#I really feel like I've done almost everything in this game
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I've been thinking about this for a while - a content warning for iwatex indicates that there's a scene where you can be "intimate with someone" to avoid a conflict, which may be seen as being under duress...I have yet to experience anything like that, though. Not sure what this could be referencing...?
#it cant be the tang scene on the roof right?#is it something to do with being Vace's side piece?#I started that line of narrative and then felt bad when Nem hated me lol#iwatex#I really feel like I've done almost everything in this game#I'm like 4 memory cards away from 100%#and I just have no clue what this means 😂#edited to add screenshot#i was a teenage exocolonist
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Wanted to start working on projects for my part-time school this weekend but instead all I have the energy to do is lay in bed and play mario kart or lay in bed and listen to music
#i started taking meds two days ago and over those two days i've felt even more dead energy-wise than before. if that's even possible#i hope this passes sooner than later because the semester's almost over#and i want to prepare something better to pass this course with than those projects that everyone did in class#and then it will finally (or rather already. time feels fake) be summer and no more obligations of such type. for now#altough i'll admit these last few months were rather easygoing#in terms of stuff i had to do for a set deadline and such#it would have been a much harder time for me otherwise#at least i'm getting this stuff sorted at last. slowly but surely#and enjoying my time gaming and listening to 4-5 albums a day on average as of the last two days#maybe 2024 is the year when my mental health problems finally caught up with me#but then with some dedication and direction i can also start getting out of it for once and for all#like i actually want to be proud of what i've done this year. because it's a lot#and it's things i wouldn't have found myself capable of just a few months ago#like. making this blog and actually sharing my feelings and thoughts somewhere#years of being your own only confidant really messes with your brain and ability to function as an adult it turns out#but yeah i hope i can get this sorted now and the meds help and make it easier to go about my previous plans for making myself feel better#i'll try not to post about this too much but i really needed to get this out today#i know many people vent on tumblr anyway but my brain will always make me feel bad about anything and everything i do lol#vent tag
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If You Were My Little Girl II
Alexia Putellas x Teen!Reader
Summary: Things are looking up
Alexia watches from the stands.
They're mostly empty, like almost all Barcelona B matches.
Women's football has only really started picking up steam recently but only at the top flight. The lower level leagues are still having a bit of a popularity issue.
But Alexia, for once, finds that she doesn't mind.
Because it means she can sit practically alone in the stands as she watches the home match.
A notepad sits on her lap, a pen tapping against the pages thoughtfully as she watches.
Barcelona B are good and Alexia has never expected anything different. She's seen the system at work many times as La Masia churns out players like Aitana and Pina and Jana, and more recently Vicky and Martina.
There's a reason so many clubs wants La Masia products.
They're all good players but even now, Alexia can tell a great player when she sees one.
You rise up among the crowd in the box and slam the ball into the goal, the net rippling with the force of the shot.
The best part, Alexia thinks, is that you didn't even need a moment to control the ball, hitting it in on the volley and grinning as your teammates practically dogpile you.
A hattrick in ten minutes is impressive in any league and Alexia makes another note in her notebook, humming softly to herself.
She rises out of her seat at the end of the match, disappearing into the building and out the doors.
It takes another half an hour for you to appear again, hair damp and an old crew neck sweater that Alexia's pretty sure is Alba's being tugged over your head.
You slip into the passenger seat, throwing your bag into the backseat and Alexia pulls your head down to press a kiss against the side of it.
You smile shyly at her as she offers up the fries she'd bought for a job well done.
"You did good, kid," She says," Very impressive."
"Yeah?"
"Yes. But I think we're going to work on evading slide tackles next," Alexia says as she drives off," We're trying to keep those ankles of yours intact, alright? I'm going to need them this season."
You roll your eyes and Alexia clicks her tongue.
"Don't roll your eyes at me," She says," I've got a good feeling about that meeting later in the week. A great feeling, actually. You should have one too."
"I'm managing expectations."
