#me: chaos pending?

[myriamas]

who: @dastan-allyrion​ where: the old palace, dorne, following the departure of the rest of westerosi nobility

There were marigolds intertwined in dark silky hair as she pushed her way through her brother's solar room within the Old Palace; the sound of twinkling anklets announcing her presence far sooner than the sound of her footsteps finally coming up behind the door, noting some of the plates that were being taken from his chambers. Her kohl lined orbs narrowed slightly, trying to inspect whether there was more wine, but that seemed to have eased off...though she did see bones, coming from some sort of meat, no doubt. As she looked upon her household guards, loyal faces she remembered since her youth, she crossed the threshold of his audience rooms in the apartments of the Master of Laws.

"Namaste, Sikander." Her hands came together in greeting to one of the oldest guards of their family; a man who had been by their father's side for as long as she could possibly remember. "Tussi theek ho?" Even despite their difference in status, the Lady of Godsgrace and the Princess of Dorne was mindful of the dialect she used with her elders. 

"Dastan andaar hai?" She enquired, a bangled hand extending towards the door; the old man opened it with a light chuckle, and she bowed her head slightly as she stepped over the threshold. Her brother had sent her a letter asking him to meet her in the evening for a light meal after dinner, consisting mostly of light snacks and chilled drinks; how pleased she was to see her favourite was already upon golden plates  - Mohabbat ka Sharbat; a drink of watermelon, rose syrup and cold milk.

"You were eating meat? It is Tuesday, you know." She commented, the smell of her oud mixing with the scents already in the room as she allowed the door to close - he was upon the sun terrace an this was nothing out of the ordinary for her. If anything, she was entirely comfortable; to be within the rooms of her little brother, eating fruits, cheeses, samosas as they did whilst children after dinner. "Mother would throw her slippers at you from down the hall." Even the setting Dornish sun seemed to change nothing; for the world were gone, and all she cared for in her own world remained.

[buttercupblu]

Satoru's Psyche|Escalating

"Should I really have to suffer for my actions?"

Session 2 of 10|Previous Session

🗂️Patient Chart Update: Patient Gojo displayed extremely flirtatious and unruly behavior during the first half of his visit. Mentions of escape and kid-napping were noted as well as enforced close proximity with his nurse. Threatening remarks were also made at the end of his lunch in response to mentions of disciplinary action. Patient is scheduled for a bath but is pending the possibility of negative punishment to instill corrective behaviors. 📋Length of Session (w.c): 8.1k out of "i said we will cross that bridge when we get to it 😊" 💊Intake Chart (tags): mild violence but no in-action descriptors, coercion, manipulation, drug use, angst, unwatched close contact and touch, nudity, mentally unstable Gojo, Nurse!Reader ✏️Doctor's angel’s note: i hope you know what you're doing, Nurse 🎼Waiting room music: Overheated|Billie Eilish

Choose wisely.

Hunger stirs in your tummy, and Gojo's words sit with you through lunch. Your spoon clinks around the bowl, stirring the soup growing colder by the second though the growls from your stomach are too obnoxious to be ignored. But your mind wanders.

You're stuck. Earlier, you were all for serving up justice on a silver platter, but now you're seriously second-guessing your "genius" idea to punish Gojo by making him someone else's problem.

As if anyone would be crazy enough to say yes.

Everyone already avoids his wing like the plague. It's kind of an unspoken fact that you are Gojo's one and only. The only staff he allows near him. Anyone else would be playing with fire.

And if someone was brave enough to willingly throw themselves into the lion's den, they definitely couldn't be new. New to nursing—new to the ward. High expertise was needed here. Someone seasoned—experience which you lacked yourself—otherwise, they wouldn't last a second with Gojo.

It'd be way too easy for him to make them snap, like tossing a bone to a dog.

"Persephone." Yuko brings you out of your coma.

You perk up, instinctively smiling. "Hey, what's up?"

"You tell me," she snorts. "You've been playing with your food like break isn't over in 10 minutes." She touches your arm. "Everything ok?"

It's written all over your face, huh? You could deflate right now.

This is why Yuko is your favorite co-worker. Always reading you like a book without you needing to say a word. Quick to call anything off out.

Leaning back in your chair, you huff, rubbing circles into your temples to relieve the headache you didn't know you had.

"Yeah, yeah," you begin, "It's just—" You stop, her eyes hold so much concern and you've barely opened your mouth. Not sure if you should now because you know what kind of person Yuko is.

And if she knew even half of what you don't tell her during your lunch breaks spent complaining about work, she'd hang Gojo out to dry if she could. She often makes it very clear she hates you have to deal with him at all.

"—I'm just a bit tired. Gojo's scheduled for a bath later, him and two others. Gojo's easy but...I don't know. I feel slower than usual today. Definitely won't get home until late, again, because of all these sponge baths." You cringe at the last part.

Aside from trying to keep Yuko cool, you also didn't want to risk the news getting back to the Director who could take you off of Gojo completely. No one else could take your place. And who knows what would happen if you disappeared from his roster for good?

How would his threats manifest?

Yuko scoffs, waving her hand.

"Gojo and easy do not go together," and you both shake your heads and laugh. "But I get it. You did come in super early."

"Thought there'd be less of us," you sigh.

"Sonya's been on our asses lately, right? But hey, she finally got us all here."

"A little too late. The damage is done," you pout, resting your elbows on the table, realizing you've accidentally grown used to chaos and ever-changing schedule.

You routinely plan ahead to make sure you can stand up when people fall short. Constantly putting yourself on the back burner seems to be a thing that always set you back.

"Sooo, you just need rest, ya? Nothing else? Gojo—" there it goes "—been 'okay' with you lately?"

Your heart skips. "Ya. he isn't so bad today," you lie, "I'd just love to be home on time for once. Maybe even a bit early, I'm soo close. Overtime's been wringing my neck for weeks."

Yuko looks at you with puppy dog eyes. And not in a "I feel sorry for you" kind of way, but one that almost makes you feel bad for not telling her the whole truth.

"Here," she pushes your soup towards you, "How about I do Gojo's bath and you get an early start on my last two? That way you can at least binge that show you won't shut up about later." She smiles.

You immediately protest.

There's no way you can do that to her.

Yuko never even crossed your mind and was far from your first pick, not because she couldn't handle him but because she was your friend. Not just a colleague, but someone you actually cared about more than anyone else in this run-down job even if she didn't feel the same.

She's too good of a person, and you'd be the Devil Incarnate if you let her do something so risky. Especially when you can just suck it up and get it over with.

"Woah, woah, it's just a bath, calm down," she says, taking your hands in hers as you ramble on trying to convince her that you'll be fine or that you'll find someone else.

Burdening her was completely out of the question.

"Who else but me, Seph'? You don't you think I'm as good as you?" And the way she says it, giving you that look she does when you're being stubborn, dares you to challenge her.

Now you really had to think about what to say.

Goddamn it, you regret saying anything at all, but Yuko's so motherly, how could you resist? Hiding from her is impossible, she would've sniffed you out sooner or later.

Easing your pains when she could was her specialty—helping to calm and settle you down when you're quick to blow things out of proportion.

Could this be one of those moments? Or were Gojo's words more than just hot air?

The back and forth was killing you, but the combination of Yuko's reassuring touch and your gurgling stomach put the final nail in the coffin as she reminded you of the time.

Eyes wide, you look at the clock, ticking away faster than you realized, then back at your lukewarm soup.

Denying that you needed help would be silly because technically it was true. You probably should've asked the Director for a little Gojo break long ago, even if just for a few hours a few times a week. It was better than nothing because if you couldn't function, Gojo couldn't be cared for.

And when you really think about it, who better to fill in for you than Yuko?

The gutsy woman has been your rock since you started at the ward, She's had your back, sticking with you through tough times at work when staff constantly dipped in and out of the facility like a rotating door after being unable to handle the job.

A real day one.

Next to you, she's the most competent nurse in these walls, fully equipped with a "take-no-shit" attitude that routinely keeps her patiently in check.

It'd be silly, downright irresponsible to trust anyone else.

Her offer is simply too good to dismiss.

"Thank you, Yuko," you cave, grabbing your spoon and finally allowing yourself to enjoy your meal. "You're...amazing. I don't deserve you."

She looks on happily. "Just promise me you'll take some personal time after this," she insists, worry evident in her voice. "We both know how much you care, but even superheroes need rest."

She's too kind and right in more ways than one.

"Besides, I think Gojo will like me, ya? I'm cool. I'm fun. He'll like a friend of friend, you think?"

Your eyes roll—ya, totally, cool people definitely say they're cool.

You don't know whether to joke back or wave her off, softly smiling at her concern instead before nodding. You vow to make good on your promise and feel a bit lighter knowing your wish for early release will actually come true.

Maybe.

The latest threat to your miracle in the making is Mr. Hampton, who is personally making it his business to drag the already long day by its edges. Almost bringing time to a standstill with the way he's handling his bath.

Enormous and lumbering, the man Yuko usually deals with took his sweet time gathering his things and even longer trekking down the seemingly endless halls leading to the bathing area. Occupying every inch of the space like those massive trucks on the interstate, hogging the road, yet inching along at a pace that makes a snail look like it's in a sprint.

All that was missing were the yellow hazard lights.

Oh no, please, take your time, you think, watching Mr. Hampton clean each limb painstakingly s l o w in a tub that's comically too small for him. You may have been able to rush through Yuko's first patient, but this one wanted all that time back.

His pace resembles a giant's, and his cheerful nonsensical hums echo around the hollow chambers, lulling you to sleep, turning your eyes into bricks under the spell of the melody. Perfect timing for the energy drinks from early to crash you out, tag teaming with the chair beneath you that feels a bit too soft as you lean over the tub, willing the colossal man to hurry up.

Warm water flows over your skin as you scrub circles on his neck, deciding to bite the bullet and take over the bath so he can play with the foamy bubbles, when you hear a blood-curdling scream.

Your entire body goes rigid, shock reverberating through your spine and forcing you to halt as your mind goes blank. But steamy water brings you back to life, drenching your shirt and upper thighs when Mr. Hampton jumps from surprise.

The rude awakening makes you lock in.

The scream. It sounds like...no, you know it came from the west wing...where Gojo is.

And Yuko.

Hurried steps rush past your door, sounds of multidirectional distress and frantic shouts echoing through the corridor—staff members and patients alike swept into a whirlwind of panic.

You're number one, dropping the scrubber and scrambling to help Mr. Hampton out of the tub, hands shaking as he grips them.

A security guard bursts into the room, face ashen and jaw tight.

"Nurse! We need everyone in the west wing, immediately!" The command is sharp, laced with an urgency you've never seen before.

And immediately feel responsible for.

"There's been an incident."

Without another thought, you wrap Mr. Hampton in a towel, trying your best to assure him that everything is fine when your obviously trembling body said nothing was. His confused gaze follows you as you lead him back to his room, the commotion in the air moving him a lot faster than earlier before you rush back out heading straight for the west wing—where chaos reigns supreme.

The usually pristine floors, normally squeaky clean floors due to lack of traffic, are now barely visible. Staff members crowd the familiar hall for the first time since Gojo made it his own, filling the space with more bodies than you were used to and making it difficult to find the source of trouble.

Not like you needed to. The truth is painfully clear.

It's disrespectful even to even pretend you don't know exactly what went wrong, and your heart feels as if it'll burst from your chest any moment now just thinking about it. Crushing guilt wrapped you in its clutches, but it was nothing compared to the pain you might've caused.

You push through the masses, clumsily bumping shoulders, heart beating into your ears making the world seem quiet as you inch closer and closer to disaster. Dragging imaginary shackles on your feet with each step until you all but collapse once you spot it.

Gojo—barely restrained by guards, straitjacket nowhere in sight—standing absolutely furious.

And for the first time today, time seems to slow down, your mouth becoming suddenly dry mouth when you look past him.

Yuko.

Halfway out the door to his room. Sprawled out on the ground. Bruised, unconscious, and no signs of breathing.

Your hands fly to your lips, mouth agape. Murmurs from the crowd swirl around you as attendants rush to Yuko's side, knocking into your pathetic frame as you stand too frozen to move.

They gently pick her up, careful to handle her motionless body and place her on a stretcher. Her usually vibrant face is drained of color, twisting the dagger in your chest when you spot the subtle rise and fall of her chest. Fighting for breath.

Fighting.

It hits you like a hammer.

Someone as kind as her, so full of light, love, and joy, always greeting you with warmth and empathy and capacity every time she sees you, should never have to lift a finger let alone fight for her life. The sight is too much to bear.

Waves of helplessness crash over you and you can't even look at her. Regretting with every ounce of your being that you sent her in your place. Knowing this could happen. Concerned only with your silly wants and needs.

But you're so confused.

The ward should have weakened Gojo—Yuko should have been fine. The only threat Gojo has up his sleeve is mental torture but Yuko might as well be Freud. Her mind is sound, strong.

And that's where you fucked up, forgetting that Gojo's pure strength, especially when he's lost his fucking mind and triggered, is stronger.

Even with his security system in place, the devil was still powerful enough on his own. And like this was some sick and twisted experiment to figure that out, Yuko was the one to pay the price.

"I warned, I WARNED YOU!" Gojo's words pierce the overlapping voices like a sword, drawing everyone's attention to the strange interaction between the two of you. "I don't like to be touched by strangers, Nurse." Guards struggle to restrain him as he tugs and pulls away.

All eyes fall on you and you can feel the tense stares. The unspoken judgment.

Why was Yuko here in the first place?Where was Seph’?How’d he get out?How did this happen? 

You don’t know if the murmurs are real or only in your head, but the effect is all the same, making you wish you could completely vanish.  You stand like a deer in headlights—and they're so fucking bright.

Gojo brims with malice and amusement, chaotic energy pulsing from the hellish man and threatening to send sparks flying. As if he's daring someone to be brave and push the button.

But despite his outward display of dominance, the pure rage on his face making you feel sick to your stomach about every decision you've ever made, something...uncertain lurks behind those fiery eyes.

Something like...apprehension.

Like he knew he had done something wrong.

Words escape you, as if anything even needs to or could be said. But fear and guilt soon turn to anger and threatens to consume you. Ready to eat you alive and spit out the bones with disgust.

You are not a victim.

You have no right to stand here, spineless, shocked, or feeling even a little sorry for yourself.

Your fists clench as you hold back tears. 

What was done was done. And someone needed to pay.

But you exhale, thoughts shifting to Yuko as you take a good look around at the results of what happened the last time you decided to punish Gojo. All of your actions, even now, rooted in selfishness. Like you've learned nothing.

You push down the knot growing in your stomach and turn away to follow the medics.

Your friend needed you more than you needed revenge.

And Gojo didn't deserve any more of your attention, even if it meant risking your job or even your life to turn your back on him.

And there's nothing Gojo hates more than being ignored.

Struggled and strained noises grow louder. Guards tighten their grip on the fuming man whose raw strength outnumbered thousands of them even without his cursed energy.

You look back, their determination to keep him contained makes you nervous—you don't want anyone else to get hurt and Gojo knows that.

You're painfully aware that your decisions have put you in this position, watching the guards' valiant but increasingly pointless effort to prevent Gojo from causing further harm.

But it's an obviously losing fight, and the unease on their faces is unmistakably clear.

You wonder why they don't just run like hell.

"Let's go," a guard barks, but Gojo remains fixed in place. Moving a boulder would be easier.

"No, I'm filthy," Gojo protests, smirking, "And if I don't have my bath soon, there will be hell to pay."

He sees no one else in the room, eyes locked only on you, his expression a menacing promise that would send anyone else running for the hills. A look that says, "Try that shit again, and there will be casualties instead of mercy."

Reinforcements are called but it'll never be enough. Not even the goddamn military. Gojo...is the strongest, after all.

"Stop this."

Your cry freezes the room, plunging everything into a tense silence.

You hesitate, fuck, what should you do?

What can you do? No one else can suffer—no one else should suffer. Because of you.

You take a deep, shaky breath, silently apologizing to Yuko.

"I'll do it," you say firmly, "Just stop this and...and I'll give you your bath. Please—" The sharpest pang you've ever felt cuts through you. "—just don't hurt anyone else."

Pathetic.

But necessary.

He looks into your pleading eyes in surprise, amazement even, then smiles.

The submission in your voice sounded better than he could ever imagine. Like sweet music feeding his already inflated ego.

The guards exchange uneasy glances, clearly unsure of how to proceed.

Gojo's strength is undeniable, and it's evident that restraining him forever is not possible.

And you know offering to give him what he wants is risky as hell...but this was your doing. Your mess to clean up.

You squeeze your sweaty palms and give a decisive nod, signaling to the guards to let him go. They hesitate, then reluctantly agree and step back, leaving Gojo standing smugly before you.

You close your eyes and breathe, hating the idea of looking at him, but needing to stay strong. For Yuko. And everyone else in the ward.

Gojo's satisfied grin says it all.

Let's get this over with.

The squeaking of your shoes has never been this loud, each echo bouncing off the empty halls and reminding you of how alone you are.

Alone—with a psychopath.

A bit more docile, doped-up psychopath but, the man could probably still rip someone's head off if he wanted to.

Still Gojo despises anything that alters his body—mentally, physically, all of the above. Alcohol, medication, coffee, energy drinks—anything that threatens his need for absolute control.

But he also needed to compromise, and you refused to be alone with him again unless he took something stronger. Otherwise, it would be you, all the guards in the ward, and a pay-per-view premiere of his bath time.

He knew he had to agree because his ass is not for free, but only if you took it as well.

You blinked, hard.

You knew he would be skeptical—hell, it could be poison, and he wouldn’t blame you. But to suggest something so ridiculous?

"Half, then," he said, as if that made his suggestion any less idiotic, but, surprisingly, as you waited for your supervisor to dismiss the insane idea, the back and forth with Gojo actually didn't save you. And there was no need to ask why. The entire ward shot daggers at you any time someone walked by now.

She reassured you that you'd be fine, the mild tranquilizer would be out of your system by the end of the day, then patted your back as if to say, "lay in the bed you made."

It felt unreal, holding the familiar pill between your fingers, one you were used to dishing out but now had to take.

With a quick snap, you broke it in half, holding the half-pill out to the leering man. Gaze unwavering, he leaned forward and parted his lips, waiting.

You took a deep breath and placed them both on your tongues, but he couldn't pass up this opportunity to feel you and closed his lips around your fingertip with a quick lick before you snatched away.

