#pray for me i'm terrible at being sick

[mckkaria]

i  know  i  made  a post  already  about  being  mia,  and  i  know  i  shouldn’t  feel  bad  about  it.  but  alas  i  am  here  once  again  to  say  that  i  love  you  and  you’re  all  wonderful.  i  was  going  to  try  to  scrounge  up  some  social  energy  over  the  weekend,  but  that  was  thwarted  by  a  rather  nasty  head  cold  that  just  keeps  getting  worse.  

#* — OOC. #anyway i miss you all #pray for me i'm terrible at being sick

[mavsstar]

𝑀𝑦 𝑆𝑤𝑒𝑒𝑡 𝑃𝑒𝑎

Summary ︱Mr. Levinson lives right next door to you, the sweet, innocent college girl. Little do you know that you're Mr. Levinson's favorite neighbor. He's there every chance you need the slightest of help, maybe a little too much.

Pairings︱Mechanic!Ari Levinson x Innocent!Fem!Reader, Robert Pronge x Innocent!Fem!Reader

W.C︱4k

Warnings︱18+ MINORS DNI, Trailer Park AU, it's pretty tame for right now, pet names (Sweet Pea),cursing, reader is scared of Pronge, masturbation (m!) and I think that is all the warnings. Let me know if I missed any!

Author's note︱I am very excited for this series :) This is set around the 90s just because I feel like it fits better with the idea I have going on in my head. It has been awhile since I've written anything so I'm hoping it's not too terrible. I hope you will enjoy this! Feedback is appreciated! Follow my side blog and turn on post notifications :D

“Did you see Mr. Levinson today?” your Mother’s friend, Valerie, asked while wiggling her eyebrows. 

“Nope,” you instantly responded. “Have you?” 

“Already got my dose of that sexy man.” She smirked while winking at you. 

Ari Levinson towered everyone he’s ever met. He stood at a proud 6'6. It was hard to miss the luscious brown locks that fell over his face and the cerulean blue eyes that you could never find your way out of. His beard adorned his jaw and hid the pump rose colored lips he held.

Even when he was doused in motor oil and dirt he was still a beautiful man. He was your neighbor and very well known at the trailer park. Ari was a woman’s walking wet dream come to life. 

“He’s already up?” you asked as your eyes bulged out of your head. “It’s like 6 in the morning.” 

“Of course he’s up, he’s having his morning coffee.” 

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Only you would know that stalker.”

“It’s not stalking Y/N, it's called being an astute observer,” she retorted. “That’s besides the point, shouldn’t you be heading out by now?” 

“I should be but…” you started to answer, looking out the window cautiously, “I have a feeling you know who is outside.”

“If you don’t leave now you’ll be late for work which by the way is in 20 minutes,” she reminded you, pointing towards the clock. 

“Please don’t remind me.” You internally groaned as you threw your head back and rubbed your eyes. 

After a few moments you finally decided to lift yourself from the couch and head your way out. Goosebumps arose on your arms as you opened the front door. You hated this kind of weather, you couldn’t be without a sweater in the morning but by 3pm you’d be sweating like a dog. You shrugged on your brother's jacket, not bothering to zip it up and closed the front door.

Just as you predicted, the person you dreaded seeing most was standing right outside, Mr. Pronge. 

Robert Pronge was your neighbor and lived right across from you. Ever since you moved in he formed the bad habit of staring at you and hitting on you like there’s no tomorrow. From what you heard he was a sick sadistic bastard who liked to torture girls with pleasure. He’s had many lovers enter the trailer but seemingly none of them come back.  

You didn’t like the way he makes you feel. It felt like a hungry lion stalking its predator, ready to pounce at any moment’s notice. At the same time you couldn’t help but feel hot. Everytime he was near you, your heart raced from the fear and you felt a pulse in between your legs. 

“Morning Princess!” Mr. Pronge called out from his front lawn.

“Good morning Mr. Pronge!” You greeted back but only to be polite. You tried to avoid looking too much at him and instead looked towards the ground. 

You heard shoes beating against the ground and you prayed with all your heart that it was someone else running. Luck was not on your side that morning. When you looked up it was the one and only Mr. Pronge. 

“Where are you going Princess?” he asked. His breath was minty fresh even though his appearance would say otherwise. 

“To work,” you bluntly replied, trying to open your car door. 

“Aw Princess, don’t be like that,” he cooed. Once you did get your car door open, he immediately slammed it closed, almost smashing your finger in the process. “I’ll give you a ride. Come on, let's go.” 

“I appreciate the offer Mr. Pronge but I can take myself,” you insisted while attempting to reopen your car door. 

“Princess…” he warningly said.

Mr. Pronge didn’t like it when people told him no. The word no did not exist in his world. 

“I said I’ll give you a ride.” 

“Leave her alone Robert!” Ari yelled from his porch, causing the both of you to turn around. “She’s probably late for work!” 

Mr. Pronge sighed as he stepped back in defeat. “I’ll take you next time Princess.” 

You internally groaned at his comment. He could never leave you alone. Every morning he would play this game with you. On the bright side, you were one of the very few people allowed to tell him no and get away with it. 

“Thank you Mr. Levinson!” you yelled as you got in the car. 

“Anytime!” Ari walked over to Robert after you drove off. Though his eyes never peeled off from you the entire time. 

“You’re always in my way,” Robert playfully commented. 

Ari chuckled at the jab. Ari always had to save you from him every morning without fail. “Rob, how many times have I told you to leave the poor girl alone?” He asked as he brought his cup of coffee to his lips. 

“I will never leave her alone,” he answered with a proud smirk. “Not until I make her mine.” 

“Oh please! You’re old!” Ari jabbed at him. “She’s going to want a hot 20 year old guy not some 40 year old.” 

“Her father was not present in her life.” 

“What does that have to do with anything?!” Ari asked, confused at Robert’s statement.

“The girl has major daddy issues, Ari,” Robert said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “All I gotta do is caress her a bit, say sweet nothings in her ear and bam! She will fall in love with me.”

“Do that and she will call the cops on you.” 

“I’d like to see her try,” Robert remarked as he crossed his arms across his chest. “Besides, why do you care?” 

“Because her mother is really starting to get concerned and-” 

“Oh that's why you’re concerned!” Robert hooted. “You want to fuck the mom!” 

“I do not want to have sex with her mom,” Ari declared with a serious tone. “The woman is stressed enough and I feel bad for her and I feel bad for the girl. I see her peek her head out of the door every morning to avoid you.” 

“Ari?” 

“Yes Rob?” 

“Mind your business.” 

The following morning was the same dreadful routine. You were trying to stall, not wanting to face Mr. Pronge though you knew he would be there. He always was. Even when you would try to leave at an earlier time. It’s like he would sleep there and wait for you. 

 Your mother shoved your car keys in your hand. “Sweetie, you need to go now before you’re late.”

“But what if he’s out there?” you asked with a slight hint of fear. 

“Is he still bothering you?!” she questioned, her overprotectiveness coming out. “I’ve had enough, I’m going out there.” 

“No! No! No!” you instantly said, jolting your hands out to stop her from taking another step. “Please don’t say anything. Mom please!” 

Your pleads were granted. She stayed still as she squinted at the window, sending a silent threat to Mr. Pronge.

“Fine,” she said. “But If I hear or even get the feeling, I’m going to rip his nutsack and his stupid smirk off of him.” 

“Wow,” you said with your eyes bulging out in shock.

“Sweetie, you’re too nice and a little bit–how can I put this?” she sarcastically questioned herself as she tilted her head to the side. “Oh yeah, you’re naive.” 

“I am not naive,” you muttered under your breath, offended. 

“Yes you are,” she said as she was walking out of the living room. “Now go to work!” 

You grabbed your bag from the couch and swung it over your shoulder. Your hand went on the doorknob, turning it to open the door. You peek your head out to see if you’re one and only was out there waiting for you. 

“He’s not there Sweet Pea!” Ari exclaimed. “You’re safe, you can come out!” 

“Thanks!” you yelled from the door, fully stepping out. You confidently walked over to your car, happy Mr. Pronge wasn’t outside to terrorize you. Your happiness was soon cut off when you saw a complete flat tire. 

“Dang it!” you cursed to yourself. You peered down at your watch, it was 6:41 A.M. You were trying to calculate how much time it would take to go on the bus and you heard the dreadful sound of boots hitting the road. 

“Oh no,” you internally whined. 

“Got a flat, Princess?” Mr. Pronge sarcastically asked. “I’ll give you a ride.”

Ari quickly stepped in. “Robert no.” You didn’t even hear him walk over to you. You looked at Ari in shock and sent a cry for help at the same time. “Leave her alone.” 

“She needs a ride, I’m giving her a ride. What is the problem?” he challenged, taking a step closer to him. 

“You’re not taking her.” 

Robert straightened his back and puffed his chest out. “And why not?” 

“Because I’m taking her. She was just getting something from her car.” Ari grabbed your bag from your hand and placed his hand on your lower back. “Lets go Sweet Pea,” he said as he guided you to his car, opening the door for you and handing you back your bag. 

Robert stood in shock. Ari was taking you. And you let him. Though he couldn’t say he wasn’t impressed, he was just wondering how he did it. That lucky bastard. 

The inside of his truck was bigger than you ever imagined. It was dirty and there were oil stains everywhere you looked. Wrenches were scattered across the floor along with bolts and lug nuts. The only thing that was almost impeccable was the air freshener hanging off the rearview mirror but there were five oil stained fingerprints on it.

“Thank you for the ride Mr. Levinson, you didn’t have to take me. I could've taken the bus.” 

“Don’t even mention it Sweet Pea,” Ari said. “Plus I don’t think you wanted to ride with Rob now did you?” 

“No,” you answered as you shook your head. “He scares me.” 

“He scares you?” Ari repeated, barely shocked. 

“Mhm,” you confirmed with a small hum. “He’s really big and mean. Everyone says he’s the nicest to me and if that’s true I don’t want to see him when he’s mad.” 

“It’s true, he’s the nicest to you.” Ari found it weird when Robert wouldn’t constantly yell at you like he did with other people but he can see why. You’re the sweetest thing ever.

“Is that all?” 

“Mr. Pronge used to bring women and–and they would come out screaming and crying. It frightened me.” 

Robert used to bring women over all the time. They wouldn’t last for too long. They would run out of the house screaming all kinds of profanities after 3 weeks. You’ll never forget the moment a woman came to your house and asked if you had anything sharp. You gave her one of the knives from the kitchen. 5 minutes later the word asshole was embedded on the side of his car in big, bold letters. 

You’ll also never forget the time another woman came to your trailer. She screamed while she banged on the door like a madman. When you opened the door she had red hand prints on her body and a barely carved ‘R’ on her exposed hip. She asked you to hide her because he was coming. Sure enough a minute later Mr. Pronge came, demanding you to show him where she was hiding. Luckily your brother was there to kick him out.

He could see why you were scared. Hell even that scared him a couple of times. For some reason Ari didn’t like the thought of you being scared. Hell, he could barely deal with the fact how uncomfortable Mr. Pronge made you. 

When you approached the building Ari parked the car and exited out, lightly jogging over to your side and opening your door for you. He held out his hand to you to help you out of the truck, your hand delicately gripped his and he could feel the rush of dopamine releasing in his body. 

“Thank you again Mr. Levinson!” you beamed with a bright smile. You raised yourself on your tippy toes and slightly bounced to place a thank you kiss on his cheek. 

An unexplainable warmth rushed through him. The action was short and sweet but it made him feel weak in the knees. He would get cheek kisses from women quite a lot but it never felt like this. 

“Anytime Sweet Pea.” He felt himself staring at your eyes for a little bit too long. He forced himself to look anywhere else for a brief second, making sure you didn’t grow uncomfortable. “What time do you want me to pick you up?” 

“Oh it’s okay Mr. Levinson, I can take the bus or have my brother pick me up.” 

“Are you sure?” he asked you again. 

You nodded your head. “Thank you again! You’re a lifesaver.” 

“Don’t even mention it,” he waves off. 

You muttered a small goodbye to Mr. Levinson before taking off into the diner. He watched you go in with a small smile on his face.

 Even though this was your first real interaction, he knew he wasn’t going to get enough of you. You were the most adorable thing he’s ever seen. The whole way back he thought of you. You were like a deadly plague in his mind. A beautiful, rose scented, warm plague. 

Luckily your brother was able to pick you up after he got off of work. The next bus was going to come within another hour. When your brother picked you up, he was agitated. 

“What happened to your tire?” your older brother asked, not amused at all.

“I don’t know.” You shrugged your shoulders. “I went outside this morning and it had a flat.” 

“I helped Mr. Levinson changed the tire, it had 4 nails,” he said in a matter of fact one. “4.” he repeated as he held four fingers in the air. 

“I’m sorry,” you weakly apologized. 

“You need to pay more attention where you’re driving.”  

“I didn’t mean to drive over the nails. There weren’t even any when I drove yesterday!” you protested. “I only drove to the library which is 2 minutes away.” 

“So they magically appeared?” he sarcastically asked. “Just pay attention please.” 

“I will.” 

“You left your bus pass on the table this morning. How did you get to work? ” he questioned you. “Mr. Pronge didn’t take you, did he?” He turned to glance at you with a worried look. 

“No, Mr. Levinson did,” you told your brother.

“Did you make it on time?” He quickly glanced at you again, “because you are horrible at giving directions.” 

“Hey!” you barked at him. “I am not horrible at giving directions.” 

“Yes you are.” 

“Well lucky for me I didn’t even have to tell him, he already knew where to go,” you responded, “sure did save me the hassle.” 

“Did you thank him?” 

“Of course I did, I’m not rude,” you responded, half hurt he would think that of you. 

The rest of the ride was short but your brother took the remaining 4 minute drive to lecture you once again to pay attention. You tried to zone him out but he would snap at you, telling you to listen. You knew he did it to annoy you, it was simply too easy to annoy you. 

When you arrived at home, you jumped out of the car to look at the tire. Sure you had no idea what you were even looking at but it never hurt. You bent down to look at it and you noticed one thing. It wasn’t patched up like before. It was brand new. 

“Are you coming in?” your brother asked you. 

You turned to look at him. “Yeah, I just have to do something really quick.” 

“Don’t take too long, I’ll be done cooking in 10 minutes.” 

“I promise,” you told him before he went inside. 

You took out a sticky note, a pen and 50 dollars that took you 4 days to earn. You used the hood of your car as a desk and wrote a sweet but short thank you on the sticky note. Afterwards you walked over to his house and placed it under the surprisingly alive flower pot he had on his front porch. 

The both of you didn’t see each other for almost 2 days. You got overwhelmed with work that you barely were in the house. It wasn’t until Ari caught you late at the laundromat. 

“Sweet Pea?”

You turned around at the sound of your name. “Oh hi Mr. Levinson,” you greeted him with a huge smile. 

“What are you doing here so late?” he asked you though he could barely pay any attention to you at the moment. You wore a thin pastel pink cardigan with a pearly white nightgown that had a bow at the valley of your breasts.

“I forgot to do my laundry this morning and I didn’t have time so I came here after work,” you told him. 

“Isn’t it a little late to be working?” he questioned you. 

“I’ve been picking up other shifts at work,” you said, “it doesn’t help having the extra money.” 

“Speaking of money,” he began to say as he took out the fifty you gave him from his front pocket of his flannel, “you left this on my porch.” 

“Yeah it’s for you,” you innocently said, “I noticed the tire is brand new and I’m 90% sure my brother forgot to pay you.” 

“It’s your money, I’m not taking it. Here.” He passed the money back to you but you refused. 

“Keep it, you changed my tire and I’m paying you for your service.” 