Alexia looks at you fondly. "Well, we'll see which one of us is right in a few days."
She lets you choose the music in the car, like she always does when you've scored a goal and you pull up to the apartment a lot quicker than you want to seeing as you're in the middle of singing along to your favourite song but, still, you drag yourself out of the car and up the stairs.
"How was the match?" Olga asks as she greets Alexia with a kiss on the lips.
"She did very well," Alexia brags," A hattrick within the first ten minutes and another goal in injury time."
"Exciting," Olga says indulgently as Alexia grins, already giving her running commentary of everything that happened during the match.
You escape though, hurrying to raid the cupboards before Alexia finally comes to her senses and tries to stop you 'spoiling' your dinner.
You don't know if there's any way to thank Alexia for what she's done for you.
Just three months ago, you were convinced that you were going to quit. You had no passion for the game, no hope of what your future was going to be but now all of that had changed.
You had direction. You had a manager. You had new boots and a place to live that wasn't a group home and support and love and everything seemed to be coming together for you.
A toe pokes you in the leg.
"Move."
"Alexia says that if you're trying to nap on her sofa again then I don't have to move," You tell Alba, who huffs and pokes you with her toe again," She also says that you have your own apartment and should stop mooching of us."
"But Olga's a better cook than me," Alba complains and you roll your eyes.
"Aren't you an adult? Even I can cook."
"Yeah but it's not like you could mooch off your sist-"
Alba falls silent quickly and you pretend to not notice what she was going to say for both hers and your own sakes.
The topic of your sister is kind of off limits when you're in the room. It's not completely banned because Alexia's still Jenni's national teammate but she's not really spoken about if you're in the room.
Alba's face flashes with terror for a moment so you pretend you don't notice her slip up ever though it sends a bolt of lightning into your stomach, a deep pit forming there.
It works for the most part, everyone in the house pretending Jenni isn't who she is to you, pretending that she's just Alexia's teammate and not her friend and ex, pretending that Alexia fostering you isn't her walking on a tight rope because Jenni doesn't know.
All Jenni knows is that you didn't quit when she told you to.
Jenni doesn't know that you live with Alexia. Jenni doesn't know anything. You doubt she even thinks about you when she's got a life far away in Mexico.
She lives there, far away from you and your life here in Barcelona.
She lives there and her presence is hardly ever mentioned around you.
Life is good at Alexia and Olga's house. Life is even good at training, though you could do without the smug little smirk Alexia has on her face when she picks you up.
"You already knew!" You accuse her, waving a finger in her face.
"Knew?" She asks, lips curl up in what can only be described as pure smugness," Knew what?"
"Right, who told you? Go on. Who was it?"
Alexia grins. "You do realise I am the captain? Any time they're looking to bring someone in, they ask me my opinion."
You roll your eyes. "Yeah and I'm sure you gave it."
"You're a good player. A great player," Alexia says," All I did was tell them what they already know."
You look down at your lap, fidgeting with your fingers. You want to be mad at her, to yell at her for keeping this from you. Maybe even yell at her for promising to the staff something you're not but you know she hasn't done that.
If she thought you weren't ready, she would have told them that.
But Alexia didn't. She didn't tell them to let you have a bit more time with the B team. She didn't tell them that you don't quite have what it takes.
"Thanks."
Alexia smiles at you as she drives home, a comfortable silence enveloping you both until your hand is on the door handle.
You stop.
"When I open this door, there's going to be a party, isn't there?"
"I may have told Olga...who told Mami...who told Alba...who told the rest of the family..."
"Is that a yes?"
"Possibly..."
"And there's no getting out of this?"
Alexia ruffles your hair, a soft kiss being pressed to the side of your head. "They're here to celebrate you."
You suck in a breath, just ready to turn the handle when the sound of the lift doors opening chimes down the corridor.
Both you and Alexia turn your heads towards.
It's just a fleeting second.
Just a moment.
But your good mood plummets as the door opens.
Alexia's hand tightens on your shoulder, pushing you slightly behind her and putting herself between you and the elevator.