But it wasn’t quick enough to avoid the tingles shooting up your arm as you swallowed without needing the water you had set aside, a confusing mix of emotions churning as it spread through the rest of your body.

He made good on his promise and swallowed his own, still watching you with a knowing look. And damn him, he's probably still thinking about it.

The guards carefully lead you and Gojo to his private bathroom—they're more there for show than for protection, but you'll take what you can get, and they keep a firm grip on his replacement straitjacket.

You trail behind, mind buried with thoughts of what to say once you're really alone with him.

The door shuts behind you followed by the familiar sound of a series of locks clicking shut. "We'll be right outside," one of the guards mutters, eyes shifting between you and Gojo. A stereotypical hint lacing his voice, but even he probably doesn't believe it.

"Perv," Gojo sneers. And laughs, but you don't find a damn thing funny, keys to his jacket digging into your palms as you spin around the face him, furious. Debating on whether to slap him, kick him, or knock his teeth out. Or be particularly evil and just let him sit in the shower, fully restrained and drenched in cold water. A move you know would do no good but show him exactly how done you are with his shit.

"That isn't funny. None of this is funny. You've hurt someone—you hurt my friend."

His laugh fades, smug expression slipping from his face. Even you're surprised.

...oh shit.

You're actually confronting him.

The intense words burn through his usual arrogance, leaving a heavy, uncomfortable silence between you.

Then, for a fleeting second, his face does something weird.

Something you haven't seen before as his eyebrows draw together. Is that...regret?

"I'm sorry."

The record scratches.

...the hell is this??

You squint at him.

The words were muttered, reluctant, but there they were, hanging in the air between you.

"It...won't happen again."

And he's serious, the same seriousness you see when his heart races when you take his vitals...but why? Because an apology? From him?? Unheard of.

Gojo has said some nasty things to you in the past that you've immediately scolded him for but he's never apologized. He'd make a note when certain jokes didn't land, but he never took them back, preferring to cut out his own tongue rather than waste his breath being sorry.

You know better than to take anything Gojo says at face value, but...what the fuck??? You almost feel offended.

He has to be joking, fucking with you to dig even deeper under your skin.

Or is he?

Now you don't know how to feel.

He's so good at that. Stealing the air back and hanging his words in them. Tempting you to pause and even consider if he truly meant them. If he could mean them. The mind games are endless.

But then, the familiar cockiness returns, along with that smile that twists your stomach into knots.

"Now," he says, strutting towards the stalls, "let's get this bath started, shall we?" And his easy, but confident steps call you to follow, a stark reminder of who you're dealing with. But he never knows when to quit. "Or should I really have to suffer for my actions?" and the bastard pouts.

Though you know he's being sarcastic and not to feed into his taunts, you can't help but wonder—what would suffering even look like for someone like Gojo?

Violence? Physical pain? A slow and agonizingly painful death?

But the guy is damn near invincible. What on earth could hurt him?

Whatever it was, it would have to be his absolute worst nightmare, but nothing comes to mind other than frustration.

Damn it, you have to keep making choices.

Return his energy or keep it professional? Tolerance or revenge?

"Apologizing won't cut it," you snap and gesture at his jacket, wondering how the hell he slipped out of the first one without leaving a trace. "And no tricks, or those guards will be back in here faster than you can tell another joke."

Smooth.

Gojo sighs sooo dramatically, like he can see straight through your little kitty claws. "Fine, fine. Loosen up," he drags, "I won't cause any trouble. Just don't go getting any ideas now, Nurse." He finishes with a wink.

He's insufferable—but despite your smoldering anger, tendrils of doubt still creep in.

Your fingers slightly tremble as you begin to unfasten his straps, but each click feels a bit like victory. A fragile illusion of your 'control'—at least for now because at the end of the day, Gojo had chosen you to listen to. And after today, he's sure you won't forget there isn't room for anyone else.

The jacket falls with a heavy thud, your eyes immediately scanning his upper body in search of any signs of injury or stress. The cascading bruises on his arms surprise you.

They feel so feeble in your hands, the jarring evidence of him not as invincible as he seems. Pale, weak, and resting between your fingers. Devoid of the power that makes him so feared.

"Never seen bruises before," and he tilts his head, "at least not on me"

You hope Yuko was at least partly responsible for the marks on the villain, but they appear self-inflicted, and he's not as mobile.

Fuck, now you'll have to bathe him too. But it's strange, seeing him like this. Even weirder knowing that he could still do damage in this state and you can't shake the feeling of this temporary 'truce'. If it isn't obvious by now, you've learned that Gojo always has something up his sleeve.

Warm water soothes you a bit, flowing over your fingers into the large white tub—pristine, imported from somewhere far away and standing on decorative claw feet. Your eyes wouldn't stop rolling the first time you saw it, completely annoyed with Gojo's over-the-top alterations and sense of style, but you'd be a liar if you said you never thought about sinking your body into it.

The best you could do was cope with the little porcelain tub in your apartment, and you get lost thinking about how you'd love to take a long, hot, and steamy bath when you get home—if you'll even have the energy. There's no way you'll be leaving early now, not like you deserve it, and feel sick even thinking about it. You doubt you'll even have a job tomorrow.

You look so defeated Gojo thinks, sauntering forward, lifting the hem of his shirt. You turn away, focusing instead on the temperature of the water but the rustling fabric as he pulls the shirt over his head and pants to the ground sends heat to your cheeks.

He certainly isn't lacking in physique, even in his current state, but still, you wonder how such a slim but toned frame could be so...powerful.

Could you be more obvious? Your flickering eyes are so telling, darting between him and the water, but he catches your gaze from the corner of his eye as if he's read your mind. So cute trying to hide away your thoughts.

You toss in his loofah, "Well...go on. Your water's ready." But Gojo can only grin, amused by your attempts to look away despite seeing his muscled frame a number of times. Still managing to fluster you.

"Your shirt," he eyes your top, "Your pants. Looks like you've already started without me."

The water stains from earlier sit beautifully across your chest, not yet fully dry, and drawing his eyes to your semi-erect nips.

His teeth tug at his bottom lip, eyes shamelessly raking over your hefty chest. "Always such a tease, aren't you, Nurse?"

You grit your teeth, cursing the swirling conflict in your easy heart, fully aware of the thin line between professionalism and this game of intimacy he just refuses to turn off. Everything was always a game no matter the circumstances. And he loves to push your buttons.

"Just get in, Gojo," you order, and after what feels like an eternity, the silence is broken by splashing water as he steps into the bath.

He slowly sinks in, sighing at the warmth of the water. Ringlets of steam engulf him, almost making his silky white hair disappear with it.

His arms string over the rim of the tub, a look of relaxation resting on his face as if he's had a long, hard day. You resist the urge to slap it off.

Sudsy bubbles form from the solution you pour under the faucet, hoping to shield your eyes from his body. You've seen enough today and expect the mini-rebellious act to piss him off, but as the bubbles grow, so do his eyes. He picks up a handful and actually starts playing with them.

"Nice touch," he adds, blowing them right into your face, and you watch with a tight lip as he decorates the bathroom with them, knowing you'll be the one to clean it all up.

He sits a crown on his head and gives himself a bubble beard, nipping your nose with some that you're quick to wipe away.

His pale eyes flutter, settling on you in a curious way.

He leans, arms flexing over the edge—steam-slicked sweat dripping down his face that he doesn't bother to wipe away. "I'm ready for my sponge bath," he says, and if it was hard to take him seriously before, it's damn near impossible now—especially with this ridiculous bubble mustache.

Sickening, him managing to still be so playful, so unserious, at a time like this.

You know Gojo's unhinged, yeah, quote, "mentally unwell and a literal danger to society, tf did you think??", but to nearly take someone's life and then make jokes afterward?

God, you feel so stupid, walking around him like you were the shit but with the wrong guard up the whole time, playing right into his hands and accidentally rewarding this grown-ass man who likes to play with bubbles.

The reality of your circumstances replays in your head, the story of how you ended up here, coddling this monster. Still confused as hell as to why it had to be you.

But then again, this was your job...right? To heal. To help those who can't help themselves. To offer redemption, no matter how twisted they seem.

Loofah in hand, you resist the urge to roll your eyes for the 400th time today. "Keep talking like that and I'll stop, Gojo," you say, reluctantly drenching the tool in soap before gently washing his back.

He sinks into your touch, closing his eyes and letting his body completely rest on the cool cast iron, breathing. Feeling like he's won no matter what you say because your scrubs feel like magic.

Across his arms and over his broad shoulders, you work your way down, bubbles glistening in your trail as you're careful not to miss a single inch of skin but don't linger too long.

Every now and then, you catch glimpses of his marked skin between the foam and because you hate yourself, your brain absolutely refuses to give you a break. You have to give kudos to the dedication to his craft. The muscle definition, the scar tissue telling stories of battles won. Evidence of his past before corruption. Everything it takes to be a hero.

It's unsettling, yet fascinating, the polarity between his beauty and his monstrous deeds.

This is another first for you, this level of care. Gojo usually just hops into the shower and takes care of himself as you wait outside—easy and thorough but always taking his sweet time, all while loudly singing some annoying song that inevitably gets stuck in your head.

But after today, it'll be impossible to trust him or you again, and the hushed whispers as the guards walked you both to the restrooms made that abundantly clear.

The pitiful thoughts seep into the way you hesitantly clean him, moving down to his chest and abs and making sure to avoid more sensitive areas, but the malicious glint in his eyes is unmistakable.

"Whatsamatter, Nurse?" Gojo taunts, feeling you slow around his lower region, "Afraid of gettin' too close?" And you can't believe you're praying for a speedy recovery so he can handle this himself.

You ignore his comment, trying to get this over with as quickly as possible. You're humiliated enough as it is and he can sense it, mocking you with a laugh.

"You're so uptight. Can't you just relax and enjoy the view?"

You want to scrub his cocky brow right off his face. "Just doing my job," you mutter, twice squeezing the loofah that feels a little funny in your hand as the soapy water rinses his chest.

The water feels heavenly on his skin, but the subtle change in your movements makes his brows furrow. Slowing, more deliberate, heavy as if you're wading through molasses. You keep adjusting your grip but the material feels so strange—the texture almost too soft like it could melt into your palm.

Your breath catches when you brush his skin, not realizing how close your fingers drifted to the edge of the sponge, and though it was only a second, it sends an unexpected jolt through his chest.

The muscle relaxers. How could you have already forgotten, you both think.

But Gojo, ever observant, doesn't miss a thing.

His eyes narrow slightly as he watches you. "Feeling a little funny, Nurse?" his velvet voice teases.

"I'm fine," you lie, though you couldn't be less certain as the muscles in your hands start to relax more than you intended, the sponge gliding over his abs, down his sides, rhythm almost hypnotic and making the man's head fall back. You try to push through the haze, to finish quickly and be free of him, to try to regain your slipping control, but you're in a losing battle against numbness and heightened awareness.

ANd God, he has to bite his lip at your touch that feels so intense, a sensation too good to keep to himself that you obviously need to stop being such a tight-ass.

You need to loosen up in a way that medicine can't help. And Gojo knows just the trick.

He licks his lips, tongue curling over his canine before splashing a wave of water on you in one swoop.

Saying you gasp is an understatement as the steamy wash drenches your face and front once again. You've been hit not once, but twice in a day—a new personal record.

Instinctively, you reach up to shield yourself, the loofah slipping from your hand, but Gojo is quicker, wrapping his hands around your wrists and holding you in place.

A scream prepares to surge from your body when Gojo maneuvers both of your wrists into one hand and places a finger to your lips.

"Ssssh ssh ssh ssh ssh," he hushes, his voice a little too calm, "I'm not going to hurt you." He swipes a lone droplet hanging from your eyelash. "I just want you to listen."

You freeze, nerves on fire as you're forced into this close proximity for the second time today. Inches away from his face that softens.

Though you can easily call for help, you know better than to argue—he knows you know better but he never felt threatened in the first place.

Besides, he can feel your breathing slowing, the effects of the pill combined with his firm hold sending a faint buzz from your wrists to your stomach. His finger remains on your lips as he brings his closer.

"Now," his eyes flicker to your bottom lip, "You're so very good at your job, Nurse." He smoothly pulls it with his thumb. "That's why I like you. You're thorough but real. Just what I need to keep me sane."

Sane?

"Sane," he repeats like he's heard your thoughts. "Believe it or not, you keep me grounded...like a good boy. Be proud, not a single soul here or anywhere else can compare to my strength, let alone deal with me yet...here you are." He looks at you like you're a marvel.

"You can handle that...can't you?"

Words fail you. This feels rhetorical. Why does he keep torturing you like this? What is it about you?

You haven't really thought about it since your first few weeks with him but now he's forcing you to think about the little 'power' he's given you that he can easily snatch back.

What happens if he decides to go further than flirting?

You can't handle it, any of it, any of this.

You hesitate, unsure of what to say but know it could never be the truth.

Gojo must sense it because he leans closer, his breath warm on your cheek.

"If you leave, I just might crack completely, beauty." A breath you didn't realize you were holding slips. "How do you think everyone else will fare against me then, hmm?"

Gojo knows he's a prodigy, yet he still manages to surprise himself sometimes, eyes lingering over the spots on your uniform soaked through just enough to make the fabric cling—perfect aim.

Ice shoots up your spine from the heat of his unadulterated gaze, but you refuse to let him see you falter. He almost feels a prick from the daggers you throw with your eyes.

"Oh, don't be like that, Nurse," and he purrs, thumbs grazing your wrists in a mockingly gentle touch. "We all have our boundaries, right? I thought communication was key in a relationship."

"Let go of me," you find your voice, "We're done here."

Gojo slightly tilts his head.

Look at you calling the shots, he thinks. So strong, so very serious.

"God I can't help it," he breathes, "You're so fun to mess with."

He could laugh in your face, have his way with you, and show you that your resistance means nothing.

Instead, he slowly releases your wrists and lies back against the tub. "I know you think about it—there's nothing wrong with a little fun...right?" and though the connection is severed, you don't know if it's the drugs or just him that makes his amplified touch linger as you sheepishly rub your wrists.

Gojo watches you blush red—thoughts you didn't know lived within you rushing to the forefront as if he's pushed a button.

Grimy, raw, salacious, unwanted thoughts of forbidden fruit, wandering hands, and stolen touches in the dark. Wondering what his idea of "fun" was like under the sheets. With a psycho named Gojo.

You feel like you should throw up in disgust but the nausea never comes, instead you burn between your legs.

Fuck, you've got to get out of here.

You draw a breath, forcing away the torturous daydreams and quickly finish his bath.

"You should rest," you firmly say and pull the plug to let the tub drain. "And don't expect any more favors from me."

He sits up slow, his expression stone-cold as he slicks back his wet hair. Then he smiles. "I promise. Now dry me off?" he quips.

You ignore his request, swiftly handing him a towel before he can flash you. Gruffing, you lower to your knees and begin drying the floor of his messes, hoping to distract you from your questionable sanity.

Rustling fabric fills the chamber as he dries off, and when you figure it's safe, you look up to a nude Gojo. Still dripping with bubbles, hair plastered to his derpy face, and toned muscles, all the muscles, presenting themselves in all their glory.

The only things dry are his damn hands.

He throws the towel over over his shoulder, sauntering towards you with a wicked grin.

"Well, aren't you gonna help me put this thing back on?" He nods at the jacket he knows is more bullshit than security. "Don't want you getting all worked up again."

The first time your brain registered that Gojo was flirting with you was on your third day as his nurse.

"Well, aren't you a breath of fresh air?" Gojo was sitting on his bed, leaning against the wall. It was the second time he'd noticed how sluggish you looked while tending to him, suggesting with a grin that you must be quite the party animal.

Ha. If only.

You tsked, tossing his bedsheets into the hamper, and assured him that your sleepy eyes and dragging feet were the result of long hours and running on fumes. Having time for fun was just a dream.

"I don't get out much myself," he says, alluding to the situation he's in, wearing sarcasm like a necklace. "I love a good night in as much as anyone else but, I don't know. The stuffiness hasn't grown on me yet."

You tugged the collar of your scrubs—the air did feel a bit thick, like the room hadn't been aired out in ages and you couldn't help but wonder how long he'd been sitting in it—how he could. That alone would be enough to drive you up a wall.

Sunlight flickered in your eyes, and you raised your hand to block it, noticing the small window perched above his chair.

"Ah, let's open this then," you said, walking over and wrestling with the ancient wood for a moment before finally pulling the creaky flap up to the ceiling.

Standing on your tiptoes to reach it, a sliver of your midriff peeked out, but what captured his attention most was the way the sun rays washed your face. You scrunched your nose, the breeze sending wisps of your hair to tickle it, and he imagined the feel of them between his fingers.

The view was beautiful, you thought, hands gripping the warm bars. Trees surrounded the vast area, stretching out as far as you could see, the pathway to civilization completely covered in dense forest from this angle.

You never realized how high up his ward was—or how long the drop was from here.

"Too bad I'm not small enough to slip through those bars." He rubbed his stomach. "But you know me, 'Mr. BigBack.'"

He joked around as he usually did, looking to trigger your defenses, but your sentiment was...odd.

This was the first time anyone had cared to do something so simple for Gojo. And the closest anyone had gotten to him without their knees buckling.

The first two days of your trial, the Director had guards posted right outside of Gojo's door, their presence a constant reminder to stay alert and maintain a safe distance from the convict and Gojo was positive the mental barrier would keep a wall between you forever.

But then you laughed. A real laugh. Snickery and cute. Finding his joke funny instead of threatening.

It surprised him, that sound. And he wanted to hear it again and again and again.

"Who knew you could bring so much light into this place?"

Later at lunch, you sat with Yuko, having your usual midday catch-up. You never start with yours but she, like most people in the ward now, was absolutely dying to hear about how you were dealing with the villain of the century.

"He's actually not so bad...yet. Corny, but," you took a pondering breath, "He kind of thanked me today?"

She immediately scoffed and waved you off and who could blame her?

You were the anomaly he chose to show mercy to and now he was thanking you??

Being polite was too far of a stretch to believe, you must have been mistaken. But when you gave her the deets on why he'd do such a thing, she nearly choked on her apple. "He said that??"

"Ya?" You patted her back with a concerned look.

"Watch out, Casanova." She cleared her throat and did a nervous laugh.

Her comment threw you off for the rest of lunch, but when you thought about it later that night while surfing for new shows, a light bulb went off.

He flirted with you.

Thinking it was just another one of those literal dry-humor jokes or simply gratitude for making his stay a little less crappy, it flew right over your head. You always feel warm inside when you help people so you didn't think too much about it.

