesome image of Aemond beheading the guard that assaulted her, deemed his promise held true. 

Nevertheless, she was taken aback by the comment and the surface of her face felt warm. “Um thanks,” she nervously chuckled. It was the only thing she could say at such earnest promise. 

“You can turn around now, if you wish.” 

And she did. He looked well put together, dressed in all black from head to toe. The dark shade truly suited Aemond, giving him the illusion of a gothic prince.

In such proximity, she could smell something amidst smoke, fire, and ash emitting from his clothes.

Possibly from his dragon, Vhagar. 

Vhagar.

Being the bookworm that she was, she wondered what the oldest and largest she-dragon looked like. Or where she was currently nesting at. 

However, her nerdishness had to be set aside. 

For now, atleast. 

“Are you famished, my lady? The servants are to bring us dinner shortly, but if you’re hungry now I could ask them to speed it along.” Aemond asked across the room, his hand on the handle of the door. 

She was about to refuse his polite offer, unfortunately for her the mention of dinner provoked her stomach to growl so loud that even Aemond heard it. 

Damned traitor. 

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Aemond said, his lips curling into a witty grin. She held up her hand in a way to prevent him from arranging dinner, she didn’t have time for. “That won’t be necessary–”

“The ferocious noise inside your belly says otherwise,” he quips as he instructs a nearby servant for some food. “I am starved from killing Strongs all morning and afternoon. I crave something more fulfilling besides shellfish and mediocre soups.” 

It was all Aemond ate at the capital after the Pretender ordered the blockade. At first, the small council had spent a remarkable amount on enough meat, poultry, grains, fruits, and vegetables for his family and guests. Subsequently, in a moon or so everything had run out. Fish, oysters, shrimp, and different kinds of soups were served.

Aemond did not mind, in the beginning, but after a while his appetite longed for his regular and satiated meals. He nearly took one of Vhagar’s goats for himself. Aemond knew he couldn’t as Vhagar needed her strength for upcoming battles and decided to let that foolish idea go. 

A few minutes went by when an array of servants arrived inside the room, carrying hot plates of food. She recognized two of the servants. Both of whom helped her bathe and dress earlier. 

One, she noticed, struggled to keep a ceramic bowl steady. Instantly, she took the bowl from her trembling hands. “The bowl is very hot, my lady. You must be careful!” The old woman warned as she tried to pry the plate off her hands. 

Although she was touched by her worriment, she couldn’t help but to chuckle. “It’s alright. I’ve been accustomed to touching hotter things, and this is not nearly as hot as you think.” At a young age, she more than often would help her mama make homemade tortillas de harina and would flip them by hand in the comal while scorching hot. On the weekend’s she’d help out at her uncle Belen’s restaurant. Often serving customers hot plates of food straight from the stove. (flour tortillas, griddle)

So heat never really bothered her. 

She placed the large bowl in the center of the table, adjacent to the other plates and pitchers. Then she proceeded to help the servants set the table. 

All while doing so she couldn’t help but feel Aemond’s eye on her the entire time as she moved. He stood silent near one of the windows, patiently waiting until everyone that wasn’t her, to leave.

“Will that be all, my prince?” A kitchen servant asked, her eyes struggling to keep eye contact. Aemond waved the woman away, disinterestedly. Something about that irked her to her core, and it reminded her of the countless entitled customers who treated servers beneath them. 

“Thank you,” she smiled at the servants before they took their leave. They returned the smile and she couldn’t help but to think if they’ve ever been thanked before and she was content that she did. 

“Shall we dine?” Aemond gestured to the overly-filled table. 

She nodded, her stomach doing flips for food. Before she had the chance to pull out a chair, Aemond beat her straight to it with a smug smile carved into his lips. 

“In truth, I’m glad that you came now. I was to summon you for another hour while you had your rest but to my surprise the maester informed me that you refused treatment.” Aemond spoke from behind.

She sucked in a breath, shoulders tensing as the tips of Aemond’s fingers softly grazed around the exposed skin behind her neck. A spot where she felt insecure and anxious from anyone viewing. 

Even the two older women, who bathed her, halted their scrubbing when they came across the two deep vertical scars on each of her shoulder blades. A part of her was relieved that they did not say anything and continued their scrubbing, but the overthinker in her worried if they were secretly judging behind her back. 

Aemond pressed his lips together tightly, replacing a frown as she wiggled herself away from his touch. 

“Stitches are required for deep or gaping wounds, and surgical incisions. I did not necessitate it since this is a superficial cut. It will heal in a day or two if I clean it properly to prevent infection. Nywen agreed as well as I did and supplied me with a topical antibiotic.” 

She watched as Aemond slid into a seat directly across from her, digesting in her words. 

“Nywen?” Aemond arched his brow. 

“The maester.” 

Aemond hummed, content by her answer. “You speak as if you’re a maester yourself.” 

“I’m a nurse,��� She shared proudly, though ignoring the fact she has not taken her NCLEX yet. Meaning she was not actually licensed. 

Aemond appeared to be taken back by her response and redirected his eye to her very glorious and plump pair of breasts.

Would she allow him the pleasure to drink from her chest as well?

The one eyed prince could only wish. 

Aemond could practically hear his one and only loudly moan and cry for him as he drank every last drop from her breasts, providing her with not only relief but also pleasure. 

The thought alone made his cock stir underneath his breeches.  

“Not a wet nurse!” She exclaimed, as she crossed her arms over her chest, attempting to cover her boobs. 

That, however, proved to be fruitless as the action alone caused her boobs to thrust upwards, revealing more for his eye to see. The violet in Aemond’s lone eye darkened and she swore she almost heard him… moan. 

“Forgive me, my lady. I didn't mean to cause offense,” Aemond softened his voice as he discreetly adjusted his hardness beneath the dining table, stifling a hiss at the throbbing sensation. 

