#he was doomed from the start and despite his best efforts | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jinkoh · 11 months

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adore u

seungcheol x fem!reader

summary: crushing on seungcheol was a really bad idea. sleeping with him, no strings attached, was even worse. and yet...

Tags: ons/fwb to lovers, suggestive, a little fluff, a little angst, best friend!seungkwan; warnings: alcohol consumption; word count: ~4,6k

a/n: i started this ages ago tbh and then didn't rlly know how to end it so it sat in my drafts for a rlly long time but i finally got around to finishing it~

Masterlist

You hadn’t intended for the evening to go like this. It was meant to be nothing but a chill evening with your best friend Seungkwan. But maybe everything had been doomed from the moment he had told you that some of his friends would be coming too. Not that you didn’t like them. You did, one of them just a little bit too much—and that was the whole problem. Despite knowing Seungcheol would never be serious about someone like you, you couldn’t help yourself from being attracted to him. There was just something so charming about the way he looked at you that made your heart flutter.

“So, when are the other guys coming?” you asked, lounging on his couch, leaning against the headrest. You thought you sounded casual, but your friend had you all figured out.

“Are you asking about the other guys or just one guy in particular?” He looked at you with a raised eyebrow.

“What?” You stared back with wide eyes, the clattering coming from the hallway going completely past you.

“Ah, so we’re still pretending that you don’t have a crush on Scoups?”

"I don't have a crush on him! He's just—attractive!”

"Who's attractive?"

Your head snapped around to Hoshi poking his head into the room, while toeing out of his shoes. But worse than Hoshi looking at you with curiosity, was Seungcheol, standing right there in the doorframe, a big box with snacks and drinks in his hands.

"Who's attractive?" Hoshi asked again, making his way into the room.

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the heat that had risen to your cheeks. "No one."

When your gaze flickered over to Seungcheol there was a smug gleam in his eyes.

"Boring," Hoshi pouted, before making his way through the room to the kitchen, a second box in his arms. "You coming, Cheol?"

"Sure," he replied, his eyes still lingering on you. And then he chuckled. He fucking chuckled. You wanted to disappear on the spot. There was no doubt in your head that he'd heard you.

He didn’t let on though, not in a way others would notice. But you were hyper aware of every little move he made throughout the evening. He wasn’t even sitting close to you, nor did you really talk much, but he still had you on edge with the smug glances he threw you from time to time.

When you couldn’t endure his eyes on you for even a second longer, you excused yourself to the bathroom, not bothering to close the door behind you. After all, you just wanted to splash some water in your face to hopefully cool down a bit. But it seemed that had been a mistake.

"So, you think I'm attractive?" A familiar voice suddenly rang from right behind you.

You swallowed around the lump in your throat before you dared to look up, your eyes meeting Seungcheol’s through the mirror.

"No, I—that was just objectively speaking—"

A laugh slipped past his lips at the way you were fumbling for words. He stepped a little closer, his breath tickling your ears when he spoke up again.

“I’m objectively attractive?”

“You’re twisting my words.”

"I’m not. Just be honest with me."

A shudder ran down your spine and you felt flustered, your voice shaking a little despite your best efforts to sound tough.

“Why are you making such a big deal of it anyway?”

“Hm, good question. ” he hummed in response, hesitating for a moment before he added, “Maybe I like it.”

“Like what?”

He huffed a laugh. “You.”

You knew that he didn’t mean it the way you did—he clearly just liked the idea of you in his bed. You knew that—and yet your heart was racing in your chest, excited by the thought that he liked you, in whichever way.

When you didn’t reply and just kept staring at him through the mirror he leaned in even more, his nose nudging against the spot behind your ear, his eyes wandering between the you in front of him and the you in the mirror. “So,” he started again, “what do you think?”

“Me too,” you replied against your better knowledge. This was nothing but trouble, all of this was just a game to him. But you couldn't resist. “I like it.”

He hummed contently, the vibrations sending shivers down your spine. "That's a good girl."

His hands found your hips to turn you around, your face mere inches from his, and his gaze fixed on your lips.

God, you wanted this so badly. Still, a small voice of reason was fighting for attention inside your mind.

“Isn’t this a bad idea?” it made you ask, even though you already knew the answer yourself.

“I think it’s the best idea I’ve had in a while,” he replied with a smug smile. “Don’t you agree?”

No.

“Yes.”

Seungcheol couldn’t help the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, before pushing in and closing the gap between the two of you. At first it was just a gentle brush of his lips against yours, tentatively, questioningly; but when you leaned into the kiss he cupped your jaw and pulled you closer.

Surely this would end badly for you. Seungcheol wasn’t the type of guy who did relationships and you weren’t the best at separating your body and heart. But just for tonight you wanted to indulge. Who knew if the opportunity would arise again.

When you woke up the next morning, you found yourself tugged into an unfamiliar bed, a strong arm wrapped tightly around your waist. You couldn’t exactly recall how you’d gotten there, but what you did recall was what had happened once you’d arrived. You remembered the way his hands felt against your skin, the way his lips had explored your body, the way he’d looked at you. There’d been something hungry in his eyes. But somehow he’d also made you feel precious, like something that should be treasured. You knew you were absolutely fucked.

His arm was still wrapped around you, holding you close but you already felt like crying. When you stirred, trying to free yourself from his grasp he groaned in protest, pulling you closer.

“I have to get up,” you complained.

“Mhm-hm.” You felt him shaking his head before nuzzling into your neck. “Don’t.”

“Seungcheol, please,” your voice quivered but you hoped he didn’t notice in his sleepy state.

“Why?”

All of this was really bad for your heart. With the way he behaved you could almost delude yourself into believing this was more than just a one night stand, that maybe his like had meant something more after all.

“I have to work,” you lied. It was a weak lie, he knew you were off on sundays, but he loosened his grip anyway.

You freed yourself from his embrace and got up, hastily picking up your clothes from the floor so you could exchange them for the loose shirt Seungcheol had given you to sleep in. All the while, he was watching you from the bed, his head propped up on one hand.

“Are you coming back?”

“What?” You turned around to him, your shirt and pants clutched to your chest.

“Are you coming back?” He simply repeated.

You had a rough idea what he was implying. But how were you supposed to survive some kind of friends with benefits arrangement with the guy you’d been crushing on for months now?

"Let's just forget about this. It did not happen."

Seungcheol looked at you, an unreadable expression on his face that quickly turned into a cute pout.

"Well then it can not happen again, right?"

You wanted to say no and reinforce that it really wouldn’t, but you couldn’t bring yourself to. So, instead, you just disappeared to the bathroom where you hastily slipped into your clothes to escape his flat as quickly as possible. Maybe you’d be able to leave while he was still snuggled up in bed if you were quick enough.

But when you left the bathroom you heard clattering from the kitchen.

“I’m leaving,” you shouted into the hallway, because your manners forbade you from just rushing out even in this situation.

Seungcheol immediately poked his head out of the kitchen, the same pout on his lips again.

“You’re not even having a coffee?”

“Work. I told you.”

“Fine,” he replied but the pout didn’t disappear.

He walked you to the door, waiting patiently while you put on your shoes and coat, and then opened the door for you.

You felt awkward as you walked past him. “Uh, I guess I’ll see you around?”

“You can also call me, you know?” He reached out for your hand, just briefly holding onto it before letting go again. “Call me.”

You didn’t call him. You knew you wouldn’t call him the second you left his apartment and walked your sorry self to the bus stop. To say you regretted your decision from the night before was an understatement. Having an unrequited crush had been painful even before this. But now that you knew what it felt like to be held by him, now that you knew how gentle his hands could be and how he looked when he’d only just woken up—how were you supposed to ever get over it?

It was stupid to waste any tears on this, it was your own fault after all. But you did anyway, sitting at the bus stop crying until your bus arrived and then crying some more once you’d gotten home.

Avoiding Seungcheol seemed to be the best solution for now, just until your heart had recovered a little. But that was easier said than done. Your social circles were so closely intertwined that it was hard to avoid him without making it obvious. And while you didn’t want to see him, you also didn’t want to appear like some heartbroken loser who cried over a one-night stand (even if you did).

Before long you were sitting in Seungkwan's living room again, squeezed on the couch between a slightly drunk Wonwoo and an infinitely drunker Hoshi, while Seungcheol kept eyeing you from the other side of the room. He didn't even try to be subtle about it and it drove you insane. You tried to avoid his gaze as best as you could but your rebellious eyes kept wandering back to him anyway. It wasn’t your fault he was looking so cute today, with a pair of round glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose and his dark tousled hair falling into his forehead, almost hiding the way his eyebrows were slightly pulled together.

“Should I get you a new drink?” Wonwoo pulled you out of your trance, gesturing to the empty cup in your hand.

“Huh? Ah, no thank you, I’ll go.”

You took this chance to escape to the kitchen, hoping to get a moment of peace and collect your thoughts. You should have known better though. Leaving the room hadn’t worked last time, what had made you think it would now?

“You didn’t call me.”

Seungcheol looked at you with the same pout he’d already given you one too many times.

You shrugged. “Guess not.”

“Why not?”

“Does it matter?”

“It does.”

“Come on, Cheol, don’t pretend to be bothered by this.” You grabbed one of the liquor bottles, struggling to open it. Before you could give up in frustration, Suengcheol took the bottle out of your hands and opened it for you.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

Instead of handing the bottle back to you, he poured some into your cup, reaching for soda next.

“I prefer—”

“Orange, I know.” He mixed your drink, just the way you liked it, as if he’d done it a thousand times before. “So why didn’t you call?”

You huffed a laugh. “I’m just not cut out for this kinda thing. I don’t fancy getting hurt.”

"You were the one that practically bolted out of my apartment the next morning and then didn’t even call. Shouldn't I be the one who's hurt?" He didn’t meet your eyes when he said it, instead focused on refilling his own cup.

"As if you’d get hurt over someone like me."

Seungcheol raised an eyebrow and you knew what he was going to say: What do you mean ‘someone like you’? But you weren’t up for a serious conversation now. And it wasn’t like he’d understand.

“Besides,” you quickly tried to steer the conversation away. “Didn't we agree to forget about all that?”

“I agreed to nothing of the sort. Why would I agree to something stupid like that?”

“Because we—it was a one-time thing! A bad idea!”

“A bad idea?” He cocked his head. “That’s not what you said last time, Princess.”

Caught off guard by the nickname, you felt your face flush with heat. “Don’t call me that,” you snapped but it didn’t sound very convincing.

“What, Princess? Hmm.” He stepped a little closer, a thoughtful look on his face. “I thought it suited you.”

You automatically took a step back and as a result stumbled into the sharp edge of the kitchen counter. It wasn’t too painful, but you still winced.

Seungcheol chuckled. “Maybe klutz would be more fitting after all?” He sneaked his arm around your waist, his hand covering the edge so you wouldn’t bump into it again. “Or bumpkin?”

“I’m not a klutz,” you choked out, trying your best to ignore your racing heart, overwhelmed by the proximity.

“It’s cute though.”

“Stop teasing me, Seungcheol.” You looked at him with a frown. He huffed a laugh at your complaint.

“Funny, I could have sworn you were into that.”

Heat crept up your neck to the tips of your ears. But before you could retort anything, the two of you got interrupted.

“Uh,” Wonwoo eyed you from the doorway. “Sorry—just—y/n was taking a really long time in the kitchen so I thought I’d check…” He trailed off, his eyes wandering between the two of you.

“Actually,” Seungcheol said with a casual tone, putting a little distance between the two of you. “I’m getting a little tired and was just about to offer y/n a ride home since she’s a little drunk already. Even ran into the counter, the poor thing.”

“It wasn’t that bad. I’m not drunk.”

“So I shouldn’t drive you home?”

“Huh?” Your head snapped around to him in surprise, only now registering his offer. “Didn’t you drink?”

“It’s soda,” he held out his cup for you as if to prove his point. “But it’s fine if you want to stay, I’m just asking since I’m leaving anyway.”

Wonwoo was still looking at you from where he stood in the doorway in slight confusion. “So I assume you’re fine?” He searched your face for a confirmation of sorts.

“Yes, I’m fine.”

“Okay, then. I’ll leave you to it.” With that he returned to the living room, you and Seungcheol once again alone.

“So?” He raised an eyebrow.

“What?”

“Should I take you home?”

It was stupid, really. Both of you knew that you weren’t drunk. And even then, this was literally your best friend’s house. Seungkwan would let you stay over anytime.

You swallowed. “Okay?”

“Is that a question?”

“No. Take me home.”

Once is a mistake, they say. Twice is a choice.

And yet, you found yourself in Seungcheol’s bed again, his hands all over your body. He was unbearably sweet with you, from the way he cupped your face when he kissed you to the pretty little lies he whispered.

“I want you,” he mumbled into your bare skin. “You have no idea how badly I want you.”

It made your heart race but it made it ache too. What he wanted wasn’t you, it was only this: your body in his bed.

“Me too,” you replied anyway, and the smile it put on his face, dimple showing and all, was so adorable you almost wanted to cry on the spot.

“You do, don’t you?” He repeated, more of a confirmation for himself rather than a question to you.

You didn’t want to think about it, but an evil little voice wondered if he treated others this sweetly too, if he was just as happy to be wanted by others.

“Are you always like this?” you asked before you could stop yourself.

“Always?” Seungcheol didn’t seem to get the meaning behind the question, his expression not dimming one bit as he left little kisses on the corners of your lips before traveling down to your neck and collar bones. “What’s always?”

“I don’t know,” you sighed into the sensation, not willing to sacrifice this moment to your dumb jealousy. “Forget it.”

He chuckled into the crook of your neck. “You love telling me to forget, don’t you?”

“Maybe.”

Stirring awake the next morning, you were met with round eyes looking at you. They lit up with a smile when Seungcheol noticed you were awake.

“Hey.” His voice was still raspy with sleep.

“Hey.”

“You don’t work today, right?”

“It’s Sunday.”

“It was Sunday last time.”

You nodded slowly, realizing you had exposed your own lie. “Right. But no work today.”

“Good.” He nuzzled closer, burying his nose in the crook of your neck. “Then we can stay in bed a little longer.”

You let him cuddle up to you, soaking in the way it felt to have him close to you and ignoring how much it would hurt to let go later on.

After what felt like hours just cozily spent in bed, you started to get hungry. You didn’t want to say anything nor did you want to leave, so you decided to just endure the feeling for a little longer. Your stomach sadly didn’t agree with that plan though. It promptly started to rumble and of course Seungcheol had to hear it, too.

“We should make breakfast,” he said, peeling himself off you with a cheeky grin. “Can’t have my clumsy bumpkin starving to death, can I?”

The fact he’d called you his let you completely forget the fact he was teasing you again. It just felt so good, so much like what you’d thought it would be like to be his in all your stupid dreams and delusions. Even more so, when he placed a kiss on your forehead and pulled you out of bed. You sat at his kitchen counter while he made coffee and toast and everything about it seemed just as if you were dating. As if you were in love.

After a breakfast that took way longer than it needed to, you decided it was time to go, despite his insistence on you staying longer. He saw you to the door again, pulling you back to him before you could leave for good.

“When I ask you to call me—” His eyes were on yours, intently watching your reaction. “Will you do it this time?”

You swallowed around the lump in your throat. This is where you should have drawn the line. But you didn’t.

“Yeah.”

You didn’t just let the mistake become a choice. No, it ended up as a habit. And how could it not, when Seungcheol treated you so well?

You texted him that you got home that day and Seungcheol took it as the OK to message you more frequently. He sometimes asked you about your day or told you about his and it did nothing to prevent you from growing more delusional about all of this. Mostly though he invited you over. You spent more weekends at his place than not, holing up in his bedroom until Monday rolled around and reality had you back.

The little arrangement between you and Seungcheol wasn’t exactly a secret. You hadn’t told anyone but it was clear that some of your friends suspected something—and of course they did, you left two parties together. And that didn’t even take into account that Wonwoo had somewhat caught you in the kitchen, though you doubted that he would tattle to anyone.

But despite the suspicions that some of your friends were bound to have, no one really said anything about it. You knew Seungkwan wanted to talk to you about it, but he seemed to always bite his tongue. In a way you were grateful for that. What was he going to say? That it wasn’t a good idea? That you’d end up getting hurt because Seungcheol wasn’t the type to settle down? You already knew all that. You didn’t need anyone to tell you.

While Seungkwan and such seemed to be in the know, others were completely oblivious about it. At least Chan was.

You were all sitting together in Hoshi and Woozi’s living room, drinking and playing games the way you always did. You tried to stay sober though—while Seungcheol and you hadn’t arrived together he did offer to take you back with him, and you didn’t want to be the only one between the two of you to be drunk. Thinking about it, you wondered if Seungcheol had sat out on drinking this often before, or if him staying sober to drive was a recent development. You didn’t get to philosophize about it for too long though, because Chan plopped down on the couch next to you, clearly feeling tipsy already. He had a wide smile plastered on his face as he nudged you in the side to get your attention.

“Hey, y/n,” he whispered loudly, the way drunk people do.

“Mhm?”

His smile grew even wider. “Wanna know a secret?”

“Sure.”

“But you can’t tell anyone.”

“I won’t.”

“Promise?” He held out his pinky finger to you.

You intertwined your fingers. “Promise.”

“I heaaard,” he playfully drew out the word in an attempt to create suspense. “Seungcheol is dating someone.”

It took a moment for his words to register, but when they did you felt sick to your stomach.

“What?”