“I really can’t—” 

“Please,” you begged him with puppy eyes. 

You pulled at his heartstrings. It agonized him, he didn’t want to take your money but he also didn’t want to make you sad. But he kept it anyway and stuffed it back into the front pocket of his flannel. 

“What are you doing here so late?” you asked him as you bent down and took out your now dry clothes. 

His eyes peered down for a quick second and he saw the nightgown riding up, revealing your baby blue panties. His throat went dry and he fought hard to keep his gaze up but it found itself looking back down. 

“I–I realized I forgot to wash my work clothes.” 

“I hate when that happens.” You came back up after you pulled out the last piece of clothing. “Then I’m stuck getting yelled at by the manager when I come in with the wrong clothes.” 

Ari chuckled to avoid an awkward silence. Really it was to refrain himself from stuttering or making a fool out of himself. In his head he wanted to compliment you and how pretty your nightgown was but the words wouldn’t leave the tip of his tongue. 

He took a deep breath before he spoke. “You look pretty in your nightgown,” he quickly muttered out. 

Your eyes lit up at his compliment. “Thank you Mr. Levinson. It’s pretty but I don’t think I’ll keep it.” 

“Why’s that?” 

“It always rides up and by morning it’s all the way up here,” you pointed to your upper stomach.

Oh what he would give to be a fly in the room in the morning. He quickly changed the conversation, it was obvious you were too oblivious to what you were doing to him. Your sweet voice and innocence were driving him insane but he loved it, he secretly wanted more. 

The both of you left the laundromat 40 minutes later. He insisted on carrying your basket for you. You both walked side by side. You were busy trying to keep up with him while he was busy looking down at your breasts. 

“Thank you for carrying my basket Mr. Levinson,” you thanked him as you took your basket from him when you got to your front porch.

“Anytime Sweet Pea.”

You kissed his cheek once again to seal your thank you. “Sweet dreams Mr. Levinson.”

“Sweet dreams honey,” he repeated to you. 

Ari was in a rush to get back to his trailer but a dear beloved friend was waiting for him. 

“Well would you look at that?” Robert sarcastically asked him. “She gave you a kiss on the cheek.” 

“Not now Robert,” Ari pleaded, dying to get back into his place. 

“What’s the big rush to get back home?” Robert crossed his arms as he smirked, “I see you’re sporting a hard on. Surely it can’t be because of her. Right?” 

“Oh shut your trap.” 

“It is, isn't it?!” he gawked. 

“No it’s not!” Ari protested. 

“Oh really?” Robert Challenged as he squinted his eyes.

“I was about to get lucky with Kim before she came into the laundromat and interrupted us,” Ari quickly lied. 

“So you waited for her to be done then walked her back?” Robert questioned Ari. 

“Of course I did,” he scoffed, “otherwise she would’ve ran into you. Not to mention she’s terrified of you, fuckin’ creep.” 

“Whatever. She wants me, I know it,” Robert boasted. 

“Yeah in jail.” 

Robert rolled his eyes and walked back to his trailer while Ari walked back into his. He immediately locked the door behind him and dropped the basket on the floor. 

“Oh thank god,” Ari hissed as he unzipped his painfully tight pants. 

His cock was rock hard and had been for the past 20 minutes. The pants barely gave him any friction and if anything, made it worse. He palmed himself through his boxers and moaned in relief. 

All he can think about is you in the short nightgown and how he’s never been this hard before. Sure he’s been turned on but it was nothing compared to this. It was like he was a horny spazzy teenager all over again. 

He freed his cock from his boxers and sharply inhaled at the impact of the cold air. The tip of his cock was bright red and oozing with precum. He used his thumb to spread his precum and use it as lube.  

His eyes screwed shut in bliss when he began pumping up and down. He tried to think of the porn he watched three days ago but instead you kept popping up. He imagined you being here with him, helping him out. 

“Does that hurt?” you ask him as you point to his angry, leaking cock. 

“It does Sweet Pea,” he rasped out. 

“Was it because of me?” you innocently ask him as you bat your lashes. 

“Yes,” he admits. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to,” you apologize to him. “Let me help you,” you tell him as you take his cock into your tiny, warm hand. 

“Oh Sweet Pea,” he moans out. 

“You’re s-so bi-big,” you sputter out, slowly pumping him up and down. “Does that feel better?”

He doesn’t have the strength to talk so instead he nods eagerly. “G-Go a little bit faster.”

You obey him and start pumping faster. His moans fill the room as he gets lost in the pleasure you’re giving him. Your hand is cramping but you don’t care, anything to make him feel good. 

“Sweet Pea, I-I’m about to cum,” he warns you. 

You get down on your knees while you still pump him. “Let it all go,” you seductively say as you open your mouth. 

Ari was brought back to reality when his high overtook him and he orgasmed. It was so intense his thighs started to shake. He continued pumping and pumping until he got too sensitive he had to stop.

He stood there with his cum dripping down his hand and secretly wishing you were there to help clean it all up. The realization had hit him hard, he needed you.

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[lemonmaid]

Alpha gojo x omega male reader

Theme is angest and fluff

Reader and gojo were high school sweet hearts and on thier final year reader got knocked up by gojo and on his way to tell gojo there was a misunderstanding which leds to them breaking up and reader taking the unborn kids (twins because why not) and after a few years gojo finds him with the kids and they reconnect after the misunderstanding was cleared up if that's alright with you

Also can you not make reader submissive and shy, I don't like it when omegas are like that

Wow! Most detailed request but coming up!!

Warnings: misunderstandings, mpreg, omegaverse, angst, rushed. Miscommunication

"Standing Next to you"

20■■

(Name) was on the train coming back from Kyoto.

To say there was a lot on his mind was an understatement was…undermining it.

'This fucking blows'. 

(Name) looked at the omega across from him sitting in the reserved seating for pregnant people, looking at his flat stomach he cringed. 

'You're like an alien…. A parasite'.

(Name) was only a few weeks along, has he been to a doctor? No. But he did spend all day in Kyoto praying for a sign to tell him what he should do.

He could he a responsible adult and tell his mate that he was pregnant but in his teenage mind that's something that was off the table or too far out of reach. 

He did want to tell Satoru but knowing the Gojo clan, they would want him to abort anyway. 

That's where (name) was conflicted, he didn't want a pup but it was his damn choice if he wanted to abort, why should he listen to a bunch of betas and alphas tell him what to do?.

"Next stop Nagoya" 

He still had four more hours to think.

(Name) arrived at his dorm pretty late, surprisingly, Satoru was there, fuming.

"Where were you?".

"Out?".

Satoru crossed his arms, "Out?".

"Yeah".

Satoru stared down (Name) who was trying to take off his shoes before he came inside the room.

"Where were you all day? You never answered your phone".

(Name) shrugged his shoulders, "It died".

"Really?"

"Yeah, I forgot to charge it". In reality, whenever (Name) saw Satoru's name pop up on his flip he felt like vomiting.

Satoru sighed, "I feel like as your mate I have a right to know-"

"I'm not going to talk to you when you treat me like this". (Name) rolled his eyes, throwing his keys onto the counter, and walking away.

Satoru followed the omega into their shared room, "Like what?"

"You're talking down at me. Treating me like a child".

"Well, you're acting like a child!"

"Me? I'm acting like a child?"

"Yes! You just go out and don't talk to me anymore! I was worried-"

(Name) closed and locked the bathroom door, staring into the toilet bowl, "Maybe because I am a child? So are you Satoru, are you forgetting that we are 3rd years? Haven't even-".

'I'm going to vomit'

"Stop! I'm not arguing with you! You need to tell me where you're going all day!". Satoru's voice was filled with worry, he sounded like he was genuinely hurt.

"I don't think I have to tell you anything!".

'I'm so sorry Satoru' 

There was silence between the two, The dim kitchen light glowed softly in the background.

"Maybe… we should take a break".

'It's for the best this way'

***

Shoko awkwardly rubbed the omega's back, as he vomited.

"There…. There"

(Name) gasped before dry heaving.

'This is worst'

Shoko lit a cigarette in the cheap apartment bathroom, "So… are you telling him? You know being with your mate will help with-".

"No".

(Name) was quick to move out of the dorm and drop out. It's been…a few long terrible weeks without Satoru; his mate, his better half, his everything.

Shoko sighed, "I would recommend a patch that you put on your mating mark to help with separation sickness but I'm pretty sure that will fuck up the pup".

(Name) laid against the cool wall, huffing and panting as sweat dropped from his forehead, ".... I will…go through the pain if it means staying away from Satoru… I will just-".

Shoko tossed him a water bottle, "I don't need your sob story, gosh, you sounded like Suguru when he was going through his separation sickness". Shoko sighed, putting out her cigarette and flushing it down the toilet.

Shoko pinched her nose, "Listen as a"

"You're not a doctor"

"Yet".

"Just… tell him. He would understand, he cares about you. And you damn well know it. Hell you two are mated, you're stuck together-".

Shoko looked at (name) with wide eyes.

"Please tell me you are hoping he just gets a mark removal surgery".

"I heard his clan would-"

"Fuck his clan are you fucking insane? Do you wanna drop? You'll kill your pups-"

"Fuck Shoko! I know! Fuck I know" (Name) cried, no sobbing.

"No, snap out of it! Do you think you can raise pups alone! Fuck in this shit hole? How can you raise them if you're fucking dropping!"

"Fucking! I know! I don't know what else to do Shoko! We are 17!! I don't want to burden anyone!! I can't!".

"You're not alone! Stop acting like it! Satoru fucking begs me to tell him where you are at! Stop pushing us away!".

(Name) sobbed into his knees, "I don't need saving. I can do this!".

"I'm getting Satoru".

Present

That was the last time anyone really saw (Name).

It's been two years.

Shoko didn't have the heart to tell Satoru that his missing mate was pregnant, hell she didn't need to see another one of her friends drop and die.

Satoru had eyes and noses everywhere looking for his mate, he didn't really give up.

Well, until today. 

Satoru's eyes went wide when he saw two white headed pups run up to him. Yapping away about the similarities between the three of them.

"My! My!!"

"Dammy!" 

The two twins grabbing his long legs.

Satoru felt a sob in his throat when he saw his long lost mate few feet away from him.

Oh how he glowed.

Oh how he aged.

He was still beautiful.

Why was he wearing a scent patch?

Why did he look unhappy to see him?

Why did Satoru's heart crushed?

(Name) called the twins names over to him. 

'Aoto and Shuto'

"My pups?" Satoru begged, he was pleading, his heart bleeding with sadness.

(Name) was obviously hesitant before nodding.

Satoru felt a sob exit his chest before crushing the three in a hug.

The four of them had dinner at Satoru's home, Satoru didn't want them out of his sight.

Satoru had the twins on both sides of his neck, letting them rest on his glands as he scent bonded them as they slept.

"Why did you keep this from me?".

"I was… scared of you turning me down so I wanted to speed up the progress".

"I would never turn this down…. (Name)... you're my mate… these were my pups".

"I know your clan-".

"I've.. disowned that, this is my clan…" gesturing towards the twins.

The two sat in silence.

Satoru sighed, "I want to make this work, but you need therapy, we need couples counseling… I still love you and I want to work this out".

(Name) nodded.

"I love you too".

#gojo satoru #jjk x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #omega male reader #Alpha gojo satoru

[its-actually-minicika]

Letters Perished in Dried Ink (18+)

Pairing: Aemond x Reader;

Warnings: vivid descriptions of male masurbation, slight angst, a lot of lousy grandpas who have and will continue to butt into your situationship with Aemond;

Word Count: 6.5k;

Author's Note: I struggled with major writer's block this month. I suppose it happens to the best of us :") While I'm still working on the three fics I promised you guys, have this tiny one-shot to make up for the lack of updates ♡

I tried to be poetic. Alas, I miserably failed. See you in the next update (which is going to hopefully present much better)!

How could a misunderstanding ruin everything seven years of love has built?

Her steady hand reached for the quill, and the girl settled her feather over the small and modest piece of paper. For two, mayhaps three seconds she paused, thinking well on what she would like most adherently to convey.

Her eyes glossed over with the swirl of mischief, and the Lady smiled to herself, while expelling a tantalising and brisk breath.

To my dearest, Aemond

While I was afraid that my time in King’s Landing would change the perception I had of my homeland, I must admit that I was wrong. I might push as far as to say that everything remains the same; not a change since I last saw it. My chamber, with the dolls I left on the goose-stuffed pillows, the training grounds – none the grander as the ones in the Red Keep, mind you –, and the large halls of Riverrun… all seemingly frozen in place.

Albeit the doors feel smaller now, and I can reach without the help of a stool where I once could not, I find that I am underwhelmed, and dangerously melancholic over the time I spent in your company, which accounted for so much of my early girlhood.

Grandfather has taken to my return quite well. He is still bedridden, but somehow more vivacious that his blood is nearer yet.

I look at the portraits that adorn the walls of our darkened castle, and sometimes think back to my elder brothers. I think grandfather does so, as well.

But such terrible quarrels have no place in my dull writings! This new life isn’t as tedious as I make it out to be. I was acquainted with my Septa, though much of my education will be taken care of by grandsire now. Yesterday I walked the grounds for hours on end, and managed to spot some old and familiar faces. I had forgotten how kind the riverlords can be.

One thing that must be noted – and recognised as drastically peculiar – is how quiet it is here. Naturally, there is no active Court to gossip and flaunt back their wealth and actions.

You would like it here.

And I’ll say this much: I’d like it better if you were here, too.

I end my musings with burning questions, that you simply must answer in your next correspondence:

First and foremost, how have you been? Secondly, how are our good Queen and King? Word reached the Trident that your father’s fallen sick, and so I pray piously without stray that he recovers well and quickly. Thirdly, how is sweet Helaena fairing? Last I heard of her, the babe was close to being born.

I readily await for your reply, and urge you to make haste with it!

Until then I remain, as always,

Your inquisitive and loyal friend

His eye trails over the slight curve of her writing. And the Prince catches himself smiling, humming in admission at her carefully picked-out words.

He notices, with great perplexion, that despite his hardest efforts of stifling such impropriety, the ache inside his chest arouses. His heartbeat hammers out of him, granting a slight tremor in his lax and calloused hand.

And he stands this way, hovering over the pristine parchment, whilst bringing his hand out to pinch the bridge of his nose – rub his throbbing blinder with the back end of his hand. His broad chest heaves with every laboured exhale, and Aemond sighs with proper longing.

To my good friend,

I hope this letter finds you in good health, and in higher spirits than the day you wrote to me. It is very unlike you to barely fill a page. I expect your next communication to hold greater details of your life in the Riverlands.

King’s Landing is the same as you remember. Smells like shit and feels like shit, especially now, as I'm denied from the raptures of your company.

My routine too, remains identical. I am seated next to Aegon when we break fast as of late, and I must stress how greatly I preferred my view beforehand.

I report with great sorrow that hardly any intelligent conversation has been had since your swift departure. I'm left longing at the dinner table, for your calculated thoughts, for your sweet melodic voice, and for our elbows to be lightly touching.

Mother is overwhelmed with higher duties of the Court. I try to help her as best I can, with whatever tasks she may yet entrust me with. I lack the patience to sit idly, and so I’ve taken to Aegon’s share of duties. I fulfil them better than he ever could, and the exercise proves itself useful: for I scarcely find the time to think of you throughout the day.

The nights and morrows are harder yet, as my thoughts reach out to you, wondering helplessly how you spend your better days, so painfully far from me.

A dozen maesters tend to Viserys, each saying he will get better as time has its murky say. Yet ‘til that “eventual better” makes itself known to us all, he nurses his body with milk of the poppy, and lets mother do all his work.