Between you and Jenni.
#woso x reader#alexia putellas x reader#alexia putellas#woso community#woso imagine#woso fanfics#woso
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Various Creepypastas x Reader who sleeps in weird spaces
3/5 of the prizes for @reivelmin !!
Post contains: Eyeless Jack, Laughing Jack, Hoodie, Masky, Ticci Toby, Liu, and Bloody Painter!
I actually dont think I've written for Helen before?? I know I havent written for Liu yet so heres to hoping my takes and hcs are accurate!
EYELESS JACK
When he first catches you in the closet sleeping nearly standing straight up he nearly yelps. You made the stoic eyeless Jack, the man who rarely flinches or jumps at anything, jolt. Naturally he wakes you up and asks why you're in there, but no answer really satisfies him. He tries to drag you to bed and for the night everything is.. normal. But this will be far from the last time he finds you sleeping in an odd place, seemingly unbothered. He eventually asks if theres something going on with you, even dumbly asking if theres something wrong with the bed.. but alas, nothing. You just.. sleep like that.. he often drags you into bed so you dont get sore or fall over
LAUGHING JACK
He thinks you're pranking him, and of course he starts cracking up. He commends you for getting him good, only for his laughter to die down when he realizes that you are in fact asleep while curled in a cabinet. For a moment he thinks you.. died.. or worse was murdered and stuffed into the odd place. He nearly rips you out of the space before you finally crack an eye open. Please dont scare him like that again, he does not take abandonment well even if the scenario is someone possibly dying. Once the shock is over with and he grows more used to it, the humor he originally found in it returns.. it almost turns into a game of where hes going to find you next and what position you're going to be in.. he does not bother to take you to bed and if theres room hes going to squeeze in with you wherever you are
MASKY
Hes probably done that at least once, he sometimes watches you in your sleep on the occasion that you actually fall asleep in a normal place (bed, couch, ect) and he kind of slumps into the corner he was sulking in. Though you... certainly one up him when he catches you sleeping on top of the fridge! If you're in a hard to reach place or really deep into it he leaves you be without attempting to get you out. Eventually he kind of just accepts that this is something you do and completely leaves you alone unless you're in the way of something. More likely to wake you up than moving you out of the way, though... you've probably gotten jumpscared by him simply standing there waiting for you to wake up
HOODIE
Very similar to Masky but I do think Hoodie would take you to bed so you dont get sick (floors are cold, people!) Or getting a knot somewhere in your muscles. Partly because he will likely be too busy with his work to tend to you, partly also because he can be stern when it comes to your health. Theres no ifs ands or buts, hes taking you to bed and hes going to keep you there! Hes a big dude too, he'll hold you in place next to him if he has to
TICCI TOBY
He gets it, honestly. If it's like a security or a comfort thing or just out of impulse he gets it. You might find him sleeping in ungodly positions when he crashes at your place, or sleeping under the bed. He has used a chair as a blanket before. He might feel inclined to try to one up you, actually. All fun and games of course! He also does not carry you to bed, and similar to LJ he might just join you if theres room! Just be warned when sleeping around him he might draw on your face or something.. definitely takes your phone so he can take pictures of you to make fun of you later
LIU
For a minute he doesnt realize exactly what's going on. He might actually pick your stuffed animal up and give it back to you and shut the door of the closet before ripping it open as he stares at you. Gently shakes your shoulder to wake you up, and while he might have to get a little harsh to actually get you awake hes apologizing for waking you up. So so so many questions. Why are you doing that? Why dont you come to bed? Will not take no for an answer. He wants answers, if there are any. After you offer an explanation hes a lot more understanding about it although still very.. confused. Are you not worried about falling over in your sleep? Or even just waking up uncomfortable...? That aside how do you even.. sleep standing up like that, and how long were you like that..? He just.. accepts it
BLOODY PAINTER
Very neutral about it, but he does entertain you with questions when he catches you awake in the morning. It doesnt matter where you sleep, hes not going to disturb you unless you get in his way. But considering hes claimed a corner in your home for himself and his belongings, you don't have to worry about that! Despite claiming to not mind all that much you still seem to wake up in bed despite falling asleep under it. He'll never admit to moving you, but theres no other person who could have done it.. he also wont ever say it but he does sometimes want you to lay next to him
#creepypasta x reader#creepypasta x you#creepypasta imagine#eyeless jack imagine#eyeless jack x reader#eyeless jack x you#laughing jack x reader#laughing jack x you#laughing jack imagine#masky x reader#masky x you#masky imagine#hoodie x reader#hoodie x you#hoodie imagine#ticci toby x reader#ticci toby imagine#ticci toby x you#homicidal liu x reader#homicidal liu x you#homicidal liu imagine#bloody painter x reader#bloody painter x you#bloody painter imagine
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Canon divergence in that Buck does call Tommy the next time he's free, asking to go up in a chopper (instead of the harebrained scheme of going to the BBPU game)
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"And that's my favorite view," says Tommy, angling the helicopter to face the Pacific. It's late in the morning so sunlight glitters on the water like diamonds scattered on blue silk.