“I know, right?” Chan giggled. “Never thought he’d settle with someone but he seems serious. Or so I heard, he didn’t tell me personally so shhh,” he dramatically pressed his index finger to his lips.

“Who is it?”

“Mmmmh,” he looked thoughtful. “Probably someone from his classes?”

You nodded. Not because you understood—you clearly didn’t understand any of this at all—but because you were at a loss of how else to respond to this.

You should have known better. You had known better. Seungcheol would never be yours. But you just couldn’t stop yourself, you just had to indulge in the illusion. And now you were paying the price.

With a shaky voice you excused yourself, telling Chan you were going outside for a bit. Your vision was already blurry with tears when you stumbled to the door, taking in a deep breath of the cool air once you were outside.

How long was it going on already? Was he serious about them? Was he ever going to tell you? Of course you couldn’t expect him to be faithful—you weren’t even dating so what was there to be faithful about? But you were sleeping with him. Shouldn’t he at least tell you if he was sleeping with others, too? And shouldn’t he be faithful to whoever it was that he was dating?

You leaned against the cold house wall, trying and failing to keep your composure. No one was outside at this time, the street empty and dark, but you still felt incredibly exposed as you stood there, tears running down your face.

The muted music and chatter of the party could be heard coming from inside and it only made you feel worse. For a moment it grew louder and then there was the thud of the front door closing.

Your head snapped around just to be faced with the one person you didn’t want to see right now.

“I thought—” Seungcheol started, but when he saw you were crying he interrupted himself, his whole posture changing as he rushed over to you. “Y/n, what’s wrong?”

With a worried frown he reached out to cup your face, but you evaded the gesture, shooting him a defiant glare that probably looked way more pathetic than you would have liked, with your puffy cheeks and red eyes.

“Nothing, really.”

“This doesn’t look like nothing.” His eyebrows drew together even further.

“Just, you know,” you shrugged. "I should have known better than to get involved with someone like you."

Seungcheol eyed you, confused but also clearly offended. "Someone like me?"

"Oh, come on, you know exactly what I mean. Someone popular with a zillion friends and all that. Someone like you could never be serious about me." Your voice was hoarse from crying, taking away some of the heat in your words. But it was still enough to make Seungcheol angry.

"What are you even talking about? Our friends are literally the same and—” he let out an exasperated sigh, as if he was at a loss of words. “You know, you should really work on that inferiority complex of yours. It's not cute."

That stung. Maybe because you didn’t expect him to say such harsh words, or maybe because he was right, you did feel inferior, as if you weren’t good enough for him.

“Whatever,” you pressed out, your voice shaky as a flood of new tears welled up in your eyes. “Not like it matters, since you found someone better than me anyway.”

His expression softened a little, unable to keep being angry when you were standing in front of him like a sobbing mess. When he reached out his hand this time, you didn’t back away and let him wipe away your tears with his thumb.

“What are you talking about?” He asked, his voice confused but gente.

“I already heard it all,” you sniffed. “You’re seeing someone. Chan told me and he had it from—he didn’t tell me. But either way, I already know that you’re seeing someone,” you rubbed at your eyes with the back of your hand, “so we can stop this game already.”

“A game?” Seungcheol whispered, “Is it really just a game?”

“Isn’t it?”

“Would you be crying like this if it was?”

You shrugged. “Does it even matter? You’re seeing—”

“You,” Seungcheol interrupted. “I was talking about you.”

“Me?” You met his gaze in confusion. “But Chan didn’t say that.”

He huffed a laugh. “Because I didn’t tell anyone. I wasn’t sure if you would have been okay with that. I didn’t want to say anything at all before checking in with you, but it just kinda slipped…” He trailed off, rubbing the back of his head bashfully. “Either way. It was you, it was always you.”

“What’s always?”

“Always. Ever since I met you.”

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not.”

“But you’re,” you shrugged helplessly, “Seungcheol.”

“And you’re you. And I adore you. ”

He smiled as he reached out his other hand too, cupping your face and brushing away any tears that were still clinging to your cheeks. “So, no more crying, hm?”

“No promises.” You sniffed again, but there was a small smile tugging on your lips too.

Seungcheol chuckled and pulled you into his chest, your arms naturally wrapping around his waist as he held you.

“So,” he started after a while, “if any of the guys were to ask who I’m seeing—” he let the sentence hang in the air, a playful tone in his voice.

“Then you can tell them it’s me,” you offered sheepishly.

He pulled away to meet your gaze. “And would it be true?”

“Yeah. It would be. Wouldn’t it?”

His face lit up with the smile you loved so much. “It would be.”

Masterlist

#s.coups x reader #seungcheol x reader #scoups x reader #svt x reader #seventeen scenarios #seventeen x reader #seventeen fanfic #kpop scenarios #seventeen drabble #svt fanfic #svt scenarios #svt imagines #seventeen imagines #kebbis.writing

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todorokis-girl · 4 months

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I Never Knew You Were Alive - Soulmate AU (IV) NSFW

Chapter IV: What are we doing?

No actual dabi in this one

Chapter I: So it starts Chapter II: A late arrival Chapter III: belive of be doomed Chapter IV: What are we doing? Chapter V: Last minute encounter Chapter VI: Deciding to fall in love with you

masterlist

Next Chapter

This one is smut...there's really nothing else to say.... There's a lot of self indulgence here. I am so sorry.

The following months were fraught with tension, especially whenever her missions hinted at any involvement with the League of Villains. The delicate and precarious relationship with Touya weighed heavily on her mind, and she was acutely aware of the potential danger it posed not just to herself but to civilians and fellow heroes. Despite her best efforts to avoid him, it was impossible to escape his shadow entirely.

Surprisingly, they bumped into each other a few times after their initial encounter. These meetings were fleeting, marked by brief, silent exchanges of glances rather than words or violence. The first time she saw him again was during one of her nightly walks. The city was shrouded in darkness, and the air was crisp and cold. She was passing through a dimly lit alley when she felt his presence and spotted him from the corner of her eye. Her heart raced as their eyes met. He stood at the far end of the alley; his silhouette framed by the faint glow of a distant streetlamp.

The second encounter was during a mission. She was part of a covert operation to gather intelligence on a rumored League hideout. The abandoned warehouse was eerily quiet, the air thick with anticipation. As she moved through the shadows, she sensed him before she saw him. He was watching her from a distance, his intense gaze burning into her. She froze, her heart pounding in her chest. But just like the previous encounter, he made no move to harm her. He simply watched, his eyes filled with a mixture of intensity and something she couldn't quite decipher.

With each silent encounter, the tension between them grew, a palpable force that was impossible to ignore. The air seemed to crackle with electricity whenever he was near, and she found herself both drawn to and terrified of him. The sexual tension was undeniable, a magnetic pull that she didn't know how to handle. She was even more confused, as along with this sensation, the threat he had made to her loomed over her every thought.

Touya’s physical presence was overwhelming. His tall, lean frame exuded a raw, almost dangerous charisma. His pale skin contrasted starkly with his dark, tousled hair, which framed his angular face. His eyes, a vivid shade of turquoise, were piercing and intense, holding a depth of emotion that belied his villainous persona. The scars that marred his skin only added to his allure, a testament to the pain and suffering he had endured. There was a rugged handsomeness to him, a dark allure that was impossible to resist. His voice, low and husky, sent shivers down her spine whenever she heard it. She had no idea if to attribute these thoughts to the fact that they were fated for each other, or simple raw attraction.

The way he moved was almost predatory, graceful and confident, like a panther stalking its prey. She couldn't help but be captivated by him, despite the danger he represented. Every glance, every fleeting moment they shared was charged with an intensity that left her breathless. The memory of his touch lingered on her skin, a reminder of the night he had threatened her.

This was definitely not something she could talk to Keigo about. It felt shameful to admit her attraction to a villain, but it was also understandable. Touya was her soulmate, her one true match. He was supposed to be the one person who could satisfy her and make her feel something real. The bond between soulmates was supposed to be unbreakable, a connection that transcended all else. But the reality of their situation was far more complicated.

She often found herself lost in thought, replaying their encounters in her mind. The memory of his touch, the intensity of his gaze, the way his presence made her heart race – it was all-consuming. She was caught in a web of conflicting emotions, torn between her duty as a hero and her undeniable attraction to him.

Late at night, she would lie awake, her mind racing with thoughts of him. She could still feel the heat of his hand around her neck, the way his breath had brushed against her skin. It was intoxicating, and she hated herself for wanting more. The thought of him consumed her, filling her dreams and waking moments alike. She yearned for him, despite knowing how dangerous that desire was.

He wasn’t just her soulmate, he was the enemy, the one threatening her students. What would Keigo think? Aizawa? Hell… what would hero society think if they found out?

Yet, she couldn't deny the truth. Touya was her soulmate, and no matter how twisted their relationship, that bond remained. She could feel it in her very soul, a connection that refused to be severed. It was both a blessing and a curse, a source of both strength and torment. She was trapped in a dance with darkness, unable to escape the pull of the man who was supposed to be her other half.

As she navigated her missions and daily life, the tension never fully dissipated. It lingered, a constant reminder of the battle raging within her. She was determined to find a way to reach him, to make him see the truth of their bond. But each encounter left her more confused, more conflicted, and more desperate for answers. The path ahead was uncertain, and the stakes were higher than ever. But she couldn't give up. Not on him, and not on herself.

The last time before the cataclysmic event, she hadn’t gone out looking for him, but they found each other. She was returning from one of her rare midnight patrols, enjoying a can of iced coffee. The city was quiet at this hour, the usual hustle and bustle replaced by an eerie stillness. The streetlights cast long, dim shadows on the empty sidewalks, and the occasional car passed by, its headlights slicing through the darkness.

Tomorrow was Saturday, and she didn’t have to work, but she had a weekly meeting with her best friend and needed to grade some assignments. She sighed, knowing she needed a lot more than a can of iced coffee to keep her going. Lost in her thoughts, she didn’t notice the looming presence that had been tracking her.

She stopped in her tracks and slowly turned to look at the alleyway, carefully adjusting her vision to peer into the dark. The alley was narrow, lined with overflowing dumpsters and scattered debris, the smell of mold lingering in the air. After a couple of seconds, she could start making out his shape. His silhouette was unmistakable, even in the dim light. Then she saw his eyes, two burning points of blue in the darkness. They held each other's gaze, and she felt a lump form in her throat, a mix of fear and pent-up desire.

When she was about to step away, he finally approached her, stopping at the very edge of the alley, right at the line where he would be stepping out into the light. The faint glow from the streetlamp illuminated his features partially, highlighting the intensity in his eyes and the harsh lines of his face. His presence was imposing, and she could feel the heat radiating from his body even from a distance.

She took a sharp breath and braced herself, hoping today wouldn’t be the day she fought him, not in her current state. Her heart pounded in her chest, a rapid drumbeat of anxiety and anticipation.

“I’m not ready to talk, I don’t want to fight, I don’t trust you; I’m tired of the tension,” he said, his voice low and intense. His gaze held her captive, his eyes burning with unresolved emotions. Confused, she scrunched her eyebrows, wondering what she was meant to do. Her heart raced in her chest, the confusion still present.

“Let’s get rid of it,” he added, his words a dark, compelling command. Setting backwars into the alley, almost pulling her to follow him.

And with that, she was convinced. She couldn’t deny the magnetic pull between them, the way his presence stirred something deep within her.

The narrow alleyway provided a cloak of secrecy, shielding them from prying eyes and the hustle of the city beyond. The faint glow of distant streetlights cast eerie shadows against the worn brick walls, adding to the clandestine atmosphere of their rendezvous. The air hung heavy with anticipation, thick with the scent of urban decay and the heady aroma of their shared desire.

The world around them disappeared as their bodies collided with a desperate need that had been building for months, probably years. The alley was a confined space, filled with the mingled scents of the city and their shared passion. The rough texture of the brick wall pressed against her back contrasted sharply with the heat of his body. His touch was both rough and tender, a confusing mix that left her craving more.

He roughtly pulled her sweater to rest above her breast and desperately pulled her bra downward to expose her breast, the sounds she made echoed in the confined space. At that moment, she couldn’t think even if she wanted to. Her mind was a haze of sensation and emotion, a whirlwind of heat and urgency. She could feel every scar, every line of his muscular form, and it drove her wild with a longing she couldn’t control.

Witth heavy breast and a hint of desperating, he lowered his pants to his waist and after urging her to be quick, grabbed her ass, and lifted her up to rest against the wall, held up by his arms; her legs around me. Her shorts and underware carefully dangling from her ankle.

There was something taboo in this clandestine encounter, knowing they were not supposed to be together. She was his enemy; she was his soulmate.

His hand cupped her breast, his fingers tweaking her nipple. A gasp escaped her lips, a shiver running down her spine. It was as if electricity crackled in the air, the atmosphere crackling with tension and anticipation. Sweat dripped down their bodies, mingling between them, a testament to their overwhelming connection.

Heat pulsed through her veins, fueling the ravenous beast within. He whispered obscenities in her ear, probing her with his tongue, and she shivered at the filthy words.

"Fuck me, dammit," she cried out, her hips grinding against him. "Take me."

He echoed the sentiment, his voice raw and primal as he grabbed her and smashed her against the cold, unforgiving wall. The impact sent a jolt of pleasure through her limbs, echoing the primal core of their need.

His length throbbed between them, and with a violent thrust, he entered her. Their bodies moved in a syncopated rhythm, both in harmony and discord, a clash of need and fury.

"God, Touya," she moaned, her voice bouncing off the cold walls of the alley. Her head rolled backwards, hitting the surface with a dull thud. His name on her lips was a mix of love, fear, and lust, an intoxication that tasted sweeter than any drug could.

The pain of his grip on her hip, the primal frenzy of his thrusts as he invaded her: all of it fed that insatiable hunger within her. Her legs wrapped tighter around his waist as she took him deeper, each thrust forcing her closer to the edge.

"You like that?" Touya asked, his voice a low growl, savage and raw. The question sent a chill down her spine, and she couldn't help but nod eagerly. She wanted to give herself to him completely; she was beyond the point of shame or fear.

Her heart raced as he took her, his movements becoming stronger, urgent and intensifying with each passing moment. Her body shuddered around him, her walls clenching around his length as she met his rhythm.

Touya pulled on her hair, forcing her to arch her back, giving him better access to her heaving chest. He bent down to take a hard nipple into his mouth, sucking on it with a greed that made her cry out in pure bliss.

His other hand moved between their bodies, his thumb finding her swollen nub. Pressure and friction, a divine combination she couldn't resist. She bucked her hips, pressing herself harder against him, urging him on as her pleasure mounted.

"Don't stop," she panted. The sound of their bodies moving together reverberated through the alley, mingling with the distant sounds of the city.

Touya continued his sensual assault, driving her to the brink of madness. The tension built inside her, her core ached with anticipation. His moans on her ear were becoming maddening, aiding in the sensitivity and pleasure.

Her body, wet and warm, clung to him. He groaned his satisfaction, his length fully sheathed inside her as he established a hard, insistent rhythm. She could hardly breathe, her ability to form words vanished as her senses heightened to a fever pitch.

The slap of their bodies echoed in the narrow confines of the alley, a reminder of their forbidden union. Her back remained glued to the icy bricks, while his hands roamed her body mercilessly. The mix of hot and cold on her skin sending her farther down her path. She was used to conflicting temperatures on her skin, but this time it made every inch of her body more aware.

He cupped her breasts in his calloused palms, pinching her sensitive nipples with a cruel force that made her gasp. He growled, letting go of one nipple only to grip the other more fiercely. Her breathes quickened, each one panting out in rhythm with her growing need, she could feel herself getting closer, a white hot sensation running though up her spine skin.

"God, Touya, I'm so fucking close," she cried, her voice hoarse. Her body trembled as her lips parted wider, gasping for air, her eyelids fluttering as the orgasm approached. Every thrust making her moans louder.

“Careful, someone might hear the little hero” He grinned, his lips curling up into a wicked smile, hearing her pleas drove him wild. Gripping her hips tight, he buried his thrusts deep inside her, relishing the sensation as his length pounded against her sensitive spot. Pleasure consumed her body as her walls closed around him, wet and greedy, demanding every inch he could give her. He felt her cum on his cock, and he saw her. Her eyes rolled back with one last moan, no, scream; twitching and she desperately looked for something to grab onto.

He had no intentoon oh helping her lower her moans, it wasn’t exactly his problem whow saw. With a mischeavious lick of his lips he grabbed her hips again, knowing she hadn’t finished her orgasm and continued to thrust into her.

He was close to his own orgasm, and he was gonna use her to finish even if she couldn’t take it anymore. He made sure to watch her, sounds wilder and louder as he speed up closing on his own high.

With one deep groan, he attached his teeth to her shoulder, near the baase of her neck, bitting as hard as he could, finishing himself off deep inside her.

"This. Is. Fucking. Insane," she managed to pant as she carefully attempted to catch her breath, she looked into his eyes studying him carefulluy "What are we even doing?" She didn’t understand what she was doing, and to be quite frank, she was yet to figure out how she felt about it… emotionally.

"Savoring. Each. Other." He ground out in response, between his own harsh breaths. His tongue traced the shell of her ear before he nipped at her earlobe. She gasped, her body responding to his touch like he was a drug she couldn't get enough of.

"You liked that, didn't you?" he whispered, his voice thick with desire. She moaned, her legs involuntarily shuttering around him. He pressed himself against her, his hardness throbbing against her core, a reminder of the intimacy they shared and the larger connection that lay between them.