Helaena is well. She dreamt the babe would be a boy, and already settled on a name for him. She wishes to call him Maelor, something that hasn’t been rebuked by Aegon.

She misses you greatly. As do I.

As does Vhagar.

The Red Keep feels empty without your fits of laughter.

Beckon your reply quickly.

Your most dutiful servant,

Aemond

A little over a week had passed since his Lady’s last reply. One week and four full days, to be exact... though Aemond would never own up to counting.

His sour mood grew to exceed all expectations, and the Prince bit his tongue through most of dinner, barely uttering a single word. His quiet nature wasn’t something to be troubled of, but even his drunk-out-of-his-mind brother noticed something had been irking him.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so brooding, brother.” Aegon voiced out his concern, after another hefty gulp of alcohol. An impish grin spread across his puffy face, and Viserys’ first-born son leaned over in his chair to soothe him. “Am I right to assume that this has something to do with the lack of reply from a certain lady of the Riverlands?”

A low growl etched from deep within the youth’s throat. Aemond regarded Aegon with a cutting look, and extended his arm forward to grip the base of the wine pouch. He took a moment to ponder on the gaucherie of getting drunk, but settled on thrusting himself to the momentary relief that a hazy mind could offer.

Briskly, he took a swing of the burning liquor, and disregarded the way in which his mother absent-mindedly glared at him.

A loud snicker echoed through the quiet room, and Aegon clasped his hands together, pouting acutely at his brother's actions. “I’ll take that as a yes, then.”

A knot of heartfelt disregard tightened in Aemond’s throat, and his fist clenched painfully right above the wooden table. His free hand gripped the handle of the knife with a knowledge untoward, and the Prince shared a look with his elder brother, while rotating the blade about.

“Careful, Aegon. There are plenty of sharp objects around this table. And you haven’t been spotted in the training yard for quite some time."

His purple eyes widened to rounded specs of unreliant fear. Still he put on a lazy smile, and merely shrugged his shoulders. Aegon’s mouth opened again, threatening to spew out words that would grant no happy ending to their cosy dinnertime.

Eventually, it was Alicent’s glacial tone that interrupted their clash of wits.

“Boys,” She warned them both, not even bothering to look at them, “That is enough.”

Aegon’s mouth slouched childishly, and the man scoffed in rebuttal, while pointing at his rowdy sibling. “I was merely expressing my concern for Aemond, mother. He’s been very affected, now that his lady love abandoned him.”

Immediately Aemond rebuked his cutlery, and in the span of a single second, the Prince latched onto his berating brother. A dangerous look drew across his Targaryen features, making them all the sharper and unforgiving. Woefully he gripped his collar, hoisting him off the ground with an unnatural and vexing ease, and settled on squeezing Aegon’s gorget as he muttered to him darkly. “Either keep quiet on your own accord, or I’ll gladly silence you.”

Four white cloaks swarmed around them, and Otto Hightower nearly screamed, but the brawl reached an early end as the elder nodded rapidly at Aemond, and the latter loosened the hold he had over his bouchered vest.

“Seven Hells…” Aegon had cursed, mumbling lowly whilst feeling his neck for any sores, “Didn’t know it was such a delicate subject.”

Throwing a jaded look around the table, the One-Eyed Prince clenched his jaw.

He frowned deeply, and let out a tired hum at the notion of his sister’s face, so shocked and confused by his sudden outburst. As he felt his own grow numb, no doubt reddened by the scene he’d single-handedly played out, Aemond’s lips pursed to a tight, embarrassed line.

Whilst his hands itched him in shame, and his eye desperately avoided his mother’s, the young man instead focused on the erotic tapestries that adorned the stone-hedged walls.

His lone orb remained fixated on their arched positions, but, as his brother laughed again, Aemond begrudgingly returned his stare.

“Pardon me.” He muttered coldly, whilst giving a slight bow to the silent gathering, and, with one elegant but hurried movement, grabbed the full cask of wine, as he turned tautly to retreat to his chambers.

He swallowed thickly at his swift undoing, and chastised himself for losing touch with what was proper and allowed. His long fingers clasped painfully behind his back, digging at the flesh of his calloused palms, making him click his tongue in disarray; he notices, mayhaps too late, that all his blood had run elsewhere – thus the man takes wider steps to reach the confinements of his room, and lets out a choked-out breath, as the clogged air of his chamber finally hits his nose.

Methodical, aware and present, he sets the wine aside from him, pouring himself a generous cup, and fiddles with the expensive sheets that lay across his wooden table. His hand stumbles over the ink bottle, and the Prince levels out his rapid breathing, preparing himself to write again.

To My Lady,

A gulp of the liquid courage is all he needs to decidedly settle his red feather over the wilted paper.

Your lack of response to my latest confession irks me to no bitter end. I am a patient man, but I will not be denied entrance to your life. I will not have you refuse me the candour of communication.

Not when I spent my entire life waiting submissively by your side.

If your perpetual silence is owed to something I said, or something you’ve heard about me, I demand that you scorn me for it. Write a lengthy paragraph of all my near and far shortcomings, as you so often did when we were children. I promise to make a praying altar of that letter, grovel over it and at your feet, until my indiscretion should be forgiven.

Do not attempt to drive me away with petty ignoring. Such a feat is beneath you.

Another gulp of bitter wine is what allows his hand to flow more freely.

I confess that days and nights I have spent laying restlessly in bed, praying to the Seven to grant me passage to a single thought of yours. I ached to hear your words and feel your voice touch me so deeply. I am afraid I became brazen and unkind in the tortures of your absence.

I lest conclude that this should be a leisure letter to write – words should come easily, and in short, it should be simple for me to tell you how desperately happy I was to open your communication, and see your sweet and narrow writing.

Aemond halts his hurried musings, and encouraged by the hotness of the room, thinks back on the sinful indulgence he’d committed with her letter.

How he kissed over the parchment a million times thereafter, and how he licked at its bent corners, shuddering at the thought that her hand had ghosted over – perhaps even rested on – the marginal and flimsy paper.

He abjures his thoughts to the back of his mind, and lets out a low curse at the throb that forms over his missing eye.

A Prince should never bow, nor beg, nor relent. Yet here I stand, forever obediently at your beck and call, begging you to write again.

His patch fell heavily upon his skin. The nerves of his face stung the stimulated bit of skin, and Aemond huffed out an exacerbated breath, as he decidedly yanked the blinder away from his handsome face.

My duties at Court make it such that it is impossible for me to leave the proximities of King’s Landing. But should you make the mistake of not replying to me again, I’ll have no choice but to mount Vhagar and fly over to you myself.

… So reign your anger on me, should you need to. And just grant me with a quick reply.

Aemond.

Not even bothering to read it over, the man reached for the stamp she gifted him, inspecting its sapphire hilt with a scorned look over his face, and an angry furrow to his brow. His tongue poked the inside of his cheek, as he passively set the hilt aside.

His next movements were slow, methodical – Aemond folded the paper in half, and poured the hot wax over it; grabbing the stamp, and lowering it on the paper, allowing the Targaryen seal to leave its mundane mark behind.

Harsh thoughts swirled inside his head, and the Prince lowered the parchment, promising to send word out on the morrow, and personally deliver his Lady the much-improved, insistent letter.

‘The best of friends for seven years,’ he scoffed bitterly to himself, recalling the oath they’d made each other.

He wouldn’t allow her to walk away. He wouldn’t allow her to forget about him. And he would force her to look at him, and explain the means of her reaping silence.

The gentle rays of morning wash themselves over his handsome features. The heatwaves of summer lick over his translucent skin, and the golden rays of daybreak thread themselves into his silver hair.

Aemond groaned in roaring anguish, as he ran a calloused hand up and over his throbbing cheek.

The discarded eyepatch, now resting on the floor. The littered parchments, still laying on his table. The lone letter, which had been written so angrily, just to be resentfully abandoned as his ire simmered down the night before.

Each object served as a dull and pained reminder of his lack of princely conduct, of the effects of the wine… of her brazen and determined silence.

The Prince bit over his lower lip, and fluttered his eyelid tightly shut. Enwrapped in his fine silks, and under the comforts of his chambers, he allowed his mind to lead to her again. To the image of her sprawled-out form, waiting for him inside his bed.

He sighs deeply, and questions his sanity – or lack thereof –, his patience, his virtue. What he wrote in his confessions was the fair and honest truth – In the few moments of solitude that he grantedly took for himself, the riverlander scarcely ever left his thoughts.

Aemond writhed into the mattress, and peeled the cover away from his heated body. He needn’t have looked down upon him to see the quaint trailing effect that his friend had had on him; but he did, and in the process, hastily pulled his throbbing cock out of his breeches, to begin to pump himself – mayhaps relieve the stress and anger that ruled over his very being.

A tender hiss escaped his lips, as his movements sped up in pace. The Crown Prince bit over his lower lip, and a shaky hand came to rest over his parted mouth, to dull the shameful and alluding sounds that escaped his burning throat.

He ran his thumb over the leaking tip, gathering up his seed in singular and striking swipes, guiding the clear droplets of liquid to trail towards his aching stones, and coat over his impressive length.

A low grunt slipped past his hand, and Aemond sank his teeth into the tender flesh, stifling down any further moan or laboured breath.

"F-Fuck… my Lady…"

His back shuddered from the blinding pleasure, and his free hand came to rummage under his pillows in the most desperate of searches.

His eye opened but for a moment, as his digits grazed the bent edges of the first letter she'd addressed him – the one he'd cherished with ample reverence, and secretly carried with him to every place he went.

His lilac orb trailed over the contents of the wilting parchment, which by then he knew by heart, but stopped at the very beginning of her scattered and bereft writing.

'To my dearest, Aemond' – either by crude mistake or heinous design, she'd flicked her wrist right after dearest, drawing out a bold and elongated pause, that hence consumed his wakened days.

It must have taken her no more than seconds to descend her quill upon the page, yet for Aemond, the mundane piece of calligraphy became his most burdensome slither of hope.

Before he could catch himself in his lustful daze, the Prince brought the letter to his lips, and kissed over the dried ink with devotion untoward, accelerating his ministrations as he pressed into it harder.

He pictured her alone and writing, enraptured by the dead of night, dressed up in her modest nightdress, and her hair loose from her bun. She must have made some able pauses, to glance up at the moon, perhaps, or sigh in puckered concentration.

Had she shared with him everything that was on her mind back then? Or did she hold her secrets in, choosing instead to only hint at all that they had left unspoken?

Did she also think of him, as he nightly thought of her, and in her attempts to clear her head, brought her hand out to her ruddy pearl? And did she dare to rub it gently as sinful fantasies of him emerged?

Did he plague her every thought – visited them, at the very least, nestling inside her mind, as she so oftenly did to him?

His unanswered plethora of questions only fed into his fire. His hips began to move languidly against his hand, and the familiar licks of release beckoned in his tired loins. But fucking his hand would never come close to how he envisioned fucking her would be like. How tight and welcoming her cunt must be, how she herself was so untouched, so pure, unaware of the pleasures he alone could make her go through.

How breathlessly she’d gasp against him, and leave her lascivious mark over his skin, in the form of clawed-out patterns, adorning his pale and muscled back. He would return her favour in kind, pressing himself deeper inside her, molding her warmth to the shape of his cock, leaving bruising kisses over her breasts and neck and claiming her – over and over, again and again.

His. His, his, his and his alone.

Propriety be damned, he’d have her. Ensure she’d never leave his bed thereafter.

She’d make for a fantastic mother, he caught himself thinking with abhorrence, and a new heat wave of pleasure enveloped his arched, unyielding back.

His despair reached new peaks of torture, as his mind led him to the memory of her crouching form, playing with Helaena’s twins, with such a pliant and kind smile upon her agonizing lips. How she’d chase them through the royal gardens, how the sun would catch her hair aflame…

Often during the long nights of winter, he’d shut himself inside his chambers, and touch himself repeatedly with the oils gifted from Aegon – with only that specific recollection playing tricks inside his mind.

Whilst elating her as his wife inside his head, the man slumped further into the bed, focusing on working his shaft up and down in blinding delight.

Her voice, her laughter, her handwriting and eyes – so wide and curious and always ready to look upon him, to really see him for who he was. She’d been the only one who never glanced directly at his scar. She’d focus in on his remaining eye, and listen to what he had to say. Intently. Remarkably so. She would remember his favourite book, the passages he’d read her last, and would partake in conversation – urging him to share his thoughts.

His climax neared him closer still, and Viserys’s second son focused on fucking his fist at a wilder pace than done before. Droplets of precum rolled down his cock, as forming sweat coated his brow. A final swipe of his rough thumb over the tip of his manhood, and a tender caress of his tightened stones was all it took for the man to drive himself over the edge, and feel the warmth inside his chest spread across his lower body.

He hissed painfully into the open letter, spending all over his chest and stomach and spilling her name from his parted lips.

He heaved out one breath after the other, and gingerly ran his hand over the written testament of her thoughts. He wanted to curse the Gods for making him so, for giving him the thirst for knowledge of a man fitting his station, but the crass bashfulness of a ruddy stable boy.

For the first time in his life, Aemond wished he were born different. A softer and more patient man, who’d find himself worthy of her; one more handsome, courageous and outspoken – a man who could express his feelings, without so much as a second thought, who didn't allow hesitation and carelessness to break his strengthened up resolve.

He ached to tell her all the things he’d left unsaid, when he saw her leave his sight. That she was lovely and brave and better than anything he deserved. That he was twisted, crooked, wrong – but not so wrong that he couldn’t pull himself together into some semblance of a man for her. That without exactly meaning to, he’d begun to lean on her, to look for her, to need her near.

That love within him laced with doubt. Longing with predestined pain. That he prayed night after night, obsessively, tentatively, that she’d grant him passage into her life again – that whatever held her from speaking to him would absolve itself with time, and he’d finally be free again.

Free to love her from afar, to revel in the bottled hope she’d grant him with the lightest touch, the faintest smile, and the most mundane of glances.

To delve further into the sweet delusion that mayhaps she'd learn to love him. That somehow he’d be deemed to be enough.

As he stood there, unmoving in his very bed, his warm seed rolled off his stomach, staining onto the silken sheets. A long sigh escaped his lips, and Aemond propped himself onto his elbow, cleaning the mess he’d left behind.

His want for her ran hard and deep, and the Crown Prince tensed once more, feeling his stomach tighten in such familiar hot knots of pleasure, that his cock went stiff again. He hummed in admission of his solitary fate and reached for the sinful oils with a shaky and extended hand. Through the musings of a quiet moan, he aligned his hips to his waiting hand, preparing to grant himself the second peak of his cursed and debauchered morning.

Alas, a lacklustre knock put an end to his self-indulgence, and Aemond stifled back a groan. He swallowed up his lust with haste, pushing himself back into his linen breeches and off the ruined satin bed – running a hand through the forming mats of his silver hair, to make himself seem more presentable.

Frustration and madness welled up within him, but he merely sucked in an irritated breath, whilst grabbing forth a shirt to adequately front himself.

“Yes, what is it?” His shaky voice barks out for him. He listens intently for any noise outside his door, and a great displeasure settles in his gut, as the voice of a servant boy echoes through the quiet walls.

“A letter for you, Your Grace. I beg your pardon for disrupting you –”

Readily he jumps out of his bed. And as if burned, as if possessed, Aemond opens the door with a readiness unperturbed, descending his anger onto the poor, expecting boy. The letter rests upon a silver platter, shaken with the messenger’s panicked voice. The Tully emblem that seals over a vast calligraphy drives the Prince to the brink of hysteria, and the Targaryen grabs a hold of the boy’s bouched shirt, pushing him further down into the hall.

“When.” He questions breathlessly, “When did the letter arrive.”