“I never met a woman who practices conventional medical treatment; especially a young woman. Just old men. But seeing as to the maester being gone–”

Hearing that caused her head to snap up. “–Gone?” 

“Yes, he left shortly after he was done treating you. I bid his freedom in exchange for his services and you were his last patient.” Aemond briefly told as he grabbed a slice of some type of roasted meat onto his plate.

“Well, that’s good to hear. At least he is free to see his family now,” she exhaled a breath she didn’t know she held. 

Aemond hummed in agreement, choosing to spare the grisly details of him beheading the maester for treason against the crown. 

In a way, the maester did get to finally visit his family, along with his liege. 

“With him gone, perhaps you’d want to take his place?” Aemond offered coolly. 

It wasn’t like she would stay here long enough to help heal his people. She had a deadline to meet and follow, and the One Eyed Prince sure as hell wasn’t going to get in her way. So she chose to give him a little inconsequential lie. 

“Perhaps,” she shrugged as she began to assess the food upon the table. 

And boy, were there many to choose from. There was a variety of cooked meats, sauteed vegetables, hot stews, breads, cheeses, and fruits. 

It reminded her of an all-you-could-eat buffet. 

She ended up selecting the same type of roasted meat as Aemond, paired with a small slice of bread and a goblet half full of a golden liquid she believed was some sort of juice. 

By the way he was staring at her, she almost wanted to tell Aemond to take a picture to make it last longer but saying such a thing would be indecipherable to Aemond.

Rather it was better to say “paint a portrait.”

Now, however, was not the time to be comical. 

Aemond began shifting to a new topic of conversation when she took the first bite of what he said was ‘roasted duck’. Instantly, she scrunched her face at the off- putting taste. 

She always preferred her meat to be cooked well done and generously seasoned with garlic, salt, pepper, with a hint of rosemary and chili peppers for spice. 

Though this meat itself felt uncooked in the center, bland and not seasoned correctly. 

But what else could she expect from Westeros? 

Aemond watched from where he sat, disheartened by her dischuffed reaction, “Is the duck not to your liking?” 

No. She wanted to reply but she had a feeling that if she denied him, Aemond would try to convince her to take another dish.

“It’s good, thank you.” She lied after she forcefully swallowed the meat, smiling as she reached for her goblet to wash down the horrible aftertaste that lingered in her mouth. 

Aemond was not in the slightest convinced that it was or the wine judging from her disapproving reaction. “Here, have some Dornish red. It is what I’m drinking, much better than the shit from Lannisport you drank.” 

With hesitance, she took the cup. His fingers brushed with her own with a gentle caress that shocked her and almost pulled away from, if not for the goblet being nearly full. 

She examined the dark red wine carefully before sampling it. There was a sweetness blended with some sourness that had her wondering if she had it before. It wasn’t a bad taste but it was definitely strong. 

“Better?” Aemond queried, sitting straighter. 

“Well you’re definitely right about the other one tasting like shit.” She laughed as she drank more Dornish red. 

She's had some questionable alcohol before, but Lannisport wine definitely takes the cake. It was like drinking straight raw honey and cinnamon. 

Aemond joined in with her laughter. “Dornish red can be quite strong and can surely get a person drunk if they have not eaten. Mayhaps I can have the cooks prepare something you prefer eating. What would you like?” 

There were many foods she craved right now. 

Back home, her abuela was preparing the masa for the tamales that took hours to make just for the entire family. (dough)

Her cousins Sara and Valeria, planned to bring a very spicy pozole and mole from their side of the family. 

Tio Belen and tia Alicia were bringing their infamous chocoflan and caramel empanadas for dessert.

Those meals alone were what she wanted more than anything. 

Sadly, there were zero chances that Westeros had any of that.

Especially during a war. 

“I’m alright, thank you. I’ll stick to eating this, it’s not so bad now with the wine,” she reassured. Last thing she wanted was to waste food. Something she despised. 

Her answer, however, wasn’t what Aemond hoped for but he settled on it for now. 

“I do, myself, wish to know how exactly a lady such as yourself came to be wandering about in the woods, dressed in nothing but her shift.” Aemond implored, tilting his head to the side. 

Uh oh.

“The remaining guards confessed that you were wearing your shift when they found you. Prompting them to believe you were some mislead whore. It still doesn’t justify their actions against you and for that I sincerely apologize. But, I’d like to hear your side of the tale if you do not mind.” 

It all had been some unusual mystery, how she— the woman he had been expecting for ten years— came running onto his arms out of the blue.

Your life awaits

Was all Helaena said before he left to take back Harrenhal. 

The pounding of her heart increased tenfold. She knew she had to stick to the truth as much as humanly possible, only altering the details that had to be kept secret. 

She wouldn’t deny a part of her wondered if there was even a chance of coming clean to Aemond. 

Without proof, maybe he’d think she was ludicrous. 

If someone from Westeros came to the modern world, and extemporaneously said they’d been transported from a fictional universe, she without a doubt thought they were on some sort of crack. 

She clears her throat, blinking rapidly in search of the right words to say. “Earlier I was sent to pick out some flowers for my family. Along the way, a woman came across my path and robbed me of not only my gown and shoes but my belongings as well. I tried chasing after her but after several minutes my feet became tired and I was lost around the woods with nothing to go by.” 

“Your guards found me moments later. They insinuated that I was a whore, and I tried to tell them I wasn’t. That’s when things got violent and I was only trying to defend myself.” She explained transparently. 

Aemond redirected his gaze towards the cut on her lower lip, then to her hand noticing some bruising. He recalled how the first guard had a stain of dried blood on his nose right before he killed him.

“Again, I must say how truly sorry I am for the dishonorable actions of my men. And I applaud you for your braveness, my lady.” Aemond said as he raised his goblet before taking a sip.