He took in the bite he had left on her, red and angry, and licked it. It was gonna leave a mar, and it was going to bruise; and he wasn’t going to let her forget any of this.

She gruided her hands under his shirt. Her hands trailed between his toned abs and up to his broad shoulders, feeling the muscles underneath ripple. She took the moment, and the opportunity to study his scars, and soutures and how the alternating textures felt on her skin, allowig herself the oportunity to familiarize herself with the warmth of his body, almost memorizing his temperature; who knew when she’d have the oportunity to do this again (more like who knew, if she would allow herself to do this again). It was a moment of intimacy unlike any other, a fleeting connection between two souls bound by fate, one that she increasingly though would never stick.

But even as she reveled in the sensation, permitting herself the moment of intimacy, a part of her couldn't shake the nagging doubt that lingered at the back of her mind. She knew what this was, and the moment he decided he got his fill, she had to run.

She didn’t look up at him, but he studied her carefully, he was just as confused as she was. He had never felt the desire for anyone that he had felt for her, and he needed to know why. Now that he knew, it terrefied him, this wasn’t about love or even wanting to have anything with his soulmate; he just couldn’t stand the tension any longer.

As she leaned back against the brick wall, using it for support, Touya couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt wash over him. He had allowed himself to be drawn into this moment of vulnerability, to let down his guard and succumb to the allure of her touch. And now, as they stood there in the darkness, he couldn't help but wonder what it all meant.

She swallowed, her breath finally staying, as she quickly pulled on her clothes back on properly. She was moving quicker than she though she could and felt her eyes begging to water, finally, after a moment of calm the current reality swallowing her whole.

“Thank you; for…” She used her hands to sort of half haeartedly signal to the encouter; and he looked at her uninterested.

“Leave” he finalized adjusting his own clothes and began to walk away, she didn’t know how to feel or why; and as much as she expected and knew this would be the reaction, it still hurt her.

He himself was confused, but he knew, even if he wanted to belive her, even if he trusted her, even if he begged for it; they could never really be together. He didn’t know if she understood their circumstances, but one day it’s click. He was sure of it.

tags: @staygoldsquatchling02

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xxspringmelodyxx · 7 months

Text

Why Her and Not Me?

Gojo Satoru x F.Reader x Geto Suguru (Angst) Part IV

Hello my lovely readers! I am back with part IV, so I’m just gonna cut to the chase and let you all read! Thank you all for the support, I really appreciate you all so much <3333 Now, without further ado…Enjoy~

Masterlist

A few more weeks had slipped by, each day bringing Toru closer to the edge of his sanity. The once familiar rhythm of his life had been disrupted, thrown into disarray by the growing distance between you and him. No matter how hard he tried to push aside his feelings, they continued to gnaw at him, a relentless reminder of what he had lost.

Every passing day seemed to deepen the void that had formed in his heart, leaving him feeling hollow and incomplete. The ache of longing grew more pronounced with each passing moment, a constant presence that refused to be ignored. And as much as he tried to distract himself with work and other activities, his thoughts inevitably circled back to you, to the warmth of your smile and the comfort of your presence.

But it wasn't just the absence of your friendship that tormented him; it was the way you seemed to be drifting further and further away, drawn to Suguru like a moth to a flame. Every shared laugh, every whispered conversation, served as a painful reminder of the bond you shared with Suguru, a connection that seemed to grow stronger with each passing day.

Toru's frustration boiled beneath the surface, simmering with a volatile intensity that threatened to consume him. He couldn't understand why you were pulling away from him, why you seemed to prefer Suguru's company over his own. Was it something he had done? Something he had said? The questions swirled in his mind, each one adding fuel to the fire of his insecurity and self-doubt.

And as time continued to move forward, Toru's relationship with Osaka began to move backwards. It was becoming evident that their relationship was starting to suffer under the weight of his internal turmoil. He found himself growing increasingly distant and aloof, unable to fully commit to their relationship. He couldn’t, not when he felt his heart quickly being tethered to you. Their once easy bond had been replaced by tension and unease, their conversations strained and stilted.

Osaka, sensing the growing distance between them, had tried to reach out to Toru, to bridge the gap that had formed between them. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't seem to break through the wall he had erected around his heart. It was as if he was a million miles away, lost in a world of his own making. And Toru felt horrible for it.

His guilt weighed heavily on his shoulders, a constant companion that refused to be ignored. He couldn't shake the feeling that he was betraying Osaka, the girl who had stood by his side through thick and thin during all of this. She didn't deserve to be caught in the crossfire of his internal struggle, yet he couldn't deny the growing chasm that had formed between them.

Every moment spent with Osaka was tinged with a sense of guilt and remorse, a nagging reminder of the pain he was causing her. He could see the hurt in her eyes, the confusion and frustration that mirrored his own. And despite his best efforts to reassure her, to convince her that everything was okay, he knew deep down that their relationship was crumbling beneath the weight of his unresolved feelings.

But try as he might, Toru couldn't bring himself to end things with Osaka, couldn't find the words to shatter her heart into a million pieces. The thought of hurting her, of breaking her trust, filled him with a profound sense of shame and self-loathing. He had promised to be there for her, to love and cherish her with all his heart, and yet here he was, torn between two worlds, unable to give her the love and devotion she deserved.

And as the guilt gnawed at him, Toru couldn't help but wonder if he was doomed to repeat the same mistakes over and over again. Was he destined to hurt the people he cared about most, to leave a trail of broken hearts in his wake? The thought filled him with a profound sense of despair, a fear that he would never be able to escape the cycle of pain and regret that seemed to define his life.

Yet, despite his fear and uncertainty, Toru knew that he couldn't continue to live in limbo, caught between the past and the present. He needed to make a choice, to either let go of his feelings for you and move forward with Osaka, or risk everything for a chance at true happiness.

But amidst the darkness that threatened to consume him, there was a glimmer of hope, a flicker of light that refused to be extinguished. It was the memory of you, of the warmth of your smile and the kindness in your eyes. You were his anchor in a sea of uncertainty, the one constant in his ever-changing world.

Despite his best efforts to push you away, to bury his feelings beneath a facade of indifference, Toru couldn't help but be drawn back to you. It was as if an invisible force was pulling him towards you, a magnetic attraction that defied reason and logic. And as much as he tried to deny it, to convince himself that he could live without you, he knew deep down that he was fighting a losing battle.

With each passing day, his feelings for you grew stronger, more insistent, until they consumed his every thought and action. He found himself longing for the sound of your voice, the warmth of your touch, the comfort of your presence by his side. But it seemed like you were doing your best to avoid him at every turn, adding to his frustration and confusion.

No matter how hard he tried to close the growing divide between you, to repair the fractured bond that had once held you together, it felt like you were slipping further and further away. And as Toru grappled with the realization that he might be losing you for good, he couldn't help but feel a sense of desperation and despair creeping in.

For the first time in a long time, he allowed himself to entertain the possibility that maybe, just maybe, he had pushed you away too far. And as he contemplated the daunting prospect of facing a future without you by his side, Toru knew that he would have to confront his demons head-on if he ever hoped to find the redemption he so desperately craved. And he needed to do something about it now before it actually is too late.

——

As Suguru reflected on the past few months, he couldn’t help but marvel at how swiftly his bond with you had transformed. What had begun as a casual friendship had bloomed into something far more profound, a connection that seemed to defy explanation.

He found himself irresistibly drawn to you, captivated by the melody of your laughter, the radiance of your smile, and the sparkle in your eyes that hinted at hidden depths. Each moment spent in your company felt like a stolen treasure, precious and fleeting yet infinitely valuable.

He absolutely cherished and loved the way you laughed at his jokes, the way you listened intently to his stories, hanging on to his every word as if it were the most important thing in the world. It was a feeling unlike anything he had ever experienced before, a sense of belonging and connection that filled him with joy and contentment. It was one of the main things about you that was unique compared to everyone else he’s known.

Of course, Suguru had always known there was something special about you. From the moment he first laid eyes on you, he felt a spark light up between you two. It was as if fate had brought you into his life, weaving your presence into the fabric of his very being.

In the past, he found himself often watching you from afar, admiring your grace, your kindness, and the way you lit up the room with just your smile. After that, it didn’t take too long before Suguru found himself falling head over heels for you, unable to shake the feeling that you were meant to be together.

However, Suguru kept his emotions carefully concealed, fearing that they would jeopardize the friendship he cherished so dearly. He had convinced himself that it was enough to simply be near you, to bask in the warmth of your presence without expecting anything more.

And despite his growing feelings for you, Suguru had always been aware of your connection with Toru. He had seen the way you looked at him, the spark of affection in your eyes whenever he was near. And knowing that you liked Toru, Suguru had chosen to keep his feelings to himself, burying them deep within his heart where they could never be discovered.

Before Toru shattered your heart with his confession about loving someone else, Suguru maintained a careful distance, knowing that being close to you would only intensify his own feelings of longing and heartache. He watched from afar as you navigated your feelings for Toru, silently suffering as he witnessed the love and admiration etched on your face whenever you spoke of Toru.

However, he wouldn’t just straight up ignore you. He could never do that to someone like you. Whenever you needed comforting, Suguru made a conscious effort to be there for you, offering a sympathetic ear and a shoulder to lean on whenever you needed it. He knew that his own feelings had to take a backseat to your happiness, and he was willing to endure the agony of unrequited love if it meant easing your burden, even if just a little.

But when news of Toru's and your situation finally reached Suguru's ears, it was as if a floodgate had been opened, unleashing a torrent of emotions he had long kept buried. The sight of you, heartbroken and vulnerable, stirred something deep within him, igniting a fierce determination to protect you from further harm.

It was in that moment that Suguru made a silent vow to himself: to do whatever it took to help you heal, to be the rock you could lean on in your time of need. And as he took the initiative to reach out to you, offering his unwavering support and understanding, he couldn't help but hope that maybe, just maybe, this would be the beginning of something more.

———

Suguru found himself unable to resist the urge to reach out to you. He knew that you had been pretty busy the past few days with work and all, but all he wanted to do was to see your face and hear your voice.

So, with a sense of determination burning in his chest, Suguru picked up his phone and sent you a message, inviting you to join him for a walk in the park. He knew that the tranquil beauty of nature had a way of soothing the soul, and he hoped that spending time together in such a serene setting would help distract you from your work.

As Suguru awaited your response, he felt a familiar tug of nerves fluttering in his chest. As he stood beneath the swaying branches of the park's trees, Suguru couldn't help but wonder how you would react to his invitation. Would you be intrigued by the idea of an impromptu outing, or would you see it as nothing more than a casual gesture between friends? Either way, he was determined to make the most of their time together, cherishing every moment spent in your company.

When your reply came, filled with warmth and gratitude, Suguru felt a surge of relief wash over him. It was as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, replaced by a sense of eager anticipation as he prepared to meet you.

About 10 minutes had passed and not even a second later, Suguru read a message from you saying you were at the park. He texted you his exact location, showing you where he was.

When you arrived, Suguru was struck once again by just how breathtakingly beautiful you were, your smile lighting up the evening air like a beacon of hope. He couldn't help but feel a swell of pride as he watched you approach, your eyes sparkling with curiosity and excitement.

"Hey, you," he greeted you, his voice soft and warm as he reached out to take your hand in his. "I'm so glad you could make it."

As you fell into step beside him, Suguru felt a sense of peace settle over him, as if the world had suddenly slowed to a gentle rhythm just for the two of you. The park was bathed in the soft glow of twilight, the air alive with the sound of birdsong and the rustle of leaves in the breeze.

For a while, the two of you simply walked in companionable silence, content to lose yourselves in the beauty of the world around you. Though, it didn’t take long before you two decided to situate yourselves somewhere nice to relax.

As the sun dipped low on the horizon, casting long shadows across the park, Suguru and you found yourselves seated on a weathered wooden bench, bathed in the warm glow of the fading daylight. The air was filled with the soft rustle of leaves and the distant chirping of crickets, lending an air of tranquility to the bustling city around you.

"You know," Suguru began, his voice soft and gentle, "I've always loved coming to this park. It's like an oasis of calm in the middle of all this chaos."

You nodded in agreement, a small smile playing at the corners of your lips. "Yeah, it's definitely one of my favorite places to escape to when life gets a bit overwhelming."

Suguru agreed, taking in every second.

For Suguru, every moment spent with you felt like a precious gift, a fleeting glimpse of paradise in an otherwise ordinary world. He couldn't help but be drawn to you, captivated by the gentle curve of your smile and the sparkle in your eyes. And as you sat side by side, the distance between you seemed to shrink until there was nothing left but the space you shared.

"I'm really glad you invited me to come here today," you said, your voice soft and sincere. "It's been a while since I've just sat and enjoyed the beauty of nature."

Suguru smiled, feeling a warmth spreading through his chest at your words. "I'm glad you came too. It's always better when you're here."

You sighed contentedly, leaning back against the bench and closing your eyes for a moment, relishing in the peace and quiet of the park. Suguru glanced at you, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips as he saw the light outline your beautiful figure.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” he said, his voice barely above a whisper as he continued to bask in your presence.

You nodded, a soft smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah, it really is.” You finished, clueless to the fact that he was actually talking about you and not the scenery around you two.

For a while, the two of you sat in companionable silence, lost in your own thoughts as the world continued to spin around you. But eventually, Suguru broke the silence, his voice hesitant as he spoke.

“You know,” he began, his words slow and deliberate, “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately. About life, and where I’m headed, and… well, everything, really.”

You turned to look at him, curiosity shining in your eyes. “Oh? And what kind of things have you been thinking about?”

Suguru shrugged, a faint blush creeping into his cheeks. “Oh, you know, just… stuff. Like, where I see myself in five years, and what I want out of life, and… yeah.”

You nodded, sensing that there was more to Suguru’s words than he was letting on. “It sounds like you’ve been doing some serious soul-searching.”

Suguru chuckled nervously, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, you could say that. I guess I’ve just been feeling a bit lost lately, you know? Like I’m drifting aimlessly through life, without any real direction or purpose.”

You reached out and placed a comforting hand on Suguru’s shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “I think a lot of people feel that way sometimes. Life can be so unpredictable, and it’s easy to feel like you’re just along for the ride.”

Suguru smiled and nodded at you, his eyes shimmering with love and admiration for you.

“Yeah, exactly. That was when I realized,” Suguru said, his voice tinged with a hint of self-deprecation, “that maybe it’s okay to not have everything figured out. Maybe it’s okay to just take things one day at a time and see where life takes me.”

As Suguru finished speaking, his words lingered in the air, carrying with them a sense of introspection and hope. You took a moment to absorb his sentiments, letting them sink in before offering your response.

"You’re right," you replied, nodding thoughtfully. "Life can be overwhelming when we try to plan every step of the way. Sometimes, it's about embracing the uncertainty and trusting that things will fall into place in their own time."

Suguru's eyes lit up with understanding, his smile widening at your words. "Exactly," he agreed, a sense of relief washing over him. "It's like...learning to dance in the rain instead of waiting for the storm to pass. Finding joy in the journey, even when the destination is unclear." He finished, chuckling to himself at his metaphor.

You couldn't help but smile at Suguru's metaphor, touched by the wisdom in his words. "I like that analogy," you admitted, a soft chuckle escaping your lips. "It's a reminder to appreciate the beauty in life's unexpected moments, to find happiness in the midst of chaos."

The two of you sat in silence for a while longer, the weight of Suguru’s and your words hanging in the air between you. But eventually, Suguru spoke again, his voice soft and vulnerable.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about us, too,” he admitted, his gaze flicking nervously to meet yours. “About our friendship, and how much it means to me.”

Your heart skipped a beat at Suguru’s words, a warmth spreading through your chest at the sincerity in his voice. “I feel the same way, Suguru. You mean a lot to me, too.”

Suguru smiled, a genuine smile that reached all the way to his eyes. “I’m glad to hear that. Because, honestly, I don’t know what I would do without you, Y/n. You’ve been such an important part of my life, and I don’t ever want to lose that.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you reached out and took Suguru’s hand in yours, squeezing it tightly. “You won’t, Suguru. I promise.”

There was a warmth in your gaze, a kindness in your smile, that made Suguru's heart swell with emotion. In that moment, he knew that he had found someone truly special, someone he could share his deepest thoughts and feelings with without fear of judgment or rejection.

As the air crackled with anticipation, you couldn't help but feel the intensity of the moment washing over you. Slowly leaning in closer to Suguru, the distance between you seemed to vanish, melting away in the warmth of your shared breath. His proximity sent a shiver of excitement coursing through you, each exhale drawing you nearer to him.

In that fleeting moment, the world around you faded into the background, leaving only the two of you suspended in time. Your lips hovered mere inches apart, the tantalizing promise of a kiss hanging between you like a delicate thread. The anticipation built to a fever pitch, your heart pounding in your chest as you teetered on the edge of something monumental.

Caught in the throes of desire, neither of you dared to move, the magnetic pull between you holding you captive in its grasp. The electricity in the air crackled with unrestrained passion, igniting a fire within you that burned brighter with each passing second.

In that suspended moment, it felt as though the entire universe had conspired to bring you together, binding you to each other in a dance as old as time itself. And as you stood on the precipice of possibility, you couldn't help but wonder what lay on the other side, yearning to bridge the final gap that separated you from Suguru's waiting lips.

”Y/n…” Suguru said, his voice barely above a whisper as he felt heat rise to his face from the closeness.

But just as the tension reached its peak, the sound of footsteps approaching shattered the spell, jolting you both back to reality. Startled, you pulled away from each other, turning to see Shoko and Hime emerging from the shadows with curious expressions on their faces.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Shoko said with a mischievous grin, “but we couldn’t help but notice you two lost in your own little world over here.”