“L-Last night, Your Grace – near the hour of the wolf –”

A feral scowl settles over his sharp features. Aemond takes a step forward, tightening his fist over the cheap material, and calmly professes to the whimpering boy.

“For waiting so long to bring it to me, I should have you flogged and executed.”

The child's blabbering reaches deafened ears, as Aemond reaches for the letter crassly presented to him, and offers the youth a pressing look.

“Get out of my sight, before I should make the call of feeding you to my dragon.”

A clumsy courtesy is followed by a tantalised “Your Grace”. The echo of footsteps gets lost through the depths of the narrow hallway, and the man hums absentmindedly, before shutting himself inside his room again.

He wants to rip the envelope in a violent and perusing fashion, but his first instinct is to trail over the paper gently, to run his digits where her hands had been, to touch the edges of her writings with such a desire to be close to her that it scared him.

In a slow and gentle act, he peeled her seal away from the pesky parchment, and sucked in a hectic breath, as he scanned the contents he’d so longly dreamt about.

His hope shattered as rapidly as it came. And Aemond nearly ripped the letter, as his heart clenched painfully inside his chest.

To Aemond,

I thought about what I might say, and word it out in such a way that won’t leave you perplexed or angered.

I think it’s best for us to move along, and stop with these childish musings, that have hence occupied our time since I moved from the Red Keep.

I will forever cherish our acquaintanceship and hold your friendship in the highest regard. But I am a woman grown now – you, a man in all his right –, and we must both start to think about the survival of our families.

Please do not send me any more letters, as I won’t reply to them, and focus instead on your best interests.

The Lady Tully of Riverrun

His feet carried him close to his bed, as he grabbed a hold of her first note. Desperately, he began searching for differences – in the means that it was written, in the handwriting he’s known since his early adolescence, in the marginal and flimsy paper.

The sting of rejection fell heavily over his shoulders, but rationale trumped his crushed spirits – for there must have been something, anything inside the new communication, that would explain its fabrication.

It was impossible those were her words. She’d never been a jousting woman – never regarded her tens of suitors as less than wanting, for the simple fact she didn’t desire them. She would have let him down more softly. She wouldn’t throw away his company.

Contentment can emerge in the quietness of separation, but their friendship endured years of scorn from the gossips of the Court. Her good opinion of him just couldn’t have changed so suddenly.

A final reach entered his mind, as he folded the paper roughly, and settled it atop his table.

If those were truly her words within that letter, and she wanted him to keep his distance, she’d have to tell him to his face.

More than a week had passed since she’d sent him her first letter. A week since she’d awaited his reply, inquiring every messenger within the castle on the arrival of a straying raven, all the way from the Red Keep.

In spite of her avid efforts, each day repeated the same encounter without so much of a hitch – the scrawny boys shaking their heads, as they ceaselessly informed her that nothing addressed to her has reached the tower of the West Wing.

Since then she’d sent out two more hurried manuscripts, despite never once being graced with a reply. All hope seemed lost when she’d woken up that very day and was still met with livid silence.

Through all their years of rapid friendship, Aemond had never ignored her so. As she cut into her plate, the Lady gnawed at her bottom lip, thinking hard on what possibly could have happened to make him turn so cold towards her.

If her status quo were any different, she’d have taken the Red Fork road on horseback, to reach King’s Landing, and confront her oldest friend on the reasons for his dreaded silence.

But her grandsire had fallen ill, and little to no progress was made on his state of brittle health. Her duty thus assigned her to the Riverlands, despite her need of seeing him.

“You have been very quiet, sweet girl.” The husky voice of Grover Tully echoed through the silent chamber. The girl’s cutlery stilled upon the half-full plate, and her eyes raised from her lap, clashing with the stilling blueness, the knowing assessment of his own.

“Apologies, grandfather,” She uttered rapidly with a forced smile upon her face, “My mind was otherwise engaged.”

“As it has been for the past week.” He concluded with a quirked-up brow. The softness in his gaze enveloped her, giving her a rapid sense of security, and her grandfather coughed in the back of his hand, drawing a pattern over the motifs of their tablecloth.

“I suppose I miss some aspects of King’s Landing. I have spent most of my youth there… – though the Riverlands are just as beautiful.” She was quick to intervene.

“Is King’s Landing all that you miss, or is it a certain boy from there?”

Her bright orbs widened with her grandfather’s suggestive tone, and her cheeks reddened in place, as her voice denied it brashly, “Certainly not, I – Aemond and I are friends.”

“It might seem like a long while has passed since then, but I’ve also been young once.”

When her reply was met with sarcasm, she swallowed thickly and drove on, “We are… really good friends, but that is all.” Once again, her stare dissolved, “Though… I’m not sure we’re exactly friends anymore.”

A knowing look adorned his face, and Grover turned his attention to the family crest above their heads. He took a while to pounder, thinking longly on a vast reply, but he eventually nodded to her, and graced the child with an unperturbed, brilliant smile. “I’m sure the Prince is very busy – as are you, my sweet child. Men, and young men especially…” He muttered the latter of his teachings, “Aren’t exactly prone to sentimentality. Not in the way that women are.”

Her lips pursed into a tight line, as his words rang in her ears.

But not Aemond, she wanted to say. He was hardly like the other men she knew – he could be kind and good and comforting. He cared for her, and for their friendship. He wouldn’t just ignore her, just for the sake of not being overly attached to writing.

Although she couldn’t possibly say such a thing – for then her grandsire’s teasing would have been a certain. The girl made herself busy cutting up a piece of meat in carefully drawn-out halves, until she beckoned a reply.

“Indeed. … You’re right, I should stop being so concerned.” She strained herself to answer him. The older man hummed disconcerted, and returned upon his plating. They continued eating in silence, till he mauled himself to tell her.

“... I know how hard this is for you. But our family depends on you. I had to bring you back to Riverrun, to get the other Lords used to the image of a woman in our ancestral seat.”

“Gods, of course, grandfather – and for that, I’m more than thankful.”

Grover raised a shaky hand, and cut her off with a gentle smile, “You do understand… as much as we both hate the idea, I’ll have to soon match you with someone.”

She gripped the goblet of wine before her, and wet her lips with the bitter liquor. “... Of course I do. It is my duty.”

“Your claim will be stronger with an able man around. And if the Gods are good and you also bear a son…”

“I know.” She sighed into the ample cup, “My claim would be thus undisputed.”

“Aemond was not the right match for you.”

The girl bit over her lower lip, wanting to both negate her feelings, and contest upon his honoured values. But she simply nodded to the greying Lord before her and offered a lacklustre smile.

“Perhaps a change of scenery will do you good. I was thinking that you might like the Reach better than the Riverlands... Lyonel Tyrell is an especially kind and thoughtful host.”

A relocation was the last thing on her mind, no doubt, but the Bliss of Riverrun turned her attention to the latter of his eversion.

“Visit the Reach? You think of marrying me off to the boy of Highgarden? … He’s not yet fourteen.”

Silence washed over their council.

“Boys grow swiftly into men. I'm assured he'll be a good one for you."

“He’s a child.”

“You’re seventeen.”

“It still makes for quite the difference.”

“You won’t have to mother children until he’ll also come of age. It gives you three more years of freedom – other ladies would kill for a faction of what you have.”

“I don’t like the finality of your words."

A long and pressing breath beleft his pale and tired lips.

“I couldn’t send you to the North. Jason Lannister has no sons. The Greyjoys are ghastly savages.” As he presented her his trail of thought, Grover Tully shook his head, “And the Targaryens…”

“You’re childhood friends with King Viserys. A match would not fall outside our rank." She slipped and added restlessly, much like a frail and foolish child. Even before he could answer her, his granddaughter raised her hand, as she brushed off her latter thought. “A succession crisis will ensue.” The young woman muttered in his stead.

“I’m old – I’ve seen disputes start for much less. But here we’re talking of the Iron Throne.”

“You think a war is in its midst.”

A cutting silence washed over them. Grover lifted first from the dinner table and breathed in an anxious breath.

“I pray for the sake of the Realm that such a thing will not take root.”

The languid fires of their threshold illuminated her conflicted face.

“Then it’s a good thing Aemond didn't bother to reply to my letters.”

For but a second, Grover’s face was etched with guilt.

“We all have to protect our own.” Sometimes the means to do it are less honourable than we'd wish to.

For all that was worth on that rousy and portentous night, her fate had been agreed upon. And ever the loyal and oppressed servant, the young lady of the Riverlands left with the first callings of dawn, for the impetuous and striking gardens, which were smugly kept inside the Reach.

She would then leave, with her soul and heart all torn to pieces – yet still completely unaware that she’d never see Aemond again.

Never, at the very least, to how she’d known him to always be.

His wide and calculated steps led him to the stronghold’s gates. So easily it came for him to pass the cluttered training grounds, and disregard Ser Criston Cole with a mere shake of his head.

Above all else, he thought it then, he needed to feel his love again. He needed to hold her near once more, and ask all the outlandish questions he endured inside his head, counting for so much of his weakened days. He needed to reach a resolution, after being disregarded for so long. He needed the closure that her voice could offer him, that her mouth would utter out – that this had all been a grave mistake on her behalf, that the note never belonged to her, that she loved him as he loved her, and had merely been scared of it.

His morning session could very well await him, as he so viciously awaited the perfect chance to get away.

Two days away from the arrival of the pesky letter, Aemond had finally managed to slither unperturbed from his neat and tidy prison. Neither his mother nor grandsire had caught him in the act of it, Aegon had been too drunk to notice him dress up for a morning ride, and Helaena had solely clicked her tongue and scowled at him.

As he anxiously secured the belts of his dragon’s saddle, the man hummed in disarray – Riverrun was but a short flight away, but the despair he felt to hold her inside his arms again trumped over his better senses.

With any luck, he figured, she should still be found in bed. His love had never been an early riser, and she loathed getting out of bed in the damning morning light.

He didn’t waste time figuring out pleasantries to share with Grover – much less the words needed to explain his unprompted visit.

His sole purpose was to get to her, ask for her hand, make her his wife and forever be done with it.

He had the biggest claim to her – a Prince bonded with the largest dragon in the world, the one who’d seen and grown with her so many years inside the Keep.

The command of flying was given to his formidable dragon, and the Prince took off for the Trident's three heads.

Hopefulness emerged with unforsaked determination – but as his actions would dictate him from then on out, his efforts would be all for nought, torn apart in stinging vain.

Perma Tag-List: @welcometothelioncage

Specific Tag-List for the Fic: @howyouloveyourdragon @diamantesprincess @carriellie

#aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond fanfiction #aemond imagine #house of the dragon #hotd fanfic #house of the dragon aemond #prince aemond #aemond one eye #hotd aemond targaryen #aemond x you #aemond x y/n #aemond x fem!reader #aemond the kinslayer #hotd aemond #yandere aemond

[kylianswifey]

There's Someone In The House - Kylian Mbappe x reader

Summary:

Hiii!! Can you do one where Kylian is protective over Y/N when something happens to her. Love youu!!!

Y/N had been waiting for Kylian to come home for hours, the house was silent, and she was feeling restless. She had prepared dinner and had been watching TV, but her mind kept wandering. She missed him terribly and wished he would hurry home.

Suddenly, she heard a noise from the backyard, which made her jump. She paused for a moment, trying to figure out what it was, but she could hear nothing. Y/N got up from the couch and walked towards the window, peeking out to see if anyone was there. But it was dark, and she couldn't see anything.

She shrugged it off, thinking it must have been a raccoon or something, and went back to the couch. But then, she heard the noise again, and this time it was louder. Her heart started pounding, and she felt a wave of fear washing over her.

Y/N took a deep breath and tried to calm herself down. She thought of calling Kylian, but then she remembered that he had a game that night and he was probably with his teammates.

She tried to shake off the feeling of unease but then, she heard a sound coming from inside the house. She froze in fear, trying to listen for any other noises. And then, she heard it again – footsteps, coming closer.

Her mind raced, and she thought it must be one of Kylian's pranks, but she couldn't be sure. She picked up her phone and dialed his number, praying that he would answer.

She grabbed her phone and immediately called Kylian. As the phone rang, she wondered if this was some sort of prank he was pulling on her. But the situation felt too real.

"Hey, babe," Kylian said, answering the call. "Is everything okay?"

"Kylian, is this one of your pranks?" Y/N asked, trying to sound calm.

"What do you mean?" Kylian replied, confused.

"There's someone in the house," Y/N whispered, her voice shaking.

Kylian's heart sank. He was in his car with Neymar, and they were still a few minutes away from home. He knew how scared Y/N must be, and he felt helpless. He told Neymar to call the police to their house letting them know the situation.

"Okay, Y/N, listen to me carefully. You need to stay calm, okay? I want you to go to the bathroom and lock the door. Can you do that?" Kylian said, trying to keep his voice steady.

Y/N nodded, even though Kylian couldn't see her. She knew he was trying to help her, but she couldn't help feeling terrified.

Kylian's stomach dropped at the thought of Y/N being so scared and alone. He knew he had to stay strong for her, but he couldn't help feeling panicked himself. "Okay, listen to me," he said, his voice firm. "You need to stay quiet and keep the door locked. The police are on their way and they'll be there soon. You're going to be okay, Y/N. I promise."

He heard her take a shaky breath on the other end of the line. "I'm so scared, Kylian," she said softly.

"I know, baby, I know," he replied. "But you're safe in there. Just stay in the bathroom. The police will be there soon."

The minutes felt like hours and Kylian was racing his way home ignoring Neymar's protests for him to slow down and avoid accidents. He kept thinking of how scared her sweet, precious girlfriend might be and he needed to be there as soon as possible.

Y/N was hearing the intruder break and move stuff outside the bathroom and put her hand over her mouth." Kylian, oh, my god. I'm going to die." Kylian shook his head even though Y/N couldn't see her." No, baby, no. Everything is going to be okay. I'm almost there, Y/N. Please, be quiet, baby, please."

The intruder started banging on the bathroom door, and Y/N screamed, which made Kylian's heart skip a beat. He could hear the fear in her voice, and it made him feel sick.

"Shh, shh, it's okay, baby, don't make a sound," he whispered, trying to keep her calm. "I'm almost there, Y/N. Think of something happy. Think of us."

Kylian listened intently, trying to keep her mind off the terrifying situation at hand. He knew that the intruder was still banging on the bathroom door, but he tried his best to ignore it.

Kylian could hear the police sirens getting closer, and he felt a surge of relief. He knew that Y/N would be safe soon, but he still felt an overwhelming sense of fear and anxiety.

He kept talking to her until he heard the police burst into the house, and he could hear the intruder screaming and struggling as he was arrested. "Y/N, can you hear that?" he asked, relief flooding through him. "The police are there. They're taking care of everything. You're safe now, my love."

As Kylian and Neymar pulled up to the house, he could see the flashing lights of the police cars and the front door hanging off its hinges. He ran inside, his heart pounding with fear and relief, and found Y/N huddled in the bathroom, tears streaming down her face.

He gathered her into his arms, holding her tightly as she shook with sobs. "It's okay, baby, it's okay," he whispered, kissing the top of her head. "You're safe now. I've got you."

For the rest of the night, Kylian stayed by Y/N's side, comforting her and reassuring her that everything was going to be alright. He knew that the trauma of the night would stay with her for a long time, but he was determined to do everything in his power to help her through it.

As he lay in bed with Y/N curled up beside him, Kylian couldn't help but feel grateful for the love they shared. He knew that no matter what challenges they faced, they would always be there for each other. He thought about how scared Y/N must have been, alone in the house with an intruder, and he felt a surge of protectiveness. He promised himself that he would do everything in his power to make sure she never felt unsafe again.