“Oh, this?” She asked, gesturing to the hand that was bruised. “This is nothing.” 

Aemond let out a chortle. “It’s not nothing. You certainly broke his nose and damaged his foot by the looks of it. Who taught you to hit like that?” 

“My uncle, Aimon.” She answers. Though unsure if she should reveal details about her family. “Most of us, my cousins and I, are girls. He said it was important that we, as women, learn how to be self resilient and defend ourselves. He taught us with a practice dummy, at first. Then with some padded gloves. ” 

Aemond raised his brows, shocked by the notion that a man would allow their nieces to physically fight. His own father never bothered to teach his sister how to train in combat, not that Helaena would’ve wanted to or his mother allowed it. The Dowager Queen detested violence. 

It was only ever him that learned to train in combat. 

Not by his father, too sickly and yet too worried about Rhaenyra. Only Ser Criston Cole who shared the passion of the sword with him. 

“Your uncle seems progressive,” Aemond stated, watching as a sad smile set on her face. “Yea he is.” The reminder of Aimon made her reflect on how much she missed her family right now.

Especially since Aimon was coming home for Dia De Los Muertos, after being stationed in Mexico City for ten years. Alicia and her were the only ones that knew of Aimon’s surprise visit to abuela Selena. 

Though, perhaps now the only surprise her abuela was going to get was her disappearance. 

“Have I said something to upset you?” Aemond questioned. 

Her attention went back to the one eyed prince, who looked at her with concern. “No, no you haven’t. I just… nevermind.” She shook her head as she fiddled with the edges of her goblet.

Aemond leaned forward in his seat, desperately wanting to know what she had to say. “What is it? You can tell me—”

Just as his hand was about to reach hers, a knock interrupted them both. “Prince Aemond, the dessert you requested is almost done. Shall I have it straight delivered to your chambers?” A kitchen maid inquired from the other end of the door. 

Aemond made a sound of complete annoyance, causing her to give him a major side eye. “Yes, do so.” 

His reply caused her to be taken aback. Did that mean she had to stay longer with him?

She hoped not as there wasn’t enough time for dessert or any of his pleasantries. No matter how hard Aemond procures her to stay. There was a deadline she had to follow and a family and home to go back to. 

She knew that by now, her family already contacted the authorities; the police and even the fucking FBI. They’d even call the SWAT team if it were possible. 

Maybe she was being a bit too… dramatic. But was she?

There wasn’t anything her family wouldn’t do for her, including searching all of Mexico just to get her back. 

Sadly, she was nowhere near Mexico. 

Rather she was stuck in a world that up until hours ago, was purely fictional. A work of fiction that she received as a gift. 

Her first mistake of coming into this strange world was not thoroughly checking the cottage properly. Perhaps there, she could find some clues and answers that could help identify where this sapphire might be. 

So, now was as good a time as any to leave. More hours later and she’d permanently risk staying here forever, just as Alyssandra warned. 

As much as she wanted to explore and live through  every bit of Westeros, she already missed her home, her family, the food, internet, and comfortable clothes that weren’t medieval dresses. 

“Would you care for some more Dornish red as we wait for dessert to be served?” Aemond eventually asked, breaking her out of her stupor. 

Go.

“Actually, I can’t,” she nervously chuckled as she stacked her plates and swept leftover crumbs with a napkin. Even universes away she still had the decency to pick up after herself. 

Aemond felt his heart drop.

“It’s getting late and I must go. I’ve been gone for hours and my family is probably wondering where I am.” It was not entirely a lie. Her one way ticket out of here was to play her cards right by telling the truth.

“But the dessert—” The one eyed prince tried to explain but was interrupted. 

“— can wait or I’ll take it on a to-go box. Do you guys have one of those here?” She knew not but it was worth a try.

Aemond gave her a look of utmost bewilderment. “A what?” A box for a piece of dessert? 

She waved him off before she stood up, “it doesn’t matter. Thank you for letting me stay and for everything else you’ve done. I’m grateful, really. But I seriously have to go.” 

Aemond found himself standing as well and before either of them knew it, Aemond spun her around so that her back was pressed on rough stone and his chest just inches away from her glorious plump breasts. 

“You can’t leave,” Aemond said with a loud growl. 

She swallowed, her eyes widening in total disbelief. “What?” In a frail voice she asked. 

Aemond had to be gentle with his next choice of words. Last thing he wanted was to scare her off, like how he currently was doing so. 

The prince softened the darkness in his eye. “Well,” he sighed, “you’ve said so yourself, it is getting late and I don’t think it is wise for a lady to wander by herself in the woods again. Especially at night and with a mugger on the loose.” 

“I’ve caused you enough trouble as it is if I stay.” She stated, distancing herself away from Aemond. 

Though the one eyed prince was quick to act as his hand barricaded her point of exit. “You caused me no trouble, I swear this to you. Please stay a little while longer. I’ll send a raven to your family that you reside here with me.” Aemond begged, feigning a demeanor of woefulness. 

Although she did slightly feel bad, the deep voice in her head told her to stick to her guts; which was leaving. 

“I don’t think so.” She shook her head as she was quick to duck underneath Aemond’s arm towards the door. She felt the light graze of Aemond’s hand reaching for her but she pulled away before he could touch her, causing him to frown. 

Aemond yearned to have more time with her; to know every single part of her that made her so intriguing to him. She had haunted his dreams every night for far too long to let her go now. Considering how he had not yet voiced his affections to her. Aemond presumed, now was not the right time to declare his devotion. Time is what he needed. 

“Alys, wait!” Aemond called out. 

And she was sure as hell did wait.