To you, it was just a kudos. Nothing more.

But the way the stands in front of you now is everything.

As bold and brash as it gets.

Fuck. Me.

And your body betrays you, sending all of the vulnerable sensations you've been fighting to suppress from your soaking chest, tingling wrists, aching thighs, and heavy breath, straight to your throbbing clit.

Air escapes you and you scramble to grab your supplies and leave.

Enough is enough. The guards outside can restrain him and escort him back to his room for all you care. You just have to get out of there.

Away from him.

Away from temptation.

Hot, overwhelming, guilty, mentally and physically unstable temptation.

In the quiet of the hallway a level below Gojo's ward, you lean against a wall taking deep breaths, completely disgusted with yourself.

How are you supposed to keep dealing with this, with him?

He keeps pushing and pushing and pushing you to the edge until there's nowhere else to go. You can only imagine the hell the nurses he didn't like went through.

Taking care of him isn't getting any easier, and now you were fucking up and making mistakes.

But you're the only one who can do this. Who must.

So suck it up. Play along, Stop thinking only of yourself. Pretend.

Pretend.

Pretend?

...

What terrifies you the most is the thought that you may not have to.

You keep your scrambled thoughts to yourself when you're called into your Director's office at the end of the day.

You tell him the same story you told Yuko and take full responsibility for what happened, blaming it on exhaustion and needing a break. Swearing to never let it happen again.

By some miracle, you get to keep your job, though your one wish to leave early ended up costing you an hour and a half of unpaid overtime, and almost a friendship.

When you finally get home, you collapse onto your bed—images of the day, the ward, Yuko, flooding your thoughts, refusing to be pushed aside. You tell yourself that it's all just the guilt talking, just anxiety gnawing at your edges.

But then there's Gojo.

The most prominent one of all.

Staring you in the face with lifeless eyes and a ghostly smile. Tugging on your moral strings like a puppet.

When you close your eyes, you can't shake the feeling that he's waiting for you, a lurer in the shadows awaiting your every move.

Leave it. Leave it. Le—

You find yourself scrolling through your phone, deep-diving the web for information on your tormentor.

His past, his affiliations, anything to tell you who Gojo was, and who he is now.

The man is an anomaly.

Not much is known about him outside of mainstream news and internet rumors.

He's just this guy that kind of popped out of nowhere in the worst way possible. Conveniently on the tail of what could have been the most devastating incident in the history of Tokyo.

The media says he's a hero gone rogue but not much else. They damned him to hell and that was that. Even the Director disclosed very little about him during your briefing and you weren't allowed access to his files or records because it's all 'confidential'.

Nothing.

The more you search, you less that comes up. Not even silly conspiracy theories that you definitely thought would be riddling Reddit. The longer you scroll, the more you find yourself beginning to question your own sanity. Your interest. Sweet little buds of obsession.

Even though you hated taking it earlier, you actually need the pill now more than ever to relax, sleeping eluding you and mind wandering to imaginary scenarios as you stare at the ceiling. 

Tomorrow, you'll have to face Gojo again. And the day after that and the day after that and every day after.

In between your nearly non-existent off days, you'll have to seem him and decide what face you want to put on.

Because you simply cannot walk away.

After all, he's right—no one else can handle him like you can.

extended angel's note:

when i originally decided to make this into short story, i had no plans on using a y/n perspective. it was just going to feature an OC name i’ve used in stories before, named Persephone, buuuut i decided to wanted to keep it immersive and include no physical descriptors/personality specifics bc i knew i wanted to upload it to tumblr. 

to keep it reader-friendly, yk? 

alas, Persephone has had her claws in me the entire time i’ve been editing and said with her whole chest that i couldn't just dismiss her like that chile. so i decided changed the perspective but keep her name in place of y/n. 

you won’t see it too often in the story bc it’s not super significant or said a lot in general, bUT it is relevant for a certain moment later in the story. you’ll know when you know 🤭. 

anyway, hope it doesn't bother you guys too much. and def feel free to mentally plug your name when you see it to keep yourself grounded into the story.

tag list p.1: @reddiamondjazz @kiwismoother @rune1920 @blkkizzat @suguwife

@xerroe @enthyn @gloomuri671 @ressyshi @startatdawn

@khenanadeche @heijihatsutori @inluvkai @ixqiix @strawnanamilk

@rosso-seta @05-simply-06-simping @sims-4lifers @bratidol @rh-tg1

@hyunsuks-beanie @n1vi @luna-v-roiya @neteyamsluvr111 @supsiii

@natadecoco30 @chiyokoemilia @ririoutspoken @kyoxko @strawberrymilkshakes-posts

@nen-nyy @cinnamorochiroll @kazeniya @maybe7tommorow @sxnkuna

@misoyuh @lupitalove @sebastianlover @gojosatorubrainrot @sleepiebunniee

@mmmidkman @theonecrackhead @thathorsegotpoobrain @iveivory @samistar

@yuuan-66 @gojoslefttoenail @soyalovestoyap @winkwonks-world @thebiggestsimpforyou 

[luveline]

Oh oh oh Hotch walking in on a sweet little moment between Jack and reader and he just MELTS when he realises how much he loves them both??💗💗 (pls, only if it inspires you lovely!!)

ty for your request! fem, 1k

“Well, I liked it. I thought it was cool.” 

Hotch puts his keys in the bowl. “It is cool,” Jack says. It's good to hear his voice after so long away. Jack's not often talkative. “It is.” 

“Thank you, Jack.” There's a gap where Hotch can't see anything, peering around the door to the kitchen. He's too far away. “You're such a nice boy. You know that?” you ask. 

You and Jack are talking in the unhurried tones of people close to one another. Hotch has to strain to hear it clearly. “You think so?” 

“I do. You're really, always nice to me. You're brave and smart, Jack, but what I love about you the most is how nice you are. How kind.” 

“Thank you.” 

“You're welcome.” Hotch can see the look on your face in his mind, the softening of your eyes and the small smile. “Do you think you're nice?” 

“Yes!” A small giggle echoes off of the kitchen tiles. “I'm nice. But I want to be brave more.” 

“Yeah? It's a really great thing to be so nice. To be patient with people, and to be forgiving, that's its own kind of bravery, because it can be hard.” 

“It's easy.” 

“I'm glad you think so.” Hotch walks further down the hall and finally spots you. You're sitting on the kitchen floor together with one of Jack's long paper rolls spooled from the door to the cabinets. Jack lays on his stomach with a red marker in his hand, staring at you with wide eyes as you draw. Hotch can't see your face, but he hears your smile. “I love you, Jack.” 

“I love you too… thanks for drawing with me.” 

“I love drawing with you. Maybe I should say thanks to you for doing all the best ones.” 

Jack laughs with the shaken-soda quality only little kids can reach. It immediately gets you laughing, and that combined makes Hotch chuckle. Your heads turn together quickly, Jack's with excitement and yours surprise. “Hi, daddy!” 

“Hi, buddy.”

“You're home early?” Jack asks. 

Hotch steps carefully over the mess of pending and paper, sitting cross-legged at Jack's side. Jack smiles and tips into Hotch's lap without getting up, a flop of limbs into starched pants. Hotch hugs him in similar limbless fashion. 

“Home for two days, at least.” He presses his lips to Jack's ear, speaking softly. “So I hope you saved some room for me on that paper.” 

“I did! Do you want your pyjamas? We've been wearing our pyjamas all day. We had pizza for breakfast.” 

“Jack!�� You cover your face. “Jack, that was our secret, oh,” —you part your fingers— “Aaron, I'm sorry, I know he shouldn't lie to you, and I know I shouldn't give him junk but he was asking so nicely and I really didn't wanna make oatmeal.” 

Jack runs away with another bout of giggles, knowing he's entrapped you. 

“You know I don't care,” Hotch says, giving you an easy smile. 

“Yeah, but… I'm supposed to be a good role model,” you say, offering a small smile in return. It half knocks the air from his lungs. 

He reaches across the drawing chaos to touch your face with his thumb. Your cheek is soft. The little wrinkle by your mouth deepens with your smiling, and the incremental weight of your head tilting into his hand is a feeling he can't get enough of. 

“I heard you talking,” he says. 

“What were we saying?” 

“About how he's kind.” He cups your cheek. “I missed you both so much. It's… amazing to be home.”

He knows you like this more than kissing, sometimes. It isn't hard to hold you like you mean everything to him, to caress your skin with a gentle fingertip, drawing a line along the curve of your neck. Your pupils grow to black dimes, and your breathing slows. 

“I missed you too, Agent. We missed you, we've been trying to think of new games to keep busy. See, we're drawing us in different jobs.” 

He's going to look just as soon as he gets enough of you, his thumb pressing circles into your skin.

“Did you frown a lot while you were away?” you ask in a whisper. 

“Can you tell?” 

“A little bit,” you say, still whispering as you lift your hand. You rub the line between his brows. “Should I kiss it away?” 

Jack runs back in with Hotch's pyjamas in his arms, a grey shirt and dark blue pants. “Kiss what?” 

“My wrinkles,” Hotch says. 

“His frowny face.” 

Jack wraps his arms over Hotch's shoulders, almost choking him with the pyjamas. “I'll do it! I will.” 

“Alright, buddy. Fix me up, okay? I can only smile for the next couple of days.” 

Hotch gets a face full of kisses and a great long hug to round it out, Jack in his lap. You're sketching something as they hug but he can't see what until Jack settles, and when he does, he laughs so hard he almost knocks Jack back out of his lap. 

Jack Hotchner, professional frown remover, you've captioned. Jack stands tall and smiling with a love heart on his shirt, his felt marker outlines sewn with care. Aaron Hotchner stands next to him, professional frowner. 

Hotch immediately pesters Jack into giving him the right pens for his own turn. He doesn't caption it, unsure what job he'd label either of you with, but it's clear what he's getting at with speech bubbles full of smiley faces. 

He thinks he might remember your conversation forever without it, but the drawing serves as a nice memento. He only wishes he were a better artist. 

[thesamoanqueen]

Bimini Dream

A/N: When I wrote it the mood was completely different, it was an inspiration born from a friend suggestion, but seemed correct to me wait before posting it. It has nothing to do with what happened and I won't write anything about it for the same reason I haven't published this story until today, Roman is a character/Joe a real human being and there's a big difference for me. Breaks are useful to understand what our priorities are, unfortunately life is not always a dream or a vacation, but we all should appreciate what we have.

Warnings: Smut, Fluff, 18+ Inspired by Naked - Doja Cat

Giving up his spot hadn't been what he imagined, what he had prepared himself for. It had been difficult, exhausting, even more so after the first few weeks. Four years had the ability to make everything a habit and when the time for big projects had arrived, the impulse had still been to be present no matter what had happened. Your relationship had been put to the test. Roman had seen you angry, frustrated, disappointed even, troubles in paradise that Roman didn't want and risked taking away more than a belt from him. You wanted the best for him, the best for the new chapter of his, your, life together and he couldn't get it with old habits, you were right, as always. So he had learned to control from afar, focusing on the next project, without answering every call or request that didn't personally concern the work he had pending. Months had passed, a time in his mind that was confused, short and even endless, but the well-deserved vacation had finally arrived. Not a one-day break between filming, interviews and meetings for new projects, a real vacation with his woman.

A paradise for the two of you. Made of palm trees and crystal water, fresh sheets and feet sinking into the damp sand of a private club in Bimini. Days spent away from chaos getting drunk and kissing, caresses and massages to take away the memory of punches and bruises, your laugh in his ears at all hours. You were happy and carefree like a lil girl again and Roman was unable to take his eyes off you in those moments, sure of wanting this for your entire life together.

His eyes scanned you, as you slipped out of the sundress just beyond the threshold of the private area, your thong bikini to greet him provocatively between soft curves dirty with sand and salt. The sound of a song hummed all the way to the dining room table to grab some fruit and disappear onto the balcony overlooking the beach. Just the time to get a drink for himself and attracted like a sailor by his mermaid, Roman followed you out, sitting on the sofa to enjoy the show you were delighting him with. The wavy movement of your hips is hypnotic, the water sliding between your barely covered breasts is an invitation as dangerous as your fingers, busy washing a day of snorkeling off your skin. The taste of fruit and alcohol on his tongue unable to wash away his thrist and your eyes finally finding him, as bright as the familiar smile forming on your lips.

- "Why are you looking at me like that?" – he hears you ask, continuing to massage your thighs.

- "You' enjoying yourself"

It wasn't a question, but pure pride, the reward for his efforts. He would have given you anything if you had only asked, spoiling to the point of forcing you to say enough, his absolute priority was you, the pulsating engine of his continuous success. He couldn't have looked at you any other way than with adoration, gratitude. Always there for him, always ready to support and push him.

- "I’d have more fun if you came to keep me company" – you mutter, a playful pout and a hand reaching out to call him.

And how could Roman say no to you? He didn't want to, he had never been capable of doing so, and putting down the drink, he freed himself from his tank top to join you under the cool water of the shower, his hands quickly finding your body, those curves where his muscles fit like a puzzle to reveal the rough skin under his fingers.

- "You're still covered in sand" – he notices, cleaning you carefully, while you lean forward, filling the space between you two until your breaths mix.

- "Nope, it's brown sugar scrub, you wanna taste it?"

A whispered offer, almost a secret, even though you already knew his answer. He had always been a hungry man, but you awoke a feverish need in him, the urgency to consume you and be consumed furiously as soon as your eyes met in a complicit silence.

- "Mmh you keep testing me" – he noted, placing an innocent kiss on your nose, already feeling your fingers free him from the bun and copy with a real kiss.

Flavor of mango and dragonfruit surrounds him, an inviting aftertaste when your teeth bite into him slowly, eliciting a dangerous moan from him that makes you smile devilishly, drawing Roman even further under the water. His hands stop you, gripping your round hips, dark locks dripping onto your breasts. The silence of the empty beach not far from you two, now filled by the sound of close breaths, growing tension making Roman’s muscles tense and your core soften.

- "‘cause you’re too good" – fingers caressing his broad chest, running your nails over the shiny tattoo up to his broad shoulders, to lock behind his neck – "now can we get naked?" – you finally ask.

The new offer is not a secret nor whisper, there was nothing playful about it, just pure desire and Roman is a good man, but sure not a saint, so he grabs you by the back of your neck, forcing you to tilt your head, watching in admiration as your breathing stops for a moment already, a silent moan for his sudden commanding behavior leaving your honey lips.

- "Strip for me babygirl, slow, show me first" – he orders against your ear, licking away his own words before taking a step back, just one and enjoying the show.

Your hands leave him sadly, but you obey, moving your wet hair from your shoulder to play with the thin string holding up your colorful bikini top. You pull it down, slowly, stretching the fabric until the bow comes undone and Roman watches it fall at your feet like anyone should have. He follows your fingers caress from your collarbones to your breasts, full and perfect for his hands and passes one over his face, moving away his hair, while yours slide down the belly he loves to kiss down to what he loves to eat. Bimini had its own fountain of eternal youth, Roman's was there between your soft thighs, always ready to welcome him, juicy and tasty like the fruit you wrapped your lips around every day for breakfast. He watches you turn, eye over your shoulder and crouch down to take off your thong, leaving it to keep company to the top. When you get up Roman can't hold back a sound of approval, eyes glued to the two brown hills that you rub on his already hard boner, and then turn around and caress him.

- "Why you keep standing there? Don't you want to slip into something more pleasant?" – your body presses against his, breasts tickling his muscles - "… maybe me?" – you invite him and his mouth finds yours without waiting a second more.

Neither of you tries to go easy, you kiss without haste, but consuming each other, cool water sliding on your heated bodies like Roman's tongue on yours. You suck on his lips as he maneuvers you to have total control and you let him do it, abandoning yourself against the wall to free him from the swimsuit he kept on for your day together. Roman kicks it away without care, growling hoarsely into your mouth as he feel you gripping his dick in your hands, torturing the head with a soft thumb until he break the kiss with a heated moan. He presses his forehead to yours, letting you prepare him, your mouth trailing kisses down his neck and shoulders, biting into sun-tanned skin and licking away water drop by drop.

- "There's no where else I'd rather be" – he squeezes your hip, smashing his other hand against the wall, your nipples rubbing against his chest and you smile.

- "I love how you look at me… makes me feel so special" - you meow against his mouth and it's enough to make him snap.

Oh, special would be an understatement to describe you.

Roman lifts you up effortlessly, his large hands on your round ass, letting your legs wrap around his hips like a belt. He would have gladly worn you for the rest of his days, anywhere, without shame if only it were possible, sinking into your soft folds sweeter than any victory. He watches as you throw your head back, shaken by the pleasure that hits both of you in finding each other and he takes the opportunity to suck your neck, giving a couple of lazy thrusts, to spread you and savor the spasms of your center that gets used to the presence of him. Your arms hold him, lips ready to cover him with soft kisses on his temples and freckles, fingers laced in the dark locks of his hair to pull them, make him growl and guide him to you.

His attentions will leave a mark on you, but neither of you cares. You have nothing to hide, you belong to each other and you both show it with pride. No one will pass by that beach, Roman had paid good money for your paradise and he didn't regret it at all. Everything to make you smile.

- " nhm… you're getting wet as fuck" – he hums, adjusting his posture to increase the pace.

His hips become more commanding as he feels you give in and with his face buried between your breasts, he works you without going all the way, spending his time playing your nipples, devouring and licking the sensitive flesh to reduce you to a gorgeous panting mess. Your nails dig into the back of his neck, onto his shoulders, your head resting on him, almost a hug, bodies impossible to separate and on his tongue that aftertaste of brown sugar.

- "R-Ro… ahn, keep doing that" – you moan, holding him against you.

His name belongs in your throat like a jewel, the kind of gift no one else could give you because only Roman knows what you need to satiate your thirst, what touch makes your body shivers and what is needed for a lovely bow. He grins, he knows not going deep makes you even more needy, he feels your heart hammering like the water falling at his feet, your moods dirtying his hard cock. Then he stops torturing your breasts, letting your body slide a little further down and the moan with which you delight his ears feeling him entirely Roman swallows it as he kisses you. Squeezed between the wall and his massive body, with no chance of escaping him, he moves an arm under your thigh to a new angle that makes you scream with the first thrust.

- "Hm, it's so g-good… God… more- more-" you beg, your gaze liquid, lips swollen.

- "I own this pretty pussy, hmm is mine. I know how to make her sing…" - he growls, pushing himself between your folds until you throb.