Hime nodded in agreement, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “Yeah, we thought we’d come over and see what all the fuss was about.”

Blushing furiously, you exchanged a sheepish glance with Suguru, feeling a mixture of embarrassment and amusement at being caught in such a vulnerable moment. As Shoko and Hime joined you, the four of you fell into easy conversation, the interruption quickly forgotten as laughter filled the air.

Though the moment had been interrupted, the connection between you and Suguru remained palpable, lingering like an echo in the air.

As the sun dipped below the horizon and the first stars began to twinkle in the evening sky, Suguru knew that there would be plenty of time for declarations of love and grand romantic gestures. For now, he was content to simply be in your presence, to bask in the warmth of your smile. His heart was still beating rapidly from the moment you two just shared not too long ago. Was it truly possible that you felt the same way about him as he did you? Or was all of that just simply due to the heat of the moment. The same question pondered in your own mind.

The both of you had no idea what the future held in store for the two of you, but one thing was certain: as long as you both had each other, you knew that everything would be okay…or at least you hope.

__________________

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@creolequeen11210

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lauraneedstochill · 2 years

Text

My first choice (part 2)

summary: Aemond thinks you are way too good to be Aegon’s best friend. But you are enough for the one-eyed prince to fall in love with. pairing: Aemond Targaryen and F!Reader words: ~8500 (this is why I divided it into 2 parts lmao) warnings: friends to lovers, more angst (death of a parent, attempted harassment), hurt/comfort, an embarrassing amount of softness, Aegon is the smartest one for once author’s note: this is heavily inspired by “Little women” (2019) and Amy March in particular (read the rest of my long-ass explanation in part 1). again, I apologize for the angst! it gets worse before it gets better.

Part 2. In a room full of art I stare at you.

It’s hard to pinpoint the exact moment you fell in love with Aemond. Maybe you were too blind to notice until it was too late or maybe you were doomed from the start. From the moment when the boy, who everyone deemed to be intimidating and reclusive, bent down to you to offer help without any hesitation. The second-born son of the King, tall and close-mouthed, surely had more important things to do than waste time on a strange girl crying over her stupid dress — and yet, he only showed you solicitude, asking for nothing in return.

You thought that mayhaps you owed him, and were seeking the opportunity to return the favor. Or at least that’s how you tried to justify the fact that you were looking for him every chance you got. You often found a reason to chat with Aemond during dinners and feasts, feeling bad for him spending time on his own — and you learned that he was very easy to talk to. You made sure to visit the training yard if he was there and sometimes stayed to watch him train for hours, even — or especially — when everyone else already left. His tenacity and strength had certain allure but under all those layers, you saw a lonely boy whose only friend was probably his dragon.

Despite the circumstances and his preferred solitude, Aemond never rejected your company, however sudden it might have been. Even when Aegon foolishly suggested playing hide and seek one evening, bored out of his mind, and you busted into the library and stumbled upon Aemond, who looked like he had no interest in silly games. And yet, when you awkwardly asked for the best place to hide at, he guided you to the enclosed area of the reading room. It was dimly lit by just a few candles and, somewhere between feeling uncomfortable and getting scared, you reached for his hand. He didn’t pull away. Furthermore, he stayed with you and cheered you up with stories about Old Valyria, making you forget about any childish fears.

As the two of you have grown older, you often heard people being frightened by Aemond’s disposition but you found there to be no ground for that. He’s never been rude to you nor had he lost his temper, regardless of circumstances — and the day you saw him without the eyepatch for the first time was the prime example of that. It was getting late and Aegon had too much to drink and, while running around in a drunken stupor, he cut his hand somewhere in the yard. Luckily, the wound wasn’t too deep but he was bleeding and refused to get help, against your best wishes. He was babbling that scars adorn a man — and then, in an attempt to escape you chasing him, he barged into Aemond’s chambers. You ran in merely a second after, with explanations at the ready, and were met with his younger brother standing there, looking startled. It took you a second to realize he wasn’t wearing his eyepatch.

“My scar will be easier to hide,” Aegon giggled, not recognizing the gravity of the situation.

It was the only time you had to make an effort not to slap him in the face. You thought it was mostly a secondhand embarrassment, which was part of the experience of being Aegon’s friend, but the look on Aemond’s face, hurt and humiliated, also made your heart ache.

“His scar is a reminder of his bravery and the strength of his character that he should only be proud of,” you gave Aegon a death stare. “Yours will be a reminder of your idiocy.”

It seemed to work as his smile vanished and he even muttered an apology, leaving hurriedly to call for the maester. When you turned to Aemond, he already had his eyepatch on, and you fought the urge to come and take him by the hand again. You didn’t want to bother him at such a late hour, so you opted to offer an apology, too, and leave him be.

“His behavior was unworthy. But I meant what I said,” you turned to Aemond on your way out. “And the sapphire looks very pretty,” you could swear you saw a trace of a smile on his face but you chose not to think much of it.

With every encounter, sudden or not, and every conversation, most of which were too short for your liking, you were making more room for Aemond in your heart. You should’ve known you were a lost cause when you actually told yourself — out loud, with hands grabbing the edges of your table — “I will not fall in love with him.” At that point, you already did. He always worked so hard to be seen — and you only had eyes for him all along.

You hid your true feelings well enough for anyone to take notice — but your father was no fool. He also knew better than to meddle with whatever your thinking process was. So he watched from afar for quite some time, until you started catching his curious glances on you every time you went to talk to Aemond. Predictably, after yet another feast he could not resist bringing up the topic.

“Did the royal menace have too many cups of wine again? Haven’t seen him this evening,” he adored Aegon whole-heartedly, and you suspected that their shared love for crude humor was the main reason for that. You didn’t mind.

“Wasn’t that many, actually,” you chuckled. “But he asked me and Aemond to help him to his chambers, said he wasn’t in the mood today.”

“Well, you seem to really enjoy Aemond’s company. I assume that the feeling is mutual?” he looked expressively at you.

Your face grew hot at his words. You also felt your heart break just a little.

“We are merely friends,” you told him, your smile too tense to be believable.

There was a shadow of concern in your father’s gaze, followed by a sad sigh.

“You will let me know if anything changes, though?” he mustered a smile in return and his was much brighter than yours.

“You will be the first one to know,” you promised as he came closer to bring you into a bear hug. You never spoke of it again.

Surprisingly, the only other person who seemed to have suspicions about the nature of your and Aemond’s relationship was his father, the King. You didn’t think he was aware of your existence, and even when your friendship with Aegon grew stronger and you became a regular guest at the castle, you soon realized Viserys barely paid any mind to his younger kids’ whereabouts. You would catch a glimpse of him in the halls and curtsy out of politeness but didn’t expect him to notice. You got too comfortable with his absence — so much so, that one day, when Aegon was carrying your supplies and humorously complained about the lack of art in the castle, you blithely suggested painting a portrait of the King. The last thing you expected was for said man to step out of the corner.

“I would be delighted,” he cut right to the chase. “Lady Y/N, isn’t it?”

He didn’t look scary up close, his face wrinkled and a tad too tired, but quite benevolent. He simply asked if you would be content with drawing him on the Iron Throne and you agreed, just as easily. Truth be told, you didn’t think he would follow up on his offer — being the King and all that, but he sent a carriage down to fetch you literally the next day. Viserys took the task with juvenile ardor, bombarding you with questions — what pose to take, what paint do you use, how quickly will it dry and how did you learn to draw. After he was satisfied with the answers, he changed the subject.

“My wife considers you to have a positive influence on my eldest son,” he pointed out with ill-concealed interest.

“I deeply appreciate her trust but I believe that he is capable of changing on his own,” you corrected him courtly.

“You don’t give yourself enough credit,” he disagreed with a mischievous grin. “I’ve only heard good words about your guidance. It seems that you rein him back so easily, you would’ve made for a fine wife.”

You silently groaned at his comment.

“Your grace, I can assure you, our relationship is strictly of a friendly nature.”

“Oh, I know, I have seen you two,” he said, laughing, and when you peered at him, you saw that it wasn’t his usual uncomfortable-looking crooked grin but an actual genuine laugh.

“Shall you ever lay an eye on any other of my sons,” Viserys continued, much to your surprise. “Do not hesitate to tell me,” and his face suggested he knew more than he was letting on.

You ducked behind the canvas so he didn’t see your heated cheeks.

His suggestion lodged in your memory and even though you wouldn’t dare to actually approach the King, you held out hope that maybe he would give Aemond a similar hint. But months passed, Viserys’s condition drastically worsened, and for whatever reason, he never mended the relationship with his children. And eventually, your hope was gone.

You didn’t lie to Aemond when you told him about having power over who you love. But you failed to mention that said power has its limits — and doesn’t guarantee that your feelings won’t be one-sided. You learned that lesson the hard way when you had to face up to the reality you were in. Your love for Aemond seemed to be as infinite as the ocean — and you had to fit it in a fragile vessel of your heart. At first, you felt the waves raging at the mere glance of his, at every gesture of his goodwill or just upon hearing his voice. The storm of your feelings would splash over the rocks of your self-control but you survived the roaring torrent of love, time after time. The rough ocean grew calm over the years as you came to terms with being in love with someone who didn’t love you back.

You did choose to harbor feelings for Aemond, and you had no regrets about that. But when adulthood came with its own responsibilities that you had to focus on, all your energy was put into finding a husband. You were aware that your choice would have a major impact on your family as their stability depended on it. You approached the issue in a cold-hearted manner, prioritizing the duty above all else. Mayhaps, you were too calculated in your pursuit, and that was how you ended up accepting the courtship of a man who had nothing to give but his wealth.

When it comes to Jason, he never ceases to evoke a few feelings, too, but none of them are pleasant. His arrogance is the first thing that catches the eye — he’s wrapped in it and wears it with pride as if it’s another title of his. You often have to bite your tongue and fake a smile in response to his dismissive remarks and borderline vulgar comments. It doesn’t help that his self-esteem is inflated beyond your comprehension, and if only he could put his own face on their House’s sigil, he would. You are grateful that he keeps his hands to himself but you notice him getting quite handsy with the maids, and it gives you an unsettling feeling. His behavior is so disdainful and frivolous, you have no doubts that once you are married, you will be merely an accessory to him, a pretty wife to show off to his friends without taking your opinion into account. Showing off is the one thing he does best — and each time you can’t help but compare him to Aemond who doesn’t even know how to take a compliment. You find yourself thinking about the prince every time Jason comes by, and these thoughts help you get through tiresome promenades with the lord and endure boring dinners with him.

But after your last conversation with Aemond, you force yourself to stop thinking about him altogether. That decision is remorseless but you believe it’s for the better — or at least that’s what you convince yourself to think after you run out of the garden and into your carriage, only caring about getting home as soon as possible. You pretend that nothing happened, lying to your parents that the prince was too busy and you had to return earlier than planned. And then you lock yourself in your chambers, with hand clamped over your mouth to muffle the sound of crying. A small part of you hopes that Aemond will come to you the same day and explain himself. But he doesn’t. When you don’t hear from him for another two days, you come to the conclusion that he regretted his sudden outburst. And that his words actually held no meaning.

Cutting Aemond out of your life does seem to be attainable with some time, and you perceive it as just another task, another skill you can master. But getting him out of your head seems like an impossible goal from the start. You are so used to keeping memories of him, cherishing each and every one, you can’t just erase them all at once. You try your best, you do so with ferocious persistence, but there’s always some annoying little reminder ready to surface and catch you off guard at the most inopportune moment.

It gets even harder when four days later you find yourself sitting next to Jason who is even more presumptuous than usual. At this point, you feel like your nerves are at the limit, so you can’t even find it in yourself to keep up the act. You push your food around the plate, jumping from one pointless thought to another: the tasteless meal, the barely visible crack in your cup, the revolting tone of the lord’s voice. You feel your mother staring at you, clearly displeased with your attitude, yet Jason is oblivious, too wrapped up in bragging about his winery — or whatever else he is talking about, you have no idea because you stopped paying attention about twenty minutes ago.

You think if you stay by his side any longer, you will be physically sick.

So you get up from the table — may be a bit too dramatic for your own liking — and muster out a weak excuse:

“My apologies, I am in need of fresh air.”

You leave before anyone has a chance to stop you.

It seems like an act of disobedience but there’s so much freedom in it, you feel that you can finally take a breath. And you do exactly that once you reach the balcony, several corridors away from the dining hall that felt stuffed with Jason’s ego. As you stand there, soaking up the last rays of the sun, you can’t ignore the obvious question — how is it even possible to marry someone you absolutely cannot tolerate. You never had illusions about the nature of your relationship with him but you at least hoped there would be some ground to build your future on. At yet, right now it looks like you are trying to lay a foundation in the quicksand. For a man of a noble lineage, Jason knows too little of what nobility actually is, and you have enough self-respect to not give him explanations. The prospect of marrying him makes your duty feel like a burden, and you contemplate if you should even take the risk.

You are lost in your thoughts until you hear a thin voice:

“Do you know where the sun lands?”

You turn to find your sister Alyna standing at the door, in her long white nightgown and barefoot, her eyes unnaturally large for her baby-like face. She always talks like that, too thoughtful for her young age, and sometimes she reminds you of Helaena. There you go, another connection to Aemond.

“I do not, my sweetling. Wherever that place is, it’s a well-guarded secret,” you comb her curly hair with your fingers as her curious eyes study your face.

“Maybe it doesn't want to be seen,” she deduces. “Just like you don't.”

Her ability to get straight to the point sometimes blindsides you. It’s also quite liberating to talk to someone who hasn’t yet learned the skill of pretense, and she may be the only sibling of yours with no ulterior motives or hidden agenda. Alyna tilts her head, signaling that she isn’t enjoying your touch anymore — and when you remove your hand, she says, out of the blue:

“Just like Ser Lannister doesn’t.”

You stare at her in bewilderment, and only then notice that the hallway behind her is empty. It dawns on you that Alyna’s nanny Dorea is nowhere to be found. She is only a couple of years older than you, meek and quiet, her trusting nature ever so defenseless — but she is also very pretty. Too pretty for her own good, as your mother likes to say.

You feel a wave of nausea again. This time, it’s followed by a sense of dread curdling in your stomach.

“What did he do?” your voice comes out unusually calm, in striking contrast with how you are really feeling.

“I heard him talking to Dorea outside my chambers. I wanted to join the conversation but he asked me to leave,” her brows slightly furrow. “He said there are some things I am not supposed to see.”

It may be the first thing you and Jason can agree on, you think. It is also the only thing because you certainly will never agree to marry him — and that realization frees you of any false politeness and self-restraint.

“What are those things?” Alyna naively asks, shifting from one foot to the other.

“I shall go and ask him,” you pat her on the cheek. “But you stay here, alright? I will be back before you know it.”

Usually, it would take about a minute to reach your sister’s chambers, but you cover the distance twice as fast. You are a couple of feet away when you hear muffled voices — one is demanding, the other one is scared, and both are well-known to you. You grasp the situation in no time and run to quickly open the door. When you walk in, you feel a flare-up of anger at the sight: Jason grabbed Dorea by the hips, trying to pull her closer, as she weakly protests, her palms pushing at his chest in an attempt to get away. The squeak of the door makes them turn their heads to you, and you see the distressed look on the nanny’s face.

And then their gazes fall behind your back, and Dorea gets horrified.

You easily guess the reason for that — your younger sister isn’t very good at following orders. So Alyna mumbles, standing next to you and looking at her nanny:

“I do not think she likes it.”

“Neither do I,” you throw Jason a baleful stare. “Let her go and get out.”

He removes his hands — so carelessly, it almost seems like he’s offended by your suggestion of his wrongdoing. Dorea immediately comes to your side, ashamed and distraught.

“Did he hurt you?” you inquire, helping to adjust her dress.

“My lady, I think you misinterpreted —” Jason tries to say but you shut him off.

“I am not talking to you,” you scowl in his direction. Your face softens when you ask Dorea again: “Are you hurt?”

She shakes her head, sheepishly trying to explain:

“I didn’t do anything, I-I didn’t want to, and he said... He said he is a lord and I sh-should be flattered.”

Not only did Jason has the audacity to pull that off but he also wanted to do so at your little sister’s chambers — and you simmer at the thought.

“I believe you,” you gently stroke her shoulder. “I promise you will never see him again.”

“These are some unrealistic expectations,” Jason sneers, walking to you but his grin dies down when you look at him again.

“I know your opinion of women isn’t very high — trust me, the feeling is mutual — but you cannot seriously believe you will fool me,” you sense that now he isn’t pleased with your attitude but you don’t care. “When I told you to get out, I meant it. You are not welcome in this house.”

“That doesn’t sound like a wise decision to make if we are to be wed,” Jason contemptuously hisses.

“Then I guess the wedding is off,” you glare defiance at him. “But whoever you end up marrying, I hope she outlives you. Just so she can spit on your grave,” the last part is meant only for him to hear.

And he definitely does as his face reddens with rage. Jason roughly grabs you by the hand, and your nose fills with the stench of wine when he speaks:

“You are in no position to make demands,” he drawls. “Your family is in debt up to its ears, you little halfwit, so I suggest you choose your words very carefully.”

While he doesn’t see it, Alyna looks between you two, and, out of the corner of your eye, you notice her frowning. She doesn’t do well with conflicts as they upset her deeply, which can only trigger one reaction. Before you can say anything, a high-pitched scream shatters the room, echoing through the whole house.