"I love you, Kylian," Y/N whispered, breaking the silence.

"I love you too, Y/N," Kylian replied, kissing her forehead. "And I'm so proud of you for being so strong tonight. You're amazing."

Y/N smiled weakly, snuggling closer to Kylian. "I don't know what I would have done without you," she said softly.

"You would have been okay," Kylian said firmly. "You're a fighter, Y/N. And I'm here for you, always."

As they drifted off to sleep, Kylian felt a sense of peace settle over him. He knew that the night's events had been terrifying, but they had also brought him and Y/N even closer together. He made a mental note to always be there for her, no matter what challenges they faced in the future. Because to him, she was worth everything.

#kylian imagines #kylian mbappe x reader #kylian mbappe imagines #kylian mbappe one shots #kylian mbappe imagine #kylian mbappe #kylian mbappe request

[axelsagewrites]

Hey, how are you? Do you accept request for Otto Hightower?

I wanted something for "marrying Otto Hightower and being the younger sister of the late Queen Aemma Targaryen." Aemma's sister came to court her lost, however, things go wrong and Aemma ends up passing away and her baby also dies hours later. Otto Hightower, widower, hand of the King, with no heir (here, Otto and his first wife had no children, so Alicent was not born yet) and with the stain of his wife's terrible reputation hanging over him, Otto needs a second wife. What happens when he finds himself attracted to the late queen's sister?

Come on, it's supposed to be something light, where Otto doesn't have all that sick ambition to see his blood burning on the throne and having true friendship and loyalty towards Viserys and, of course, having sincere devotion and love for his dear wife. I hope this request reaches you well ❤️ (If I made you uncomfortable, let me know, i'm sorry)

Otto Hightower*My Honour

Pairing: otto x targ!f!reader

Word count: 1628

Warnings: mentions Aemma and her sons death, grief, praying to cope, angst

A/n: alicent doesnt exist in this one

Often times you wondered if staying in kings landing was worth it. it was here you lost your sister and nephew not to mention all the previous children she had to mourn and never hold. You had come a week prior to her labour and eventual death to help but after you felt useless. Perhaps if Rhanerya had not begged you to stay you would have left these haunted halls. After all she was only eight when her mother died.

It was hard to even walk through the halls most days. Every stone, every path, every flower a reminder of her. the sting only grew deeper when Baelon died. A son, an heir, all for what?

You could see the grief etched into Viserys’ face but that did little to comfort you. It was hard to even look at the man you previously considered like a brother. most days the only one you spoke to was Rhanerya.

If people said hello in the halls, you bowed your head and smiled and walked on. When they approached with sympathies during dinners you did the same. Very few words escaped your lips especially since each greeting was met with a sorry look from the lords and ladies who didn’t even truly know your sister enough to mourn her. You weren’t the only one to have suffered a loss recently, however.

On your near daily trips to the sept to pray for your sister, nephew, and niece, you would see Otto Hightower deep in thought. He’d come to Kings Landing with his wife a few years ago to serve Viserys however she had died only weeks earlier.

You’d met her only once and while she was kind enough, she was not the typical wife of a lord.  She tended to walk a fine line of what was acceptable at court and if the rumours and what daemon himself had told you see it was rare that her husband was the one to share her bed.

The marriage had been arranged, like they all are. You understood his position. You had tried to love your first husband though you did not cry when he fell out the moon door during a joust. Still, you mourned like Otto did. Now even more so.

This morning was like all others. You ate with Rhanerya, helped ready her for her lessons, then walked to the sept. however, as you walked something different happened. “Good morning my lady,” Otto greeted as he caught up behind you.

You jumped a little having not heard his soft footsteps. “My lord, sorry I did not see you,”

“It is quite alright. The fault is mine,” he gave a tight-lipped smile you’d seen a few times from him. “Good day my lady,”

Otto went to increase his pace, assuming your silence was a want for absence, but you found yourself no longer able to be quiet, “My lord,” you called. Otto paused, turning to listen, “Would you care to walk to the sept with me this morning?”

A small smile quirked on his lips, “It would be a joy my lady,”

Each morning from then he would join you on your way to and from the sept. at first no words were spoken. Then only a few. Never about death though. It was refreshing as selfish as it sounded. A time when you didn’t have to think of those you lost. Soon it was hard to end the conversation.

“You must ride on the back of her one time. You’ll get to see all the fun,” you laughed after recounting a story of your dragon’s adventures.

Otto laughed but you could see a little green in his skin, “No I think my feet shall remain firmly on the ground, but your offer is very kind my lady,”

As you arrived the sept a small smile found its way on your lips, “You don’t have to call me that. I have a name you know?”

“Really?” he teased, “I must’ve forgotten it,” you rolled your eyes, feigning shock and ignorance as you told him your name like it was a scandal, “What a beautiful name. much better than a name like Otto,”

“You’re so right. Only a cruel person would name their son Otto,” you teased before quickly hiding your smiles when the septas walked out.

As you were both leaving the sept Otto was inspired by your previous affection to return the same, “It may not be as exciting as a dragon but perhaps you would like to join me one night for dinner?”

You stayed silent for a moment as you walked and Otto could feel the sweat gathering on his forehead, “Would this be one of your dinners with the king and other lords or a private affair?”

“Which ever you preferred,” he said, swallowing hard.

A small smile on your lips put him at ease, “I’m free tonight,”

Soon you were laughing in the halls again. Stopping to talk to people again. Having conversations again. Viserys took joy in this, glad to finally see you back to your previous state. Though he could not help being sceptical of Otto.

He trusted him with his life, but he did not know if he could trust him with yours, “Have you seen much of my wife’s sister of late?” he asked one night after all the other lords had left the high council meeting.

Otto swallowed the lump in his throat, “No more than usual. Why my king?”

“No reason. Her condition seems much improved as of late,” he mused, watching his friend’s reaction carefully.

“Grief is a wild beast,” Otto said, revealing as little as he could.

Viserys however needed to know more, “My wife made me swear when we married. ‘if we become family then mine becomes yours and yours becomes mine’. Ever since I’ve seen her as a sister figure of sorts.”

“You’re very kind to her your grace,” Otto shifted in his chair.

Viserys sat back in his, “I’ve had a few lords ask me about her hand since her fathers and husbands passing you know?” Otto went stiff, “all arrogant, obnoxious lords, Aemma didn’t even like when she was alive,”

“She was always a good judge of character,”

“I like to think I am as well,” Otto went to speak but Viserys didn’t stop talking, “I imagine the offers will stop when the rumours spread further,”

“What rumours- “

“Please Otto I am not blind!” Viserys almost barked making Otto go still, “if your attentions are anything but pure, if you think you can use her as something to breed-“ Viserys tirade went on though if anyone else was in the room you’d see his guilt was wrapped in the speech, “then you have lost your mind. She is not something for me to sell, I wont do it, I wont let history repeat. So Otto I swear to whatever gods may exist don’t think I will not replace you,”

The room went eerily silent and was only broken after Otto painfully cleared his throat, “I would like an heir yes however,” he spoke up quickly when he saw Viserys face harden, “However it is not my main desire. I wish to marry, marry someone I care deeply for, someone who I picked and who picked me in return, and to have a child, a child as beautiful as your own daughter who I could bond with like you have. I wish for a family Viserys but only with her. and if she does not want me then I shall leave her be. I don’t wish to cause more harm,”

The hardness washed off the kings face, “If she does not want you? Have you not been courting her?”

“Not officially your grace. The topic it hasn’t came up,”

“What do you even do?”

“We talk,”

“Talk?”

“Yes. Talk,” he said, shuffling forward to gossip like they did when they were younger, “about anything and everything. About the flowers in the gardens and historical figures. Or the moon the night before or the sunrise that morning. We talk and talk and the conversation never dries up. She is charming and witty and more brilliant than any man- any person I’ve ever met,”

Viserys sat silently for a few moments, “You love her?” his words made Otto pause.

“I do. Even if she does not love me,”

“Then I think its about time you find out if she does,”

The walk around the castle gardens was only made better by Otto’s company. He listened as you told him about Rhanerya’s improvement in needle work and what you’d seen on your recent flights. However, his mind seemed to be wondering with each word. “Are you alright my lord?”

Your words snapped him from his thoughts and his mouth had never felt dryer, “May I ask you a question my lady?”

“You just did,” you teased, something he’d usually roll his eyes at, “but I will allow another,”

You expected a joust back but instead he took a deep breath making you pause in your tracks, “I was wondering if you’d attend the king’s birthday celebration with me?”

“I already told you I was going?” you said, head tilted to the side in confusion.

Otto took another deep breath. There was no going back, “I’m not asking if you are going. I’m asking if when we both attend, we attend together. As a couple if you will,” he stayed silent waiting for your response.

The blank look on your face made him panic but a small smirk slowly crept on your face, “Are you asking to court me lord Otto Hightower?”

“I suppose I am,” the smile returned to his lips.

“Then it would be my honour,”

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#otto hightower #otto hightower imagine #otto hightower x reader #otto hightower fic #hotd #hotd imagine #hotd x reader #hotd fic #house of the dragon #house of the dragon x reader #house of the dragon imagine

[randomthingsthatilike1]

honestly I think the wrong parent was sent to pick up Aly in the ending of Trickster's Choice

the entire book we see through Kyprioths visions to Aly that Alanna, above all, cares for Aly, that she really does see Aly for who she is and worries terribly for her lost, hidden daughter, angry and upset and scared. She's constantly scrying for her with the mirror Thom gave her--her daughter is missing and her husband lied to her about it.

After months and months of worrying and praying, Alanna finally knows where her daughter is. She loves George, she does, but he lied to her about her only daughter's well being. And after the 8 years of her training constantly lying to everyone Alanna is sick of it, sick of doing it and avoids it at almost all cost--but for this? For the love she has for her daughter?

She’s been worried sick, scrying every free hour, distracted and blaming herself for her daughter’s disappearance. She's not needed in Frasrland, not really, not with this stalemate at the border. The killing devices are all gone and nothing is happening there. They don't need her--but Aly does.

She’s been married to George for 20 years and she’s known him for 30--she’s picked up a few tricks on how to go around unseen, how to slip away seamlessly but first there are a few things she has to do.

Her husband with his nondescript features can roam freely.  She cannot. She’s far too distinctive nowadays, but to quote her daughter that is what razors and dyes are for. Her long hair is her pride and joy. After years of cutting it boyishly short, as well as being a good enough fighter she can have long hair--it’s her one vanity.

She loves her hair. She’d topple kingdoms for her daughter.

A short and stocky man with copper red hair isn't the ideal spy, but shes here to find her daughter--its the story she goes with. She’s looking for her daughter, a Tortallan, who was kidnapped and sold into slavery in the Copper Isles.She speaks enough Carthaki to get by and well it’s not like she can’t defend herself, even with just a knife and hand to hand.

The only dead giveaway about her are her purple eyes, but she's a mage, with a powerful Gift specializing in manipulating the human body--if there's a magical way to create an illusion or temporarily change your eye color she would know it. If not, I'm sure George has found a way and she's already used it before.

This barely scratches the surface of what she’d do for Aly. She's a mage, with a powerful Gift specializing in manipulating the human body--if there's a magical way to create an illusion or temporarily change your eye color she would know it. If not, I'm sure George has found a way. She glamors her eyes to look the same as her daughter and her husband. She lightly dyes her hair, making it a more blondish red like Aly's.

She finds a young squire stationed at the border and surreptitiously steals some of his clothes and other supplies around camp, her personal weaponry far too flashy and distinctive.

Aly isn’t the only one who was trained by the King of Thieves.

You can’t tell me she’s never done anything like this with George, not wanting to be stared at by people who recognize the famous Lioness, either getting him out of some scrapes or just relaxing and having fun.

Kyprioth is sweating bullets. There's only so much he can hide, although he has far more power in the Copper Isles than Tortall so he can't stop her but he’ll do his best to hide her from the Goddess but uhhhhhhhh there’s only So Much he can do. 

Alanna is Determined--she will find her daughter and is she maybe less subtle than George was? Sure. But all the same, she’s brought to the Balitang’s home in Rajmuat and makes her way to Lombyn.

It’s the same scene, of Alanna approaching Winnamine , introducing herself as Alan Cooper and asking to buy Aly-- Winnamine realizing “Alan” isn’t really here to buy Aly.

It takes Aly just a little longer to recognize Alanna--and she comes to a halt and is filled with shock because this is the Lioness, her mother who is persona non grata to the Copper Isles due to killing one of their princesses decades ago (and wow that might actually get Ochabu to tolerate her mother) and would probably be either killed or ransomed as a hostage p much on sight, the King’s Champion, one of the most distinctive and famous women in the continent--is here.

She’s here, her hair short and lighter and her purple eyes--they’re very similar to Aly’s now. Alanna letting out a sob at the sight of her daughter--her hair also shorter, eyebrow scar, broken nose, but alive and safe and still with that spark in her eye.

Just. The PARALLELS of both having the explicit approval of their god to deceive and lie and how they both deceived so many people to achieve their goals. Aly seeing her mother engage in spycraft and trickery to try to find her is probably a better apology than Alanna could ever find the words for

Later after Alanna had her Own standoff with Kyprioth she tells Aly she didn’t want this life for her, not because she was a noble or a Trebond but because she’s Alanna’s daughter and she knows how hard it is to keep a secret and deceive the people she cared about, and how much it hurt when it all came out. That’s something George never had to deal with--George has never really had to deceive his loved ones. They’ve always known he’s Crooked and an inkling of what he’s been up to--but Alanna has. She did it for 8 long years and she was good at it too, but the amount of pain it brought her after meant she never wanted that for her daughter.

Alanna earned her shield through treachery, the constant fear of being found out dogging her footsteps and once she got it she made sure no other girl would have to.

For Aly just to be reminded how similar she really is to her mother and begrudgingly putting that together--for Kyprioth to tell Aly that yes George gave her the skills he needed that made Aly his ideal Spymaster and what she’s done so far in keeping the Balitangs safe is why he wants her to stay, but it was Alanna’s actions that really sold him on recruiting Aly in the first place.

(I have other feelings about Kyprioth and Alanna here because d a m n “they say he loves a good trick”--as a girl for 8 years Alanna fooled the Tortallan monarchy and nobility. That’s what his Promised Queen will have to do. And he is George’s patron--it would make sense that both of them loved aspects of Alanna.)

(also while she’s there it’d be hilarious for Sarai to spar against Alanna and have her ass handed to her--it’d be a great nod back to when Aly was observing Sarai and thinking about her own training bc it sure would make Ulasim wonder wait can Aly use a sword????)

(also if anyone wants to write this go for it)

#tamora pierce #alanna of trebond #aly cooper #george cooper #alianne crow #alianne cooper #tricksters choice #tricksters queen #i've been working on this in my drafts since 2022 #kyprioth #alanna of pirate's swoop #alanna of pirate's swoop and olau #alanna the lioness #daughter of the lioness #1.1k words of meta later #meta #dove balitang

[baek-at-it-again95]

Deja Vu (Spiderman! Yunho x reader)

Synopsis: It had been three weeks since you saw him. The masked stranger that seemed to appear out of nowhere, protecting your city from crime. The people of the town call him Spiderman, and he has plagued your mind day and night since he saved you.

Warnings: violence, very brief mention of a near death experience, sort of suggestive but not really, I do not know anything about chemistry so please forgive me

Concepts: best friend yunho x reader, ex choi san, angst, fluff, romance, comfort

A/N: hello beautiful atinys! A lovely friend of mine had this genius idea that I had to bring to life. we were totally not inspired by a tiktok edit. It has very similar plot points to the original spiderman movies. I hope you enjoy! <3

"But...who do you think he is?" you ask your best friend, Yunho. He holds the door open for you as you leave your chemistry class together.