A satisfied smile spreads uncontrollably on his face, pride, possession, desire, love, a mixture in his guts that burns where your bodies are united and from which Roman cannot take his eyes off, mesmerized by the sight of your honey spread all over his flesh now that you are stretched to perfection. He watches your walls suck him in, clinging to the veins on his skin, hips moving incessantly, while your pleas become louder in his ears increasingly dizzy with growing pleasure.

- "P-please… Ro… there" – he knows where you want it, he knows what he has to do to see you faint in to his arms.

And he hits that spot, without mercy, giving you what you want, focusing on that weak point able of making you breathless and driving him to madness. The spasms of your body, soaked and panting, are shocks inducting him into a sort of competitive trance, his hands hooked at your side, at that thigh bent almost to his shoulder to have complete access to your core. You tremble, his flesh swelling your center every time he pushes into you, making him growl excitedly, sight matching the furious sensation of the now imminent climax. Your moans become strangled cries and then Roman shifts his gaze to your face, to intercept your almost desperate expression, the one that always anticipates your orgasm. When it finally arrives, he feels your nails digging into the flesh of his forearms and your voice fades into a delicious cry, he kisses you, hammering your sweetest spot without stopping for a second and he watches with pleasure the violent tremors of your body.

- "My precious girl… cum, you're so f-fuckin gorgeous" – he growls obscenely against your lips, seeing you open your eyes again with a lost expression, your hips swinging to meet his thrusts and please him too.

- "G-give it to-to me" – you beg, but it wouldn't even be necessary.

He finally puts you down, still holding you by the hips to avoid your legs playing a nasty trick and he enters you from behind, this time sinking completely, one hand on your ass to spread your soft buttocks. You meow, your sensitive center trembles from his intrusion and Roman throws his head back smugly, licking his lips, feeling the water run over his face and your hot folds around his flesh. He slides deep, his cock covered by your white nectar and energies gathering at the bottom of his abdomen ready at any moment to explode inside you. You are soft, familiar, holding you in his arms is a sensation capable of making him feel at peace with the world. Your hips roll tiredly, giving him everything you have and Roman thrust to take it, pounding deep inside you, the furious ecstasy of heat building every time his balls slap you making your back arch against the wall. He gave you what you wanted, always before himself, but now it's his turn. It's a violent, rough ride during which your sweet whispered words mix with his hoarse moans, legs burn, while he lowers his head and finally abandons himself to the wave that suddenly hits, dragging him inside you. The climax is overwhelming, Roman gasps, everything in him seems to empty inside your core, his hips fit into the beautiful curves of your body, mind blank and body unable of wasting a single drop of himself outside.

One of your hands finds him, resting on his forearm in a silent caress and when the hot wave it's finally over, Roman lowers himself onto you, placing a kiss on your back as you smile tiredly. You’re the one who breaks away from him, because for Roman it's an impossible feat he never tries to accomplish.

- "Such a hard working man" – you joke, wrapping your arms around him again.

Water slides against his back, washing away sweat and moisture from both your bodies, while he cradles you, your face pressed against his chest. Roman places a kiss in your head, a satisfied and soft smile on his face as he feels you hold him, so precious and for a moment the two of you stay there, until he’s again stable enough and he drags you out of the shower. You folllow, already knowing what he has in mind, fingers agreeing to leave him just long enough to wrap both of your bodies in white towels before walking back inside. Another refreshing glass to rehydrate and you and him collapse on the bed, hugging each other between the scented sheets, lulled by the sound of water and your breathing.

Tag squad: @sunnyfleur23 @racerchix21 @alyyaanna @expert-texpert @romanreignsdefencesquad @romanstheory @claymorexpunisher @keybladeofsteel @msbigredmachine @nayys-world @sortudademais @utika151209 @cumxxslutt @civildawn @romanmydaddy @triscillal @papireigns-05 @helensanders92 @darqchilddaydreamz @unfriendly--blvck--hottie @nicolewoo @joannasteez @reignsx @kianaleani @daguenoire @extra-11 @333creolelady @snowpanda18 @brattyfics @mzv11 @romanreignseater @dreamsinfocus @vebner37 @depressedneedingrevenge @cyberdejos2 @mahi-wayy @jxtina-86 @harmshake @southerngirl41 @smile1318 @headoftheetable @wrestlingprincess80 @tribalauthor

[perfectsunlight]

[23] THE SHOW

warnings: jealousy, isolation, envy, pettiness...(?)

“promise me something,” jennie whispered as they began preparing to exit the plane. her voice, though calm, carried a weight of concern. ivory, still groggy from the long flight, glanced over at her mother, curious but hesitant. her brows furrowed slightly as their eyes met.

“hm?” ivory hummed in acknowledgment, pulling her cap down over her hair and adjusting her sunglasses. she knew that look from jennie—the one where her mother was trying to shield her from something, though she wasn’t sure what.

“don’t look at any social media or news posts while you’re here,” jennie said, her voice firm yet gentle. there was a flicker of fear in her eyes, as if the idea of ivory seeing something would make everything spiral out of control.

ivory blinked, surprised. “why?” she asked, her voice a little sharper than intended. she wasn’t naive; she knew what the press could be like, but she didn’t fully understand the urgency in her mother’s tone.

jennie sighed, glancing around at the bustling first-class passengers gathering their things. “paris fashion week is... intense,” she explained softly. “the media here can be ruthless, especially when it comes to personal things. i just want you to focus on your work and not get caught up in what people are saying.”

ivory hesitated, biting her lip. she knew how wild the rumors could get, especially about her and jennie’s relationship. being the daughter of a global superstar came with heavy scrutiny. “is it bad?” she asked, her curiosity creeping in despite herself.

jennie’s jaw tightened. she didn’t want to lie, but she also didn’t want to worry her. “it’s just noise,” she said after a moment, forcing a small smile. “nothing worth your attention. promise me?”

ivory looked down at her phone, then back at her mother. she wasn’t sure if she could keep that promise, but something in jennie’s eyes made her relent. “fine,” she muttered, shoving her phone into her bag. “i promise.”

jennie exhaled in relief, gently squeezing her daughter’s hand before releasing it. “thank you.”

as they exited the plane, the pending separation between them loomed closer. even though jennie had been to these events countless times, this time was different. her maternal instincts were on high alert, heightened by the fact that no one knew ivory was her daughter. 

to the world, ivory was just another rising star, another face to watch—but to jennie, she was the daughter she had quietly protected from the spotlight for years.

her heart clenched as she watched ivory being ushered toward dior’s team. the cameras, the lights, the constant whisper of onlookers—it was the same overwhelming chaos jennie had grown accustomed to, but now her daughter was about to face it too. and no one knew just how deep their connection ran. they couldn’t know. 

not yet.

she knew jane would have to figure a few things out on her own, but that didn’t stop jennie’s protective instincts from kicking into overdrive. she watched every step ivory took, her eyes tracking every movement, every glance from the photographers. jennie’s mind raced with thoughts of what the press might say if they caught even a hint of their true relationship. 

one slip-up, one curious look between them, and the story would explode.

jennie kim had spent years learning to block out the noise, but it was different now. the stakes were higher. she glanced at her phone, scanning the headlines that were already trickling in about her arrival at chanel. her fingers itched to check what was being said about ivory, but she forced herself to put the phone away.

because she knew if she even saw just one nasty comment about her daughter, she would end up fighting the urge to confront everyone who dared to say a word against her. jennie had endured years of harsh criticism, but this was different. 

this was her daughter, and the thought of her being subjected to the same cruelty ignited a fierce protectiveness that was hard to control. but she knew she couldn't afford to let it show. 

not here, not now. 

fashion week required her to be poised, unbothered, the perfect face of chanel. but the mother in her was ready to fight the world if it meant keeping ivory safe.

as they walked through the tunnel to reach the gate, jennie gently placed a hand on her daughter’s shoulder just before they arrived at the front. ivory’s eyes met hers as she glanced over and looked at her mother with a curious look.

“call me if you need anything, okay?” jennie said quickly, already feeling more nervous than she did on her debut day. her daughter nodded firmly before replying softly, without any hesitation for once.

“you too.”

once they pushed past the front, every flashing camera and every murmured comment seemed to set off alarms in jennie’s head. her muscles twitched as she watched a particularly loud cameraman shouting for ivory to turn and look at him. her eyes darted around behind her sunglasses, looking out for any potential threats—whether it be from the press or the chaotic crowd that surrounded them. 

her protective instincts flared, her hands curling into fists as she fought the urge to rush over and shield her daughter from the chaos. she took a deep breath, reminding herself of where she was and how she should be acting.

the flashing lights and relentless calls for attention were still overwhelming, even for jennie, but her focus remained solely on her baby girl.

the younger girl kept her composure, moving slowly and carefully through the swarm of people, but jennie could sense the tension in the air. despite the confident façade, ivory was still new to this level of media scrutiny. 

it wasn’t just another day at the airport—it was her debut in the fashion world, and jennie knew how unforgiving the press could be.

finally, they reached the outside curb of the terminal and jennie let out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding. she watched dior’s team quickly move into action, ushering jane towards the waiting car. the efficiency and care they showed reassured jennie for a moment, but her maternal instincts still kept her on edge.

jennie’s own team was already lined up, ready to whisk her away. she gave a final glance towards the other car as it prepared to leave. 

she hoped ivory would be okay without her company. 

as jennie’s car pulled away, she felt a pang of guilt for not being able to stay with her daughter. her mind raced through possible scenarios, but she forced herself to focus on the task ahead.

—

jane was slightly overwhelmed by the attention from dior’s team as they helped her prepare for the show. she was dressed in a stunning blue-patterned dress, custom-made for her debut at paris fashion week. it was a blend of elegance and modernity. ivory’s long dark hair cascaded down her back in loose waves, completing the soft, sophisticated look.

as she entered the venue, the flashes of cameras and whispers of anticipation filled the air. dior’s team ushered her to her seat in the front row, where the biggest names in fashion sat, including ambassadors, designers, and influencers. she took a deep breath, feeling a mixture of excitement and tension as she settled into the chair.

scanning the room, ivory’s heart skipped a beat when she spotted jennie across the runway, seated with chanel. her mother was a picture of poise, dressed in a chic black ensemble with her hair pulled back sleekly. their eyes met briefly, and jennie’s steady gaze offered a silent message of greeting. but to everyone else, they were just two celebrities from different worlds—no one knew the truth of their relationship.

the younger kim fought the urge to wave, knowing it would draw unwanted attention. she quickly averted her gaze, her heart heavy with the weight of their secret. her mother was always so calm, so composed in public—sometimes it made her question how jennie was able to hold up such a facade. 

ivory straightened her shoulders, reminding herself of why they kept their relationship hidden. it wasn’t about shame—it was about survival, about protecting the fragile world they had both kept isolated.

ivory was about to focus on the crowd when she saw someone taking a seat next to her in her peripheral vision. once she turned her head slightly, she immediately felt as if her heart had stopped beating.

it was jisoo.

“hello,” the older woman greeted with a smile as she adjusted herself in her seat, her voice casual yet warm. ivory blinked, momentarily stunned by the presence of someone she’d admired for years. the ease with which jisoo settled beside her only made the moment more surreal. 

this was jisoo—blackpink’s jisoo, sitting right next to her like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“hi,” ivory managed to respond, her voice slightly timid, though she quickly tried to compose herself. her fingers straightened the fabric of her dress, a soft, flowing dior piece that was almost too perfect for her first major appearance. 

she was aware that her nerves were showing, but she couldn’t help it.

jisoo gave her a once-over, her smile never faltering. “you look amazing. dior suits you.”

“thank you,” ivory replied, the compliment making her feel a little more at ease. but still, her heart raced. she could feel jisoo’s presence looming larger than life beside her, even though the older idol was sitting perfectly still, watching the preparations for the next part of the show.

jisoo seemed to sense ivory’s nerves, and there was a slight glint in her eyes as if she knew more than she was letting on. “first time?” she asked softly, nudging the younger girl playfully with her elbow.

“yeah,” jane admitted, her voice a little more relaxed now, though her fingers still tapped nervously on her lap. “it’s a lot more intense than i expected.” the older woman chuckled softly, waving a hand of dismissal. “you get used to it after a while. but i remember my first time too. it’s overwhelming.”

as the two sat in the midst of the buzzing crowd, ivory couldn’t help but steal a glance at jennie, seated across the runway. she saw her mother still smiling, chatting, and mingling with the chanel team. ivory felt a pang of something—was it jealousy? longing? she wasn’t sure. 

she had become so good at hiding her emotions that it was hard to even recognize them anymore.

jisoo’s eyes followed ivory’s line of sight, briefly landing on jennie. she didn’t comment on it, but her observant nature took note. the subtle glances, the way ivory’s shoulders tensed whenever jennie was in view—it all clicked in a quiet, unspoken way for jisoo.

there was something more here. something ivory was guarding fiercely.

but jisoo didn’t push. instead, she gave ivory a gentle smile and shifted her attention back to the runway. “just enjoy the show,” she said softly. “you deserve to be here.”

—

the show was breathtaking. jane could’ve sworn she mentally added at least 20 items to her list of things to buy from each collection, her eyes wide as each model strutted down the runway. the lights, the music, and the artful designs left her mesmerized, momentarily taking her mind off her nerves. she leaned forward slightly, fully immersed in the moment.

but as the next segment transitioned into chanel’s show, ivory felt her breathing stop. the next model who stepped out was someone jane ivory kim would be able to recognize even if her back was to the girl.

ella gross.

the buzz among the fashion world had long tied ella to jennie, with fans frequently pointing out how much they resembled each other. jennie had even affectionately referred to ella as her "daughter" in interviews and on social media. now, as ella walked down the runway in shimmering chanel attire, eyes were drawn to her presence as much as to the clothes.

ivory’s gaze immediately snapped across the runway as she watched as her mother’s expression changed. jennie was completely engrossed, her phone in hand, capturing every moment of ella’s walk. there was something in her mother’s eyes that ivory had seen before—a soft pride, a quiet admiration. 

it was the same look jennie had given ivory during her own milestones, but now it was directed at someone else. publicly directed at someone else. 

a flicker of emotion crossed jane’s face, though she quickly masked it. her heart felt heavy, not with jealousy but with a deep, unspoken hurt. jennie had always been so careful about keeping their relationship hidden, and here she was, publicly filming and celebrating ella—someone the world already thought of as jennie’s “daughter.”

ivory shifted her gaze away, forcing herself to focus on the runway. the lights, the designs, the number of tiles on the floor—anything but jennie and ella. she didn’t want to think about how her mother was openly admiring someone who wasn’t her, while ivory remained anonymous and unseen. 

she felt a familiar sense of detachment, as if jennie’s attention was a spotlight that always seemed to miss her.

beside her, jisoo noticed the change. 

jane was sitting stiffly, her eyes trained forward but unfocused. the younger girl’s hands remained clenched in her lap, a subtle sign of the tension she was holding in. truth be told, jisoo had been watching her throughout the show. she found it a bit odd how the girl next to her acted—small habits, a certain way she held herself, little gestures that were undeniably like jennie’s. 

it was uncanny, almost a bit unsettling.

and now, seeing the way ivory deliberately avoided looking at her bandmate, jisoo’s suspicions deepened. however, she kept quiet, and remained silent. there was a familiarity in the way ivory reacted to jennie’s presence, a quiet disappointment that wasn’t typical of a fan or even a colleague. 

jisoo made a mental note, adding this to the growing list of similarities she’d been noticing all night.

ella finished her walk, posing at the end of the runway as cameras flashed and the audience clapped. jennie’s phone was still raised, capturing every second. ivory glanced at her mother one last time, seeing her smile, her focus completely absorbed in ella’s performance. 

the image stirred something bitter in ivory, and she forced herself to look away, silently sinking further into her seat. however, she remained as poised as she could, keeping her flawless facade up.

if her mother could do it, so could she.

once all the shows ended and the models returned for the final parade, the applause was thunderous. jennie clapped enthusiastically from across the room, still watching ella with that soft look in her eyes. ivory, however, barely clapped, her mind elsewhere. she felt disconnected from the moment and her mother.

when everything finally ended, the audience began to disperse. ivory stood up, brushing invisible creases from her dress, her mind racing but her face carefully neutral. she didn’t wait for jennie’s gaze to find hers this time. instead, she focused on the exit, already planning her next steps, her mother’s attention a distant thought she couldn’t afford to linger on.

jisoo rose beside her, noticing the lack of any acknowledgement between jennie and ivory. it was almost too deliberate, the way jane seemed determined not to look in her mother’s direction. jisoo kept her observations to herself, but the puzzle pieces were beginning to fit together in her mind. 

“ivory?” jisoo called out, her smile warm and inviting. ivory turned towards her, the faintest trace of wariness still visible on her face. “yes?” the younger girl answered politely, smiling slightly at the girl.

“would you like to join me and my friends at our table for the afterparty?” jisoo offered, her tone casual but genuine. “you’ll be able to meet more people, too. i think they’d love to meet you.”

something was definitely being hidden, and she had a feeling she was starting to figure out what.

previous | masterlist | next

TAGLIST ⸺ ✶ @silantryoo @imahallucination11 @jisooftme @yerimbrit @linnnsworld @edeivveiss @urmom2314 @aespasoooool @mygfiswonyoung @yeetaberry127 @@sixflame438 @yourmyst4r @shegoswhoree @saysirhc @hwm1hyun @literallybipanic @yejiscene @gayforalll @yvsvrn @bunnywonyo @karifrogs @thefckghost @yoontoonwhs @pandafuriosa60 @somedaydream @hotluvlet @pagedpick7 @lizseos @cy8erpunkz @keiji-jin @lizseos @xszn @awkwardtoafault @hellokiraa @chicopichu @chocolatestrawberrykryptonite @lesbian4themis @literallybipanic @tjdc25 @st4r4ngel @jihyos-hoe @jxmis

CLOSED.

[lovelykhaleesiii]

Can I put this in as a request? 🤭

omg omg omg I imagined this too!!! how hot would it be fucking him on the way to his coronation in that little ass carriage + that bumpy road ughh. the thots I had during that scene, UNHOLY!

Merciless or Ruthless?

PAIRING: Aegon ii Targaryen x Wife!fem!Reader

WORDS: 2,019.

WARNINGS: degradation kink, name-calling, praise kink, breeding/pregnancy kink, brief mentions of implied pregnancy, mentions of p in v sexual intercourse, slight exhibitionism, swearing.