Jason removes his hand within a second, looking shocked, but Alyna stands innocently with her mouth closed as if nothing happened. Your parents come to her chambers in the blink of an eye.

“What is wrong?” your mother looks at you all uncomprehendingly.

“Ser Lannister got lost,” you cooly explain. “He is already leaving.”

“And why is that?” your father glares at him with suspicion.

You want to spare Dorea the humiliation so you pause for a moment, trying to come up with an excuse. But Alyna has no understanding of what a maiden’s honor is — and she loudly proclaims:

“Ser Lannister was touching Dorea, and she didn’t like it.”

No one in the room needs an explanation for that.

“You shameless scoundrel!” your father roars at Jason, who unsurprisingly isn’t as courageous as before.

“Ser, there clearly has been a mistake — ”

“It was a mistake to let you in,” your father rudely interrupts him. “You won’t set foot in my house ever again. Get out of here before I make you!”

Jason doesn’t need to be told twice and storms out of the room as your father’s gaze follows him. He stands with hands clenched into fists, his nostrils flaring with anger.

“Pompous jerk,” he mumbles under his breath. “And to think that I was willing to give him my daughter’s hand...!” his voice breaks, hoarse with ire, and you notice a vein pop on his forehead. You have never seen him so furious.

“He’s been dealt with,” you cautiously say to ease the tension. “That shouldn’t be a cause for your concern anymore.”

He turns to you, his eyes bloodshot and breathing heavy. As you step closer, you hear whistling sounds with his every breath, and his gaze gets absent. You realize that something is wrong as he opens his mouth to speak but no sound comes out.

“Father, are you alright?”

He places a hand over his heart, trying to inhale, a look of fear in his eyes. The chain of events is too sudden to comprehend: his breathing begins to wheeze as he squirms, falls flat on his back and convulses.

And then your evening turns out to be way worse than you could’ve ever imagined. A week later Aegon wakes up at an ungodly hour — and he’s fueled by sole determination to put an end to everyone’s misery. Surely, he must be the only sane person in his house since all his family members seem to be oblivious to what is going on between you and Aemond. Aegon, however, can use his eyes for their intended purpose — and it is clear as day to him that you and his brother are in love with each other.

He caught on to that pretty fast, although the signs were not that obvious at first: you often smile to people purely out of politeness and Aemond may not show his true feelings even under threat of death. So Aegon kept secretly observing you two, taking note of fleeting glances and light touches, of the way you would relax in Aemond’s presence, the way he was always too eager to help you with whatever you needed, and how you two would gravitate toward each other. Both his brother and his best friend were annoyingly stubborn about making their own decisions so Aegon didn’t mean to interrupt — or at least he tried not to. But when your evident mutual pining stretched into years, Aegon started losing his patience.

In the beginning, he initiated small things, asking Aemond to come and greet you (“Oh, I just woke up! And you are already dressed for the occasion”), to deliver you his hand-written message (“Yes, it is incredibly important and I trust no one but you!” — it was his doodling of Aemond), to keep you company during the feast while Aegon stepped out for a moment (he didn’t come back). He asked him to switch places at dinner (so you and Aemond could sit together), to help find the books you wanted (“All those years of you reading should be good for something”), to pick up the portrait of his children (“They are your nephews, is it so hard?! No, I am not being dramatic!”). A couple of times he even pretended to be way more drunk than he actually was just so you and Aemond could help him to his chambers and spend some time alone in the process. None of that worked. At some point, he seriously contemplated locking you both in a room but then came to the conclusion that you would rather team up to find a way out than confess your feelings. Truly, it seemed hopeless, and Aegon thought that maybe he should give up.

But as of recently he couldn’t help but notice that something was clearly off between you and Aemond, although the younger prince refused to talk about it, and you simply stopped visiting the castle. He decided to give it a day or two, hoping that you would sort things out and refusing to even consider the opposite. A week passed and nothing changed, and Aegon cannot bear looking at Aemond’s sour face any longer. So the older prince comes up with a plan.

He is unexpectedly the first one at the breakfast table and everyone who walks in shoots him a surprised glance. They are amazed even more to see that Aegon isn’t drinking which is as rare as a miracle. Aemond comes last and he is the only one who doesn’t notice the change, too wrapped up in his thoughts. Another thing that goes unnoticed is the gleam of sadness on their mother’s face.

Five minutes in, Aegon clears his throat to attract everyone’s attention.

“So, I was thinking,” he drawls loudly.

“That does not sound good,” Otto mutters, unimpressed, which Aegon chooses to ignore and continues.

“Lady Baratheon’s poor taste in men shouldn’t be an obstacle in our way of reaching the grand goal.”

“Which is...?” Otto asks while the younger prince doesn’t move an ear.

“To find a lady worthy of my brother, of course!” Aegon tries his best to say it with a straight face.

Aemond spares him a glance. “I didn’t know you took much interest in that.”

“I always have your best interest in mind,” Aegon slaps him on the shoulder earning a disgruntled hum in return.

“I was just thinking if we should go over the list of requirements once more,” Aegon suggests.

“I don’t have a li—”

“Of course you do!” another slap. “At the very least, she should be of a noble kind. Am I right?”

“Sure,” Aemond absentmindedly agrees.

“And we are definitely looking for someone who is keen on reading.”

“Yes,” Aemond rolls his eye and looks at his plate, already showing no interest in the conversation. That is exactly what Aegon wants — and he starts talking a bit faster:

“Someone with a flexible nature...”

“U-hmm.”

“And with a kind heart...”

“Yes.”

“A great listener...”

“Uh-huh”

“Who will attend to your every need...”

“Sure.”

“And may even be of indescribable beauty...”

“Hmm.”

“...And you will still be miserable because you love Y/N.”

“Yes,” Aemond says without thinking — and then it’s too late to take his word back because everyone’s eyes are already on him. When he turns to his brother, Aegon has a shit-eating grin on his face:

“You are welcome.”

Alicent looks genuinely confused. “Aemond, but why haven’t you mentioned it?”

“I’ve been asking myself the same question for years,” Aegon snorts, and Otto raises an eyebrow.

“Years?” his grandsire questions.

“I almost gave up on him,” Aegon keeps talking while his brother just sits there, eye glued to the table.

“She was the one who drew the portrait of our father,” Helaena cheerfully speaks up. “And he kept it.”

“He did,” Alicent nods and gives her son a sympathetic look. “Aemond, she is an admirable young lady. No one would have spoken against it if only you —”

“It doesn’t matter now,” Aemond cuts her off, averting his gaze. “She is to be betrothed to Ser Lannister, and I do not intend to ruin her plans.”

“You cannot be serious!” Aegon pinches the bridge of his nose. “Shall you find the courage to propose, she will immediately reject him!”

“She already did,” Alicent avows, to everyone’s surprise.

Aemond looks up at his mother in an instant.

“Did she?” he asks in disbelief.

Alicent gives him a wan smile.

“A week ago, yes. It is rumored that his behavior... left much to be desired,” she explains half-heartedly. Her face, however, doesn’t show any signs of happiness.

“That seems like a reason to celebrate but it doesn’t sound like it,” Aegon looks at her questioningly, and Aemond tenses up in anticipation.

Alicent dithers as her face falls, eyes getting woeful and voice feeble.

“Her father fell ill that very day. Some say he got too upset with the whole situation, and I...,” she takes a deep breath. “I received a message this morning. He passed away three nights ago.”

Everyone falls silent, their faces showing shock that is quickly replaced by sadness.

“Seven hells,” Aegon mumbles.

Aemond doesn’t utter a word, feeling his heart sinking. He knows that you’ve always been your father’s daughter, and the prince cannot even begin to imagine how heartbroken you are right now. He should’ve been there for you, he thinks, full with remorse and guilt.

“You should go,” Aegon turns to him, not a hint of jesting in his voice. “We may give her some time to grieve, but I will gladly take Sunfyre out for —”

“Why would you need to?” Aemond gives him a puzzled look. “I can take Vhagar.”

Aegon emits a long-drawn groan and says to no one in particular:

“And to think he is the smartest one? I am having doubts”, he then glances at Aemond with reproach. “I am sure her mourning family will not at all get terrified at the sight of your monstrous dragon.”

His brother mulls over the idea.

“It is not safe to fly drunk.”

“I will be stone-cold sober.”

“You believe both of us will fit into the saddle?”

“We will fit just fine, can you stop with your excuses?! I am being reasonable for once, and you are making me regret it!”

“I don’t think it would be wise,” Otto cuts in their bickering, and both princes turn to him.

He holds pause with a blank stare before a sly smile crawls out on his face.

“I would rather recommend the prince goes right away. We don’t want her family to make any rushed decisions,” their grandsire advises, earning a sign of relief from Aegon, who jumps out of his chair.

“We’re leaving this very second! Do I need to drag you out of your —”

“You do not,” Aemond stands up in a hurry — and then Aegon still grabs him by the hand, pulling his brother out of the room.

Alicent gazes fondly after them.

“It was very kind of you,” she says to her father without looking at him.

Otto thinks that, with how well you’ve been handling Aegon, marrying you to Aemond would be a blessing. Because gods know, he is fed up with them both.

On their way to the Dragonpit Aegon can barely hold back his excitement but his brother’s mind is clearly elsewhere. The older prince lets Aemond take time to gather his thoughts and doesn’t bother him along the road. But once they reach the cavernous building and both pop out of the carriage, Aegon decides some encouragement would be fitting.

“Have I ever told you how I met her? That day at the feast?”

Mentioning your name always works wonders — Aemond turns to him in a flash.

“I was jesting around and she was the only one who didn’t laugh at my jokes. At all. Just stood there with a straight face and ignored me. Can you imagine?”

Aemond does know the unimpressed look you usually give Aegon, and it causes him to let out a dull chuckle.

“Took me good five minutes to even make her smile — and, frankly, my success didn’t last very long. Pretty sure half of my jokes landed flat. But you know what was the real issue?” Aegon’s smile is melancholic. “Most of the evening she kept asking about you.”

Aemond looks like the very epitome of heartbreak. Not only was he blind, he was also an idiot, he realizes.

“I know, I should’ve told you sooner,” Aegon gives him an apologetic look.

Aemond shakes his head. “I should’ve told her sooner.”

“Well, it’s only been what, seven years?” his brother chortles weakly while the dragon keepers finally bring out Sunfyre, and the dragon casts Aemond a curious look.

Aegon approaches the beast first, running his hand over the scales that shine bright in the sunlight, and the prince can never get tired of that blinding beauty. But his excitement mingles with another feeling.

“I value her friendship, you do know that, right?” he squints at Aemond, who simply nods.

“This is my way of saying that if you mess it up, I might push you off my dragon on our way back,” Aegon casually remarks, grabbing the rope to climb up.

Aemond falters with answering, reluctant to admit.

“There is a chance that I already messed it up.”

Aegon looks down at his brother and gives him a stern glare.

“Unmess it, then.” You don’t remember much from the past week, your days and nights blurred into one another. The only thing that stays on your mind is your father’s face — you can still see it so clearly, with his gentle gaze and his every wrinkle, the corners of his mouth always upturn like he’s a second away from smiling. You also remember how that face contorted in pain, how his body stiffened, and that scene plays on repeat in your head, over and over. And then there are only pieces of memories, torn and mushed together, and you can’t find it in yourself to sort them out.

You spend all your time at your father’s bedside, with a string of never-ending prayers falling from your lips. They don’t seem to help — and nor do the maester’s efforts, and you lose hope with each passing minute. As hours fly, you get a very bad feeling that soon turns into blood-curdling awareness. Deep down, you know what’s to come, and you hate yourself for it. You think you will never stop crying but by the time the maester declares your father’s demise, there are no tears left. Death has many faces — none of them looked at you with mercy.

Your mother wails, overtaken by despair, your sisters don’t leave her side, eyes puffy and full of sorrow, and you are sure that you look the same — yet you feel completely empty. There’s a cleft in a place of your heart, and all the feelings seemed to flow out, leaving you drained and emotionless, but it brings you no relief. Everything in your house reminds you of your father, his presence tangible in the rooms and in the halls, his image still as clear as a reflection in the mirror. The memories of him crawl out of every corner, seep from under the doors, fall on you along with the dust you brush off his things that you can’t make yourself take away.

Stacks of hardcovers with bookmarks in the middle.

The unfinished cup of wine.

The long grey coat hanging on the back of his chair.

Piles of letters left unanswered.

Parchments, ink and a quill that he will never use again.

All the pieces of him that you can’t look at, don’t want to look at — yet it’s all you see, and there’s is no hiding from it. You feel trapped in your own house, and you wait for the walls to collapse so maybe under the weight of them you will find some peace. You are restless in your grief, you are drowning in it.

The day of the funeral leaves a blank space in your memory, void of colors and sounds apart from everyone’s crying. The ceremony is rushed and there is only a handful of family members since your mother couldn’t bring herself to tell everyone yet. You don’t blame her for it — you think she’s too afraid to say it out loud, afraid that speaking the words will make them real, and she’ll have to finally accept his death. You have no problem with acceptance, you just don’t know how to move on. How to stay strong when you are shattered beyond repair.

Your home now feels like a coffin but everyone expects you to be in charge, so you force yourself to. Merely an hour after his body was buried in soil wet with rain, you find yourself sorting out his papers. You look through his diary, his scribbled notes, the calculations he made in attempts to stabilize the emptying coffers. He’s always been the responsible one, keeping count and cutting costs, planning for the future — and yet he’s been robbed of it. None of it makes sense to you and your father isn’t there to teach you. You clench your teeth in frustration, and it makes you want to put your head through a wall.

You push through the second and the third day. You give orders to the maids, who walk on eggshells around the house, sharing concerned looks. You take it upon yourself to bring meals to your mother and all but spoon-feed her so she at least will have some energy to get up from bed. She doesn’t — while you want nothing more than to get away. You’ve had a fair share of responsibilities your entire life but now there’s an abundance of them and it puts you in a chokehold, and you are all alone in your discomfort which brings you no respite at all.

On the fourth day you wake up feeling like the walls are closing in and you can’t breathe, the need to leave anchoring in your lungs. You don’t want to waste another second as you put on a coat right on top of your nightgown, frightened that each moment of stalling might lead to you being dragged into the same routine again. But the house is asleep, and the sun has barely risen when you tiptoe out of your room. You only wake up one maid, telling her you’ll go for a walk so your sudden absence doesn’t come off as a deed of cruelty.

You step outside and close the door behind your back, taking a slow, deep inhale. And just when the guilt is about to sneak up on you — you dart off into the morning fog.

The air is fresh and cooling against your skin as you run away from your house and through the trees, not minding the branches or the damp ground. You breathe the crisp air in, and it makes your body feel weightless, and you speed up, leaving no chance for the responsibilities to catch up with you. Patches of the forest, splattered with all shades of green, bushes and weeds that graze your knees — you pay them no attention as your feet carry you further away, up the hill, to the most remote place you can think of. You don’t know how long it takes for you to reach the narrow wooden bridge and cross the remaining field that ends with a cliff, but when you finally do, your feet ache and your lungs burn and you gulp air.

The sky is draped by the light layer of clouds but the blue of it stretches as far as the eyes can reach, and the movement of the sea can be seen in the distance. The morning is still with silence and it welcomes you, the fresh breeze encircling your body. The feeling of it isn’t gentle as the wind instantly bites every part of your skin that is covered with sweat. You should’ve worn thicker layers, you shouldn’t have rushed, maybe you shouldn’t have come at all — but you are too tired of thinking, of restrictions. Of yourself.

You let the cold seep in and pierce you to the marrow as you watch the waves meeting the horizon. You then close your eyes, hands coming up to cross over your chest. It’s an oblivion of some sort — with no demands and no tears, it’s only you and the wind. The empty space around you matches the emptiness in your heart, and the beating of it sounds like a hollow note. You feel nothing, you feel numb, but it’s so tranquilizing, you can’t help but give in, just to stop brooding for a few minutes — or maybe hours, you care not.

In this state of torpor, you almost miss the sound of wings cutting through the air. When you open your eyes, you only catch a shadow hidden by the clouds and a glimpse of gold but it’s still enough to guess. Sunfyre. At any other time, Aegon’s visit would’ve brought you joy yet right now it feels useless against the doldrums of your soul. At least your sisters will be happy to see him, you think, not having the slightest desire to move from your spot. The wind is now howling, the grass is rustling — and then the small measured sound joins the melody of nature. It sounds like someone’s approaching but their step is nearly noiseless. There is only one person who walks like that, and the realization brings you out of your trance.

You turn to Aemond before he can say anything, your gaze meeting his, and he immediately stands still. The distance between you is just like before, and you only now grasp the amount of time that has passed. You haven’t seen him in two weeks — and so much has changed, and nothing is the same — but when you look at Aemond, at every painfully familiar feature of his, your heart twinges. You really, really missed him, and it’s the first thing you feel in fourteen days.

He notes your lack of protest and hesitantly comes toward you, only pausing when he’s at arm’s length. His cheeks are flushed pink from the wind, the collar of his coat raised to the angles of his jaw.

“I didn’t want you to be alone,” his tone is filled with sadness. “Even if you despise me.”

“I could never,” you mirror the words he once said but your voice comes out too quiet and blank.

There is only compassion and understanding in his gaze, and you are hungry for both, so you don’t break eye contact. He doesn’t, either, and reaches out a hand — it moves to your shoulder as he says:

“I am so sor—” when his fingers come in contact with you, Aemond suddenly stops talking, and his eye darts to your arm. There is a flicker of confusion on his face that quickly turns into worry.