"Who knows...but you worry about Spiderman more than you worry about yourself these days, Y/N."

"What can I do?" you ask, throwing your hands up haphazardly. "I almost died falling off a building. That's kind of traumatic, Yunho. Might as well talk about the guy who save me." He sighs, running a hand through his hair.

"I understand. Stay out of trouble, will you? I worry about you being out and about on your own. Hell, I worry something's happened to you when you don't respond to my texts within a five minute window." 

"Clingy much?" you tease, knowing how much of an overthinker your best friend is.

"N-not in like a weird way!" Yunho sputters, dragging a hand down his face in embarrassment. "You're my best friend, Y/N. It's my job to be worried about you. Besides...who else am I going to study chemistry with?" He shoots you his usually goofy grin and you laugh.

"Not me, you know I hate this class!"

"Oh come on, you're the only person that will listen to me talk about it."

"I guess that's my job in this friendship." You shrug. "I will say, it's just so sexy the way you talk about ionic compounds. I can never stop listening." You snort.

"Good to know," he retorts, grabbing your backpack to keep you from running into people on the way to your next class. "Study at the usual spot tonight?" he asks.

You laugh. "I'll be there, sexy."

***

The past few weeks after the incident have been rocky for you, and since you made it halfway through this week without any issue, it gave you a false sense of hope that things could be back to normal.

But no. As if your night couldn't get any worse...

About thirty minutes ago, your boyfriend, Choi San, told you that he wants to take a break from the relationship. You know your relationship has been strained recently, but you thought that it would just pass with time. Maybe it's for the better, but for now, your emotions are still high. Oh, and you found out that you bombed your chem test earlier today. And as if that wasn't terrible enough, the icing on the cake was that it had started pouring on your walk home. 

At least no one can see my tears in the rain, you think to yourself, head down as you walk to your dorm.

"Y/N?"

You sniff, quickly wiping at your face on instinct. When you look up, you come face to face with Jeong Yunho. You muster up the best smile you can to greet him, praying he doesn't ask any questions. If you have to answer anything about your miserable day, you'll surely crack and start crying even harder. "Hey Yuyu." His eyebrows crease with worry, and you think he might have caught on to something. 

"You're going to get sick out here," he comments.

You breathe a small sigh of relief. "No worries. I'm almost home, anyways. No use in calling for a taxi. But...what are you doing out, Yunho?"

"Oh, well I...um...I accidentally fell asleep at the library." 

"Again?" you ask.

"Again," he confirms, hands in his pockets and eyes on his feet.

"Well, let's get home quickly. God, I can't wait to be out of these clothes," you groan, the wet fabric sticking to every part of you and making you uncomfortable. You just barely catch the soft pink of Yunho's cheeks in the low light of the street lamps. "Look, you're already getting sick. Go, hurry home," you push, shooing him away.

"I'm going, I'm going. Goodnight, Y/N."

"Night, Yuyu."

You continue on in the direction of your dorm, eyes on the ground as you make a sad attempt not to splash in deep puddles. The walk seems to drag on longer than usual as you're left alone again with your thoughts.

"Hey!" A voice rings immediately after you turn the corner. It sounded like it came from across the street. You don't stop, just turn to glance at what's going on. That's when you see about four men, dressed in black, walking towards you. You quicken your pace, heart beating rapidly in your chest as you hear the men moving closer. You turn down an alley in hopes of losing them, but they're too fast.

"Hey sweetheart, give us your bag and we'll leave you alone."

"Wait!" you call out. Your thoughts run at a million miles per hour, trying to process the entire situation that occurred in what felt like seconds.

"Or not." Another one chimes in, laughing. You barely have time to process anything as one of them pushes you, shoving the side of your body into the wall. You cry out, closing your eyes and bracing yourself for another hit.

But after a moment, nothing comes.

You hear some shuffling and some shouts in front of you. Lowering your hands from their protective position in front of your face, you open your eyes, seeing one of the men running away. What is happening? As he runs, a force pulls him back quickly. He's pulled by...a rope? No, a web. Spiderman appears right before your eyes, kicking the man to the ground. The criminal scoots back, turning and running away in the direction he and the others came. Spiderman then quickly disappears around the corner.

When you turn to leave, he's right in front of you, hanging upside down from a web. A small gasp escapes your lips.

"You seem to be a danger magnet," he comments.

"It seems so. I suppose you're dangerous, then?"

"No, quite the opposite." You smile.

"There must be some way to thank you," you wonder aloud, taking a step closer. You bring your hands to his face, hesitating as your fingertips touch the hem of his mask.

"Wait," he starts. But he doesn't say anything more. You gently pull the mask up until it stops just over his nose.

"Thank you." You gently bring your lips to his. The kiss is slow and passionate, so lovely that you don't want it to end. But that would be against your better judgement. It's getting late, and he must have other things to attend to. You pull away just slightly, slowly pulling the mask back over his face. And with that, he shoots a web and swings up into the air, gone as quickly as he came.

***

"Y/N."

"Mm."

"Y/N," Yunho repeats, waving a hand in front of your face. "Are you okay?"

"I had possibly the worst night ever last night. So, no, not really," you reply curtly.

"What happened?" 

"Where do I even begin? Oh, for starters, San and I are taking a break," you huff, continuing before he can insert his words of pity. "Which is basically inescapable relationship purgatory. Then I found out I bombed our chem test, got poured on, and after running into you, I almost got jumped." You choose to withhold the information about Spiderman, still trying to wrap your head around your interaction with him.

"Y/N, that's awful," he replies, concern etched on every inch of his face.

"Yeah, it was, Yunho." 

"Are you sure you're alright enough to be at school right now?"

"Yep. I pay for this school, so it makes me feel better when I come to class, even if I don't pay attention. Plus, it's Friday. I can push through until the weekend." He looks like he has more to say, but he just nods. 

"Do you want to stay at my place tonight?" he asks suddenly. You look at him curiously. Sure, you've been to your best friend's apartment, but only to study or to pick up something before heading out somewhere. You've never stayed the night. "N-not like, I mean...we can just hang. Maybe it will help you take your mind off things. And you'll be safe," he adds.

"A sleepover? With my bestie? How could I say no?" Yunho smiles his adorable smile in response, and you can't help but think about how sweet he is. You haven't exactly returned his kindness lately with everything going on, and maybe you can talk to him about it at his place...at least give him some sort of apology.

***

"That's so you!" says Yunho, pointing at a character in the movie he put on. 

"Absolutely not!" you exclaim, throwing a piece of popcorn at him. 

"Ah, not nice!" he laughs, grabbing your wrist. Your smile falters and he lets go as soon as he notices. "I'm sorry, did I hurt you?" he asks worriedly. 

"No, no, it's okay. I just...I remembered I needed to talk to you about something." He tilts his head, looking at you like an innocent puppy. 

"Oh, what is it?" His tone is soft, with maybe a hint of nervousness.

"I just...I've been so in my head recently that I feel like I haven't been involved with you. All the time, you check on my wellbeing, and I forget to check on yours. I mean, when was the last time I asked how your life was going? You offer me nothing but kindness, and I have not returned it to you. And I'm really sorry, Yunho."

"Y/N, it's not like that," he assures gently. "I understand that you've been through a lot of stressful things recently. It's only human that you would react negatively to these stressors. I just want you to know that I'm here for you. No one is perfect, and no one's life is absent of hardships. People need guidance; they need care. People need stability in a time when their life is thrown off balance. Just know that I will be that stability for you, Y/N."

"Yunho—" you choke out, the all-too-familiar burning sensation in your throat as you fight back tears. 

"Oh, don't cry." He glances around nervously, not really sure how to comfort you. 

You laugh through your tears. "I just...what did I do to deserve you?" You practically knock him over as you crash your lips onto his, relaxing into his arms. Your kiss slow and passionate; warm and comforting. It's blissful, and it seems...oddly familiar. But you've never kissed your best friend before. Maybe in a dream? Your ex surely didn't kiss like this. You gently pull away from him, eyebrows scrunched.

"What?" Yunho asks, scanning your face.

"I just...got deja vu," you mumble.

"Strange." Yunho shrugs, pulling you back into a kiss. You push away again and giggle as he tries to chase your lips. The familiar feeling is still present. The only person you've kissed like this is....

The thought that pops into your head seems so unbelievable, so embarrassing that you don't dare give too much away in fear of being wrong. 

"You're...him?" you whisper. 

"Who?" he asks with big eyes, a smile tugging at his lips.

"You know who!"

"No, I don't know what you're talking about, Y/N." It feels as if he's teasing you. You groan out of frustration, not wanting to be wrong about such an outlandish idea. Yunho suddenly tenses a bit, setting you gently on the couch as he gets up.

"Well...perfect timing. Something's going on downtown," he says, disappearing into his room. You watch with a confused look until he emerges, clad in the familiar blue and red suit, mask in hand. Even though you had just made the connection...it didn't seem real. Your breath catches in your throat as you watch him.

"You just told me you knew. Why are you all shocked?" he asks.

"I didn't know I was right," you manage. Your nerdy best friend? A superhero that fights crime? Unbelievable. Yunho slides a window open before he looks back to you. 

"I'll be back in a few, okay?" You nod, coming over to him.

"Okay. Be safe." You peck his lips before he puts on his mask, climbing out the window. He leaps off the balcony and your heart practically stops, only to start back up again as you see him swinging on his webs from building to building. "Oh my god," you mutter to yourself, running a hand down your face.

You have a lot of things to say when he gets back. Starting with the fact that this was way sexier than ionic compounds.

#jeong yunho #ateez au #spiderman #ateez x reader #yunho x reader #spiderman au #ateez fic #spiderman yunho #kang yeosang #song mingi #jung wooyoung #kim hongjoong #park seonghwa #choi jongho #choi san #yunho month #ateez reader insert #ateez

[hotxcheeto]

Hello!

Can you write something with Vi x Fem!reader, where Vi gets sick and the reader takes care of her?

I just want some fluff, I'm a bit off rn :/

━ 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐍𝐔𝐑𝐒𝐄

𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜(𝙨) - Vi x Fem!Reader 

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 - Cursing, sickness, idk what else

𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙤𝙛𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 ? - Yeah/Nope

𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙧'𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚 - I hope you feel better darling <3 here it is, a bit short, but it's late and I thought this was cute

Vi was like a big baby, your baby, but still a baby.

She'd whine to you, cling to you, complain to you. Everything she'd never think about doing in front of anyone else. And it was even worse when she was sick.

Not that you minded.

If anything it was adorable, but Vi hated it. She hated how vulnerable she could be, or worry she was bothering you.

But it never did, and you didn't mind.

"Y/n?" You were lying quietly beside her, running your fingers through hair, not caring about the slight sweat from her fever. Half awake and eyes fluttering open and shut as you fought off sleep incase she needed something.

Worried even in exhaustion.

"Hm?" You then responded. She was quiet for a moment, staring up at you through the dimly lit room, rain quietly pattering against the windows.

It would've sent you back to sleep just by the sounds of the weather and the calming sounds of her breathing. You nearly did fall back into your light slumber when her voice stirred again,

"Do we have more of that medicine?" She croaked out in her sickly, groggy, deepened voice.

She knew you did, but she also knew that it was across the apartment and you'd barely slept while taking care of her already.

But her head hurt so fucking back, and she couldn't help it anymore.

You opened your eyes, taking in a breath while sitting up.

"Yeah, I'll go get it, okay? And some water."

She felt terrible as soon as you began sliding off the bed, but you didn't give her a moment to second guess her ask. Taking off to get the stuff to make her feel better, not a another thought in mind despite there being many in hers.

It wasn't long until you returned with a glass of water and the medication paired with a spoon you nearly fought somebody over to get.

Hell and back just to get the small bottle, and you didn't regret a thing.

You sat beside her, giving her the water before pouring the ugly colored liquid into the spoon while Vi sat up. Each muscle aching and in pain, praying for her to rest.

"I'm sorry." "Don't be.." You kissed her warmed cheek, getting a little smile out of her while you held up the silverware. "Open wide." "Fuck me, I forgot about this part." You laughed quietly, shoving the spoon in her mouth when she talked catching her off guard.

"There you go." She made a face as you pulled back, coughing while practically guzzling the water after you set the spoon and medicine beside the bed.

"Shit.." She choked, looking at you with an expression that made you laugh out loud by accident.

"Let me feel you.." "If you ask nicely, Cupcake.." You snorted, reaching out to feel her face once more, her skin riding the line of being hot.

"You're burning up again." "I'm fine."

Your face went slack, glaring down in a playful yet scolding manner.

"Violet, you need to get some sleep." "But I don't want to."

"Lay back down." She huffed, falling down onto her pillow while you covered her up with the blanket that she couldn't pull up herself. "You comfortable?"

Vi then shook her head, staring at you with her head just barely peeking out from top of the covers.

"What else would you like, my big baby?" You leaned down, kissing her forehead a few times. "Well sunshine, I'd like the hot nurse to lay with me too." "Oh is that so?"

She nodded, smirking up at you when you began to lay beside her.

"You know I'm probably gonna get sick after this, right?" "I'll take care of you." You giggled, snuggling underneath the blanket with her, feeling her warm hand against your bare waist.

"Will you be my hot nurse?" "I don't know if I could ever compare to you." Vi then muttered as she felt your finger move up to her cheek, running along her skin, distracting her from her aching limbs.

"I disagree." Vi blinked, once then twice, looking over each little mark and feature on your face. "I dunno Sunshine, have you seen yourself? I couldn't compare." "I think you're very pretty, actually, you compare almost a bit too perfectly."

You swore her face turned a deeper shade of crimson then it already was from her temperature. Bashfully glancing away while cuddling into the pillow.

"How much sleep did you get today?" She then shrugged, humming when you ran your fingers through her hair, giving her sweat forehead a break when it stayed back. "I haven't been able to." "You feeling any better?" She shrugged once more, smirking when you scoffed.

"Maybe I should give you more medicine, so you'll really sleep through it–" "No, I'll take a nap." She nodded, assuring you as she began to change her position.

"Oh alright, just relax though, I'll set your pillows up so–" Vi wrapped her arms tightly around you, falling face first onto your chest, your body much colder than hers that ran hotter than ever now.

"That works too. You need anything else before–"

"I'm all good doc, but I'm gonna need you to stay, make sure I sleep good."

You smiled, adjusting the covers on her shivering body, looking at the rainy window.

"Could've asked. Terrible communication as a patient. But the cutest, I'll give you that." You again began running your nails through her hair and down her neck. Going over her shoulders before repeating it.

For a moment everything muffled, and it was only you and her.

"Don't stop.." She muttered, drooling against your shoulder. "That feels good." "I won't, promise. I love you."

But all there was left in the room was her quiet breathing and the sound of pitter patter against the glass.

#vi x yn #arcane vi x reader #vi x y/n #vi x reader #vi x you #arcane vi #vi arcane #arcane netflix #arcane #arcane league of legends #arcane x y/n #arcane x reader #arcane x you #vi arcane x reader #nevy writes

[melonmilkshake]

Hai ! ^^ I still wanna try to request the thing I did last time it was the thing where nyen or randal fucks the reader ( male or nb ) and cuts there stomach open at the same time X-< sorry for asking this again u can ignore !!

Randal Ivory x reader

(Re making the oneshot you requested before and adding it with this one if thats okay)

Smut

He/Him | Male

TW: gore, blood, knife play, pet names, hand job, slight amount of cannibalism (feeling silly :P), vomit, abuse, basically gross sex

Randal's pet isn't cooperating correctly when Randal is trying to feed him food... he needs to put him in his place

BEFORE READING THIS WILL BE A MIXTURE OF A OLD ONESHOT I MADE ON MY WATTPAD AND THIS ONE.