A/N - I may have gotten slightly carried away with this. but he deserves it <3 hope you enjoy lovely x

The inevitability of death could be a comforting notion of peace to some, and yet marks a heavy burden of loss, sorrow and responsibility on others. King Viserys, the First of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhonyar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, or more commonly dotted as Viserys the Peaceful, had passed peacefully in his sleep.

His death was one that many held their breaths anticipating in the final previous months, considering the haste deterioration of the king's ill health. Nonetheless, during these months of anticipation, whispers of preparation had begun to churn behind the back of the sickly King, plans to anoint his eldest son, your dearly beloved husband, Aegon the Second of His Name, as King of the Realm.

Regardless of such talks, Aegon remained blissfully oblivious to it all. Relishing in the banquets and spoils of royalty, he remained keen and satisfied as Prince, and from time to time, expressed the notion of respecting his elder half-sister, Rhaenyra, as the rightful Queen.

It was only with you, that Aegon openly delved deeper into his reluctance of being adorned as King, expressing a distaste for the role and the heavy burden.

"I have no wish to rule...Only to wine, dine and fuck you senseless and raw, till you are practically dripping of me."

As his faithful and devoted wife, you ultimately respected and supported his well wishes. No desire to dissuade him further, despite the conniving tactics employed by his mother and grandsire, who often urged you to encourage him to seek and accept the duty of the Crown. You denied their efforts, remaining stagnant to Aegon's choice.

That was until Viserys' death began to ignite a ripple of chaos...

"A-Aeg... You've been distant all morning. Talk to me, my love."

You had awoken beside Aegon that morning, although he was not the same... His last few pending hours as Prince, before his looming coronation, was he to be anointed as King. Having quarrelled tirelessly against his grandsire, mother and liege council, he was outnumbered and ultimately defeated... More so, it was after his discrete one on one talk with Ser Criston, that seemed to shove Aegon into accepting his fate, without even so uttering a rebuttal.

"I am not fit to rule, Y/N... Everyone knows it, I know it. This is going to be a disaster, and Nyra, I-"

He pauses as his breath hitches in his throat, gulping as he composes himself, his lilac eyes swell, glistening in the streaks of sunlight, yet no tears fallen: his lounged body swayed in motion to the rocking carriage.

"-I know what is expected of me, but I doubt myself."

"Aeg- It is just nerves, my dear. We'll take it step by step, day by day, I promise-"

Reaching out, your arm stretches over as you lean towards your Targaryen husband. Your gentle hand firmly holding his, as your thumb caresses his pale skin. The colour in his face has faded, except for the dark circles embedded beneath his lower lash line. Despite your encouraging words, and half-hearted smile, you earned a simple shrug and huff, as Aegon continued to longingly look onwards towards the bustling crowds gathering and trodding towards the Hill of Rhaenys.

"Please Aeg- Is there anything I can do in my power, my love? I cannot bear to see you in such a miserable state for longer."

Silence remained still for a few sparing seconds, before Aegon's tiresome eyes sparked with a familiar yearn. Flickering from your seated position towards your entwined hands, taking a deep breath before he dared to speak.

"Do me the honour, of fucking me one last time as a Prince. Do it for me, as a gift to your King."

You could not deny, nor did your body try to hide it, you were taken aback in shock by his demand.

"Right now? Here? Aeg- Can this not wait for after the coronation, mayhaps back in bed-"

"Please, Y/N... Unorthodox I know, but when have we not been? It would really help to calm my nerves, baby. If I could just feel you, let me be with you. You always know how to make me feel better."

Exhaling a defeated sigh, you lean back, pulling aside a curtain shading a small window through the carriage, and see there is still much a way ahead, along with all the disrupting foot traffic.

Carefully standing up as you felt your stance unsteady attempting to pull up the rich, silk layers of your custom gown up. The cobbled road beneath the wheeled carriage strewed with potholes and uneven surfaces, made it near impossible to stand still. Immediately your hand instinctively reaches, latching and gripping onto Aegon's sturdy shoulder, as he remains comfortably seated. His arm reaches over to you, supporting your waist, as your other hand grips onto his forearm, as you nestle yourself atop his wide lap, as he slightly readjusts himself.

"Is this what you wanted, hmm? Want your pretty, little wife's cunt on your cock to make you feel better? You are worse than the whores out there-" You head tilts gesturing towards the Street of Silk in passing by, often where your young husband would venture during his bachelor days. Your fingers begin to find their way to his tussled, short hair, pulling at his platinum strands. Although he was dressed and prepped dutifully this morning, it still looked somewhat unkempt. You pursue his soft lips, eager as you delve in for a kiss, Aegon succumbing to it, trying desperately to hold for as long as possible, before you break apart, both of you breathless.

His familiar taste tinged with the essence of wine lingering, etched on your lips as you savour it, your focus remaining solely on one another. Each of your hands remain gripped to his shoulders, your body weight atop of Aegon's kept him steady during the rocky ride, as you swayed in motion. The haste, harsh turns made you grind against your husband's clothed lap: sensing a brewing, hungry twitch growing more blatant beneath your bare, throbbing cunt.

"I can feel you stirring, handsome... Such a needy Prince today, aren't you? Gods help me, when you are crowned King. I shall be at your beckon call day and night," You breathlessly utter closely into the elder Prince's ear. Aegon's rough hands firmly clutched at your hips, guiding your natural movements, as you buck backwards and forwards against his larger frame. The friction was palpable, as the heat infused between your inner thighs over his crotch.

"That you will be. I'll have you bent and fucked stupid over that fucking throne when I want... The only perks I shall relish in as King. Keeping you safe and sated," Aegon lowly whispered, an almost fearsome growl echoed in his throat.

"Is that so? Ugh- I must say, dear husband... To see you crowned and seated almighty on that throne, ordering us subjects below you. I might just faint at the sheer sight."

A snarling chuckle escaped his plump lips, as his hands glided over towards your front, pulling the hem further up, exposing your undergarments. Without so much as a warning, and with such swift strength, Aegon tore the piece of fabric apart.

"Just the thing I needed to cheer me up, and look at you--"

Aegon's thick digits teasing at your arousal, gently encircling your entrance as he attempted to pry you open, before hungrily licking your sweet taste off his fingers.

"Already making such a wet mess, who exactly is the whore now? I've barely touched you, and your body desperately craves for my cock, huh?"

"Mhmm-" You whimper, as Aegon elevated himself, unbuttoning his clean trousers, his stiff cock lively springing into action.

"Tell your King exactly what you want, baby... Tell your King and I shall listen. Mayhaps I will be merciful and grant you what you desire, or be ruthless."

His hard, strained cock, red and glistening enticingly with his pre-cum oozing at the tip, appeared aching for release. Teasingly stroking at the entrance of your moist folds, feeling its pulsating throbs against the sensitive skin of your cunt, was enough to send you into overdrive.

As you instinctively lifted yourself up slightly off of Aegon's lap, readying yourself to plop yourself back down, Aegon's grip over your waist, held you steady and preserved.

"Not yet, baby... Use your words. I need to hear it from you first. Can't just let you roam around and do as you please now. You think you get some sort of special treatment?"

"A-Aeg, please-" You had mindlessly moaned: the rugged motions of the carriage persisted, the unsteadiness plunging you back down against Aegon's lap, as you nestled for support. His cock thrashed against your velvet folds, earning a sly smirk on his behalf and a helpless moan from yourself.

"Words, princess."

"Y-Your cock, my King. I-I want you to f-fuck me rough and hard, till I'm nice and round with heirs for m-my King."

"Fuck. That's it, baby-" Satisfied, Aegon's hands effortlessly lifted you once more momentarily, before having you plunge down over his cock. Its wide, intimidating girth was a sensation you could never quite adjust to, naturally stretching your silky walls, clenching tightly over his thudding cock.

"Let me fuck my heir into you now, and let it be known that you carry the offspring of the King. These tits will swell ample with milk for the babe and for I-" He breathlessly growls, as his lips softly suckle at your cleavage, his hands once more ventured, fingers pulling at your corset fabric, before roughly pulling apart the seams: busting your breasts more open, enough to shed any last remaining source of modesty.

"-These hips will grow wide to carry and birth a whole damn litter. This precious stomach, may the Gods be good, will swell greatly in the moons to come. Fuck me, you will be such a heavenly Queen."

Aegon's frame now moving against the uphill, rocky drive naturally his cock followed his motions delved deep inside of you, striking at your cervix. Whimpering moans of pleasure and pain, coaxed in your voice chiselled through the carriage, layered with Aegon's heavy breathing.

"You w-will be s-such a good King, such a g-good father, as you have been an honourable husband. P-Putting my needs first."

"S-Say more, precious-" Aegon sternly proclaimed, his tone growling louder, as his large hands had subtly snaked their way towards your backside, rough palms [tarnished from training] kneading at your plush flesh.

"You are the rightful King. I devote my entire being, my entire existence to you, Aeg. Forever bound to you, I am at your disposal. Love me, ch-cherish me...F-Fuck me."

With all the swaying, harsh motions from the carriage itself alongside the sensual love-making, Aegon's cock released all the tension from the anticipation, the buildup from your touch, that he desperately needed. Reaching his ultimate peak, in return spoiling you with a climatic apex.

The moments that followed timely, had forever changed the course of history itself...

Aegon had been crowned and accepted by the realm as King. And as he spoke like a true, honest ruler, the Gods saw fit as they did anointing your husband, and you began to swell healthily with child in the months that followed. It was widely known however, that the conception of the King's soon to be heir, was poetically the day its father was crowned.

"As tense as we all were for Aegon, it seemed you two were rather ugh- eager for the coronation... If the Gods blessed the Queen with child now, then we shall be thankful for the holy plans of the Seven," Alicent, the Dowager Queen, had reminisced over the intimate family dinner that night.

Regardless, it took time for Aegon to grow accustomed to the heavy burden and responsibility of having to rule Seven Kingdoms. And yet he did so willingly, so long as you had remained dutifully by his side. That, he forever was eternally thankful for.

general taglist [bold means I could NOT tag you] - @evenstaris @bel-bottoms @fan-goddess @malfoytargaryen @hightowhxre @bibli0thecary @m1ndbrand @connorsui @elegantsplendour @randomdragonfires @sylasthegrim @arcielee @s-we-e-t-t-ea @sahvlren @aemondtargaryensrider @watercolorskyy @hypnos-daughter-certified

Aegon ii taglist - @who-told-you-this-was-butter @f4ll-for-you @amiraisgoingthruit @bucknastysbabe @jawline-of-steel

credit for dividers - @/firefly-graphics

[mins-fins]

ANGEL EYES. — [L.MH] [PREVIEW]

❝ sometimes, it feels as if mark lee is your guardian angel ❞

SYNOPSIS: innocent cherub eyes, gently soft hands, a heart of gold, mark lee is the golden boy whose experienced as much love as he gives back. his grades are high, his smile is wide, and his laughter is sweet. the only reason mark lee gets embroiled in a world of trouble is because of his pairing with the 'messed up foster kid' in a school project. it would be stupid to ever let himself get involved, but mark does anyway.

PAIRING: mark lee x male!reader

GENRE: mid–2000s au, high school au, strangers to lovers, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, humor(?), slow burn, one sided pining to mutual pining, sadness as a romantic segway, relationship study, reader is a foster kid, mark pov, happy ending.. (i suppose)

WARNINGS: swearing, explicit language, violence, drug abuse, child abuse & neglect, family issues, mentions of death, smoking, homophobia, reader simply has the worst time and mark sobs about his circumstances, an awful amount of love that isn't realized to be love

WORD COUNT: 2.7k (preview) | ..pending (full fic)

NOTES: hello everyone, this is my baby, the birth was very special, i love my baby so much 💗 listen! i started this in early august and i am STILL going, this going to be LONG.. longest mins-fins work ever long 😞 im estimating 30–40k, the power of mark lee yall 😇 it's going to go on forever, and it's definitely going to be sad in some ways, i am currently about to hit 20k words.. sooooiooooo 😊😊 i hope you like this preview bc i really dk when the real thing is coming out 😭😭 im in so much pain rn, let me nap now 😴

BEFORE IT WAS IN THE CRISP AUTUMN ATMOSPHERE, mark lee had met you at the local police station. it was only a few months prior, august of 2004 brought the prospect of donghyuck doing everything to try and get arrested, prospects that mark could only respond with under the breath swears. he loves donghyuck, he really does, but driving shouldn't have been his first choice. in all of the friendships mark has had with other people in his life, donghyuck has always brought a wave of chaos along with him, the exact opposite of who mark's mom would advise him to stay away from, but she'd always had a soft spot for him, mark can't exactly blame her.

fresh off turning seventeen and utterly clueless as to what the future would bring, mark only found himself at the police station for one reason. donghyuck had driven without a license. yep, sixteen years old and he assumed doing an illegal u-turn was the way to end his summer.

mark has always been a stand up kid. the kind who handed out his mom's cookies to the neighbors. the kind who called for stray cats in alleyways. the kind who was simply an innocent bystander to all the bullshit his friends would pull.

so when donghyuck called him from a jail phone, voice heightened in indignation as he begged for mark to come make a case for him, the older really had no choice but to do so. mark had never been to a police station before, afraid of catching sight of real criminals in the flesh by just walking past the building. he had heard too many scary stories, had terrible ideas of human beings planted in his head.

and even as a seventeen year old who had experienced life enough that such things shouldn't have terrified him anymore, there was still a small pit in his stomach as he rounded the corner in direction of the building.

"and how exactly am i supposed to bail you out?" an eyebrow raise accompanied mark's inquiry, and donghyuck scoffed as he shook his cuffed hands.

"you don't have to bail me out, my dad knows the sheriff, i'm just getting off with a warning" he whispered, sweat on his brow as he shared that familiar 'no shit' look with mark (an ironic expression really, he's the only one between the two of them that's been in cuffs).

mark snickered. "you talk so much when you're the one handcuffed".

"watch your mouth, you need me".

just as donghyuck was about to let out a swear in addition to his snappy response, said sheriff walked into the room, tight lipped smile painting his face. "don't try that again donghyuck, or next time you'll end up in a cell".

in a instant, donghyuck's blood ran cold, mark almost laughed at the sight, but he remained still, watching. the older man glanced up, catching mark's anxiety ridden eyes. "and you are?"

"this is mark, my best friend" donghyuck was quick to quip, a hand placed onto his shoulder.

mark's stomach dropped to his feet, it isn't as if he did anything wrong, it was simply on par for him to be severely anxious around law enforcement in general, he was just afraid he'd somehow get arrested for nothing at all.

"ohhh i remember you, i used to assume you two were brothers".

mark let out a breathy (and clearly faked) chuckle, trying to bury his anxiety. he could never explain it, even if you gave him all the words to, it's not like he's a bad kid, he just finds himself tensing often. "no, just friends.."

"it's good to have someone so close as support" he narrowed his eyes at donghyuck, who stifled his scoff at the clear sarcasm lacing his tone. he then scrunched his nose, watching as donghyuck placed a performative smile on his lips. "now you, sir, we need to have a talk".

donghyuck frowned, whining out complaints as he's dragged away by the sheriff. "can you wait, mark?"

mark blinked, shoving his hands into his pant pockets. he nodded, out of words. the two bantered back and forth like friends, something mark could only stare idly at. he made his way over to the seats beside the door, where, nestled in the corner of one of them, was you.

you were scribbling something into your notebook, unaware of the eyes on you. mark sat two chairs away from you, tapping his feet onto the floor as he heard the faint sounds of scoldings. safe driving, don't get into a car without a license, your future won't be any better if you continue this shit.

swearing at a child, mark found that rich. he glances beside him again, now watching you intently. you were engrossed in the manner your pen scratched against your paper, mark had figured out through endless staring that you hadn't been writing, but drawing.

you avoided his eyes for a while, ignorant to the eyes gazing you up and down. you then glanced in mark's direction, almost startling him out of his seat with the sudden stare. you blinked, puzzled out of your mind. "is there something on my face?"

mark tensed in his seat, feeling his stomach swirl, was he staring so much that you felt offended? he felt guilty immediately, his lips parting immediately and releasing a silent breath. "no.. no i'm sorry, i didn't mean to".

you shrugged your shoulders, one click to your pen. mark recognized you, but he simply couldn't conjure up an explanation as to why you were sitting in a police station at this time, drawing whatever into your notebook. "so why are you staring then?"

"i'm trying to figure out why you're here" mark muttered, fingers fiddling with his necklace as he tried to get his tone straight in fear of again offending you. "i'm sure you aren't committing crimes".

"i can say the same for you, mr golden boy".

mark's lips turned up slightly, his hands twitching from where they rested on his lips. "i got kicked out.. always come here to let dad and mom cool off for a few hours".

the words earned an eyebrow raise from mark, that was strange to hear, especially from another person in regards to their own parents. mark had never really experienced such a thing, the way you described it made his nose scrunch. "what?"

before you could respond to that one, a police officer entered the room, one you seemed to recognize by the way your eyes lit up. "come on l/n, time to go".

a frown settled onto your lips. "do i really have to go now? you know how my parents are.."

"i can't keep you here, it would technically be illegal".

"it's not like they'll care anyway.." you mumbled, slamming your notebook shut with yet another click to your pen. "just an hour longer, please?"

there was a sense of hope in your eyes, maybe he would actually take your words into account. mark simply stared, staggered by what he was witnessing. the officer watched the change of your expressions, your thumb playing at the button on your pen, continuously clicking over and over. as the clicks amplified, so did the sound of your labored breathing.

"you know i can't do that kid".

your frown deepened, teeth sinking into your bottom lip. worry, that's what mark remembered. your eyes widened, but not in the usual shock, simply in disappointment. you cursed under your breath, muttering something about your parents getting pissed at your reappearance. you stopped clicking your pen, letting the chagrin settle onto you. "yeah.."

you sucked your teeth, imitating the look of a sulky child. mark was consumed by his silence, completely confused by the situation. he didn't give a comment, simply watched the whole entire thing happen. "i'll give you a few minutes, don't worry".

you didn't respond to that one, your eyes following the police officer who strolled out the door towards his car. you bit into your lip again, hands grasping onto your notebook and thumb still pressing onto your pen. "what bullshit".

mark continued staring, his hands clutching at his thighs. you then glanced at him once more, causing for him to flinch back. you stayed silent, watching him as much as he did you a few minutes prior.