Buck shields his eyes with his hands. "It's beautiful!" he exclaims, almost giddy with delight at the panorama.
"It is. And at night, I like to look the other way, at the city spread out before me." Tommy's aviator sunglasses hide his eyes but his big smile is on full display.
Buck can't help the shiver in his belly every time he looks at Tommy. It's clear the air is his element. Already Buck knows that Tommy is very competent - they wouldn't have pulled off the rescue otherwise - but here, without anything to distract them, Buck sees how the chopper is an extension of Tommy himself. A deft touch, a slight adjustment, and the vehicle moves smoothly for Tommy to point out different landmarks from the sky.
By the time they land, Buck's spirits are still soaring. He's spent forty minutes flying with Tommy, who not only talked about the mechanics of flying, but also answered almost all of Buck's questions without ever sounding bored. In fact, he seems happy that Buck has done some research before he came for the ride.
"Okay, now I really need to buy you that beer, and also a meal." Buck wants to bounce on his heels. He feels lighter than air, like he's just a balloon full of happy emotions.
Tommy grins, shrugging as he tucks his aviators into a pocket. "I'm free for the rest of the day," he says. Ducking his head, he adds, "Didn't feel too good leaving you alone the other day to go watch the fight, but I didn't think we'd take two hours to tour Harbor Station either."
Buck's cheeks flush. He remembers being irrationally angry when Eddie and Tommy flew off, and he did go home to pummel his pillow a little before sulking. But he's done the mature thing, which is ask Tommy for a flight demo, instead of something insane like figure out what other activities he would be doing or events he would attend and try to show up there like a toy surprise.
"Well, that was because I wanted to find out so much, and it's really your fault, because you answered everything in detail." Buck falls in step with the older man as they head to Tommy's car. "You have to be accountable for your mistakes."
Tommy laughs. Buck feels tingly and proud that he's made that happen. Daringly, he nudges Tommy's elbow with his.
"So, what would you like for lunch?" Buck asks. "My treat, as thanks for the flight."
"Sure," says Tommy with an easy smile. As they approach the car, Tommy halts.
Buck stops as well, a little concerned. "Everything okay?"
Tilting his head, Tommy studies Buck, and then his expression grows a little more nervous and serious. "I... I don't wanna presume anything, and I want you to know that, regardless of anything I'm about to say, I wanna be your friend."
Buck blinks at the older man. "Okay, um. What's this about?"
"Evan, before we go to lunch, I kinda wanna know what's going on here? I mean..." Tommy licks his lips, and Buck's gaze snaps to Tommy's mouth. "You're adorable and you're funny and, well. You're a gorgeous guy. I'm not... I'm not really sure why you wanna spend time with me. And I don't wanna get my hopes up if this is just me reading the signs wrongly."
"Uh, signs?"