“You are freezing,” he breathes out, and his worry grows stronger in an instant.

Aemond cautiously guides his hand up and down your arm — you see the movement, clear as day, but you don’t feel it at all.

“I didn’t really notice,” you mumble.

You want to tell him that staying with your family drove you up the wall, that you lost sleep and the nights bring you no rest, that you accept your emptiness and loathe it. But the wind is still howling, your mind is clouded with exhaustion, and you are afraid that Aemond will get angry at you.

Instead, he pleads.

“Let me take you home,” he continues caressing your arm. “Please, let’s go back. You can’t —”

“I don’t want to,” you retort, and all the unsaid words bubble up and pour out. “I could not stay there any longer, it was all too much, I needed a break, I — it just made me feel like...,” your skin finally absorbs the heat of his touch which sends goosebumps down your spine, and you get short of breath.

“Like I wanted to disappear,” you say, voice barely above the whisper.

Your confession hangs in the air, and you catch that same unreadable emotion in his eye. Three heartbeats later Aemond removes his hand, and the absence of it threatens to strip you of your short-lived comfort. But then he unbuttons his coat — and opens his arms to you:

“Disappear here.”

His words break the ice of your numbness, filling your lungs with air — so much of it, you almost feel light-headed. You are cold, and you are lonely, and you missed him. In a heartbeat you fall into his embrace, with the same force one may plummet down from a cliff — only instead of waves, you are welcomed by his warmth, and you instantly sink into it.

Aemond takes you under his coat, gently putting it over your body, and then holds you tight. You instinctively wrap your hands around his waist, nestling against his chest. Your cold palms glide over his shirt, and Aemond involuntarily shivers but doesn’t budge. He starts slowly stroking your back, and you soak up the calmness that radiates off him. His touch is soothing, quieting your mind, and you lose yourself in the serenity that it brings.

You are both lost in time, standing quietly, as your body gradually warms up and relaxes. You listen to his heartbeat, the rhythm of it even and lulling, and it makes you feel at peace.

When Aemond looks at you clinging to him, his heart swells with so much love, he can barely contain it.

“How are you feeling?” he asks softly.

“I don’t know,” you sigh. “It all happened so fast, I didn’t know what to do. I still don’t. Everyone expects something from me now and I... I wish he was still here.”

“Your father was the kindest man I have ever met,” his voice is laced with sorrow. “I am so sorry you had to go through that. I should’ve come sooner but I only found out this morning.”

“And you came,” you remark delicately. “It’s all that matters.”

You snuggle up to him even more and relish in the feeling of his body close to yours, finding solace in it. You let yourself forget about everything else in the world, comforted by his kindness as he shields you from all the worries and the troubles of life.

“Whose idea was it to take Sunfyre?”

“Aegon’s,” the prince chuckles. “He was very persuasive, I’ll give him that.”

“Is he waiting for you on the hill?”

“He went to see your family, offer his condolences. And maybe complain a little since he didn’t particularly enjoy the flight.”

You try imagining the two of them squeezed into the saddle, and you know Aemond must’ve teased Aegon all the way to your house. You feel the tickling of laughter in your throat but it doesn’t go higher and then dissolves. Still, it’s a start.

“How much do you regret agreeing to that?”

Aemond pauses — and then his low voice vines through your hair:

“Right now, I don’t.”

You feel his heart skipping a beat, and for some reason, his pulse speeds up. You wonder what the reason may be, and your cheeks heat up when you are struck by the answer you can’t dare to hope for.

Or maybe you can.

“I’m not marrying Ser Lannister,” you blurt out, your own chest vibrating with anxiety.

Aemond pulls away just a bit, only to have a look at you.

“I heard about that,” he reveals. “He was never a good —”

“You are under no obligation to say anything or do anything,” you cut him off, nervously lowering your gaze, because if he tries to pity you it will break your heart all over again, and you cannot bear it right now. “I just... I knew I would never love him. So I believe it’s only for the best.”

You keep babbling, but he hardly listens, his eye fixed on your face. Aemond isn’t sure you fully allow yourself to be this vulnerable with anyone. But it’s his favorite side of yours — with your bashful sincerity, your overly complicated explanations that he understands with ease, your habit of talking with hands, with your searching gaze and your eyes bright with life. It’s all the little things that he adores.

It’s what makes his feelings finally spill over.

“...But we don’t need to talk about it, you don’t need to say anyth—”

His touch is so gentle, you barely register when Aemond puts a finger beneath your chin, lifting your head to look at him — and then suddenly his lips cover yours. His mouth is even warmer than his hands, and he gives you a couple of seconds to make sure you won’t pull away. And then he starts kissing you, slowly and steadily, in a way you could only dream of.

Aemond gently cradles your head, his lips are soft and ardent — they meld with yours, and time freezes and sounds fade as you melt into the kiss, into his touch. And at that moment nothing else matters. You are wrapped in his tenderness, the ocean of feelings flooding your body, and he enters your heart like he owns it. He always did.

Aemond is the one to break the kiss, sensing that you are gasping for air. You slowly open your eyes in a daze, as if you’ve been awoken from a dream.

“I will take care of everything,” he affirms, his mouth still only a couple of inches away. “You do not have to worry about a thing.”

One of your hands moved on top of his chest, and you feel that his heart rate is back to normal. The pounding of it pulls you back to reality.

“You mean that?” you whisper. “Aemond, I don’t have that much to offer.”

He brushes a strand of hair from your face and leaves a trail of light kisses up to your temple.

“You have everything a man can wish for,” he reassures you, and his gaze finds yours again. “Everything I have ever wished for.”

The prince takes your face between his hands, and his thumbs follow the contours of your cheeks.

“Even in a room full of art I can only look at you,” Aemond murmurs, his words are flamelike and go straight to your heart, making it flutter.

Only now you notice that the sun emerged from the clouds, and the golden light illuminates everything around you. You bask in it as well as in Aemond’s affection — and he makes you feel seen, safe, cared for. Loved.

“That was very poetic of you,” you tilt your head and lean closer to him.

“I agree with poets on one thing — we have no control over who we love. But I have never regretted loving you,” he can’t stop himself from placing a kiss on the edge of your mouth. “And if I had to choose, it would still be you.”

When you meet his gaze, this time you read it with ease — and you are sure it’s a mere reflection of your own. An overwhelming feeling sweeps over and spreads through you. But the ocean is calm, and you are not cold anymore — and Aemond does love you, after all.

You feel your mouth quirk in a smile, genuine and a very happy one. Aemond presses his forehead to yours and promises:

“From now on, you will always be my first choice,” and then you see him trailing for your lips.

And you believe him.

the taglist: @greenowlfactif, @mischiefmanaged71, @pasta-rask, @imjustboredso, @iiamthehybrid, @m00n5t0n3, @crispmarshmallow, @bellaisasleep, @aemondssuit, @ipadkidsworld, @itisjustwhatitis, @maximizedrhythms, @fckwritersblock, @hiatuswhore, @fantasyreader130, @bibli0thecary, @teapartydreams, @kyuupidwrites, @thelittleswanao3 (I couldn't tag some of you for whatever reason, so I'll just message you guys)

yep, it’s me again!

the title is someone’s quote (I have no idea where it’s from, pls help a girl out)

“Disappear here” are Jonathan Carroll’s words that have been engraved in my memory for years and they just popped into my head while I was writing in a haste and only then I realized wait, technically it’s a quote, you can’t do that?! but guess what, I did! I also tried to rephrase these two words but it looked weird so I’m letting you know that I suck as a writer

the bit when she babbles and he looks smitten with her — I couldn’t help but think of that scene from “North and South” (it screams Aemond to me!)

I imagined the cliff to look like this 🍃

I originally planned to turn the romance down just a notch ’cause I already have 4 sappy fics and I wanted this one to be more “realistic” but… oh well, me and romance go hand in hand, apparently.

you will see this version of Aegon more often because I enjoyed it immensely!

what do you guys think? comments and opinions are VERY welcome! 🥺 ✨ my masterlist English is not my first language, so feel free to message me if you spot any major mistakes!

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cookinguptales · 1 year

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(via @goofygooberton)

tbh the one detail I want to talk about most is Guillermo taking off the cardigan that his grandmother gave him before he let Derek bite him.

Like -- him taking off his clothing before letting Derek bite him lends itself well to the sex/virginity metaphor I already talked about, but the fact that Guillermo specifically said that his grandmother got it for him... That opens up such a can of worms.

I want to come at this detail from a couple different angles, actually. That's how important I think it was. I think that the cardigan represents Guillermo's humanity, his family, and his slayer lineage. He wants to take it off -- but he also wants to protect it.

To start with, his humanity. Guillermo's sweaters have always kind of been a symbol of how... unvampiric he is. They're soft, they're cozy, they're not exactly fashionable. He stopped wearing them as often as he started delving into his slayer side and when he started being on more even footing with his vampiric family, but he's gone back to wearing them more often again.

I feel like Guillermo is often trying to Make A Point with his clothing, tbh. He wore smart, effective, professional (and attractive) clothing as a slayer. He wore flashy, expensive clothing to try and show off his power, money, and influence once he started embezzling from the club. But sweaters are his comfort clothes, and as he stops feeling the need to prove himself, he seems to revert back to what makes him most comfortable.

So him insisting on removing his sweater first, again, feels like Guillermo getting out of his comfort zone. It's him purposefully divorcing himself from his humanity before allowing Derek to turn him.

But... he still wants to keep those clothes safe. He still hasn't left humanity behind him all together.

Which brings me to the second point. Family. Guillermo very specifically brings up that this cardigan was given to him by his grandmother, the de facto head of the family. She loves him dearly, and, lbr, has been known to make not-so-subtle statements via her cardigans.

(Remember the rainbow cardigan at the family dinner? I sure do.)

Guillermo has really struggled with balancing his relationships with his family and his relationships with the vampires. He's in a very fragile place right now where he knows that his family is a danger to the vampires he loves (and vice-versa) and that they would not accept his choice to be a vampire. He literally told them what he wanted and saw it go to absolute shit. But they don't remember that now, so he's been able to maintain this tenuous peace between his two families.

But... has he really thought all this through? He's made the decision to become a vampire, and how will that affect his relationship with his family? The transformation doesn't seem to be working correctly, possibly because of his bloodline, but he's not quite human anymore, either. Is he far enough gone to set off their killing instinct? Hard to say, but I bet we'll find out.

So when Guillermo takes off a cardigan that his grandmother gave him to prevent it from getting stained with blood, it feels like he has chosen to distance himself from his family, but still desperately wants to hold onto what little relationship they might have left. He doesn't want their relationship to be permanently stained.

But I can only assume that his sweater, like every other inch of that room, probably got very bloody indeed.

So... is it a losing battle, trying to keep his relationship with his family safe and blood-free? Is it, like that sweater, doomed to destruction despite his best efforts?

Hard to say!

Finally... the whole slayer thing. The thing that's come between Guillermo, the vampires, and his family for all this time. Guillermo didn't want to be a slayer, but has come around to the realities of his bloodline. But he still doesn't want it to get in the way of his transformation. He removed the sweater that his vampire-slaying grandmother gave him before he was bitten, just like he's trying to remove his human bloodline altogether.

But... it's not so easy to get rid of your blood, is it? Even when you spray about 10 gallons of it all over the back room of a gas station. I think that blood is probably still interfering with the transformation, but I guess we'll get more information on that later.

The most interesting part of all this to me, though, is like... okay, so Guillermo's sweaters represent the parts of him that he wants to shed during this transformation, but that he simultaneously can't quite stand to let go of. But in the same episode, Nandor specifically asks Guillermo to wear a sweater.

Like sure, he calls it shitty -- but he doesn't want Guillermo to wear the flashy, expensive clothes that Guillermo wore to impress his family and boyfriend, or the neat lines of his professional slayer wear. He wants Guillermo at his most comfortable and his most himself. He wants Guillermo in a sweater, the nicest one he has. He wants Guillermo to be the nicest version of himself. He doesn't need Guillermo to take anything away from himself; he just wants to change him into the best version of what he already is.

The real question here for me now is... is this because Nandor is still uncomfortable thinking about Guillermo's transformation? Is that why he's still insisting on Guillermo wearing his sweaters? Or is it just that this is the version of Guillermo he likes best? The comfortable, sweet, soft version of him? The Guillermo that brushes his hair and pats his back and talks him down when he's scared?

Does he want Guillermo to keep wearing his sweaters because he, like Guillermo, associates them with his humanity? Or is it because he associates them with Guillermo's happiness? Does he want Guillermo to be the best version of himself while still being "shitty", aka human? Or does he want Guillermo to feel comfortable at his birthday dinner even if Nandor personally thinks the sweaters are ugly?

God. Nandor.

Ahhhh fuck, this all makes me feral. lmao. I am not emotionally prepared for this season.

#I've never found a sitcom that I can't overthink tbh #img desc in alt text #wwdits #wwdits s5 #wwdits spoilers #wwdits meta #long post #guillermo de la cruz

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yandere-wishes · 3 months

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hello it is i, your friendly neighborhood sol simp reporting for duty. i loved what you wrote for him last time, so i am here yet again to offer my thoughts that you are free to turn into stories if you so desire

consider: sol and darth teeth both have an intense fascination with you, and it comes to a head when they end up saber battling over who gets your heart (i think that since i have 2 hands, we can all learn to share but i digress)

alternatively: sith master sol. think of how wild the yandere vibes could be if he was just a little.... dark, a little fucked up if u will. he allows his desire to possess, his tendency for attachment to take hold until it corrupts him so deeply that he cannot let go of you

No cause this aligns almost perfectly with my original hopes for the series.

Before we knew anything about the show and just had one sentence to go off of for the plot. I genuinely thought it would be about a Sith acolyte disguised as a former padawan who slowly turns her former master to the dark side. All while plotting against her current Sith master. The story would have ended with the Jedi master and Sith acolyte killing the current Sith master. Then the Jedi master would become the new Sith acolyte and his padawon would be the new Sith master.

Anyway, I digress...

Imagine this...

You are Sol's new padawan, young and edger in all the ways a padawan should be. Desperate to uphold your Jedi legacy. But it's all so hard to become the perfect Jedi when your own master doesn't seem to believe in your abilities. He's smoldering, snuffing out your independence with cotton soft words that cut like blades. Sol constantly keeps you out of harm's way. Refusing to take you on dangerous missions or even let you out on your own. It's exhausting, tiring. Maybe that's why you run away. Maybe it's the guilt you feel whenever you see the unruly love glistening in Sol's soft eyes. He shouldn't love you like this. It's not the Jedi way. Not only have you disgraced your order, but you've ruined your master too. The shame chokes you, hot caol caught between your throat.

This is when "Darth Teeth" finds you. Wondering Coruscant, headed for the transport docks, desperate to flee away from everything. It's here where he tempts you, playing the role of an insightful stranger, a benevolent sympath. It's here where he slowly lures you in. You return to the Jedi temple that night, high off the promises of really learning the secrets of the force. Of training under a new master who wouldn't baby you. Little do you know you're decent to the dark side has already started.

You feel bad about deceiving Sol, truly you do. But it's his fault in the first place. He's the one who forced you into this corner...

Sol is pretty smart so I'm sure he'll piece together what's happening eventually. Maybe when -despite his best efforts- the council deems you ready to become a Jedi knight. It's then that he realizes you've been training under another. He decides to confront this "other master". It will definitely end in a battle between the two. While you're forced to sit there and watch.

I think an ending where -ultimately- Darth Teeth wins would make the most sense. Somehow he's able to turn Sol to the darkside and takes him as his new acolyte. While you, poor little doomed darling are forced to be their little lover. Ensnared once more in the cage you hate so much...

But I agree imagine just how suffocating a dark side Sol would be. He's allowed to embrace his feelings freely and let them control his every move. He'd be so possessive and protective of you!! Never letting you out of his sight, controlling every little thing you do.

I LOVE this concept so so much, the only problem is that the Acolyte has such a small fandom that idk if it warrants me making a full fic. But yeah let me know~💜

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kurithedweeb · 1 month

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Remembering that time I gave Lillian the Silver Scythe kids and how it made her and Jeffory the Golden Heart foils.

Jeffory is a single dad after his wife died in childbirth with one daughter, Abby. Lillian is a single mom after her lover disappeared in the night with two sons a year apart in age, Adrian and Cassius.

They both love their kids, they'd do anything for them, but in different ways. Jeffory will do whatever's right to set an example for Abby, to show her how to be a good person, which results in his death. Lillian will do whatever she can to make it home, and that means never disobeying so she makes herself into a masterful weapon of magick and manipulation and dons a mask to separate Lillian the Mother from Lillian the Juror, one that she leaves at the door when she gets home. Neither of them ever let their kids see the bad parts of being a member of the Jury.

Jeffory dies trying to do the right thing for Abby, only for Abby to not be able to follow in his footsteps because of his death. Lillian raises her kids by the rule of do what I say not what I do, wanting to avoid them following in her footsteps and dooming themselves to a life like hers, only for them to do exactly that.

Cassius ends up in the Jury, which Abby fights against while still trying to be good like Jeffory. She reminds him of the mother he knew at home, and he reminds her of the kind soul in a wicked situation her father was. And their children go on to repeat this cycle that they've started, their families going from old friends to old enemies as the generations pass and no one can be sure how it started anymore.