"are you alright?" he muttered, leaving his voice at a low volume. he didn't want to raise it, he wanted to keep it at a volume that kept you comfortable.

you snickered, clicking your tongue against the roof of your mouth. "fine, going home is just my worst nightmare".

mark's fingers found themselves sliding across his legs, teeth sliding against each other in back and forth motions. he blinked his big brown eyes, staring with an assured gaze he hoped would somehow make it's way to you. "i'm sorry".

he whispered those two words as if he was in physical pain, eyes watering for an inexplainable moment. he couldn't help it, and he had no idea why he couldn't help it. it was embarrassing how much he felt at the moment.

you stared back, lips pursuing. your expressions did at least seventy transformations, as if you were in disbelief at someone having empathy for you. you seemed distraught, why is he tearing up? that's so strange.

you chuckled, hoping it would quell his worries. "it's okay, not like it's your fault".

"still, you shouldn't have to feel that way about going home.. your parents shouldn't be kicking you out".

you grimaced, put off by the words. it isn't as if they were terrible, you just seemed.. astonished. why did he care? it was simply weird to you.

"well thank you for your concern but i'll be fine".

mark blinked away the tears threatening to escape his eyes, god what was wrong with him? why did he even tear up at that? he totally weirded you out.

"yeah um.. i'm sorry" mark bit into his inner cheek, letting out a heavy sigh. "just have a good day" a theatric smile placed itself on his lips, he was definitely trying to convince himself that it wasn't that bad of a situation.

you stared longer, seemingly itching to say something. there were words resting on the tip of your tongue, mark could practically sense it. "yeah, you too".

and when you stood up to walk out of the door, donghyuck coincidentally escaped the clutches of the sheriff, stumbling out of his office with his arms crossed over his chest. the door closed behind you, and mark watched the entire time.

"what took you so long?" mark uttered, eyes casting donghyuck's way.

the younger huffed in his usual donghyuck manner, hands on his hips. "he was giving me a big talk about safe driving" he placed heavy air quotes around the last two words, lips curled into a frown.

mark licked his teeth, his thoughts retracing back to you. "do you know him..?"

donghyuck blinked, his mouth opening to ask about who until he saw the way mark motioned his head. "y/n? oh yeah, he's around here all the time, the officers basically take him in whenever.."

"why?"

his voice scratched like sandpaper, donghyuck wincing at the tone. he then shrugged his shoulders, his attitude puzzled. "something about his parents not really caring, it's pretty shitty".

mark's lips parted in a freezing motion, his stomach pain only worsening. "that's scary.. feeling safer at the police station than your own home".

"i don't know much about his situation, just know his parents have a terrible temper".

mark swallowed the lump in his throat, his head beginning to pound at the information given. he tried to distract himself by thinking about school coming up soon, but he was snapped back into reality by donghyuck.

"why are you even asking me about y/n?"

mark glanced up at his childhood friend, a small whisper in his mind telling him to lie. "just curious that's all".

the lie laid bitter on his tongue, but he didn't allow for donghyuck to dwell on it, rising from the chair he's practically glued himself to. "promise me you'll never illegally drive again, the officers here look like they wanna kill me".

donghyuck rolled his eyes, tease evident in his attitude. "okay markie, promise".

mark pushed his shoulder in retaliation.

that? that was two months ago.

before the crisp autumn weather drifted through the atmosphere, before the leaves began falling to decorate the ground in orange and brown hues, mark lee had met you at the local police station. your legs crossed, pen clicking, and nose buried into your notebook.

september came and went rather quickly, the scorching heat of the summer air transforming into the russet autumn scenery which drifts into october. the temperature steadily dropping, sweaters becoming more and more common in his closet, mark can't exactly focus in class during the first few months of school.

when mark hears his name fall from his teacher's lips in pair with yours, he snaps out of an episode of disassociation, blinking up. "what?"

his teacher deadpanned, readjusting her glasses. she doesn't even seem surprised by his lack of focus anymore, his exhaustion is constantly evident. "project partners mark, you'll be paired with y/n".

mark only parts his lips in response, the words rendering him speechless. he glances around the classroom as he listens to the older woman's voice blurs into the background, catching sight of you in the far back, again scribbling into your notebook, your manner reminiscent of how you acted the first time you two met.

he stares for a while before again looking forward, his mouth going dry as he tries again to focus, but of course, he can't. his mind stays focused on you throughout the whole class, even after the endless words he lets blur away.

you spin your pen between your fingers, it's the same pen you had that day, maybe you have some sort of attachment to it or something, maybe it's your favorite pen, maybe someone special gifted that pen to you.

maybe mark's letting it all get to his head, why is he even making assumptions when he hasn't walked up to you yet?

while everyone else rushes to leave the class, mark rises from his seat and again glances over at you, slinging his back over his shoulder.

you're riveted by what you're doing in your notebook, so absorbed that you barely hear the shuffling footsteps making their way around the many desks towards yours. your lips turn down as you smudge the ink on the page, a small suck of the teeth adding to your frustration.

"um.. hi" mark whispers, watching as you glance up and pause, one click to your pen. you don't respond immediately, studying mark for a while, and mark tenses up under your gaze, sucking a breath between his teeth.

"hi".

"we uh— were partners for the project".

your smile is neutral. "i know".

mark began biting the skin off his lips, hands gripping at his backpack. "i don't know where you want to start, uh.. maybe we could go to the library?"

he's just saying what he's hoping will work. he doesn't exactly know you yet, he assumes your one off interaction at the police station left a sour taste in your mouth.

but unbeknownst to mark's anxious inner voice, you smile, not exactly a neutral one this time, a much better smile ('better' in terms of expression, your lips stretch into an aspect of satisfaction).

"that'd be nice".

mark nods, almost too enthusiastically he thinks. how embarrassing. you let out a silent yawn, oblivious to the battle mark is having in his head. "tomorrow maybe we can start?"

your smile again becomes neutral, but at least mark doesn't think you want to kill him. "yeah, tomorrow is fine".

tomorrow. tomorrow is fine.

"okay, have a good day y/n".

mark rushes out of the classroom much too fast, he feels a little terrified of you. maybe you don't exactly want to kill him, maybe you just look at everyone else in that way, maybe it won't be that bad to be paired with you.

still, mark isn't sure why his mind tells him he should stay away from you.

[sosa2imagines]

You, me and Vegas! Part 3

Warning- Fluff

Peach arrived at her apartment, humming a tune under her breath. But as she reached the door, she stopped short, her hand on the doorknob.

The door was locked, and her bags were sitting out by the doorstep. Confusion and disbelief washed over her face.

She jiggled the doorknob, trying to open it, but it wouldn't budge. Frustration started to bubble up within her as she realized she couldn't get into her apartment. “What the hell?” she mumbled under her breath.

Peach, still bewildered and annoyed, made her way to the apartment's office where the old couple, the owners of the place, were usually present.

She knocked on the office door, her knuckles connecting firmly against the worn wood. After a brief moment, the old man, Mr. Jenkins, opened the door. His weathered face broke into a frown at the sight of her.

“Peach.” he greeted gruffly, his eyes narrowing.

“What's going on, Mr. Jenkins?” Peach asked, her frustration laced in her voice. “Why are my bags outside and my door locked?”

Mr. Jenkins let out a sigh, his shoulders heavy with what looked like guilt. “I'm sorry, Peach. We can't rent to you anymore...” he replied, his tone as unapologetic as possible.

Peach's frown deepened, her confusion turning into agitation. “Why not?” she demanded. “You can't just kick me out like this, without a reason.”

Mr. Jenkins avoided her gaze, his eyes flickering to the floor. “Your...rent,” he finally said, his voice reluctant. “It is pending.”

Peach's eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean it's pending?” she asked, her voice rising in panic. “I paid the rent on time. I always do!”

Mr. Jenkins sighed again, his face showing that he didn't want to be having this conversation. “Not this month's,” he replied. “You're a month behind.”

“Behind? No, that can't be right.” Peach protested, her heart beginning to pound in her chest. “I distinctly remember paying it...”

Mr. Jenkins cut her off, his voice firm. “No, you didn't. And we can't have tenants who don't pay their rent. I'm sorry, Peach, but you'll have to find someplace else to stay.”

Anger and panic bubbled up inside Peach. “This is bullshit!” she exclaimed, her hands clenching into fists. “I've always been a good tenant! I've never given you guys a problem! You can't just toss me out like this!”

Mr. Jenkins remained impassive, his eyes betraying no hint of sympathy. “I'm sorry, Peach,” he repeated, “but rules are rules. If you don't pay your rent, you can't live here.”

His words felt like a slap in the face, and Peach had to bite her tongue to stop the slew of curses from escaping her mouth.

“But...I'm cute?”

Mr. Jenkins gave a humorless chuckle. “Being cute doesn't pay the bills.” he said bluntly.

Peach couldn't believe what she was hearing. This was beyond unfair.

Bucky sat on the edge of his bed, his head in his hands. It had been a whirlwind of a day, and the weight of it all was sinking in now that he was alone.

The loss of his job still stung, the memories of the events of last night playing over in his mind like a relentless tape. But then there was Peach, the unexpected and unplanned addition to his life.

He couldn't quite get her out of his head either.

He lay back on his bed, the soft sheets cool against his skin. Despite the chaos, he found himself thinking about her, her carefree attitude, her nonchalant manner, her stubbornness. It was irritating and attractive all at once.

Bucky cursed himself for the hundredth time for getting into this mess. Marriage. With a stranger. In Vegas. It didn't get any more reckless than this.

Bucky was just about to slip into sleep when the knock on his door jolted him back to wakefulness. Confused and a little irritated, he climbed out of bed and trudged to the front door.

He opened the door to find Peach standing on the other side, her bags in hand.

Surprise flashed across his face, quickly replaced by disbelief. “Peach? What are you doing here?” he asked, his voice hoarse with sleep.

“Can I crash here for a couple of days?” she asked without preamble, her eyes meeting his without flinching.

Bucky felt a surge of irritation mixed with resignation. “Why?” he asked, his eyes narrowing slightly.

Peach smiled, as if her request was the most natural thing in the world. “Well, seeing as you're my husband and all, I figured you wouldn't mind if I stayed here…” she said lightly.

Bucky's irritation spiked higher. “We're not even remotely a real couple,” he retorted. “And you can't just ask to stay here because we're technically married. That's not how it works. Now tell me the truth!”

Peach's smile faded slightly, replaced by a hint of defiance. “Alright, fine,” she relented, her voice hardening a touch. “I got kicked out of my apartment. My landlord evicted me because I couldn't pay rent this month.”

Bucky's irritation subsided somewhat, replaced by surprise and, surprisingly, sympathy. He leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossing over his chest. “You got evicted?” he repeated, as if trying to process the information.

Peach, on a roll, started explaining her reasoning to Bucky. “Look, the hotels are expensive, the motels are not safe, money is tight and and…”

Bucky cut her off, waving his hand. “Alright, fine. You can stay,” he interrupted, his tone gruff but resigned. “Just don't expect me to play 'happy husband' with you, though.”

Peach's eyes widened, a flicker of what looked like relief passing across her face. “You're serious?”

Bucky nodded. “Yeah, I am,” he replied, a hint of bitterness in his voice. “But I have rules. No parties, no late-night TV, and no eating on the couch. Got it?”

Peach gave him a mock salute. “Yes, sir!” she said, a hint of sarcasm in her voice.

Bucky grunted, a mixture of annoyance and disbelief coursing through him. He'd just agreed to let a stranger, a woman no less, technically his wife, crash at his place.

Bucky, already regretting his decision, made the couch ready for Peach to sleep on. He turned the couch into a makeshift bed, setting pillows and blankets in place.

Peach, who had been watching him, stepped forward as he finished up. “No...no, I'll take the couch. You can sleep on the bed…” she offered, her tone gentle but firm.

Bucky paused, his face set in a stubborn expression. “The couch is for you,” he stated, his voice leaving no room for argument. “Good night.”

Peach looked like she was about to protest, but the look on Bucky's face stopped her. She sighed, her shoulders slumping. “Alright, fine,” she said, her voice a little sullen. “Good night.”

With that, Bucky spun on his heel and walked away, disappearing into his bedroom, leaving Peach alone in the living room, surrounded by blankets and pillows.

Peach, now alone in the living room, settled on the couch. It was a lot bigger than she was used to, and it was very comfortable. She pulled the blankets over herself, her thoughts racing.

Her life had taken a major unexpected turn. She was technically married to a man she had just met, and now she was crashing on his couch. What the hell was her life turning into?

Bucky, tired from his rough night's sleep, decided to start his day with a shower. He turned on the water, expecting a relaxing, warm spray.

Instead, he was met with water spraying on him from all sides. Jets of water hit him from the sides and the top, completely drenching him in less than a second.

“What the hell?” he exclaimed, jumping back from the spray. It was as though he'd suddenly stepped into a carwash.

After the initial shock, Bucky realized what must've happened. The thought of Peach already messing with his shower didn't surprise him. He had a feeling this was going to be a regular occurrence now that she was staying with him.

Resigning himself to his fate, Bucky decided to just accept the cold shock of water and quickly get his shower done and over with.

Peach relished her breakfast, blissfully unaware of Bucky's increasingly irritated glances. She left small stains of food on the table, completely at ease.

Bucky, on the other hand, was not as relaxed. He watched her with a mixture of annoyance and resignation, wiping away the stains she left with a cloth, his face growing more and more taut with irritation.

“Can you please try to keep the table clean?” he grumbled, his tone betraying his irritation.

Peach, oblivious to his annoyance, took another messy bite from her plate. “Hm? What's that?” she asked, her mouth full of food.

Bucky bristled, his jaw clenching. “I said, can you try to keep the table a little tidier while you eat?” his patience wearing thin.

Peach swallowed her food, finally seeming to understand his irritation. But instead of replying, she simply shrugged, a small smirk playing on the corner of her mouth.

Bucky was about to say something, but Peach beat him to it, “Oh I found a card of yours on the couch, ‘Booblious escort services since 1973’...”

Bucky's cheeks immediately turned a deep shade of red, the mention of the card jolting him out of his irritable state. He forgot he had that card, thanks to Steve's attempt at getting him to loosen up. It was exactly the kind of thing Steve would do. He had no use for it, but Steve thought it was hilarious to give it to him.

“Oh, that,” Bucky managed, his voice tight. “They were our clients... gave us a huge contract for renovating.”

Peach raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. “Right, so the card from a... 'booblious' escort service is connected to a contract for renovation work? Sure...” she drawled, her tone making it clear that she didn't believe a word of what he was saying.

He mentally kicked himself for even having such a card in his possession. Steve and his pranks never failed to cause him headaches.

Bucky, eager to shift the attention away from the embarrassing business card, decided it was time to redirect the conversation. With a clearing of his throat, he brought up the important matter at hand.

“Yes, we did…” he affirmed, fixing his gaze on Peach. “We have a meeting with the lawyer this afternoon. We need to get this marriage annulled as soon as possible.”

Peach, who had been teasing him just moments ago, seemed to sober up at the mention of the annulment. She nodded slowly, her expression turning serious. “Yeah, I guess we do...” she agreed, her voice lacking its usual flippancy.

There was a brief pause between them, a moment of shared responsibility and the weight of the decision they had made in their moment of drunken stupor.

Bucky, as both finished their breakfast, leaned back in his chair. “I have a job interview…” he informed Peach, his tone a mixture of determination and slight nervousness. “I'll meet you directly at the courthouse, and we can head back home together after the annulment procedure.”

He mentally prepared himself for the interview, hoping it would go better than last time.

Peach nodded, her eyes meeting his briefly. “Sure,” she replied, with a smile. “I'll see you there, then. And hey good luck with the interview.”

Bucky pushed back his chair, standing up. “Alright, I'll go get ready, and thanks I need it.” he said, heading off to his room to prepare.

Part 2- Part 4

Taglist- @imyourbratzdoll @blackhawkfanatic @ordelixx @sapphirebarnes @ilovetaquitosmmmm

@caplanbuckybarnes @differenttyphoonwerewolf @vicmc624 @thezombieprostitute @nekoannie-chan @emerald-writes

@redbloodedgurl @cjand10 @chemtrails-club @slutforchrisjamalevans @gracescor3

@ghostlythinggoingaround @princezzjasmine @3xclusivemariii @ephemeral-oasis @zuri-767-666

@geeky-politics-46 @dexter99 @calwitch

@caplanreblogsfics @winterslove1917

@pono-pura-vida @renegadesgirl1991 @iwudbutnah @ghalouha @sebastians-love @saranghaey @greatmistakes @baw1066

@bucks-babe @lolzies123r @kandis-mom @purplecolordeer @avioletkurt

@unaxv @pattiemac1 @hzdhrtss @lovely-geek

[gallifreyinstituteforlearning]

Do Timelord’s have their own curse words?

Do Time Lords have their own curse words?

Gallifreyan society has a lot of slang and common phrases, and we'll focus on the ruder ones here - y'know, the ones you probably don't want to use in front of your Gallifreyan grandma.

There aren't so many 'direct' translations of swear words, but rather phrases and slang more attached to their culture.

The conlang can offer more, and also provide translations for these (mostly English) phrases, but we'll just look at these canonical ones for now.

🤬 List of Swears

D'Arvit: Unspecified curse word, might be something like "dammit!"

Fall off!: Possibly equivalent to "get lost" or "f--k off".

For Rassilon's sake!: Similar to "for God's/f--k's sake".

Gjara'vont: "of darkest thought". Possibly used as an insult to call someone sick-minded.

Little sheetsnacker: Likely directed at someone considered annoying or insignificant.

Old Pythia: An insult for females, like "old hag." Due to its context, it's probably used as a derogatory term against powerful women.

Omega’s Orifice: Self-explanatory.

Otherf--ker: Self-explanatory.

Rassilon’s Blood/Rassilon's Death: A couple of particularly strong phrases for obvious reasons - don't wanna be insulting Rassilon.

Rassilon's Rod: Cruder one.

Scares the staazula out of me: "Scares the s--t out of me".

Shobogan: Gets used occasionally as an insult for people who are perceived as particularly stupid or uncultured.

Rot in a black star: "Go to hell".

Shell snacker: Referring to someone who consumes hallucinogenic substances, particularly cerub nuts.

Sweet mother of Chaos!: "Sweet mother of God!"

We’re scrubbed: "we're screwed/we're f--ked"

What the Omega!?: "what the hell/f--k!?"

Yssgaroth curse you: Pretty gnarly threat, where the speaker wants you to turn into an abomination.

I should note that during the Time War any use of the names Rassilon or Omega was considered blasphemous.

🔞 The Untranslatable Curse

There exists a Gallifreyan curse that has no English translation and is considered so rude that it's been deleted from the Matrix:

🏫 So ...