A/N: sooooo I haven't updated this story for 8 months and for that I'm sorry guys 😩

but for those who are wondering: I live in an abusive household. so that should say enough.

and yes I am trying to get out, but I am currently unemployed.

the next chapter won't take 8 months I promise, but I am writing some smutty one shots for valentines day so I won't update this story until march!

also, if anyone can guess who Vidalio is, I will post a sneak peek of chapter 4!

[boba-pearl-writes]

1/23/25 - guillotine - word count: 746 - @rosekillermicrofic

Evan groaned into his cup of hot chocolate, rueing the day he decided to go to the club.

He’d gone to the club for two purposes- to have fun and to forget about his ex. Pandora had suggested the idea, but as she had a date night with Lily, she’d declined to go with him. 

Evan had seen a jaw-droppingly handsome man who had said one sentence to him and never looked at him all night, then gotten black out drunk when the man left because, fuck it, he wasn’t going to deal with a crush right this second.

But his mind kept wandering to the guy. He’d had gorgeous black hair with green highlights, sharp cheekbones, a killer fashion sense, tattoos and piercings all over, and-

“Guillotine earrings, Pan! Guillotine earrings!” Evan sighed. “He looked so good. I’m probably never going to see him again.”

And now he was twice as heartbroken and with a horrible hangover.

What an amazing Saturday morning.

“Ev, you don’t know that. I mean, he probably lives in the city and-”

“With my luck? Yeah, right.”

The bell to the front door of the coffee shop rang, signaling that someone was entering. Pandora and Evan didn’t look up, as this was a fairly busy coffee shop. The people quickly ordered their drinks, and chose the table right next to theirs. Evan dropped his head near his hot chocolate, sighing in relief as the steam from the open cup blew into his face.

“Reg, you don’t understand. He was fuckin’ beautiful.” That voice sounded a bit familiar

“I think I understand, Barty. You’ve talked about him for what- five times today? It’s barely ten.”

Evan didn’t mean to eavesdrop on the conversation, but Pandora had pulled out her phone and was presumably texting Lily, going by the blush on her face. It was adorable how flustered they were around each other, even having dated for a year already.

“If you saw him, you’d understand. He was- Reg, he- oh.”

“What?”

“He’s right there.” 

Now, Evan looked up, surprised, and made eye contact with very familiar eyes. Very familiar blue grey eyes that Evan was pretty sure he could drown in and never want to come out of.

Oh.

Fuck.

That was the guy from the bar. Evan sat there, almost mesmerized, as the guy got up and walked over to him. He plopped down in the chair next to him. “Hey, gorgeous,” he said, with a crooked smile.

“Hey, yourself,” Evan breathed out. He heard Pandora stifle a laugh, but he didn’t really care. The guy - Barty - leaned closer to him and spoke again.

“This might be a bit forward, but could I have your number?”

“I don’t mind… yeah.”

“Brilliant.”

After they’d exchanged numbers, Barty got up from the seat, mouthed ‘call me,’ and went back to his own table, where his friend was sitting, looking unimpressed. He turned back to Pandora, still convinced he might’ve been hallucinating. Pandora was looking at him with an amused expression.

“Was I dreaming?”

“All real,” Pandora reassured him.

-x-

“Hey, gorgeous,” Barty whispered, turning to him, as they stood on the beach, hand in hand. Evan grinned and turned to him, taking in his boyfriend and everything he loved about him- his hair that was a bit more outgrown than it was a few years ago, his beautiful gray blue eyes, and, of course, those familiar guillotine earrings.

“Hey, yourself,” he whispered back, and Barty smiled, something soft and full of adoration. Evan’s heart melted.

“This might be a bit forward, but-” Barty dropped to one knee “-Evan Rosier, you are the love of my life. My Rosie, so would you do me the honor and marry me?” Evan was pretty sure he was holding his breath. He looked at the ring, and then again at Barty’s face.

“Yeah. Yes. Yeah, Bee, yes,” he said, pretty sure he was either hallucinating or hysterical.

Barty let out a laugh and stood up to kiss him, then slid the ring onto his finger. The ring was silver, with an emerald right in the center. It was perfect. “Am I dreaming?” He whispered into the night air.

His fiance - fiance! -  laughed again and leaned in for another kiss. Right there, a new ring on his finger, under the sunset, with his favorite person in the world, he didn’t need someone to reassure him that he was, in fact, not dreaming.

It felt beautiful, alive- real.

Perfect.

[agathaisinnocent]

The Theatre is Dark

Omg hi, first post <3 I guess this is angst. Reader and Agatha are stupid and then fight about it

When you first met Agatha you clicked. Quickly becoming close friends who barely saw each other. Staying in contact mostly through text as Agatha traveled a lot and lived out of state at that time. New Jersey was never worth visiting as she put it, so you never did. She came for your birthday that year, telling you she would be moving a few blocks away from you. The next couple of years were full of you two growing closer, having dinner together, running errands, and you watching her push away woman after woman.

With each woman something new grew inside your chest, an aching pull to her that fluttered into your stomach about a month ago. She walked into your house, no knock, the sunlight perfectly illuminated her eyes and cheekbones. You knew then you were fucked, but her stare matched yours. Her eyes sweeping over you in the new jeans you bought, a glint of something unfamiliar in her gaze.

Since then she had opened up more to you, been more vulnerable. That aching pull grabbing at your heart and you fought the urge to hold her each time. Instead of sharing takeout on the couch, you two started going to dinner, fighting over who paid. Stolen glances over wine glasses mixed with the hour long chats after made the feelings between you two grow stronger, Agatha pacing in her bedroom regularly about it.

There were so many moments at those dinners the line was almost crossed, until Agatha would snap back to reality. Any hints of softnes replaced by her regular demeanor, walls slamming shut. This particular night you were tired of pretending both of you didn’t know, casually asking over sushi, “Any ladies caught your eyes lately?”