This is not as good as original oneshot so beware.

"Come on puppy eat up!!" He groaned in frustration at your refusal. The food was probably the most disgusting shit you've ever seen. You were praying Luther would walk into the kitchen and tell Randal to knock it off.

He pouted and slammed the spoon down. "Luther!! He's not being a good boy!" Randal yelled but to his reply got nothing back. Luther probably was just ignoring him and didn't want to deal with him right now.

He sighed again picked up the spoon. This time he grabbed your face so he could open your mouth. "Say ah puppy~" he said with and shoved the rotten spoonful of rotten food in your mouth. You quickly kicked his stomach and he fell backwards.

You almost got out of the chair until he launched at you. You hit the floor harshly and with that Randal started kicking and stomping on you. You yelped and spit out saliva from his violent kicks.

You gagged and yelled almost about to throw up from the vile pain he was inflicting on you. He stopped for a second letting you get some air as you coughed up a bit of blood. He suddenly opened your legs and started stomping on your crotch.

If anything the whole house could here your screams and yelps but nobody came to help you. He sat on your stomach with a shit eating grin. Your legs trembled from his sudden assult on your crotch.

Catching you off guard he started punching the living shit out of your face. You gasped and tried getting him to stop. You were doing your best to put up a fight but you were starting to choke on your own blood that filled your throat. Blood was splattering on the floor and you started vomiting from the abuse he was giving you. The mixture of vomit and blood got all around his hands and your face.

Your body was shaking but you didn't back down just yet... he soon enough stopped and giggled. "Ahh... I'm sorry pretty boy I didn't mean to go that far. You should really listen to your own-" You suddenly spat blood in his face that was coming from your mouth.

And with another shit eating grin he got up and stomped your head making you pass out. You heard a sicking pop when he did so.

-

When you woke up you were laying on cold hard ground and completely naked. You were confused and had old dried up vomit and blood on your chest and face. It was sticky and gross.

Your body had a ton of bruises on it and your dick was in terrible pain leaking what you could only call blood from the tip with a mixture of precum.

Randal appeared behind me and kissed my cheek not caring about the fluids on it. "You're finally awake good boy!!" He giggled and jumped happily. He was completely naked as well...

You gave up and accepted your fate what was the point of even fighting if this was now just going to be your life? Randal licked your cheek while pressing a knife up against your throat and using his other hand to start stroking your cock pumping it slowly and fastly.

Even if the pain was unbearable you felt completely turned on not caring about the danger that awaited you because in your mind in this moment in time you needed to be pleasured.

He opened your legs up more and got between them and with a sharp thrust he put his cock in you. It took you a few seconds to finally get adjusted to his size but soon enough you were comfortable... somewhat.

His thrusts were fast and nothing loving or sweet just pure violent if you can even put it that way. You started feeling something stinging against your stomach. What could it be? You looked down and yelped. You tried squirming under him so you could get out while he started cutting open your stomach slowly pulling out your intestines while he kept on fucking you.

Everything was becoming hazy while your organs and blood spilled out of you. He started licking and sucking on your exposed insides playing with them as you started losing consciousness.

Before you knew it everything went black. When Randal realized you might not be 'here' anymore he panicked. He started screaming for Luther saying "he's not working correctly" or "he's broken."

It seemed he was more upset about you being dead more than yourself luckily Luther might be able to bring you back and sure enough when he did Randal would still be grounded for having sex with you and killing you.

#randal ivory x reader #ranfren x you #ranfren oneshots #ranfren x yn #ranfren x reader #randal ivory oneshot #randal ivory x you #randal ivory x yn #oneshots #smut #character x you #character x reader #x reader #x yn #x you

[appocalipse]

i wasn’t sure if you wanted this to be romantic or platonic, so i just went with what felt right to me. i hope it’s okay. ♥ thank you for being nice and requesting ♥ please come say hi again and tell me if you liked this!

“What did he say?” Steve asks.

He's sitting on the edge of his father's armchair — who, of course, is not home — and leans over to gently rest his hand on your knee, a look of concern on his face.

“Oh, you know, the usual,” you reply, smiling sadly and then sniffling. Though it's not the first time you cry in front of your best friend, you feel a little pathetic for doing so, especially over something so stupid. “I'm a great girl, I deserve better, yada, yada. He’s just not in love with me anymore.”

Steve feels sick to the stomach. Not in love with you anymore? That's fucking rich.

He tries not to let on what he's thinking — that your boyfriend is a big, massive blind idiot for breaking up with you.

Your eyes are still red from crying. for God's sake. Steve can't help but think the worst.

Well, honestly, he doesn't think so, but…

“Did he hurt you?” he asks just to be sure.

“No,” you quickly shake your head. “No, no, he would never. He just…we just talked.”

He believes in you. When you stopped by Family Video at the end of Steve's shift to ask for a ride, in tears, Steve thought the worst. He felt terrible, thinking you had been seriously injured, or that someone had died, or maybe some gate to an alternate dimension had opened up somewhere and sucked someone in — in Hawkins, you never know.

But then you told him that your boyfriend, who you'd been with since high school, had broken up with you.

Steve thought there couldn't be anyone dumber in all of human history than this guy.

“Maybe he's right,” you say after a while, voice nearly a whisper. “Maybe I'm just boring.”

“Don’t say that.”

You're fidgeting with your fingers, not looking up at him. "I'd break up with me too."

"Well, I'd never break up with you."

Oh, God. Did he really say that out loud? Steve looks from your hands to your face — you're already looking at him, and he prays you didn't notice what he just let slip.

Judging by your half-confused, half-surprised expression, you did.

He swallows a lump and stands up, rubbing his palms on his pants and looking anywhere but your eyes. “Uh, do you- do you want some hot chocolate?”

It's a pathetic excuse to change the subject, he knows. Nothing more than an escape from the aftermath of his own words.

You open your mouth to reply, but he doesn't wait, looking a little uneasy when he smiles, “I'll make some. It always makes you feel better.”

As he disappears into the kitchen, you think of the one thing you didn’t tell him; the one thing your ex-boyfriend had said only a few hours ago, and that only now is starting to make sense.

I think you’re not in love with me too, Y/N. You just don’t know it yet.

more drabbles | request here!

#steve x reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x you

[generalhumancloudalmond2]

Weak

Platonic!Yandere!Tartaglia x Child!Fem!Sister!Reader

The first time Ajax realized that he could lose you was when he accidentally overheard a conversation between his parents. The father comforted the mother, because that day they learned that their unborn child could die before giving birth. He was shocked and devastated, just as much as his parents. That night he cried almost until the morning, praying for your life and the life of his mother. Fortunately, everything went well, you were born weak, but alive and that was enough for him, now everything will be fine. At least, that's what he thought.

The second time you were three years old, when you were particularly ill. Of course, you were often get sick throughout your infancy, but he will never forget that terrible illness. He remembers how his parents fussed around your crib in a panic, on the first night of your illness. Then father ran away from home to get a doctor, and mother ran to the kitchen for something. At that moment Ajax came to your crib, he didn't fully understand the turmoil of adults, you didn't scream. However, when he saw your blue skin, and instead of the expected loud screams, he heard quiet heart-rending wheezes, everything fell into place. Even if his mother pushed him away almost as soon as he saw his younger sister, that picture and those wheezes were etched into his memory forever.

Now you were sick with another cold. Lying on the bed and covering yourself with a warm blanket, you prayed to all the archons that you would have time to get over the illness by the arrival of your older brother. After all, being sick next to Ajax is backbreaking work. He reacted to each of your illnesses as if you were dying, and took each of your sneezes as a confession of your imminent death. And this is not an exaggeration. When you got sick, he hardly left your bed, even at night Ajax just sat next to you. Sometimes, you gave slack, allowing him to lie next to you, at such moments he resembled a contented red cat.

"Y/n! Ajax is back!"

Teucer happily told you when he looked into the room, but as soon as he saw you lying in bed, he immediately stopped and guiltily lowered his head.

"I'm sorry if I woke you up..."

"No, it's okay, I didn't sleep. In fact, I'm already better and I've already recovered."

"Wow! Less than a day has passed, and you have already recovered! It's so cool!"

Looks like one of your brothers believed your clumsy lies. Maybe Ajax will believe it too? When you went downstairs with the Teucer, you saw your brother standing in the corridor, he had not yet had time to take off his warm coat when the Teucer hung on him.

"Teucer! My little rascal! I already thought there was no one at home..."

"Parents with Tonya and Anton went to the market. They didn't know you were coming back today, but I saw you from the window."

"Haha, I wanted to make a surprise, but it looks like my big-eyed brother caught me. But, Teucer, why didn't you go with the others?"

"I wanted to look after Y/n! She wasn't feeling very well this morning..."

Damn, Teucer! And how could you ever forget that he tells his older brother absolutely everything.

"...But she's better now."

"I see. But she is in bed now, ri...?"

And then his gaze clings to you, the atmosphere around him changes. With a heavy sigh, he lets go of Teucer, and taking off his glove, begins to feel your forehead with the back of his hand.

"Your forehead is hot, it looks like you have a fever... So, go get into bed, I'll be there soon."

"It's not my forehead that's hot, but your hands are cold..."

"Y/n, please don't try to seem strong and healthy, you are very weak and fragile. It's a pity that you still don't understand it yourself."

#platonic #yandere #platonic yandere Tartaglia #platonic yandere Childe #platonic Tartaglia #yandere Tartaglia #platonic Childe #yandere Childe #platonic genshin impact #yandere genshin impact #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #child reader #platonic genshin x reader

[soleilnomoon]

could i also order a mocha latte with a chocolate (carmel) mousse with some poppy seeds! he/him ftm with eren pls💖

૮₍ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ₎ა ty for your patience, this was a lil labor of love. also i love a good fake dating trope!! and eren, i love him sfm (obvy but yk) 💗💗it's probably more angst than necessary but that's just how i live my life.

2.8k words, ftm reader (he/him pronouns), nsfw, 18+ mdni; hurt/comfort, angst~, smut obvy, some fluff if you squint real hard; modern au feat. fake dating/marriage of convenience, arranged marriage, eren living in denial bc that's what he does best, fingering, a lil bit of tlc on eren's part (shocker), mutual (unrequited) pining. reader is better than me bc i'd never have that much restraint but that's just bc i'm weak (⸝⸝ᵕᴗᵕ⸝⸝); both of them need to get it together *washes hands* (if u see spelling/grammar mistakes, no u didn't (⸝⸝ᵕᴗᵕ⸝⸝))

“i pray you do not fall in love with me, for i am falser than vows made in wine.” — william shakespeare

HORS D’OEUVRE

you remind yourself, for the twentieth time this week, that it’s simply business.

as your parents’ only child, it only made sense that they’d try to marry you off to the highest bidder — the business world is all about making meaningful connections, and you know that better than most. marriage was never something that you envisioned for yourself, but your parents rarely ever demanded anything from you, so the least you could do was adhere to their wishes.

and if you knew your husband-to-be would be this standoffish and hard to read, you might not have agreed — it’s a lie that you like to tell yourself, because it makes it easier to deal with his constant rejection. still, you did sign a contract — one he drafted outside of his parents’ prying eyes, one that he had you sign secretly; that you both agreed to one full year of marriage for appearances, that you refrain from interfering with one another’s private lives, and that you’d never fall in love.

you didn’t think much of it at the time, because there was no way in hell that you would fall in love with a man like eren jaeger. not when he looked at you like you were a nuisance that he was forced to deal with; not when he was so stiff and curt with you whenever you tried to drum up conversation; not when he barely sat for meals with you; and not when he refused to share a bedroom with you after you moved in together.

still, you hold your head up high, determined to see things through; the sooner this sham of a marriage was over, the better.

and eren was of the same mindset.

he argued with his parents until he was so fed up that he had to leave for a few days to calm down; an arranged marriage was always in his future, he just didn’t think it’d happen so soon. maybe it’s because his parents were tired of seeing him galivant with a different partner each week — maybe because the image of their company desperately needed a more family-oriented look (to draw in the masses, of course).

or maybe they wanted to punish him for being impulsive and hard-headed, for not wanting to take the path that was neatly laid out for him, and for simply rejecting the last twenty marriage candidates they presented to him over the past few years.

so, imagine their surprise when eren agreed to marry you — someone who kept to themselves, who didn’t cause trouble for their family, who seemingly looked obedient to the point that it made him sick. he figured the best way for him to live his life would be to use you as a cover up; you didn’t look like the type to complain, nor did you look particularly interested in getting married either.

it was the perfect solution to his problem, and it didn’t hurt that he found you attractive, too. not that he was going to tell you that just yet.

APPETIZER

despite how terrible his personality is, you can’t deny that your husband is handsome. you catch yourself staring at his profile while you wash dishes in the kitchen, eyes lingering on the shape of his jaw as you scrub the same plate over and over. he’s on the phone again, arguing with one of his friends — jean, maybe? — so you’re safe to admire him from afar, like you’ve always done. you try not to do it too openly because he tends to act smug when his ego is stroked, and you don’t have the capacity to deal with that just yet.

but also, more importantly, because you don’t ever want him to know that you’d give anything for him to come over and—

“i don’t care,” eren says loudly, his voice echoing from the adjacent hallway as he paces around. the noise startles you, so you turn to focus on the dishes before sneaking a glance at him again.

eren turns when he feels your eyes on him, and you don’t have a chance to look away fast enough. his eyes are a startling shade of green that matches his intense and audacious personality; you grip the wine glass in your hand a little too hard as he watches you. curiosity at your behavior makes him narrow his eyes and you assume he’s annoyed with you again. except, that’s not true at all.

he’s mostly annoyed with himself.

the marriage, in theory works just fine — he just did not consider the possibility of him developing feelings for you, not after being together for six months already. he finds every excuse to not touch you; barely looking your way in the mornings and evenings — the only time he even shows a modicum of interest is whenever you’re both whisked away to events that require both of you to be in attendance.

it’s out of duty that you comply, but you find it harder and harder as time goes on.

the first time eren kissed you was after you exchanged wedding vows — his lips were much softer than you thought they’d be, and while he’d only intended to give you a quick peck, he’d become entirely too immersed. you’d always found yourself disappointed with past partners because of the way they’d kissed, but eren truly made you feel like you would float for eternity. his hand was warm against the back of your neck, and you thought your heart would shoot out of your chest when his tongue brushed against your lips.

even though your lips parted immediately, eren remembered himself and refused to let himself get carried away. you were a little disappointed when he pulled away, but when you looked up at him you noticed the faint flush on his cheeks. you smiled to yourself, committing the sight to memory — which would become your anchor afterward — and genuinely enjoyed his presence throughout the rest of the evening.

where he was usually gruff and blasé, he’d suddenly become the perfect, loving groom. it unnerved and confused you; he was very adamant about keeping this as superficial as possible.

you wondered if it was part of the act? but if that was the case, why wouldn’t he mention before so you wouldn’t get so caught off guard. it made you skittish whenever his hand brushed against yours, whenever he offered you secret smiles and prolonged looks, and whenever he leaned down to whisper words of encouragement when it seemed like your anxiety over the whole affair was eating you alive.

it helped ground you but did nothing to stop your heart from beating rapidly when the realization set that you were married to him.

but by the time you got into the car to head back home, he sat as far away from you as possible, his posture stiff, expression unreadable. he’d gone from sociable and charming, to his usual petty self.

incredible.

“it’s just business,” he said out loud; you wanted to ask if those words were meant for you, or if they were meant for him. the question never leaves your mouth; you swallow back the rejection as best as you can, steel your features, stare out the window and remind yourself that falling in love with eren jaeger would be your downfall.