Tommy's face falls. He glances away, wiping his hand over his mouth, and licks his lips again. "Shit. I've read you wrong."
Buck reaches out to touch Tommy's wrist. "Tommy, I'm not sure what you're saying."
Tommy looks back at Buck, blue eyes taking in the younger man's expression, and sighs. He flips his hand over to hold the tips of Buck's fingers.
"Hell. Might as well lay my cards out," he mutters, mostly to himself, and then looks - really looks - at Buck. "Evan, I'm gay. And these couple times we've met up, I really, really like how we click. I like your energy, and how earnest and open you are. And it doesn't hurt that you are one of the most attractive men I've ever met, and I really like spending time with you, and I'm hoping... I'm hoping I can ask you out for a date and maybe we can... find out if we could. If we could be more than friends."
There's an anxious cast to his features. Buck can see Tommy's jaw clench and the nervous swallow, and a part of Buck's mind is screaming static. Another part of him is frantically stammering, "I'm just an ally!!" But thankfully that part of him has no control of his mouth, because he instead steps closer to Tommy and-
Oh. Oh.
So that's how it feels to kiss a guy.
He pulls back slightly, but is stopped by the touch of fingers under his chin, and Tommy draws him back for a second kiss, his head angled, and-
Wow. Wow, okay. They're near the airfield in the parking lot and the breeze is cool and the sun is shining nice and warm and they are kissing, Buck is kissing Tommy and this feels right.
When they finally separate, possibly two centuries later, Buck blinks at Tommy. His face feels hot and his skin is tingling. With a small, happy grin, he says, "I would say yes to the date, if that helps."
Tommy chuckles. He licks his lips again and Buck forces himself to look away from those lips. "Okay. I'd like to ask you out on a date on Saturday night, if you're free."
"I... I'm free." Buck's grin grows brighter. He tilts his head. "Lunch, now?"
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jjk men when you wipe their kisses away (as a joke)
featuring. itadori yuuji, megumi fushiguro, gojo satoru, sukuna ryomen x reader
warnings. cursing :>
note. i've seen this trend on tiktok in the past, and i feel like it's a really cute idea to write about it. hope u enjoy this :D
ITADORI YUUJI. the first time you did it, he was like "oh? maybe they did it by accident" and the second time you did it, he was like "okay, this is no accident", but said nothing about it before planting another kiss on your cheek — and much to his dismay, you pretended to use your phone as a mirror and wipe your cheek, particularly the place where he just kissed.
"okay, baby, what did i do wrong?" he finally asks you, sitting straight up, "why are you not letting me kiss you?"
you almost folded, but you looked at him innocently, batting your eyelashes, "hm? i don't know what you're talking about," you tell him with a small smile.
yuuji brushed it off and then gave your cheek another peck, before he knows it, you did the same thing again — wiping the place where he just kissed and then he huffs out, "okay y/n, what is wrong with you? do you hate me now? are you breaking up with me?"
he looked like he was about to break down right then and there, so you figured it was time to stop. and then you laughed at him, pulling him into your embrace, "i'm kidding yuuji, it was a joke."
yuuji rolled his eyes and circled his arms around you, "i thought you were breaking up with me. don't do that again," pouty baby.
MEGUMI FUSHIGURO. "why are you doing that?" he asks, and you arched your brow, pretending to be clueless of what he was saying. he shook his head, kissing your cheek (yet again), and to confirm his question, you wiped his kiss off again.
"that, i meant that," he said, "why are you doing that?"
"doing what?" you retorted back.
"bye y/n." he mutters out, obviously not wanting to play with this game of yours — and when you realized he was serious about this "bye" of his, you jumped up and grabbed his arm.
"i'm kidding gumi," you chuckled, and that was all he needed to hear.
megumi planted another kiss on your cheek, "wipe that again and i'm going for real this time," you didn't wipe it off (you were thinking about it though).
"can i have another one?"
megumi rolled his eyes, "no."