She shrugged and sipped her water, “Maybe.” You smiled and quickly asked a follow up, “What does that mean?” Her eyes found yours, attempting to discover your intentions, “It means maybe.” A frustrated sigh left your lips unintentionally causing her to raise an eyebrow, “What?” Her voice carrying more sting than she intended, she wasn’t prepared for this conversation. She hadn’t decided what to do about it yet. The conversation ended there as the waiter dropped the check, your card finding it immediately.

No one spoke a word until she unlocked her apartment door, letting you in first. After tossing down bags and sliding off shoes you stepped into her kitchen, her in tow.

“Care to explain the huff you gave me? If I upset you I expect you could communicate that.” Her tone laced with a careful combination of disappointment and trust. You turned to face her, finding her eyebrows raised in expectation, “I’m just sick of pretending like we both don’t know what’s going on here.” You leaned against the counter, your hip digging into the edge. She swallowed, “What’s going on here then?” You sighed and stepped away into the living room, finding perch on the couch. She came to stand in front of the couch, “Y/n, what’s going on?” Agatha knew you could see through her facade, she knew it, but she couldn’t bring herself to end it, and it pissed you off. Your were on your feet in an instant, stepping towards her once, “I already told you, you’re not stupid Agatha.” Turning from her you walked towards the door stopping behind it to look at her, her eyes full of fake confusion.

“The seats are empty, the theatre is dark Agatha, why are you still acting?” You huffed out a frustrated breath, feeling the annoyance at her coming to a breaking point. The nice evening you two shared forgotten as she stood silently on the other side of the couch. Her hands fidgeting with the hem of her pants, a nervous habit you’ve only been allowed to see one other time. Her mouth open and closed as she fought with her own mind. The words she’s wanted to say and you’ve wanted to hear, resting on the tip of her nervous tongue. Your shoulders fell as you sighed and towards the door, her eyes shooting from the floor to you, your feet not moving as your back turned to her. “Agatha I can’t keep pretending like it’s not there.” You heard a shaky breath come from her lips, her feet shuffled on the carpet, “Y/n, it’s not easy-“ “But it can be Agatha.” You had enough of her excuses and stupid reasons for pushing people out.

“I have seen your darkest corners, I have seen your enemies, and not once was I ever tempted to walk away from you.” You turned back to her, her eyes finding yours, holding an emotion you haven’t seen from her before. She was scared. You gestured towards her, “You will never scare me Agatha, you never have. Not who you are now, who you were.” She swallowed and looked towards the wall. “I know this isn’t something you’re used to hearing, but I refuse to let you make any decision for me. Let alone about what I want with you.”

She looked back at you, “I don’t know how to say it.” You could see the frustration towards herself build, walls threatening to fall as you chipped away at them.

“It doesn’t matter how you say it, I just need you to admit it.” Your eyes bore into hers, pleading for her to stop burning herself over and over again, to finally let someone love her.

There was a moment of silence as Agatha grew a pair, she could stare death down but the idea of truly loving someone horrified her. Her heart hammered again her chest and she swallowed the lump forming in her throat. “Y/n,” another breath, “I’m in love with you.” The words fell from her mouth in a melody you immediately became addicted to. How soft your name sounded coming from her lips that time, how the word love felt it was charged by years of ignored feelings. A relieved breath shoved itself from your lungs as you stepped towards her, hip bumping the couch as you reached for her. A small smile appeared on Agatha’s face as she pulled you against her chest, her arms tightening around you. She breathed in your scent, your arms around her waist letting her forget her ever standing promise to forever be alone, to never hurt anyone again. Her thumb pulling your lips to hers lets you forget how you will die one day, and she will live on.

[sennenpharaoh]

---

"..."

"Send me back. Right now. Send me back right now! Get me out of this nightmare and send me back to him right now!"

Atem had both his hands clasped over his mouth, a horrified look on his face, eyes already filling with guilt ridden and terrified tears that didn't even bother to wait before falling. Why? Because that word, that... name didn't come out of the dark other.

That came out of Atem's own mouth. He was the one who spoke of such a word.

Why? Are you too much of a Coward to admit the truth? That word came out of your lips, not mine.

"No! I... I refuse to believe that! You deceived me somehow! You had to have tricked me, controlled me to-"

Allow me to take the words out of the Murderer's mouth this time and call you an idiot. You... of all people know... what my magic is.

Remember? Your Guardian told you of this, the Snake told you of this. I reveal the truth, nothing more. And just like clockwork, when the truth is right in front of you... you refuse to admit it. He's a murderer, a mass murderer, one could say his acts are parallel to genocide. You've thought it ever since you laid your eyes on that archive. Seeing the faces, hearing the cries, watching the bodies burn to cinders. Even he says his acts are unforgivable, and yet here you are... looking over those crimes, the lives he has taken, the families he has destroyed. Who are you to look past a nation's genocide, Pharaoh? Ah... That dream still rings in your head, doesn't it? When he did the same to your own Kingdom.

"Stop... Please... Just send me back to him." Atem glared back at the other, though his eyes were still flickering with red.

You're angry, aren't you? I saw it back then, just as I see it now. You're angry for those people. All those that never got a chance to live their life. Those that never got to see their families, or start a family. All of those whose sole crime was living in a certain nation. You're right to be angry for them. Such is the way of the noble and brave Pharaoh who defeated the Dark God and saved his own nation, isn't it? You care and feel for those people as if they were your own Kingdom, don't you? You wish to see justice be done for all those innocent lives, don't you? Well... he's right there.

Atem said nothing and just looked at the image of "Roy" in front of him. Why... All he wanted right now was to leave this nightmare and be in the arms of his newly engaged fiancé. But... instead of his Colonel... what he saw in front of him was the visage of someone who had done horrible crimes, committed countless murders, ended the lives of those who had done nothing. Nothing! What the other said was right... had those have been his people... Atem would stop at nothing to seek justice for those that have been harmed. And what was in front of him... wasn't the kind and gentle Colonel he had fallen in love with. No... this was the quiet and stoic "Hero of Ishval".