No one can tell which has good intentions until eventually, one day way down the line in the MyStreet era, Jeffory and Lillian are reborn and the cycle restarts. Jeffory, golden-hearted as he is, opens his arms to the enemy and Lillian, sensing that there is something in him that something in her understands, accepts. Only for them to realize some fourty years down the line that the cycle will continue despite their and their children's best efforts.

#lillian the silver scythe #jeffory the golden heart #minecraft diaries #mcd #aphblr #aphmau minecraft diaries #mcd rewrite #aphverse #dropofsunlightextras #aphmau mcd #jury of nine #jo9

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goodoldfashionlovercorpse · 7 months

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Soul Love

pairing: Luke Castellan x daughter of Loki! reader

summary: No matter what she turned into, blood was always thicker than water. Luke, however, saw her for more than she did.

a/n: hello! this is part one. i thought there weren't enough loki kid! readers, so i started this. comments and reblogs are appreciated. have a nice day :)

warnings: implied ED, daddy issues, angst, etc.

Camp wasn’t made for her. She knew this, others showed it. A daughter of Loki did not belong at a camp for greek demigods. Despite how inviting “Camp Half-blood” maybe seem by name, it was exclusive to Greeks. Unless you want to end up in the Hermes cabin, and Y/N knew that she’d rather her brothers tear her limb by limb than ever stay there again.Well, there is one way she’d stay. Luke Castellan. Not only was he a son of Hermes, but he was the best swordsman in 300 years.

And yet he looked at her with nothing but love, as if Aphrodite shot an arrow at him herself. He made continuous efforts to include her. When she sat alone outside of the Dining Pavilion, it took the boy mear seconds to accompany her – despite the chants at his home table.

“Hey, how’s dinner going?”

“It’s going…” She played with her food, fearing it a little yet still trying to take bites. She sighed so deep it became its own form. Nothing but gloom and gray sat behind those eyes. Isolation seemed to be her only friend aside from Luke. He was so much more than her; he was a hero and she’s doomed by the narrative. Forced to know not even nuclear warfare could end this world before her father. Yet he understood what he did not know.

“Your hair is turning to snakes. Wanna try again?”

Damn it. “No.”

He poked her continuously. Setting his plate down, he waited – like a predator to its prey – until she finished eating. He knew better than to make her meals more miserable than she already felt, so he sat there waiting for the other plate to empty. Grace wasn’t the sole word he could use for her. Even in a state of distress, she looked as if the love-gods handcrafted her and brought her to life. Unfortunately, the doom of her destiny haunted her mirror. Despite her father and her being shapeshifters, there was always a piece of him in every shape she became.

The pavillion was as loud as the wind, yet Luke and her were as quiet as the moon. Should she say everything she wants or just leave it be? Her father was never one to tell the truth, especially when he said “i love you.” Saying those words with his blood flowing through her veins felt like a crime. A punishful lie. The cries of cousins burning her at the stake. At some points she’d feel ashamed for her pride. Why should she be proud to be his daughter? He has done nothing but try to end the world. He wished nothing but awful things to his children – she is not the exception.

Despite her father being a horrible being, she was his favorite child. She represented everything he was: chaos incarnate. She didn’t pick sides; even if her best friend went to war, she’d stand in between, only adding fuel to the fire. Her dad wasn’t evil, yet he wasn’t good either. He passed his neutrality onto his daughter, then tortured her for it, only to then aid her. Her. Not her siblings, just her. Loneliness and regret filled her for this, but Samirah and Alex never blamed her.

Yet seeing the pure loathing some campers held for their siblings made her uneasy. They hated their parents, yet it was obvious they are their children. They hold the same opinions, never critique their actions, always knowing one story – the Hero’s story.

She was pulled out of her thoughts when Luke held her hand as he looked into her eyes. Those eyes. Oh, those eyes… the things they do to her and her soul. Those brown eyes held layers of her regrets and so little judgement. He knew every detail of her mind, even what she did not want him to know. War, Valhalla, Loki, Camp, all of it. He knows all of it. Still, love courses through his eyes. She thinks she’s delusional.

While Luke may accept her, he still doesn’t know every single thing. He knew all, except her part in Ragnarok. Odin didn’t owe her anything, neither did she owe him; she also wasn’t on her father’s side, she knew better than Calypso. Instead, she will stand back and get rid of either side. Destiny wasn’t her favorite thing, it was her greatest detest. No way to undo it, no way to fast-forward it.

Luke wouldn’t leave her be, his eyes showed that he’d follow wherever she’d go. He’d meet her where the spirit meets the bone. “Have i ever told you how well the moon suits you?” Goosebumps raised her skin like a cat. He knew what she thought, yet he knew better than to discuss it out here. He knew all her thoughts, as if he knew her soul once upon a dream.

Before either utter a word, Luke smiled, genuinely. it was the kind of beam nothing could rival. “I apologise if i haven’t, you truly are lovely under the light.” he bit his tongue, aching to comfort her and defend her. It was too early, too much. She was impaled by her the venom in her veins, a feeling he knew all too well. The boy couldn’t complain, though. Although he held distaste for his father, he had learned to forgive and make amends.

He trusted his father when he said "i love you." She never had the option to believe her's. War was all that he’d given her, but war was not love; his father didn't start one, her's claimed it was his love. Even Ares and Athena knew it in their cold, golden blood. A moment of quiet passed through the sand. “I’m sorry that-”

“Do you ever think of Death?” she perked her head towards him, staring deeply into his eyes. Constellations and worlds resided in them. Whatever girl he has is lucky to have him, she thought. Silent prayers hung at her lips like the Gardens of Babylon.

The question was raw. Was he going to really answer it? Should he finish this question?

“I mean, Love and Death are a lot closer than one might think.” He stared at her, willing to listen to her every word even if she was describing a plan to murder him limb from limb. “Not everyone loves death, yet death craves love. To be forgotten – to be completely unloved is to die forevermore. Love adores death, loss gives value to what we hold dear. Orpheus already held dangerous levels of love for Euridice, her death increased his awareness. When she died again, she felt so much love for him, knowing she’d never be forgotten. She lived eons because death and love are adaptive. They feed off of each other. Death is never truly the end, the end is being forgotten. Forever lost in the sands. Never to be loved again.”

Behind her eyes, Luke saw her thoughts. He felt them like bullets on his skin, one so deep you couldn’t mistake it. She looked at the stars not knowing she was one.

Death was valuable to her for other reasons, but she ran from it. Ran from her own hair. Why? He wondered. Valhalla loved her, yet his bones knew that they wouldn’t once a grave had her name engraved. Gods were Luke’s enemy for a while. Still, the boy holds resentment over them. Heavy resentment. Y/n, though? Her father wanted her dead. At least Greek Half-bloods get to have a count down, Norse ones just die. No monsters, just their parents and humans. Monsters are her family; howling behind the barrier are her brothers, willing to take her life.

Perhaps he took for granted his dad sometimes. Even though Hermes started to get involved now, he assured Luke that he would’ve been a father to him sooner had he could. Not once did Hermes go after him or bullied him, only to praise him and aid him in the depths of his mental illness. Hermes may not be the best, but he was certainly not the worse. Luke could never imagine what the Norse gods are like: the children of Thor didn’t pray to him, Odin was barely present — they didn’t even build a camp to ignore their kid, they just let them die.

Chaos followed every demi-god, special the Norse ones, mainly the children of Loki. He was neither good nor evil. Y/n prefaced this during all their talks. To him, Loki was pure evil; but to the most gorgeous creature on earth, he was her father.

Trickery was infused into her soul, unable to leave even if she bore red liquid like a fountain in Greece. Death was her escape, her only vice — yet now her views have change since the moment they met. Life is her, she is life; she adorns his world in her heart. But somehow he still felt so… Powerless. He was utterly powerless when it came to her heritage. She’d accepted it so quickly. Completely unfazed that she had this burden.

Meanwhile, he still had trouble facing his dad. Sure, all has been resolved and war has been evaded, but that’s only for the Greek demigods. His family is, for the most part, alive. But her? Her mom and dad are no where near, her father is out to either kill her or train her, and she’s already suffered the loss of a sister – a loss she dares not repeat.

“That was too much, wasn’t it? It’s not virtuous to praise death. But in this world, what else is there?

“Maybe you’re right. Or, maybe, we can talk about shows, or the gods, or even us.”

“Us?”

Luke swallowed his spit, trying hard not to sweat. Nodding, he looked at the sky. “Us.” He smiled warmly, making the air smells like honey and roses, “my favorite song is Soul Love by Bowie.” He didn’t have to turn around to see her face, the warmth of her excitement felt like enough. She was already more than enough.

#luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #pjo tv show #pjo x reader

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7-wonders · 1 year

Text

Never Been Kissed

Morpheus/Dream of the Endless x GN!Reader

Summary: Morpheus cannot possibly wait another moment to let you know how he feels about you. What happens when it appears that you don't reciprocate?

Word count: 2.0k

Author's note: Shitty summary, sorry, but you know the scene in Barbie (2023) where Ken goes to kiss Barbie after the party and she just stands there?

This one? Yeah I got it into my head that it would be funny if eternal drama queen Morpheus was in Ken's position.

Clueless!reader, innocent!reader. This is just a kinda stupid, goofy little fic, idk. If you liked it, I'd appreciate hearing from you! If you didn't like it, sound off as well! My haters are my motivators.

P.S. You might be saying "the Endless aren't allowed to love mortals it leads to their ruin!" And I say that this is my fic so I decide the rules. Buckle up babes.

Death would say that he is head over heels.

Desire would say that it is boringly predictable and far too soon.

Lucienne would not say anything, but she would give him that look over the top of her glasses, the one that says that he had better know what he is doing.

Matthew would say that he is down bad, which is apparently what the youth of today are saying.

They are all right, though Morpheus, Dream of the Endless, wishes they were not. Despite his very best efforts, he has fallen in love once more. With a mortal, a human—you.

Morpheus has never had much luck in love. Though there were a few occasions (very, very few) where it was not his fault, he is mature enough to understand that he has often been the cause of a relationship’s demise. He falls hard and fast, and he always has. That, combined with his…intensity, is what he believes to doom him each and every time. Perhaps he gives too much of himself to those who don’t deserve it; perhaps he shows his hand too quickly.

But you, he knows, are different. You won’t hurt him, not in the way that others have. You won’t take him for granted.

Tonight, he has decided that he will finally confess to you his affections. He will bare his realm to you, the parts that no normal dreamer will ever get to see, and hope that you understand that this is akin to him baring his very soul. After all, he is the Dreaming, and the Dreaming is him.

But where to take you? What to show you? Morpheus agonized over these questions for far longer than he would care to admit. Although he hoped to be able to accompany you to the farthest reaches of his realm (a tall task, considering said realm was infinite), to explore so much of the Dreaming with you that he rediscovered lands he had long forgotten about, this first foray needed to be perfect. He needed something special, something that conveyed to you the depth of his feelings.

He decided to start with something simple that most people would like to see: Athens, and specifically the Acropolis, as it was in its glory days. For all of the animosity Morpheus felt towards the Greek pantheon, he had to admit that they, and their worshippers, contributed much to society and humanity as a whole. Next was a glimmering lake that was actually the moon’s surface, followed by a glen in what could be the Scottish highlands populated by dragons—he found himself particularly pleased by your stunned awe upon seeing the mythical creatures.

The penultimate stop was one that Morpheus took great pride in thinking up, for he knew that it would be your favorite. A visit to a fae village, exiled by Titania and given sanctuary in the Dreaming (solely due to Morpheus’s dislike of their monarch), enjoying a Harvest celebration. They were harmless creatures in the Dreaming, devoid of any of the power that fae normally possessed, so Morpheus did not feel any hesitation in allowing you to explore the festivities. Above all else, the fae love a good party, so it was not surprising when a few invited you to join them in dancing, pulling you along with them until you were spinning and twirling as though you had always known the fae folk dance. You reached for him, mouthing “Come dance with me!” but he gently rebuffed you with a shake of his head and a smile, happy to simply watch the way you moved, with a grin on your face and boisterous laughter sounding just as lovely as the music playing.

What you had referred to as a “behind-the-scenes tour” ends in his private gardens, long a place of solace for him. Your excitement, your joy, fuels him. It’s palpable and intoxicating, and Morpheus wishes he could bottle it and keep it with him forever to give him just a hint of this feeling whenever he wants.

“This is…amazing. Your realm is amazing,” you gush, your eyes sparkling. “I feel like that word is such an understatement for what I’m trying to describe, but it’s the only one that comes to mind right now.”

“It pleases me to hear you think so.”

“Thank you for this. For trusting me,” you say sincerely.

Morpheus was right, you do understand the gift that this experience was meant to be. It makes the space in his chest cavity, where his heart would be if he allowed this form to have one, feel warm. It is only the the very least I could, no, would give you, he thinks.

You’re smiling so sweetly at him, the moon shining down like a spotlight and making you look the closest to holy that Morpheus will ever get. This is it, he realizes. This is the moment where he will tell you of his love for you, and where you will then reciprocate. This is the moment that he will commit to memory for the rest of eternity until his sister locks up the universe behind her. This is the moment that you become his, and he yours.

There is so much that Morpheus wants to say to you, yet he knows not where to begin. An unfamiliar feeling swells within him—nervousness. What if he says the wrong thing, what if he scares you off with his intensity before he can truly say what he wants to say? No, best to show you how he feels before telling you, that way there is no doubt. With that, Morpheus leans in towards you and closes his eyes, waiting to feel his lips on yours.

That feeling does not come, and Morpheus belatedly realizes after a few moments that it will not come. When he opens his eyes and looks at you once more, you’re still standing in the same position that you were, still smiling, albeit looking a bit more confused

“Is something wrong?” you ask.

All of Morpheus’s plans, his hopes and…dreams, for lack of a better term, come crashing down around him. So you’ve rejected him, then. He has laid his heart bare for you, shown you parts of his realm that no other mortal has been lucky enough to see, and you’ve turned him down. This, he muses, is his fatal flaw. Mentally, he had already declared you his, crowned you his consort, and created an entire life with you.

But the Lord of Dreams should know better than anyone that it does no good to dwell on dreams, for they are nothing but fantasy and can lead only to heartbreak.

“It appears that I was wrong in thinking that my feelings were reciprocated,” he says lowly, looking out at a carefully cultivated rose bush that is rapidly wilting. An icy wind begins to whip up, stripping the bush of its dead petals and sending them swirling off into the night.

Shock, raw and unfiltered, crosses your face. “Oh! You wanted…to kiss me?”

Morpheus pauses at this odd question, for he did not think you to be so obtuse. Did he not make it obvious that that was what he was intending? Are you attempting to shame him further? “Yes? I apologize, since you have made clear that you do not harbor the same affection for me as I do for you.” He has to grit his teeth to keep from spewing anything more vicious, though lightning cracks across the sky and says what he cannot.

“No! I mean yes. I mean–” You take a breath and shake your head as though you’re trying to physically clear your thoughts. “Sorry. It’s just that I’ve never…been kissed. Before.”

The bad weather, which had been threatening since the moment he realized that he was wrong and tried desperately to hide the devastation that was threatening to overtake him, dies down so suddenly that it could have been turned off by some unseen entity hitting a switch.

“What.” It is certainly not proper of Morpheus to sound so shocked, especially when it’s regarding a topic that you are so clearly embarrassed about. But he simply cannot believe that someone like you, someone so delightful and open, so empathetic and, well, attractive, has never experienced intimacy from another before.

“I know, it’s super lame. People just…haven’t ever liked me in that way?” You shrug and add, “Just haven’t found the right person yet,” in a way that sounds so self-deprecating that it must be a line you’ve heard many times before.

“So you have never…”

You shake your head and look away in embarrassment. “No hand holding, no kissing, no dating. Nothing. Sorry to disappoint.”

It goes unsaid what else you haven’t done if those simple, basic acts of romance have been devoid from your life. From the way you brace yourself, you’re obviously expecting him to react negatively to the news, and he assumes that this is from experience. Instead, Morpheus finds that he does not mind in the slightest. No, this piece of information is…rather titillating, actually.

(Perhaps it’s the fact that this means you’re largely untouched by anyone, but specifically mortals, whom Morpheus has seen the worst of for over a hundred years. The filth of humanity has yet to mar you in such an intimate manner. Prior to today, Morpheus didn’t think that he had an innocence kink. Now? He’s starting to see why the gods and goddesses of old so favored virgins.)

He files this revelation away to be revisited later, when he can hope to be in complete control of his emotions and not have them divided by having the object of his affection standing right in front of him.

“I do not find myself disappointed,” he says.

Your eyes meet his once more, and he can see the hope you hold. “You don’t?”

He shakes his head. “It is not your fault that others have failed to properly see the magnificence standing before them.”

‘Magnificent’ does not even come close to doing any justice in describing you, Morpheus feels, but it will do for now.

“Morpheus,” you admonish half-heartedly and bashfully. You are obviously not used to receiving such compliments, which is precisely why Morpheus is now determined to make sure that you shall never go a day without hearing one.

“Would you be interested in such things with me?” Things, of course, being the list of activities you have never partaken in.

Slowly, a smile spreads on your face. “Really? You like me like that?”

Your naïvete is truly endearing. “I do. Am I correct in hoping that you feel the same?”

“Yeah. You’d be correct.”

“Then might I bestow upon you your first kiss?”

Somehow, your smile widens, and you nod. “I’d like that.”

Morpheus again leans towards you, but this time, his actions are reciprocated. Your lips against his are soft and a little clumsy against his, which is to be expected from someone who has absolutely no experience. The entire time, he can feel the way that you’re trying, and failing, to keep yourself from smiling.