GOJO SATORU. hysterical right from the first time you did it, and was throwing a tantrum about how you shouldn't do that because his kiss privileges are special just for you and nobody else, yet this is how you treat him.
"baby, okay, no more kiss privileges for you. you're done, i'm done. we're both done." he mutters out, crossing his arms.
and when you didn't retaliate with his tantrums, he just had to try planting another kiss on your lips — to which you wiped off right after, and (dramatic) gojo takes that as a big insult. he gasps and pulls himself back onto the couch, sinking in with his brows furrowed and he glared at the floor.
"satoru?"
he grumbles under his breath about how everything was so unfair, how the world's such a cruel place, just being dramatic honestly. he glances at you before throwing his gaze to the side.
"satoru, you're such a baby."
again he gasps, "me? a baby? you started this!" lord, how much more dramatic can he get?
"give me a kiss, satoru."
he clicked his tongue, "no. i told you, you lost your kiss privileges."
you shrugged, "fine. i'll ask someone else for it then."
he folded and immediately threw himself on you, peppering kisses all over your face, "don't do that again, baby. why are you wiping my kisses off?"
you laughed, "it's a joke, satoru."
"i don't like this joke."
SUKUNA RYOMEN. caught on the first time you did it, and he grumbled under his breath about how you should be lucky he's willing to give you a kiss in the first place (he will do it all over again, no matter how many times you want it).
"what was that, ryo?" sukuna groans out when he sees your innocent e/c eyes looking at him, "did you say something?"
he said nothing, "i don't fucking like this shit you're playing with me," he said, facing away.
"what shit?" he glances at you, his eyes doing all the talk. and you laugh loudly at his reaction, "oh, you're so adorable," sukuna rolled his eyes, pushing your legs that previously was lying on top of his lap, "hey! come back."
"fuck off."
"give me a kiss, ryo." he ignored you, so you did it yourself — kissing his forehead, "don't be mad, it's a joke, honey."
he could tolerate your jokes about mostly anything, really (because he's madly in love with you), but never when it comes to jokes that could probably ruin your relationship (he never wants to break up with you).
© CHURIPU 2023 , DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ANYWHERE !
#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen fluff#jjk fluff#jujutsu kaisen#jjk x reader#jjk#fluff#sukuna ryomen#gojo fluff#gojo satoru#gojo satoru x reader#sukuna ryomen x reader#itadori yuuji#itadori yuuji x reader#megumi fushiguro#megumi fushiguro x reader#megumi fluff#fushiguro megumi x reader#megumi x reader#megumi x you#itadori yuuji x you#gojo satoru x you#sukuna ryomen x you
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Dark Cherry [4] | Aemond Targaryen
Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Reader
Summary: after months of a marriage that hardly harbours the passion that you'd dreamed about, you stumble across the reason for your husband's indifference and decide enough is enough. Aemond will learn just exactly what he's been missing out on.
Word Count: 5.5k
Warnings: MDNI 18+!! canon divergence!!! I fucked the timeline and nigly bits bc this was an impulse fic ok soooo it was mostly unplanned, almost smut, angst, let the grovelling happen babyyy, unedited, mention of alys x aemond but not in a good way :((, infidelity, talk of sex, guilt, mentions of Aegon x reader, hmmm I ramble, little vulnerable Aemond, bad language, let me know if I've missed anything!
Author's note: y'all I was never done with that man like there's no easy out for him :llll. Anyways I wrote most of this instead of studying which I needed to do. Perhaps I'll have my hand at another idea I'm cooking before part 5 but I'm alsoooo unsure about how keen we are to keep this one going - like is it getting too much??? either way, I enjoy writing this. and idk how to shut up, clearly, because I love that internal mind talk shit. Drop your thoughts in my inbox or PM me because I love to yap!!! xoxo, kisses!!! <3
Masterlist
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He was a fool. A spoiled, arrogant and entitled fool. You often thought about whether Aemond actually recognised the effect of his actions on anyone else. It was always ‘I did it for us’ or ‘I did it because I had to do it’.