Hero... he was many things, but was no hero.

He was a murderer.

"All those people... all those lives..." He muttered, right at "Roy". "Gone by your hands. Yours!" He approached "Roy", grabbing him by the uniform, tearful eyes of crimson looking back at the cold, stoic eyes of hazel. "How could you? How could someone so kind, gentle, patient, compassionate, and loving... do such a horrible, terrible, and monstrous thing? My words and feelings may not matter, and I know I have no right to say any of this..." For some reason it seemed... easier to speak to this "Roy" than the one he was actually laying with. A strained grunt left him before he opened his mouth again.

"I..."

---

"..."

"c... can't..."

Back in reality, Atem was still trembling in front of Roy, eyes still a flickering mix of red and violet, struggling even more as the words now seem to leave him against his will, the small rivers down his face now flowing freely. Though... there was no sign of possession or anything, no green circle on his head. Even the voice showed a hint of his normal gentleness, despite the words that were coming out- no. The words Atem was saying. The words Atem had held back ever since he laid eyes on an archive involving a certain extermination, and the same words that he "had no right to say", despite what he was feeling deep down.

"c-can't... forgive... you."

Roy was confused when he heard the soft words spoken, what was he talking about or who was he talking to? It wasn't at him he could tell, but then when he tried to say his nickname that he always used. (his rank)

He was listening to make sure he heard him and then those words that he spoke with those same eyes he remembered from his nightmare he had. He's seen them before, but then now.. it was noticeable, and so was the tears that ran down his face.

Then the word he uttered next, just like his nightmare.

Roy felt his whole body froze in place. He could feel his heart sinking. He had never thought that those words would be said by Atem out loud, only in his nightmares. He hadn't expected it, but of course his brain already knows that's what he was. There was no going back for what he did and he knew it.

He was a murderer and he's accepted that fact, a war criminal, and he wasn't going to pretend that he didn't do the things he did, but the thing that really bothered him about all of this was that Atem wasn't exactly acting like himself.

There had to be more to it than that, but he didn't say anything. He let Atem say that word to his face, but he was scared that something was happening that he wasn't aware of, where he couldn't help him.

Was that version of himself talking to him right now? He was at a loss of what to say or do, he couldn't just deny that because he was considered one and it wasn't like he was going to pretend he never did anything like that, because he did. He would hold himself accountable for his actions, for the rest of his life.

"Atem...?" His breath is shaky when he finally speaks. He needs to see that Atem is okay, even though his heart is racing, scared of what was to come, he would brace himself, but he wasn't sure what he was planning to say next since this whole situation was new to them both.

[seokmn]

chapter 13.

wc: 1k words

“oh my god, if you say anything else ill throw you in front of a moving car! we’re almost there, stop complaining!” frustration was very clear in doyeon’s voice, which made chan even more annoyed. “youve been saying this for an eternity now! im going back home.”

“wait! we’re here!”

chan looked at the old house in complete confusion. doyeon took a key out of her pocket and opened the door before looking at chan. “what are you waiting for? come in.”

the house not only smelled but looked old. “careful where you walk,” doyeon referred to the good amount of pieces of broken dishes on the floor. she placed her backpack on the table and carefully took some plates out of it.

“what are those for?”

“look at the floor and youll know what are those for,” she laughed as you looked around. “you wanted to break some plates with me?”

“exactly. now here, take these,” she handed him a few plates and a marker pen. “why the marker pen?”

“youll write something that you want to break, that you want to get rid of it,” doyeon took a plate and a marker pen, wrote school’s pressure down on the plate and looked at it before throwing it hard against the wall and yelling at the same time the plate hit the wall and broke it in pieces.

chan looked surprised, not knowing doyeon had this side of her. “so, wanna try now?”

“why should i? breaking a plate wont make the problem go away.”

“trust me, chan. do it.”

he sighed, took a plate and wrote losing her. chan looked at the plate, his fingers gripping at it before throwing it against the wall. the sight of the plate turning into small ceramic pieces was relieving and he couldnt explain why. it felt like the some of the weight on his shoulders were gone. he smiled and chuckled a little, finding the situation amusing.

chan didnt waste any time and started to write things down the plates and threw them, laughing like he was losing his mind. every thing he wrote on the plates were about you, about losing you.

he took a deep breath while looking at the ceramic pieces on the floor and tears started to fill his eyes, making his vision blurry. laughs that were coming out of his mouth soon started to turn into sobs as he crouched down, hiding his face in his hands and doyeon went closer to him without saying a word and started to rub his back in order to soothe him.

“i- i dont know what to do!” his voice came out between his sobs, his whole body shaking as he cried hard. “the thought of losing yn was already way too painful and now that i really lost her… its like i have nothing to smile about life.”

“hey,” doyeon crouched down as well and gently took his hands out of his face, taking sight at his red eyes and runny nose. “its for the best.”

“who cares if its for the best?! doesnt mean it doesnt hurt as hell!”

“i know, i know.”

“do you? i hate when people act like they know what im going through. you clearly dont! when you lose the love of your love because of your dream life, then you can say that.”

“im sorry.”

“dont apologize,” he sniffed. “its just- it shouldnt have to be like this, i shouldn’t have to suffer like this and make yn suffer as well. i shouldve never gotten closer to her, she doesnt deserve this. i want to run back to her, but i also want to become an idol… why cant i have both?”

“in life, we have to make sacrifices, chan. you can become an idol and love her from afar, or maybe your busy schedule will make you get over her, think that it wasnt right to stay together. you dont know what can happens.”