While there's not so much in the way of direct translations, Gallifreyans attach plenty of cultural nuance to their profanities. So if they insult you, they're doing it in an irritatingly clever way.

Related:

Can humans/non-Gallifreyans learn to speak Gallifreyan?: How possible it would be to see a human speaking Gallifreyan.

Hope that helped! 😃

Any purple text is educated guesswork or theoretical. More content ... →📫Got a question? | 📚Complete list of Q+A and factoids →😆Jokes |🩻Biology |🗨️Language |🕰️Throwbacks |🤓Facts →🫀Gallifreyan Anatomy and Physiology Guide (pending) →⚕️Gallifreyan Emergency Medicine Guides →📝Source list (WIP) →📜Masterpost If you're finding your happy place in this part of the internet, feel free to buy a coffee to help keep our exhausted human conscious. She works full-time in medicine and is so very tired😴

[jenchan-writingmultis]

Twisted Wonderland Navigation

───────✧❁✧───────

What the terminology means in each fic:

Drafting: I'm contemplating If I will do it or not Ongoing: Work in progress, series though are considered as multiple one shots sometimes! In Progress: Currently working on it Pending: I'm currently thinking about how to do it/the possibility of not doing it as well. (Similar to Drafted fics) Done/No indication: Finished

A/n: Let me know if I missed a fic, creating this made the masterlist look so much cleaner! ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა (Request/s are closed as stated in the main masterlist!)

───────✧❁✧───────

One shot/Non-series

This was for the best, right? (Vil x Fem Reader) (Angst)

Request/s:

Headcanon/s for being in love with Rook Hunt (Rook Hunt x GN Reader) (Fluff)

Beauty in Chaos (Vil x Chaotic Fem Reader) (Ongoing)

Vil x Blind Fem Reader (In progress)

Your radiance or His satisfaction? (Rook Hunt x GN Snow White Reader) (Fluff w/ Angst)

Twisted Wonderland x Obey Me Crossover (Yuki & Reader) (Ongoing)

Regina George Reader x Vil (In progress) Epel x Male Reader (In progress) Gn/Fem Yuu death that is why they cannot go back home (Angst) (No ship indication) (In progress) (Ily I don't mind calling me babygirl HAHAHA but this is a good idea! I LOVE IT!) Add a Little more Flair (Platonic Vil & Cruella! Reader) (Fluff)

Series: What do the dorm leaders + a few more students do when you leave them without saying goodbye / you go missing? (Ongoing) Chapters: Part one: Riddle x Reader Part two: Leona x Gn Reader Twisted Wonderland Boys x Fem Reader in their respective Fairytales (Ongoing)

Chapters: Part One: Queen of Hearts Riddle x Fem Reader Part Two: Queen of Hearts Riddle x Fem Reader Part Three: Scar Leona x Fem Reader Part Four: Ursula Azul x Fem Reader Part Five: Ursula Azul x Fem Reader Part Six: Sultan Kalim x Fem Reader Part Seven: Hades Idia x Fem Reader Part Eight: Maleficent Malleus x Fem Reader

Future (Possible) Ideas: Vil x Reader (Angst) (Finished)

Kalim x Reader (Fluff) (Pending)

Crowley x Reader (Fluff) (Pending)

Sultan Kalim x Rani Reader (Fluff) (Drafting...)

Yandere Malleus x Reader (CW: Obsessive love) (Drafting...)

Anon's Asks/Jen-Chan Blurbs:

Anon Indulgence #1: Sultan Kalim x Reader

Malleus X Reader Anonnie Review

Brainrot:

He looks just like a dream (Neige x Exhausted! Reader) (Fluff) Twisted Wonderland Boys x Gn! Reader Breakups (Angst) (Ongoing)

[kentosmirrorball]

okay, i have so many asks pending, so here’s what im gonna do 😭

this is the order in which i’m gonna post:

1.) pregnant reader sending maternity photoshoot pictures to jjk men.

2.) chubby reader being insecure about going to a party and jjk men making them feel good about themselves.

3.) reader sending “i miss you” and “can i come over and clean your house while you sit and look at me longingly” to the jjk men.

4.) reader and satosugu (poly) go to the supermarket with the four kids and them getting lost. chaos ensues.

5.) virgin inexperienced reader being nervous about their first time.

6.) reader hardlaunching the jjk men with the lines “heartbreak is one thing, my ego’s another, i beg you, don’t embarrass me, motherfucker.”

all of these are from anons btw! so if yall want to request anything, my asks are open!!

[ironmandeficiency]

stupid goose

pairing: fíli / hobbit!reader

word count: 2953

summary: a goose followed fili into erebor and refused to leave

a/n: this has taken over my brain

no one knew where that damn demon bird came from. all anyone knew is that when fíli returned from the markets of dale one day, he was trailed by a goose. this goose demanded in very angry honks to be let into erebor right behind the golden prince, and despite every attempt made to shoo the thing outside, the goose remained.

it honked during council meetings, entertained some of the young pebbles that had returned to erebor with their families, and generally caused a disturbance everywhere it waddled. fíli took to naming his new pet trøbbel, and he grew to appreciate the feathered chaos harbinger.

thorin couldn’t stand the damn thing. it would flap and honk and nip at him at the most odd times, namely when he was scolding his nephews. the king under the mountain was halfway convinced that fíli trained it to behave so.

the days turned to weeks, weeks into months, and trøbbel stuck around through it all. he was a common companion, and a very proper one indeed. eventually he learned some semblance of patience; the standard amount of patience in geese was alarmingly similar to the patience of dwarves.

trøbbel definitely lived up to his name, so much so that when bilbo sent word that he was planning a springtime visit to the mountain in a few months’ time, multiple correspondents thought it fit to warn their burglar about the newest addition.

“dear bilbo,

the company is delighted to hear of your pending visit to the mountain! many things have changed for the better since uncle was crowned king (not his temper, unfortunately for us all). everyone is looking forward to seeing you again, though i do carry a warning with this letter.

you see, a few months ago i involuntarily acquired a wild goose as a companion. he made himself known to me after leaving dale one afternoon and rather violently refused to be parted from my side.

this goose is a mighty beast that honks and bites diplomats (dwalin never loved him more than when he nipped at thranduil upon first glance of the elf) and steals food from the plates of those not paying attention. i warn you because trøbbel is very suspicious of new people, and i don’t want you falling victim to his wiles if he finds that you don’t have snacks for him upon arrival.

see you soon,

prince fíli”

bilbo was baffled. he was confuddled, stupefied even. how in yavanna’s green gardens fíli ended up with a goose was beyond his reckoning. the last time he heard of a goose forcing its way into someone’s life in this manner was being told the story of how his parents met when he was a wee fauntling.

it was a somewhat rare phenomenon among hobbits to be found by a goose in such a way. they were said to guide hobbits to their soulmates, the other half of their soul as created by lady yavanna. the goddess had to create an animal stubborn enough to aid her hobbit children in finding their soulmates, one that could easily navigate the hills and rivers of their lands, and the goose was her solution.

even though erebor was no west farthing, bilbo could imagine that any goose worth its tail feathers would find a way to survive in the lonely mountain. and, based on the letter he just read, one has.

taking into consideration the thing’s audacity, that bird of fíli’s is definitely a soulmate goose, and a right bugger at that.

the first thing he now had to do was inform fortinbras of this development. as thain and cousin, bilbo was sure that he could find some sound advice there.

now, if bilbo could figure out how to explain that fíli has a hobbit for a soulmate without putting thorin and balin into their deathbeds, that would be just peachy.

“HONK! HONK HONK!”

“i cannot believe you, tansy!”

“HONK!”

“yeah you better run, you wretched thing!”

tansy the goose had to be the biggest pain in the backside you’ve ever met, and that’s saying something considering the run-ins you’ve had with the bracegirdles.

she followed you to the markets, when you went on walks among the meadows and fields, and even snuck into the washroom to be there when you bathed. in your opinion, it was all a bit too much.

your tansy gave the wizard gandalf a run for his money when it came to disturbing the peace. on days you went to the market, she would follow you and honk all the way at passersby and intimidate them off the dirt path you were on.

she also picked up a very peculiar habit of trying to (and sometimes succeeding to) snag fine jewelry from the booths of dwarrow traveling through from the blue mountains. every time you would turn and see a shiny glint of silver or gold hanging from her beak, your heart would drop to your feet in fear. thus far, the merchants you’ve encountered were very understanding of your feathery thief and harbored no ill will against you as you returned their wares to the tune of an angry goose.

while those situations were mortifying and anxiety-inducing, you’ve reached the end of your rope today. tansy has committed a grievous sin by brutalizing your blackberry patch to the point of there being almost nothing left worth eating and you’ve had it up to your ears with her.

you chased her with a wooden spoon as you ranted about her foul deed and resolved to talk to someone about what to do about tansy the chaos goose. maybe the thain would have some advice?

“uncle! we’ve got a reply from bilbo!” kíli waved the letter in the air excitedly as he barged into his uncle’s chambers.

fíli follows kíli in, rolling his eyes as he snatches the parchment from his brother’s hand. “no, i got a reply from bilbo.”

the golden prince makes no mention of the second page bilbo wrote to him with explicit instructions to keep it to himself. that morsel of information was for him and him alone - well, for him and trøbbel, of course.

“hurry up and read it!”

“i would if you’d stop flapping about like trøbbel!”

in response to being compared to kíli (or maybe just hearing his name), trøbbel honked indignantly.

“dearest fíli,

it pleases me greatly to know that erebor is flourishing under your uncle’s rule. i am most excited to see you all again, especially in the comforts of your home.

while i thank you for your warning, i have some news of my own to share. there will be a hobbitess accompanying me on my trip-“

thorin cut off his nephew, his bright mood upon receiving bilbo’s correspondence immediately clouding over. “he’s bringing a hobbit lass?” the king’s thoughts immediately sour with thoughts of his burglar introducing the company to a spouse wooed by his tales of adventure.

both brothers caught the sudden wave of melancholy that surged through their uncle. his feelings for bilbo were a poorly-kept secret among the company, but there were none who had the courage to call attention to it.

“you’re almost as bad as kee with interrupting me,” fíli chastised before clearing his throat to continue.

“-there will be a hobbitess accompanying me on my trip that shares in your feathered predicament. with the description you gave me of your trøbbel, i’d bet all of my fourteenth share that he’d get along swimmingly with her tansy. she’s a menace, that one.”

“see uncle, you can remove that frown! bilbo isn’t courting anyone back in the shire!” kíli interjected with a small smile and an elbow nudge, hoping to goad thorin back into a good mood.

fíli sighed the sigh of a long-suffering older brother. “this is exactly what i mean when i talk about you interrupting me, kee!”

“but he was sad!”

“and i’m annoyed!”

“boys!”

one word put the squabbling siblings back in line.

“sorry, uncle.”

“do continue, fíli.”

“i send this letter ahead of me from bree. i hope you receive it in proper time so you can prepare the mountain for the impending doom that will be brought upon by two geese occupying erebor.

if you note the bite marks in bottom right corner and the occasional blots of stray ink on the parchment, those are courtesy of tansy. she sends her well wishes along with mine.

your burglar,

bilbo baggins”

thorin looks at trøbbel where he’s squatted directly on top of thorin’s favorite bedpillow like the cruel beast he is. the smug bastard has a wicked gleam in his eye as if he knows he’ll soon have a partner in crime to terrorize the whole mountain alongside.

oh mahal, please watch over this mountain.

erebor was teeming with anticipation, both for the arrival of the famed dragonriddler and for the next act of war from trøbbel. for nigh on three weeks, the royal bird has been eerily well-behaved. this was so out of character that fíli carried his companion to óin in the hopes the healer could figure out what malady had struck his friend.

there was nothing obvious to blame for the sudden silence of the royal bird, so the healer told fíli to watch over his bird and take as good care of him as possible.

he didn’t know much of anything about geese, so he simply opted to treat his companion like kíli when he was sick.

a cozy new bed was constructed, fíli monitored his food, and things seemed to be getting better. trøbbel slowly came back to his regular gremlin self, causing chaos that was mildly tamer than before.

at least the mountain didn’t get too comfortable without his shenanigans, because when bilbo arrived with his companion and their goose, all hell broke loose.

“hmm,” bilbo hummed to himself as he observed tansy sitting demurely on her designated pillow. she’d been oddly calm today, as if she knew where her company was going.

when bilbo explained the significance of tansy’s appearance in your life, you were flabbergasted. the idea of true soulmates was a sweet one yet painfully unrealistic in your eyes, something you read in bedtime stories. but with both bilbo and thain fortinbras’s confirmation that you received a soulmate goose from yavanna, you couldn’t deny it any longer.

then bilbo claimed he knew your soulmate and had fought alongside him against trolls and goblins and orcs and a dragon. he told you that he was rather fond of the dwarves of erebor, and that they were rambunctious and honorable.

but when he spoke of king thorin, the uncle of your soulmate, something was decidedly different from how he spoke of the rest of the company he kept. you could see the way his body visibly relaxed, how his eyes were softer and the appearance of pink on the tips of his ears.

your friend clearly held something more than respect for the dwarf king.

one night around the campfire, you told tansy about your suspicions. for a hooligan goose, she was a rather good conversationalist.

“i think bilbo loves that king of his, tansy.”

“HONK!”

“exactly! that’s what i was thinking!”

tansy honks back in response. living among hobbits, she seemed to pick up on some social etiquettes and right now, it was as if you were pleasantly chatting over afternoon tea.

you pondered what to do about this new development. bilbo was always seen as a bachelor, someone unattainable by shire standards. but just maybe, by the grace of yavanna, he’ll find his love in the heart of a king.

“say tansy,” a soft honk of acknowledgement came from your goose, “when you’re done leading me to my soulmate, can you help bilbo find his?”

in years to come, you will swear by the fact tansy nodded at you that evening by the fire.

“they’re here!”

“bilbo!”

“our burglar has returned!”

in the distance, they could see bilbo making his way towards the front entrance of erebor and unbridled joy swept through the company. how they’ve all missed their burglar in his absence from the mountain.

bard was walking alongside bilbo, who had dismounted from his pony when he entered dale and was guiding him along by the reins. at bilbo’s other side was another hobbit, presumably the lass he mentioned in his letter, and waddling with pride beside them was a goose wearing a red ribbon tied into a neat bow.

fíli made a break for the front gates as soon as the horn announcing bilbo’s arrival echoed through the crisp air. he genuinely missed bilbo and was plenty excited to meet the goose (and the hobbitess) described in his letters.

trøbbel dutifully followed behind his dwarf, waddling just fast enough to keep pace. at first. but in the distance, the royal goose of erebor heard a honk that resonated so deeply in him that he couldn’t dawdle with fíli, he had to go immediately.

his orange webbed feet pitter-pattered on the stone floors with the intensity of oliphaunts and the speed of rhosgobel rabbits, honking all the way. members of the company hollered after the speeding goose but trøbbel paid them no heed, far too focused on his destination.

“oi! trøbbel you mangy beast, get back here!”

“you ain’t beatin’ us to our burglar!”

the dwarves stood no chance at catching him, only following behind him like goslings in a rather lopsided row. apparently, trøbbel was going to beat them.

tansy was going to turn you grey long before your time if she had anything to say about it.

that wild beast of a bird strutted into dale with the attitude of the most pretentious hobbits in the west farthing, catching all sorts of strange looks from the big folk who never beheld such a human-acting animal. she honked and nodded to the growing crowd in greeting. you sighed at her antics but carried on, watching as bilbo’s entire countenance changed the closer he got to his dwarrow.

watching the entrance to the dwarven kingdom grow ever closer, you felt strangely lighter, almost as if you were coming home.

before you knew it, there was a stampede of dwarrow emerging from the front gates headed straight towards you and bilbo, led by a goose. logic told you that they were his friends from the journey, that they missed him more than you could imagine missing anyone.

but then tansy let out a screeching honk unlike anything you’ve ever heard in all your days. she immediately bolted for the feathered line leader, not even the slightest bit worried about being trampled by the pounding feet of dwarrow.

“tansy! tansy! oh you reckless fiend, you���re lucky i didn’t cook you on the way here!”

chasing after her was a terrible idea. instead, you elected to watch from beside your pony and hope for the best.

recalling bilbo’s stories, you could point out a few of his companions. bombur with his braided beard that weaves into itself, nori with the star points atop his head, thorin with his raven-colored hair…

the king of erebor was running like a hooligan towards bilbo at full speed, a wide smile on his face that bilbo led you to believe was a nigh impossible feat.

you nudge your friend with a smile, wondering why his feet weren’t going a mile a minute to reunite with his dwarf. “go to him,” you whispered. this seemed to spur him into action, bilbo making a mad dash for his king.

when thorin caught bilbo in a leaping embrace, their laughter was infectious. even tansy was honking joyously with them, echoed by another bit of loud honking you couldn’t place.

looking over, your tansy was nuzzling with the ereborian goose. they were waddling around each other inquisitively at first, then plopped down to the side of the path to watch the joyous reunion of king and burglar.

within moments, you realized what this meant: your soulmate was on his way. oh green gardens, you weren’t ready!

meeting your prince soulmate now, after a ragged journey across middle earth while covered in yavanna-knows-what, had your nerves vibrating with tension. your hands were clammy, eyes flitting around to spot him based on bilbo’s descriptions.

“trøbbel! oi you bugger, how dare you run ahead!”

you heard one voice clearly through the thicket of joyous bustling, and the entire world came to a screeching halt.

your soulmate wore a smile that could have blinded you, and his laughter put you in a tailspin. in the golden light of morning, his hair shone like the wheat fields you grew up playing in.

you had to be closer to him without another moment’s delay.

without your permission, your feet began to carry you into the growing crowd of dwarrow towards fíli. part of you wanted to dig your heels into the dirt because you didn’t know what to say to him! how did one even begin to introduce themselves to the person that the gods made to be their other half?

turns out you didn’t have to answer that question on your own.

in the time he spent on the road with bilbo, fíli learned quite a few pieces of important information about hobbits. they valued their food and their gardens, and placed great importance on flowers and their meanings. so when presented with his hobbit soulmate, he knew exactly how to make a good first impression.

presenting you a few sprigs of purple lilacs, he approached his one with a charming smile. “i imagine you’re starving from the trip here, love. would you like me to fetch you a warm meal straight from the royal kitchens?”