ENTRÉE / MAIN COURSE

after that, he makes it a point to only touch you out of necessity; he figures it’s the most logical and diplomatic solution to his problem. jean continues jabbering in his ear about nonsense, and he leans against the kitchen island, eyes tracing down the length of your neck and the slender shape of your shoulders. he really should take his conversation elsewhere, but he’s a masochist without meaning to be.

“uh huh,” he says noncommittally, a heat passing through him the moment you glance his way again — again, you’re doing that thing where you act as if you’ve been caught red-handed, like some doe-eyed deer in the middle of the night. and maybe you are, or maybe it’s all an act.

little does he know, you’re much too aware of his presence now, and your hand slips when you grab a plate and it shatters in the sink.

“damn it,” you say loudly and start to pick up the large pieces without thinking; you cut your hand and try to clean out the wound as best as you can. eren hangs up the phone in the middle of the conversation to make his way over to you; the scent of his cologne suffocates you in the best way, and when you turn and offer a small smile so you can rebuff his offer to help, you hesitate.

“let me see,” he demands, “don’t even think about arguing.” he casts you a sharp glass, one that tells you to behave, and for some reason, you find yourself wondering what would happen if you didn’t follow that command. but eren’s already grabbing onto your wrist and inspecting your palm carefully, long fingers gliding along your skin softly, making you a little dizzy. goosebumps prick your skin down your arms when he drags you to the bathroom so he can properly dress the wound.

you don’t know what to make of any of this; the questions pummel through your throat, bouncing around your mouth, desperate to escape. you never let them, though, and swallow them back with as much patience as you can muster.

“hop on the counter.” he lets go of your hand and rummages through the cabinet; surely, he’s joking, and you stand there stupidly, blinking at him, not moving an inch.

he grabs the first aid kit and narrows his eyes at you, the look he gives you is disarming and he steps close enough to place his hands on either side of you, gripping the counter tightly. “that wasn’t a request, you know.” your skin burns fiercely, and suddenly it’s hard to swallow; you do your best to hop on top of the counter in the minimal amount of space he allows you.

unfortunately for you, he does not let up. eren takes his time cleaning the wound properly before applying some ointment and wrapping it. he holds your hand much more delicately than you’re used to. you watch him, wide-eyed, breathing unevenly as you contemplate how to proceed with this man. for all the bullshit he puts you through, you know he’s lying to himself about his feelings towards you.

especially when he keeps looking at you tenderly, but also with slight annoyance — like he can’t figure out what to do with you yet. on impulse, he leans forward, lips brushing against yours and he knows that if he kisses you, there’s no turning back. you don’t make it any easier for him when you allow him to stand in between your legs, his hands gripping your hips and causing our mind to go blank.

you let out a soft noise, one that nearly incapacitates him; his cock strains at the front of his pants, making everything that much more difficult to deal with.

he knows he should leave, but he can’t — not yet, anyway. it’s eren who grabs the back of your neck and holds you steady as he kisses you, mouth moving against yours agonizingly slow, tongue gliding into your mouth with familiarity. the kiss leaves you both breathless, but it doesn’t stop him from kissing you again, nor does it stop you from helping him unzip and tug his pants and underwear down. his cock is smooth and heavy when you stroke it with your uninjured hand; the kisses transform into something feverish and frenetic, your skin warming significantly when you feel his hips jerk forward the faster your hand moves.

pre-cum slides down his tip, a welcomed sight in your book. you smile against his lips when his patience wears thin — he tugs on your clothes to strip you bare, and you do the same for him. you wrap our legs around him, hold him close to kiss him one more time — mind a muddled mess the moment his fingers enter you, scissoring around, pumping in and out lazily. you moan against his lips, hips rolling forward as your nails drag along his skin.

after plucking his fingers out of you, he rubs the head of his cock against your needy entrance, a shiver crawling through you at the sensation. you whine and fuss, telling him to hurry up.

he tsks quietly and shoots you a mischievous look, one that makes you nervous in a good way. there’s nothing soft or gentle about the way eren fucks you; but every time he does, it becomes much more intimate in its own way. you both knock things off of the counter, his cock sliding in and out of you, lips dragging along your throat, littering your skin with kisses and bite marks.

you clench around him desperately and he angles his hips to power into you faster and deeper. you moan his name so loud it only makes him want to fuck you harder; so he does. he’s not sure if it’s his heart or yours — or maybe both? — that beats loud enough to make him wonder if any of this is real. you’d say yes, if he ever had the courage to ask — but, as usual, his cowardice somehow wins out.

still, you can’t really complain; not when he keeps whispering in your ear, giving you the sort of praise that makes your toes curl. when you wrap your legs around him, hold him closer to you, he gives you short, brutal strokes, hips knocking into yours roughly.

it’s then that you really scream for him, and his lips find yours again as a lightheaded feeling takes over your entire body. you both cum simultaneously, a feat that surprises him; he rolls his hips lazily, cock sliding in and out of you for a little while longer until you both can’t take it. he doesn’t pull out right away and allows you to rest your forehead against his chest; a faint sheen of sweat coats your skin, but he holds onto you anyway.

when you place a soft, chaste kiss on the corner of his mouth, he realizes he’s in too deep. he pulls away suddenly and is already putting up his walls again.

with great difficulty, you climb down and reach for him, but he evades your touch and grabs his clothes so he can put them back on.

DESSERT

panic settles in your chest, the sinking realization that he’s going to run away from you again makes you clean up quickly so you can follow after him. he knows you won’t let this go, so he decides to cut to the chase. eren faces you and with a stern, severe expression, he says, “i can’t do this right now.” and he really can’t — or, rather, doesn’t want to.

to him, that’s the end of the discussion, but you’re so damn persistent — something that both was admirable and obnoxious to him — and stop him again.

“no,” you say firmly, which surprises him, “yes the fuck you can. we’re doing this right damn now.” you leave very little room for argument, so he relents; maybe if he lets you talk at him for a bit, you’ll drop this.

“what is it?”

your bravado slips but you still hold strong. “eren, we can’t keep…,” you trail off, lips pursed as you try to find the best way to say this, “i mean you can’t keep stringing me along like that.” you had feelings and a fragile heart, one that you willingly give to him over and over. his teeth sink into his bottom lip as he mulls over your words. “what are you so afraid of?”

he almost blurts out the truth, but instead balls his hands into fists at his side and attempts nonchalance again.

you won’t let up, though and poke at his chest with your finger. “i never pegged you for a coward,” you say harshly, which gives him pause. “i’m not going to have a half-assed relationship with you, i deserve more than that.”

he doesn’t speak for a long moment, the silence choking you, making you want to hide under your covers for the rest of the day; but then the strangest thing happens. resigned and wholly captivated by you, eren sighs and pulls you close to him. it’s an embrace that makes you question his motives, but his lips ghost along the curve of your ear and you can feel your heart pummeling against your rib cage. you will it to keep quiet, but it never slows. despite trying your best to remain calm and patient, you wish eren would hurry up and give you his answer, and before you can pester him about it again, his arms wrap around you and he whispers, “okay.”

#it is done goodness #eren is the worst and i love that for him #fic request #milestone event #500+ followers event #🍭✨🍨sticky & sweet event🧁✨🍭 #snk smut #snk angst #snk x reader #snk x y/n #aot smut #aot angst #aot x reader #aot x y/n #eren jaeger x reader #eren jaeger x y/n #eren jaeger angst #eren jaeger smut #‘i can change him’ 🥴

[kalopsiavn]

How would the LI react if MC became seriously ill? I'm sorry if this question is poorly worded, my English is terrible and I'm barely learning.

It's okay nonnie! I get the non native english speaker pain TvT

Angst warning!

Cain

Being a clergy has made him learn how to nurse a sick person very well. Expect him to handle you with utmost care. He feeds you, he bathes you, he even tries to exercise your limbs so they don't get stiff. When you are finally able to stand up and walk, you will find him, in the middle of the night, praying with his hands clasped together.

"God...you never gave me anything I asked for..but please for the first time..make it true...please heal them..."

Aiden

He would get seriously worried. He drops his hard to get act and brings you a literal personal doctor. Expect the perfect setting in the room where you will be staying. He takes a hiatus from his public life just to spend more time with you, take care of you despite having maids to take care of your food and hygiene.

"I'm sorry..I couldn’t spend more time with you..."

Isaiah

He attended med school for a few years so he knows a few things about healthcare. But if your condition begins to deteriorate, he will urgently take you to the hospital. He will spend many sleepless nights, waiting for you to get well...waiting for the doctor to give him the good news.

"My rose...why have you withered? I took care of you everyday...please come back to life...please don't leave my garden.."

Haruto

He has the money to spend. Knowing how his little bird is sick, he will immediately call for his family doctor to go check you. Doesn't care about the fact that this might freak you out but it's a bunch of professionals at your doorstep..doctors you have seen getting awards. Will call you from an unknown number to check on you. Who might this mysterious guardian angel be..you wonder.

"Get well for me soon, okay, little bird?"

Axel

Don't ask them how they got your address or how they even got into your house without a key. But they will be there for you, crying their eyes out, holding your hand. They will spend all the money they had to find medications for you. They can't lose you...

"Please..please...please...don't take away the only light of my life...please.."

#💜 kalopsia vn #⚜️ about cain #💎 about aiden #🌹 about isaiah #🫐 about haruto #🌱 about axel #angst yea...

[guplia]

My third fic for @badthingshappenbingo!

Fandom: Ninjago

Trope: Rendered Mute

Also available on AO3!

A Voice Gone With the Wind

It was another night in Ninjago City, and Lloyd was going to go to bed in peace.

It had been a week, but it was still hard to believe that Cole was no longer a ghost. Lloyd was really happy for his brother because he personally could not imagine watching all your friends grow old while you stay the same age forever. And not being able to touch water! That's torture!

Little did Lloyd know, tonight he was gonna learn what real torture was.

He entered the bathroom, and locked the door because he knew from unfortunate experience that someone was bound to open the door. He hadn't even made a move yet when the lights turned off. Okay, no big deal. As long as the Bounty's engine was still working everything would be just fine. And Lloyd couldn't hear any screams or feel himself descending so it was just a small problem. But as he couldn't see anything, he had to get out of the bathroom and use it when the power came back. He unlocked the door and tried to open it, but it wouldn't budge.

Okay. Just call someone. Lloyd opened his mouth to scream ‘HELLO?’ when someone gagged him with a cloth and handcuffed him with what was most likely vengestone. The blond turned around and was able to see his enemy as he was holding a lit matchstick. Morro. How…?

Lloyd made muffled noises when Morro spoke up. “If you make even the quietest noise, I'll punish you. I know what you're thinking. Let me explain.” He smirked. “Long story short, I became a human again by entering the rift before Cole did.”

He hung Lloyd to the pole that held the curtains for the bathtub. “Now I'm so sick of you. I never got to have my revenge for not letting me get my rightfully earned role as the Green Ninja! Speaking of which, I think you can handle a little pain… right?”

Before Lloyd could understand what he meant, a muffled scream came out of his mouth as he felt a knife digging through his skin. “Shut up!” Morro yelled. He dragged the knife through Lloyd's torso, but not enough to hit any vital organs. Lloyd screamed again. Morro grabbed him by the collar. “If you make one more noise, there will be consequences.”

He kept ripping Lloyd's skin with the knife, and the blond kept quiet this time, praying that Kai or anyone else would come in the bathroom and put an end to this. Or even better, this whole thing was a terrible nightmare.

Eyes closed, he felt the knife leave his skin, and that was when he started sobbing. He forgot about Morro for a blissful second. He felt a hand squeeze his neck. “What did I say about making noises?” Lloyd thought that would be the end. Morro would choke him to death. Instead, his fate was way worse.

He felt the cloth coming out of his mouth, but as he couldn't breathe anymore, he kept it open for vain attempts at gasping for breath. And that was a horrible mistake.

Morro forced the knife down his throat, and Lloyd had never felt more agonising pain in his life. He kept gagging out blood, knowing this would be the end. He tried kicking Morro, but he knew it was useless.

He then heard a familiar voice. “What's going on in there? Lloyd?” Morro pulled the knife out of his throat and jumped out of the window, to who knows where. Lloyd was hyperventilating now. He was coughing up blood.

He didn't notice Cole breaking the door open, or the scream for Wu to come immediately. What he did notice, however, was Kai at his side, rubbing his back, staring at his body with panicked eyes. Then it all went black.

***

Lloyd didn't really know what was going on. He could hear unfamiliar voices discussing “damage to larynx”, “rendered mute” and “trauma” He finally opened his eyes to see who was stroking his hair.

It was Kai, sitting by his bedside, in what looked like a hospital room.

“Hey, buddy.” He whispered. “I hope you're feeling better.”Lloyd tried to talk, but no noise came out.“Don't try to talk, Greenbean.” Lloyd already knew what had happened. “I'm sorry.”

Kai pulled Lloyd into a tight hug, letting the latter cry into his shoulder.

No noise came from Lloyd's sobs, however. There would never be any noise coming from him again.

#lego ninjago #ninjago #lloyd garmadon #kai ninjago #Ninjago fanfiction #Fanfiction #Bad things happen bingo #Badthingshappenbingo

[heavensmortuary]

Ok so heres the story of the time I saw a demon

My family did a lot of house searching when I was 13-14, and we went to a bunch of houses to check em out. So we go to this one. Its out of the way, small but had a nice backyard and nice inside, but the owner had evidently passed away and his daughter was trying to sell the place.

I was bored and broke away from my siblings to go outside, the others being too small to accompany me. The backyard was overgrown, and weeds so high they could brush your knees. There was a small shed where a dusty car was parked that had 80's political campaign stickers on the back windshield, and it was obvious this place hadn't been taken care of in a long time. Passing bushes, I heard like, a rustling noise, and like three kittens walked out of the bushes. They were all super affectionate and one even let me hold it.

So there was a green house in the backyard. The door was cracked open, so I walked up to it. The glass was so dirty with mold and lichen that I couldnt see inside. I poked my head in, carrying one of the kittens, and it freaked out. The other kittens following me started hissing and Ive never seen cats act this way. One of them was literally wailing, hair puffed up. Never seen a cat so frightened. I had to drop it to keep it from tearing my hands to shreds.

I was freaked out, but I walked inside anyway. There was covered hot tub in the middle of the greenhouse, where I guess they had been storing it, and some old empty pots and such.

I suddenly felt this like, feeling that someone just dropped a lead blanket of dread on me. Dread so terrible it made me sick. It's not something you can really describe. It's like. Different than physical danger, it's something spiritually threatening, evil.

I looked past the covered tub, and I saw something pressed against the outside glass, from the woods, maybe ten feet away. It's like this. Impossibly tall, completely naked man. No hair. Pale and skinny. Pressed as hard as possible against the dirty glass, and his eyes are even pressed against it, as if stuck to it, pure white. It has no expression. I couldnt move. I couldn't do anything for a few seconds.

I remember that the only thing I could do was pray something like 'god help me' and I kinda jumped backward out of there. Like my muscles all just sprung and threw me out of the door. I didn't run.

I just walked back inside and didn't look behind me. And I told my parents what I saw. My brain was just blank, and the nervousness really set in later when we were already back in the car. My dad went out to check, he was frightened, but my dad didn't believe me, but even to this day my mom does. She also said she felt like something was off, spiritually, with the house, and she remembers me telling her this, so I know it wasn't a dream

So yea, that's the time I'm pretty sure I saw a demon

#krakens croaks #and then theres the time i nearly got sick from fear at the pool room at the biltmore house a few years ago. my sister did too #as soon as we left the room the feeling vanished. again its like someone dropping lead on you #strange shit