“i dont know and i dont wanna know… now i gonna choose to let her go because she made up her mind, but not because i chose this,” he sighed and wiped his tears away. “its funny how i cant go back, how i only have one path to go to now and im still torn. its not like i can go back in time or something.”

doyeon stood up and waited for him to stand up as well, “come on, you cant stay like this forever. are you really gonna just sit in your pain or are you gonna grow out of it as well?”

chan stood up and looked at her with pitiful eyes, “i feel like im grieving.”

“well, think about the bright side, youll have a lot of great songs to compose.”

“thats not funny.”

“who told you its a joke? turn your pain into art, chan. why do you think i paint that much? youre not the only person whos hurt in this world, so will you turn this pain into something productive or will you let it drown you? turn this into songs or into choreographies. dont let this pain take over you.”

chan only nodded, that was the only thing he could do at the moment. he knew she was right, but he also knew he wouldnt be able to do that, at least not at that moment.

“im sorry i was rude to you in the groupchat. to be honest, i dont even know why i said those things, i guess i got frustrated at the situation because i hate seeing you like this and blming yourself for it. i know i never told you, but i see myself in you.”

doyeon was expecting anything from chan as his response to his words but the hug he gave her right away, which she responded by wrapping her arms around his body while whispering motivational words in his ear.

once the hug was broken by doyeon, she looked in his eyes and smiled. “im hungry, we should eat something. lets go,” chan smiled as well and nodded. “yea, lets go eat something.”

HIGH SCHOOL SWEETHEARTS

yn and chan date since their freshman year and are truly high school sweethearts, but will chan’s dream of becoming an idol get between their relationship?

masterlist — prev — next

taglist: @ivehypnosis @wonkierideul @ateez-atiny380 @noircheols @222brainrot @odxrilove @vixensss @starshuas

[hypnzo]

Hello! First of all, i hope you are having or had a good day <3

I really like your writing! So I was wondering if I can do a request for a fic with the reader being the daughter of Hypnos and comforting/helping Percy with his nightmares?

It could be of the two of them in an established relationship or that, to comfort him, she confesses her feelings/Percy admitting his feelings for her since the nightmares make him afraid of losing her?

If you can't or don't feel comfortable that's fine, tysm 💞

Embodiment of Comfort

Percy Jackson x Reader (Gender-Neutral)

Warning !! English is not my first language, there might be so mischaracterizations.

Note: I'm not exactly so proud of this work, I was really tired when making this, so I apologize for its bad writing...

You've been friends with Percy for quite a while now. Your friendship started around his first week in camp, but you didn't expect anything from it.

That was until you realized how you've been silently gushing over him, the son of Poseidon—Percy Jackson—a name that everyone around the camp knew and admired.

You couldn't blame them though—black hair, tanned skin, toned body, great personality, kind of a dork, what's there to not admire?

However, being a child of Hypnos meant nothing to you. It felt really dull... Mostly because everyone just seems to know you as someone that sleeps all day and has nothing to contribute unless "sleep" was the talk.

If you were being honest, the thought alone made you feel even more disappointed knowing your childhood crush was simply just out of your league.

“...Gods, I hate that guy.” you murmured against your pillow. To be real, you didn't really hate Percy—maybe you did, but only since he's been an annoying buzz in your head all day long.

Maybe a part of it was your fault, but you'd defend yourself and say that at least more than half of it was his fault.

“He doesn't even have to be all that charming... Those black hair, sea-green eyes...” you paused, hugging your pillow, looking afar bit too starstruck before you began once more, “especially those sea-green eyes.”

As you were zoning out on your bed, you heard a voice cut through your thoughts—a voice that was, unfortunately, familiar. “Sleepy?”

Shit.

You blinked, averting your gaze towards him while your mind panicked and you swore you've said every cuss words known to man.

It wasn't intentional—genuinely, you felt like an idiot saying those words out loud—you felt even more stupid, knowing that you've completely forgotten that Percy was here all along.

“Percy, uh...” you started, but now you wished you could go back in time for a few seconds so you were able to just shut yourself up.

He looked sleepy, his voice sounded groggy as well, however his grin seems to just strengthen against the pillow he was snuggling with.

“So, I take it you have a crush on someone?”

“No!”

“Right, right.” he says, adjusting his position to lay on his back like a starfish, staring at the ceiling of the bunk bed. “You hate the guy. Got it.”

“Shut up.”

“Will do.” he says, motioning a ziplock on his mouth, but the cheeky, almost smug-like grin that was plastered on his face never faltered on his lips one bit.

After a few moments of silence, he motions to be unlocking the imaginary ziplock on his mouth, his hands finding his own hair while his eyes remain shut.

“What now?”

“Soo... thank you.”

“Huh?”

“For your service.” he joked once more, only to receive an unimpressed glance from you which made him shut up. At least for a moment...

“No seriously,” he says, propping himself up on one elbow as he glanced up at you, “thanks...”

“If I'm going to be real honest with you, sleep has never come easy for me. Especially during my first week in camp.”

You blinked, remaining the silence you've stilled, letting him pour out his words while his gaze would often shift from one furniture to another.

“I just want to thank you for just.. being there,” he sighed, “If I'm being real with you, sleepy,” he murmured before he continued, “nightmares have been gnawing at me left and right.”

“And really, your comfort—no, your presence alone has helped me. I don't know if you even realize it, but you feel like comfort itself, as though the very essence of it was mused after you.”

“What are you saying?” you felt your breath hitch at his words.

He paused, looking for any uncertainty in your eyes. Despite his shaky nerves, he looked into your eyes, letting out a breath that he didn't even realize he was holding.

“...I like you.”

...

“Was that too forward?” he chuckled lightly though his laugh felt breathless as if he was just as nervous as you were about the whole situation.