[xuchiya]

underneath the stars moments

a long chapter

₊˚.༄ || soft valentines m.list || hongjoong || seonghwa || yunho || yeosang || san || mingi || wooyoung || jongho || ₊˚.༄

i have this thought of jongho talking about the famous painting of van gogh. yes, the starry night. and the 12 sunflower, self-portrait, the cafe terrace at night— even the almond blossoms.

amsterdam. it was located at amsterdam; the museum of van gogh's paintings. you turn to jongho, all attention to the series playing on the television. you were at the kitchen counter, in front of your laptop with the flight tickets pending.

it was his dream to see the museum and your grandmother lives there and have a reason to visit without having suspicion.

"you're going to visit your grandma? at amsterdam?" jongho, on his pajamas, watch by the doorway as you pack up your stuff; including some of jongho's incase he forgot few clothes to pack. you hum, folding the scarf, "we're visiting grandmama, hun."

his eyes widen, pointing at himself, "me? I'm coming with you?" you nodded, chuckling. you close the suitcase and lean on one hip, "you don't want to?"

you pray that he agrees or else the whole plan will fail. jongho had a hesitant look in his eyes, "well it's across the world but ..." you gulp at his pause, shoulders tense. jongho look back at you with a small smile, "but it's not like i have never done that when i'm on tour with hyungs."

your shoulders suddenly relax, step one being check on the list to convince or tell jongho the 3 day trip.

little did you know, jongho had also check his step one.

the plane had landed on the runway, offering a glimpse of Amsterdam's quaint rooftops nestled beside sprawling canals.

a hit nostalgia erupt in your chest. You, the girl raised amidst the vibrant chaos of San Juan, and Jongho, the boy who dreamt of windmills and tulips, were finally landing in his dream city.

as you rolled your suitcase out of the airport, the crisp Dutch air sent shivers down your spine. Jongho notice your shivering body, offered you his jacket, his touch lingering a beat too long, sending a flutter in your stomach.

"thank you hun." He mouthed a 'no problem'. The taxi ride to your grandmother's house was a whirlwind of foreign sights and sounds, as the car turn, you notice the newly renovated playground. the playground that you grew up to. Jongho notice it, "your childhood place?"

you hum, a smile curling on your lips, "yeah my brother and I used to visit this place." jonho nodded. your brother was across the country too, working as a computer engineer.

it was still the same after years you left your hometown, and you couldn't feel one thing but nostalgia

upon reaching your destination, a quaint two-story house with ivy creeping up its facade, you felt a pang of apprehension. Your grandmother, a stern woman with a heart of gold, wasn't known for her fondness for strangers, let alone boyfriends.

"grandmama!" you called, dropping your items before rushing towards her. Jongho chuckles, picking up your purse and scarf before approaching you and your grandmother.

you braced yourself as you introduced him, her keen eyes scanning him from head to toe, "boyfriend?" Her lips pursed in disapproval, the etched lines on her face deepening. A familiar knot tightened in your stomach.

jongho stayed still, not know how to act when he realised that this is the first time he met one of your relatives. he glance at you for some kind of help but you reassured him with a smile, turning back to your grandmother.

"yes grandmama. he's good at singing too!" you saw a flicker of something else in her gaze, a hint of amusement perhaps, or maybe a grudging acceptance. you know you hit something there when you mention singing.

she was a singer once too. famous back in her time, you smile knowing at the end of this trip—she and jongho would be in good terms.

the following days were a whirlwind. you played as the tourist, leading jongho to places you recommended and places of your favorite. You strolled hand-in-hand through vibrant flower markets, marveled at the Anne Frank House, and took romantic canal cruises.

jongho has his vintage camera out, snapping pictures here and there—when he place his eye on the eye cup, his lens focus on you. crouch on the tulips stands, his heart fluttered when you spoke in Dutch, they way you converse with them so smoothly and elegantly.

his fingers hover over the button, snapping a couple pictures of you.

his step two is check.

your lips curled upward when the storekeeper pluck a tulip and gave it to you. the storekeeper pushed you towards him, "mr. Leo I cannot accept this."

mr. leo shake his head, a smile on his bearded face, "oh hush dear, it had been a while since you visited." jongho eyes you with affection, you were so beautiful that it overwhelmed him. you notice your boyfriend's gaze, your eyes sparkles.

"mr. leo, this is jongho. my boyfriend. " you cling on his arm, jongho bowing at mr. leo. He eyed jongho before sticking out his hand, jongho slightly confused but grasp his hand.

a firm shake before mr. leo lets go, "strong. I like it." his voice is rough and deep. you chuckle, patting jongho's back, "he is."

jongho was confused, "huh?"

mr. leo answered, amused "i know a person is strong when I see one. and that reassure me that you can take care of her."

jongho smiles, looking at you with adoration, puffing his chest, "of course, I will."

One evening, jongho was ask (by your grandmother) to helped in preparing dinner, confusing you but didn't question which in jongho's dismay.

she stirred the soup while jongho set up the table, "jongho." she called. jongho halted, heart flipping at the firm voice of your grandma, "yes grandma?"

"do you love my granddaughter?" his throat clogged. of course, more than ever. he nodded, clearing his throat, "yes i do. she's my everything." your grandmother turn around, eyeing him, "why?"

jongho was taken back. he was not expecting this question as he never questions his love for you. he'll go beyond any lengths.

"I love your granddaughter who she is—anything and everything. no question ask." with the answer given by him, your grandmother felt reassured. nodding, she turned back around, "okay."

he guess, step three is check?

later that dinner, everything went well. your favorite food was cooked, your grandmother seems to slowly warm up to jongho— still questioning what happened will resting in your old room.

after your grandmother observe him, a rare smile playing on her lips. you and her were on the back, on the veranda, "He seems serious about you." she finally said, her voice gruff but softer than usual. "he might pop up a question any time dearie, be prepared." she added, a twinkle in her eye.

relief washed over you. you realized your grandmother wasn't just tolerating him; she was beginning to see what you already knew - that beneath his easy smile lay a genuine heart worthy of her granddaughter's affection.

as you smile, sipping on your tea when you suddenly choke upon what you heard from your grandma a little late, "wait what question?!"

the last day came, the whole morning was about jongho and your grandmother having a little session at the small town in your area.

they were a great combo.

when afternoon, came you dress up again then going downstairs to see your boyfriend and grandma on a hushes conversation which in panic, your grandma smack him on the head for being 'too noisy' while he read the newspaper. upside down.

you walk in, confused "is there ... something going on?" your grandma cleared her throat, waving you off, "I told him I'll cut his balls off if he ever hurts you, even a paper cut."

you were flabbergasted, "grandmama!" you stare at your boyfriend, who was red in the face—hiding behind the newspaper.

you stare at your boyfriend, eyes squinting. you both were in the taxi, on your way to your destination the awkwardness dissipates the moment jongho looks at you; pouting, looks like it's angry but just look like a angry Maltese to him.

he shakes his head, just grabbing your hand squeezing it, "such curious cat hun." you huff, looking at the window, not really mad at him but —yeah, you were curious.

you turn back to him, "how come you both were on the top ten most tensed people the moment you step inside the house then the next day as if you were his grandson instead?"

jongho looks at you, leaning closer before pecking the tip of your nose, pulling away by a an inch, "you'll know soon."

when you both arrive at the place, stepping out the car had jongho confused at the silent yet illuminated building. you grasp his hand, leading him inside the building. when entering the building, jongho felt his eyes watered in excitement.

it's the museum he was talking about. van gogh's museum.

he turn to you, his eyes settled on your soft eyes. they held emotions he couldn't explain yet behind those were happiness.

"thank you hun." he spoke so gently, taking your hand in his. you smiled, shaking your head, "no need to thank me, it was my plan after all."

his step four ...

oh how could he tell you when you were back in the apartment that he accidentally saw at your laptop to see the tickets confirmed to your hometown when he was grabbing a drink?

how could he tell you that he panic to his hyungs about different things when you guys landed at Amsterdam? how could he tell you that he had different plan?

oh, how could he tell you that ever since the trip, he has been carrying a ring inside his pocket?

The museum hummed with a quiet reverence, the late-evening air thick with the scent of aged paper and possibility. Jongho kept himself from checking the box inside his coat without having you being suspicious to him but his heart is hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs.

Tonight was the night. he or more like your grandmother had pushed him to go on with the plan. As he approached the designated room, a wave of anticipation washed over him. The room was bathed in an ethereal glow, engulfing the place like the actual painting.

He found you, standing amidst the celestial spectacle, a smile gracing on your lips that mirrored the crescent moon hanging low in the projected sky. Jongho's throat tightened; adjusting the scarf around his neck, his carefully rehearsed words dissolving into a puddle of nervous excitement.

"Wow," you take in the room, the swirling yellow hue as a resemble of the stars and the soft twinkling above the ceiling was mesmerizing. "It's beautiful."

"Not as beautiful as you," Jongho blurted out, surprising himself with his sudden boldness. A blush bloomed on his cheeks, but he held your gaze, his heart pounding a fierce tattoo against his chest.

you chuckled, "that's very sweet, Jongho but I think the stars have you beat on that one."

Taking a deep breath, Jongho stepped closer, his hand instinctively reaching for yours. your fingers automatically intertwined with his, sending a jolt of electricity through him. He led you towards the center of the room.

the projector of the starry night was the only light that shines. you were confused, concerned etching on your face but jongho ignores it. "there's something ... i've been meaning to tell you," Jongho began, his voice husky with emotion.

it was now or never. step four on the go.

that's where your heart soared up on the starry night, jongho knelt down on one knee, his heart hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs. The ring box felt heavy in his hand, a tangible symbol of the question he was about to ask.

"hun..." he said, his voice thick with emotion, "you are the brightest star in my own galaxy. You make me laugh, you challenge me, you inspire me. You are my everything. You are i've ever wanted and more. So, with these stars as my witness," he continued, his voice trembling slightly, looking at you, "will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"

He opened the box, revealing the ring nestled within, its diamond catching the projected starlight and sparkling like a fallen star. Tears welled up in your eyes, gaze shimmering with emotion.

"jongho…" you whispered, a hand flying to your mouth in surprise. your mind was all over the place but when your eyes landed on jongho, it was like everything started clicking.

his slight hesitation, his actions of taking you to your places, the way he always checks his pockets or bag whenever you visit a place—even checking his suitcase for something.

"he might pop up a question any time dearie, be prepared."

voice choked with happy tears, a smile bloomed on your face, "Yes," you spoke, voice trembling with joy, "a million times, yes!"

tears streamed down Jongho's face as he slipped the ring on your finger. a soft sob left your lips as you wrap your arms around his neck, "i love you."

jongho chuckles, even amidst the tears down his cheeks, he whispers, "i love you too hun."

both of your plans were achieved, the stars being the witness of your own happiness, sadness-- whatever was stored for the both of you. this story of you and jongho is a testament to the love that shone brighter than any constellation.

all plan check, she said yes.

THAT IS THE END OF MY SOFT VALENTINE MASTERLIST. STAY TUNED FOR THE FILTH VALENTINE MASTERLIST.

[the-unseelie-court-official]

Hey tumblr after being led to believe I could switch to part time in my job they instead laid me off suddenly. Pennsylvania is an at will state, so that’s legal here. Because of that, I am selling readings! If you’d like a Bean Sidhe Chaos read (patent pending) then message me on discord at Bean Sidhe#8147 (25$). If you’d like to throw some money my way but don’t want a read for some reason

P*yp*l is @FrancisKenny986

V*nmo is @Frankie-K-1

[golden-dragon-feathered-serpent]

LMK Celestial Monkey Theory

So! In the original Journey to the west. Celestial Monkeys are described to have been in a category all on their own. They are not gods, mortals, beasts, demons, or anything of the sort and canNOT fall in any category of the natural order.

The reason for this is because they’re meant to be pure forms of chaos to balance out the rest of the world’s Order. Yin and Yang sort of thing. Especially considering how powerful every celestial monkey is described as well as how they only seem to come to be by pure chaotic chance. (MK’s birth pending of course)

Now Chaos is not a bad thing inherently, not at all. It’s what keeps Tyrants from power long-term, and keeps our lives interesting from day to day. Another aspect of this is that the Celestial Monkey’s power levels directly correlates to the balance of Order/Chaos in the world already. More Order? The Monkeys have way more packed behind their punches. And each of em gets a stronger urge to cause mischief & maybe get a little feral. (Never losing themselves to being wild animals tho. After all they’re SMART. As MK has said “There’s nothing mindless about me, Friend.”) But also alternatively, if there’s more chaos in the world than order they themselves get weaker in comparison. They still have access to all their powers, buuut for example their super strength isn’t AS super as before.

I mean after all, who have been MK’s biggest baddies? People wanting to bring about a whole new world order. DBK, Spider Queen, LBD, and Azure Lion all wanted to reshape the world into a new world order and who was there to stop them? MK, our little harbringer of Chaos.

[mochinomnoms]

francesca (1K Follower Special Event)

art: “hold me, dear” by raiain

“Heaven is not fit to house a love like you and I” — Hozier, Francesca from “Unreal Unearth” Their love for you is so overwhelming, so profuse, their hunger for love is worse than their hunger for food, water, or sleep. They yearn for you and your affections, like a baby yearns for the embrace of their parents. From the gods above, to the demons below, there is no where that can house or comprehend the love you share with them. spotify playlist

A song fic event to celebrate over 1,000 followers!

Requests are closed

Rules

Anyone can use this event and prompts on their own blog! Tag me in so I can read all your stories!

This event will be for TWST on my end, others are free to use for whatever they'd like!

All request will be up to 500 words, with a max of 3 characters per request

Chose one prompt for each request with one song (randomly selected line will be used for the request), and indicate if you want romantic or platonic. You can also indicate if you want fluff, hurt/comfort, suggestive, nsfw etc.

Reader will default to gender-neutral unless asked otherwise

Dialogue Prompts (@mcflymemes: 1/2/3)

“It's funny. Sometimes I think I've already fallen in love with you as much as possible… and then we share a night like this.”

“I'm falling more and more in love with you every day.”

“Do you feel connected to me when we're together like that?”

“You made a few sounds I've never heard before.”

“Can I get you anything? Do you need me to do anything?”

“Touch me like that again.”

“You look so good like this.”

“Tell me when I can move.”

“It's like your body was built for mine.”

“You like that, don't you.”

“You don't know what that does to me.”

“Kiss me again, and don't stop this time.”

“I can't bear the thought of living without you.”

“You complete me.”

“I want all of you. Every piece of you.”

“I won't lose you again.”

“You're the most important person I have ever known.”

“The universe gave you to me.”

“Can I kiss you again? I promise I won't get carried away.”

“Where you go, I follow.”

Song Selection

Hozier, “Unreal Unearth”; “Wasteland, Baby!”; “Nina Cried Power — EP”

De Selby (Part 1)

De Selby (Part 2)

Francesca

Eat Your Young

First Light

Movement

Talk

Be

Sunlight

NFWMB

Moment's Silence (Common Tongue)

Rio Romero, “Good God!”

Inarticulation

Nothing's New

Twice

Eyedress, “Let's Skip to the Wedding”

Romantic Lover

Jealous

Kiss Me Like It's the First Time

Ricky Montgomery, “Montgomery Ricky”

Line Without a Hook

My Heart Is Buried in Venice

Mr. Loverman

Kali Uchis, “Sin Miedo (del Amor y Otros Demonios)”

la luna enamorada

telepatía

Misc. Artists

See You Again (Tyler, The Creator, “Flower Boy”)

Me Gustas Tu (Manu Chao, “Próxima Estación: Esperanza”)

Die For You (The Weeknd, “Starboy”)

🎶 francesca masterlist 🎶

“It ain’t workin’ ‘cause you’re perfect”: jamil viper x gn!reader — #19

“And flew like a moth to you, sunlight, oh, sunlight”: azul ashengrotto x gn!reader — #15

“Be like the love that discovered the sin”; “And I'd be the immediate forgiveness in Eurydice”; “If I could hold you for a minute/I'd go through it again”: jade leech, trey clover, ace trappola (separate) x gn!reader — #16

“Y al contemplarla en su mirada”: azul ashengrotto x gn!reader — #4

“I always want your love”: ruggie bucchi x gn!reader — #19

“Oh, was it something I said to make you feel like you're a burden”; “All my emotions feel like explosions when you are around”: leona kingscholar, azul ashengrotto (separate) x gn!reader — #15 [PENDING]

“Si te tuviera de frente, la mente te la volaría”; “You know that I can see right through you”: deuce spade, lilia vanrouge (separate) x gn!reader — #9 [QUEUED]

“'Cause we've found ourselves in quite a situation”: silver x gn!reader — #9

“The sky set to burst, the gold and the rust”; “But after this, I'm never gonna be the same”: jade leech, floyd leech (separate) x gn!reader — #3

“It's got nothing to do with us”: divus crewel x gn!reader — #16

“One look is all it takes”: floyd leech x afab gn!reader — #15

“I'm not always right”; “It's gonna happen sometimes”; “I don't think of giving up”: azul ashengrotto, riddle rosehearts, kalim al-asim (separate) x f!reader — #14

“You know I'm just a flight away”: floyd leech x gn!reader — #7

“I can hear your thoughts like a melody”: kalim al-asim x gn!reader — #19

“I wish I could fall in love with you again”; “I know I can fall in love”; “I can only hope that’s what you are craving too”: jack howl, sebek zigvolt, silver (separate) x gn!reader — #19

“Que se podría hacer el amor por telepatía”: jade leech x gn!reader — #4

“And are you pretty or handsome? My words are on ransom”; “With you by my side is where I wanna stand”: trey clover, ruggie bucchi (separate) x gn!reader — #11

“Honey, I'm put in awe of somethin' so flawed and free”: silver x gn!reader — #15

“La venganza es dulce, ¿sabes? (Dulce, dulce, dulce, dulce, dulce)”: ace trappola, deuce space (poly) x gn!reader — #1

“I am just a line without a—”; “And if I've lost my charm / Apologies due, no harm”; “Forgive me, I'm not naïve”: floyd leech, azul ashengrotto, jade leech (separate) x gn!reader — #19 & #16

“Me gusta volver, me gustas tú”: jack howl x gn!reader — #13

“Nothing fucks with my baby”; “I'd wanna be felled by you”: leona kingscholar, vil schoenheit (separate) x gn!reader — #16

“And I've found hope in a heart attack”: jack howl x gn!reader — #13

Bonus:

“Heaven is not fit to hold a love like you and I”: ace trappola, deuce spade (poly) x gn!reader — #1

“¿Qué horas son, mi corazón?”: grim (platonic) x gn!reader — #20