It is by no means the best kiss that Morpheus has ever had. Yet, it will likely remain one of his most fond memories of such an action.

When you pull away, you’re giggling almost giddily. “That was really good,” you praise, as though discussing a book or a meal. It’s simultaneously not at all and exactly what Morpheus was expecting from you, and he can practically feel himself falling further for you.

Tonight will not be the night that he espouses his love for you. He will not whisper promises of the universe against your skin, and he will not whisk you away to his chambers so that he may properly ravish you. Instead, this relationship will be…slow. Although that is not something that Morpheus is used to, something that he’s familiar with, he finds that he is alright with the concept of taking things slow, so long as it is with you.

#morpheus x reader #morpheus imagine #dream of the endless x reader #dream of the endless #the sandman imagine #dream of the endless imagine #the sandman

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cassafra5 · 5 months

Note

besides the anti-feral drug (which is theorized to be something else), what are your thoughts on how the Fallout tv show Buffed the Ghouls?

Sorry for the delay! I wanted to take a bit of time on this. I’m not sure if the ghouls are necessarily buffed. They seem to be for the most part the same, albeit there’s the dependence on the drug and there seems to be more of a chance of ghouls to decay/breakdown overtime if they can’t get proper care. For example, Roger has a full chunk of his skull showing. Without the drug, overtime, it seems like they start to lose themselves like Roger and Martha who needed to remind themselves of who they are. Pretty heartbreaking not gonna lie :/.

SPOILERS AHEAD FOR FO4/FALLOUT ON PRIME

Roger brings up that Cooper has outlasted everyone to which Cooper responds that he’s just always been good with money so there was, at one point, a community and overtime they became feral. Cooper does look healthier than the other ghouls who seem much paler and have their skin pulling away. When we finally see Lucy’s mother in the final episode, she is mostly skeletal and missing an arm and has probably been that way for years. I know a decent bit of damage would have come from the attack on Shady Sands but it’s also been many years as well and there could have been ongoing deterioration despite Moldaver’s best efforts. She could have gone feral soon after and may have been unable to be further treated.

How the ghouls turn feral reminds me of Rachel and Oswald the Outrageous from the Nukaworld DLC. After the Great War, they were turned into ghouls by the radiation and, overtime, some of their friends began to deteriorate and become feral. They describe it as a type of “affliction” and Rachel heads out to find a cure but ultimately concludes that ghouls are doomed to go feral eventually and takes her own life when she, too, begins to deteriorate. Maybe the cure she was looking for would have been something like the drug in the show.

youtube

I don’t think we’ve seen as of yet whether radiation cures or promotes healing in ghouls in the show. In regards to Thaddeus, I’m not sure if he is necessarily becoming a ghoul since the serum the snake-oil salesman gave him immediately healed his foot without the use of radiation and he also healed after being shot with an arrow. The salesman mentions that he has “serums that will make you grow an entire new foot.” Once Thaddeus takes the drug, the salesman is in a hurry to leave and even remarks that radiation “isn’t a thing to worry about” anymore. Some people have been saying it could possibly be the healing factor serum and that he now has that mutation, which is a possibility but I’m a bit skeptical of the salesman acting the way he did if that was the case. I actually like Thaddeus so I am a bit worried though with what clues we do have, it may be more likely that he could be turning into a super mutant of some type. FEV can have some regenerative properties depending on the strain and it could be that it’s taking a while to work…but we’re going to have to see what ends up happening in Season 2. I hope he’s okay though :(

#fallout #fallout 4 #fallout on prime #ask #ghouls #the ghoul

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wilwarin-wilwa · 11 months

Note

have the urge to ask about your thoughts on maedhros, particular or otherwise

*vibrating with giddiness* where do i even start!!!!

it's no wonder that he's a fan-favorite. it's not just about him being good-looking and tragic (because that applies to most of the characters haha) but it's about how well-written and compelling his arc is. it's the embodiment of this part of the doom of mandos: "to evil end shall all things turn that they begin well".

from the moment he ALONE refuses to burn the ships to the time he ALONE searches for elurid and elurin, he stands out among his brothers as The Good Feanorion. his defining characteristic throughout almost the entirety of the silmarillion is that he tries to be an honorable person, to do things the right way, to fix what his father broke and minimize the harm of the oath. he holds on to that determination for so long, but despite his best efforts, he fails and fails and fails.

and then the third kinslaying happens and maglor has a mom-said-it's-my-turn-on-the-moral-compass moment and it's like the last remnant of goodness in maedhros has been snuffed out. he has no more hope or willpower left in him. and it is SO !! because there used to be so much of it in him!!! but he's the one who willingly lets go of it. he becomes convinced that everything good he ever did was in vain (i want to shake him by the shoulders and tell him that it is NOT) so there's no point in trying anymore. it pains me that he thought it impossible that eru could release them from the oath or that their crimes could ever be forgiven. his despair became his downfall, and that ties in well with the recurring theme of hope in tolkien's works.

i'm not sure if you might be referring to this post of mine but here you go anyway: i like to imagine a scene in which maglor snaps at maedhros after the second-kinslaying. he resents maedhros for agreeing to it and letting it happen in the first place, and he resents maedhros for leaving him to deal with the aftermath of it (e.g. burying the dead) while maedhros himself goes on his hopeless search for dior's children. i guess it was a moment of weakness for maglor in which the combination of guilt, grief, horror, and anger overwhelms him, and he takes it out on the nearest target. he can't take it out on celegorm, who came up with the idea, because celegorm is dead. and i think that after the third kinslaying, maedhros envies maglor. he envies maglor for being able to save elrond and elros (unlike his own failure to save their uncles) and he envies maglor's ability to still experience hope and compassion. but the only reason maglor still has those things is because he wasn't the one trying and trying and trying and experiencing soul-crushing failure every time.

#maedhros #maglor #wilwarin-wilwa.txt

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snowflakesincalifornia · 1 year

Text

I couldn’t reblog the og post bc ig Tumblr’s ruined the code, so this is a copy of it. Please give credit to the og posters.

milf-percy

It dosen't really matter that Percy isn't hurt by Annabeth insulting him all the time and sometimes even being physically violent to him(he should be because that's a realistic response from an abuse and bullying survivor but i digress),not just because he's a fictional character and not a real person with free will,but also because that's Annabeth's way of showing she fucking hates him.Her treatment of him has literally not changed since they were 12 yet nobody in this dumbass fandom can shut up about how ~developed~ their relathionship is cause they make out now and are planning on having a dysfunctional cishet marriage while trashing the characters of color for being 'annoying'.

Percy and Annabeth are not 'made for eachother' because Rick wrote everyone in-universe as telling them that and i'd like to remind y'all that this is the same guy who wrote Luke,an adult serial abuser and ped0phile,as a 'hero' because of the Great Prophecy.Destiny means jack shit and Annabeth and Percy-ESPECIALLY Percy,who's been doomed to trauma over and over again despite his best efforts to escape it-should've been allowed to choose who to love instead of having it shoved down their throats by both everyone in their franchise and the creepy weirdos in the fandom too

@southasianpercy

chaoticcerise

Hi! As someone with ADHD who's been in several abusive relationships before, I figured I'd add something about why it IS actually realistic that he doesn't appear hurt, but that's actually even more alarming. So it starts with meeting them (obviously) and especially if they don't really have any healthy romantic IRL relationships to compare it to (which the books go out of their way to emphasize that this is the case) then it can be really hard to notice when red flags like that start to come up. "Oh it'll get better!" "They're still adjusting to it!" All of which are valid! There's healthy relationships that start rough and there's relationships that start really well and then something happens that doesn't go super well and it turns bad real quick. I've been in a few of both. The problem comes when it still happens after they're asked to stop, which is what happens in Percy Jackson. This can lead to things like "Oh they're just kidding, surely they don't mean it!" "Oh that's just how they flirt/show they love me!" Which, again, is fine IF IT'S WELCOME. However if it's not then eventually it's "Oh they're just like that." "Oh it's fine I guess, it's not like I can stop it." Just because someone doesn't complain doesn't mean that they're consenting. It means they're resigned to the abuse. And that means that he's internalizing and normalizing it. "We don't hear any real negativity towards Annabeth in Percy's thoughts though!!!" Well no but we don't hear any love either. We don't ever hear any thoughts about her really ever. Nothing about how pretty she is or how cool she is or anything. Percy Jackson has thoughts about EVERYONE. As someone with ADHD, this level of no thoughts is concerning and no basis for a relationship. He deserves someone who will treat him well. She deserves someone who thinks about her fondly. Both of them deserve better but they both need to undergo some character development and serious therapy first.

#anti percabeth #anti annabeth chase #anti rick riordan #rick riordan critical #Percy Jackson #Percy Jackson criticism #rr critical #rr crit #anti Percy Jackson #rr

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em1e · 1 year

Text

༝ you know, i really like you, but are you like . . y’know?

家入 // DYLTGIR ⠀ ༝ ༝ ieiri shoko ⠀ ༝ ༝ 1.8k words ⠀ ⚠︎ modern!au where everything is fine, no pronouns but implied fem!reader bc of the song, in their early 20’s? suggestive kinda maybe idk man i just work here, alcohol consumption ⠀ — shoko loves retelling how the two of you got together.

contrary to popular belief, shoko ieiri was a lightweight.

as much as she likes to drink and smoke and brag about how she could outdrink any of the boys in front of you, she takes five shots back to back and you know you’ll be dragging her to bed with more effort than you’d like.

but, she’s having fun, and so are her friends, so who are you to really be upset when she has a pretty flush to her cheeks and she’s giggling like a schoolgirl?

“can ya tell the story of how you two met again?” gojo slurs out, leaning most of his weight on nanami, who just pushes him off with a scowl. gojo bounces from one shoulder to the next, into geto who welcomes him with a small smile.

it’s childlike, the way he asks, like he’s begging for a bedtime story from his parents rather than the embarrassing retelling of what brought you and shoko together.

your own cheeks are warm despite not touching a drop of alcohol, waving in front of you dismissively, “you already know the story, gojo, i dunno why you ask for it everytime you’re drunk.”

“but geto doesn’t!” he shakes his friend by the shoulder as if to emphasize this, and you fear geto might puke from the sudden movement, “he wasn’t ‘round when you two met, ‘member?”

you do, vividly remember how shoko would complain to you about gojo complaining to her about geto going on a ‘sudden spiritual journey and leaving them behind’, but you think maybe now isn't the time to bring it up.

and shoko’s interest has been piqued enough to your current conversation that she draws away from nanami with a giggle, arm wrapping around your own as she leans forward.

“you wanna know how we met?”

“‘f’course,” geto slurs out, now leaning against gojo. if anyone knocks into the two, they’d both go down in a heaping pile of lanky limbs.

“i don’t think-” you start, only to be shushed by gojo.

“she’s gon’a tell my favorite part!”

you roll your eyes, sending a pleading glance to nanami as if he’d ever have any amount of control over them, but he just shrugs and slides over the whiskey he’d been drinking. before you’re even able to touch the cup, shoko’s grabbing it and swinging it back into her mouth with a click of her tongue and a boop to your nose.

“nuh uh, you’re drivin’, ‘member?”

in your defense, you weren’t going to take a sip of the drink, but it still makes you pout how quickly she took it away. at least she’s distracted from the story –

“gojo ‘nd i were out drinking,” she starts, and you visibly deflate at the start of her recount.

༝ ༝

shoko was honestly surprised she managed to convince gojo to come out after such a disastrous midterm she is sure they both butchered. she knows he’s been down since geto dipped and the untimely failure was surely not going to bring his spirits up, but what broke college student doesn’t love to get drunk on a weekend? especially when your best friend offers to pay?

she thinks her offer is what really got him to come out, and he seems at least a little happy to be out of the house; not burrowed under five different blankets with a tub of melted ice cream at his side, flipping through the same four streaming services before ultimately doom scrolling on his phone.

it’s a nice change, she thinks.

and when he leaves for a second to get the pair of them another round of shots, she spots you.

pretty, with your hair styled nicely out of your face with a hot form-fitting outfit that hugs you nicely. she’s surprised she isn’t drooling. you catch her eye, offer a meek smile and turn away just as gojo comes back with the shots. shoko’s eyes haven’t left you, though.

gojo slides her the glass and she catches it without looking away, bringing the rim to her lips and tipping her head back until the liquid’s past her tongue, warmth spreading further through her body after it being her second (or third? how many had gojo passed her?) shot.

“you like ‘em?” gojo asks after shooting back his own, wiping at his mouth and following his friend's gaze.

“‘s cute.” she comments, but gojo can see the heart-eyes forming in her iris. he grins.

“i can go talk ‘em up for ya, if you want-”

that pulls her attention from you quick, eyes snapping to meet his, “absolutely not.”

“why not?” he straightens his shoulders as if he’s really considering going, “they are pretty cute. might have to talk to ‘em myself-”

gojo moves to step away from the table they’d laid claim to but before he can fully maneuver his way around, he’s being pulled back by shoko, who narrows her eyes and fixes her own little black dress with a pointed finger, “you are not ruining this for me.”

and she makes her way to where you were previously hovering, eyes scanning over every warm body until she finally spots you sitting alone, finger running around the rim of your glass as if you were bored out of your mind.

shoko could fix that. surely, definitely could fix that.

she slides into the seat across from you, smile already on her cheeks when your eyes shift from the glass to her.

“hi,” she starts, glad the warmth from the alcohol is buzzing under her skin enough to give her the boost she needs to be friendlier than usual. a look to the side and she catches gojo’s lingering stare, a smirk on his face as he cheers her on with a nod of his head, and it’s enough to spur her on further, “you here all alone?”

you smile besides yourself, hiding it when you look down at your lap. your fingers still tap tap tap at the rim of your glass, “i’m not,” you offer, “my friends are on the dancefloor and ‘m not much of a dancer.”

noted, shoko’s smile only seems to widen, “really? ‘m sure you dance just fine.”

you wave a hand absentmindedly in front of you with a scrunch of your nose, “nope, not me. i’m just here for the booze.”

“then let me buy you one?” shoko offers, eyes flitting to the cup you’d been nursing, “you don’t seem like a bourbon type to me. i’m thinking you’d like . . a strawberry daiquiri? or maybe a mojito? i can make a mean sex on the beach, too, if . . that’d be something you’re into?”

the implication isn’t lost on you; leaves you pausing for a second as if in thought, opening your mouth to say something then thinking better of it before bringing the glass to your lips and tipping your head back, drinking the entirety of it in one go.

shoko’s impressed at how you don’t cringe at the taste, head tilting as she waits for your reply to her offer.

“you don’t recognize me, do you?”

shoko can’t help the way her brows furrow at the question, head turning further as she scans over your face. sure, maybe you look familiar? you could be in her econ class, or even her physics class, both are at eight in the morning and she’s hardly alive at that point of the day – the bar’s so dimly lit, too, who is she to really say?

“i can’t say i do,” she says finally, sitting up straighter, “should i?”

you smile again, bashful and pretty as you lean forward but look away from her, gesturing for her to lean forward as well. shoko does so without hesitation, eyes on your lips when you bring your hand towards your face like you’re getting ready to spill a juicy secret.

“we’ve met before,” you almost whisper the words, and shoko’s glad she knows how to read lips or she fears she wouldn't catch the way they leave your tongue, “we went on a date like last year.”

you lean back, almost impressed with yourself at how she remains hovering forward, searching your face for any sign of it being a lie.

then, she’s on damage control, “i would've remembered a date with someone as pretty as you.”

another smile is on your lips, “i changed my style up a bit. s’okay if you don’t recognize me, especially in this lighting.” you half gesture up to the flickering neon lights hanging around the establishment.

“well . . what if we tried it again? ‘m sure i could make it up to you with that strawberry daiquiri?”

her offer is quite tempting, but still, you can’t help but tease, “we slept together, y’know? one night stand and you left before i even woke up.”

you almost pout as you recount the night, and shoko’s brows cannot raise any higher on her face from surprise when you add, “especially when it was so good.”

the sex? or the date? she wants to ask, but this hardly seems like the time when you’re looking at her the way you are.

“well how ‘bout another chance? ‘m not above begging.” shoko thinks gojo has been rubbing off on her, because surely these words are not leaving her lips. you’re just so fucking pretty, how could she skip out on another potential chance?

she holds her breath when you smile, head tilting as you think and think and think.

“sure,” you say finally, with a shrug, “as long as i get that strawberry daiquiri?”

shoko can’t stop the grin from forming on her face, looking over her shoulder to send a wink to gojo, who’s already into his own flirty conversation with some blonde.

“let’s get outta here.”

༝ ༝

shoko’s full weight is pressed happily into your side when she finishes retelling the story, with gojo and geto in a fit of giggles across from the two of you, while nanami left in the middle of the story to get another round of drinks for the table.

nanami makes it back just as the story concludes, and shoko’s quick to grab her next shot from the table as he sets the glasses down, swinging it back before she’s pressing into your side again with her head on your shoulder.

“don’t act like you’re not happy you gave me ‘nother chance.”

she leans up and messily presses a kiss to your cheek, and you can smell the alcohol she’d just drank on her tongue. tequila. nanami must hate you, because tequila means you’ll be sitting in the bath for an extra thirty minutes promising her you love her while she giggles (or pukes into the trash can you’ll need to pull beside the tub).

“never said i’m not happy.” you assure her with a smile, turning your head to press your lips to her own.

she grins at the contact, cupping your cheek clumsily, and you think there’s no one you’d rather be with.

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