“Sleepy?”

“Sorry, sorry, uh,” you snapped out of your focus, however your words couldn't get itself out of your throat like it was stuck there.

Despite his panicking nerves, he patted you on the back as if to help and ground you on what was happening. “Relax, it's just me.” he chuckled lightly.

“Do you really mean that?”

“That I like you? Of course I do. Why wouldn't I mean it?”

You didn't know how to begin your words, the only sensation you could feel was the way your palms start to form its cold sweat. “I like you too, Percy. Might I now add that I have been crushing on you for quite some time now as well?” you uttered out sheepishly.

“Really?”

“Mhm,” you smiled, “I mean it—like for real. You're like one of the coolest person I've ever met and you don't even have to try.” you say, feeling his hand tangle in yours.

“I try really hard, actually.” he chuckled lightly, brushing his hands against your hair, tucking it in behind your ear before he pressed a quick, kiss on your cheek.

Hesitantly, you held his face in your palm, feeling him lean onto your touch as he tops his hand over yours while his thumb skimmed through your knuckle.

“Thank you, sleepy.”

“You don't have to thank me for anything.” you leaned in with a smile to draw a peck on his nose.

Have a request? Feel free to send one in!

[janitorhutcherson]

you know a character we don’t speak about enough? billy from burn. okay, not one of the best movies ever, but unpopular opinion: one of my fave characters. he’s just so SCRUMMY!

on that note: headcanons.

cw: nsfw towards the end (knife play, gunplay, rough activities), mostly fluff! drug usage, fire (mwah no skin), hinted (but is he really) death

• although he may have robbed a place, billy isn't an evil person. in fact, he's extremely well loved by the community. he's the type of man to help old ladies with their groceries, tip well at coffee shops ... at least as well as he can. this is why when it went public that billy had robbed a place, many people were in shambles. "you mean sweet, sweet lil ol' billy? are you sure? oh my goodness, what has that boy gotten himself into?"

• before he started dwindling in some not-so-great activities and found himself owing a bunch of money, billy was an 'aspiring' artist. he'd play his guitar sometimes at the local bars. people would tell him "you could be something one day, y'know," and billy would just scoff and laugh -- but deep down? he'd dreamt of maybe, just maybe getting out of his silly town and being something, but he knew it wasn't possible.

• billy wasn't always the mess he is now. at one point, he had a full on family, hopes and dreams, but he pushed almost everyone away in an attempt to keep them from being dragged into his mess of a life. that is, everyone except you. you'd been the constant shining star in his life, refusing to let him push you any further. you'd clean his wounds after bar fights, tuck him into bed when he'd drank too much, and even take care of him when you were scared he'd OD. he hated putting you in those situations, but he knew he could never get you to leave.

• billy is the type of boyfriend to not let you lift a finger, for the most part. you do so much to keep him safe, to take care of him when he is at his absolute worst, that he won't even let you so much as make your own glass of water. before you can even fully stand up, he's up on his feet, asking what he can do for you. "hungry, darling? need something to drink? a bath? what can I do for you? just tell me and it's yours." while billy was nice to everyone, he would only do anything for you.

• billy is super protective. given his traumatic past of losing people he loves, hurting people he loves, and witnessing awful things, he is constantly on edge. the moment something seems off in a situation, his eyes stay on whatever or whoever seems odd, his arms staying wrapped around you. he's ready to pounce at the slightest movement. on that topic, nobody wants to know what happened last time someone tried to catcall you. lets just say the guy left with a black eye and billy left with an upset partner who kept scolding him for going a little too far.

• he's a huge softie. he'll buy you flowers, burn CDs for you, sing sweet little songs in his sultry voice with a little rasp from smoking. he loves holding you and swaying to music, kissing behind your ear and holding you in bed. he's BIG on physical touch, because he's afraid if he lets go, you'll dissipate in his arms, ceasing to exist as if you were only a dream. while he is a major romantic, it's only for you. god forbid you point it out, or he'll get all grumpy and pouty, a deep crimson blush on his cheeks, grumbling on and on about how annoying it is when you point is out. "oh shut up, I'm your boyfriend, okay? I'm, like, just bein' good to you and stuff, like a boyfriend does."

• while billy is a sweet and gentle lover, in bed it's a different story. of course he'd take care of you after, but during, he'd ram into you with direct eye contact, hand wrapped around your neck. vile insults and strings of curse words would come out of his mouth as he'd continuously abuse your insides. he's a big fan of knife play, too, carving his initials into your soft skin, watching as it bleeds, knowing you'd never be able to get rid of his mark. on top of that, he'd let you mark him too, because while he loved making sure everyone knew you were his, he wanted everyone to know he was yours.

• okay, let's get the obvious out of the way here. billy is a die hard gun owner. he's got a pistol he uses, and sometimes, billy likes to take the bullets out of it, and push the barrel into you, watching as you squirm. sometimes he'll stick it in your mouth, watching as your pretty lips wrap around the metal coo'ing soft words to you. "oh god, you're so pretty like this, baby. yeah, 's a good job, keep sucking, gorgeous..."

• as we all know, billy gets charred. crisped. scorched. cooked. grilled. roasted. seared. burnt. this is what seems to be his ultimate demise, until it's not..... but then it is again, at least we thought. in reality, billy barely escaped. he'd awoken up, pain all over. he tried his best to make his way back home, somehow, by the grace of god making it. when he showed up back home to you, worried as hell, and a little angry at him until you saw the state he was in. your anger instantly turned to worry as you rushed to his aid, gasping as you begged for an explanation. billy, being the stubborn man he is, simply weakly scoffed out, holding up a shaky palm as if to say 'wait.' "no need to get all worked up, darlin', it's just a little burn." to that, all you could do is roll your eyes as you got to work on trying to save your burnt boyfriend.