So after your confrontation the day before, it had surprised you that Aemond had truly believed he was forgiven. Maybe it shouldn’t have. You had, after all, sat beside him and laughed with him. Shared a moment as if things were better. But it was nothing more than a lighthearted acknowledgement that whatever game was being played was entirely ridiculous yet you could feel how something had changed. There was a newfound intensity between the two of you and Aemond had clearly understood that he had made a mistake
But that wouldn't be enough for forgiveness. Things would never really be the same. You will never forget. The nameless woman had made a home in your unconscious mind and everything would remind you of the woman your husband had chosen to take to bed over you. She was beautiful, she was experienced and free of burden. Based on that alone a part of you could see why she could have been a better choice–a part of you that ached and pained ceaselessly.
And you weren’t sure you could carry on as if Aemond hadn’t thrown your entire world into the pits of ruin. Because that is exactly what he may as well have done. All you had was your marriage to him–a fact that was as painful as it was true. If it all fell apart because of him only you would suffer from it.
Your name, your family’s name. A Lady born to a house of remarkably lowly nobility with little more than your marriage to the prince. A charity case marriage to tell the realm’s people that the Crown was not so prejudiced as to be above uniting with the likes of your house. That the Lannisters and Baratheons were important but they were not everything. A fabrication only made necessary to cover up the fact that it was a lie–the Targaryens (and even the Hightowers as you had come to realise) really did believe they were of better blood.
A failure to fulfil your duty to the Targaryen crown as Prince Aemond’s wife would destroy your family name. And you would have no prospect of happiness after it. What else did you have aside from this?
Aemond would never understand that. Because not only was he a man but he was a prince. A privilege, a safety and a security he had inherited through birth.
Aside from the pressures of society, he had hurt you. Badly.
Despite your own confliction about it, you did have love for Aemond–how could you not? Love came from many things and while yours may have come from your dependance on his word, on the duty he performed to be your protector as he was to the Crown and its subjects, on his polite affections as limited as they were, it still found its way into your heart. Perhaps it was foolish to allow it entry into your existence when you had already known that there was no love to come from Aemond.
It didn’t change anything. Betrayed your trust, taken you for granted and destroyed the sanctity of a husband’s loyalty as if he were as dishonourable as any other Lord.
You would never say it out loud but it had broken your heart. And heartache is a consuming, suffocating and painful thing to feel. A constant lump in your throat, something always weighing your chest down, a disastrous, aching discomfort in your belly. Tears had stained your pillow at night and dried by the morning, the fabric of the linen acquiring the same unphased facade that you would wear as you plastered on a mask of ignorance so that you could continue to live through your day.
All because you had wanted him. Aemond, who was doomed to disappoint and destroy merely because that is all that princes do.
For him to have mistaken your truce–the end to the back and forth game that had been wreaking havoc in its wake-as forgiveness was infuriating. He had no idea.
Well, maybe he did. Now that he had seen you with another just as you had seen him. And you recognised your own experience in the moment he had realised what was happening.
Aemond’s call to breakfast made you want to laugh. But you had turned him down for afternoon tea just the day before only to be found swallowing his brother’s seed. You winced at the shamefulness of your thought, muttering a quick prayer for the sake of your piety whether it was genuine or not.
He was seated lazily in the chair he favoured, an array of food spread across the table. There was a book in his hand. The same one he had taken from you the last time you had shared your morning meal together. Aemond had a smirk playing on his lips.
You cleared your throat, curtsying before sitting down at the other end of the table to him and with as much distance between you as you could muster. “Good morrow, my Prince,”
“Formalities, I see,” He looked at you through his lashes. It was odd seeing him so relaxed, the tension that was always in his shoulders had been lost and there was a playful glint to his eye. You wanted to smack it out. “I believed we were past titles and distance for the sake of propriety, my sweet. As well as rigid greetings.”
All you responded with was a stare.
Dropping the book to his side, Aemond sighed and leaned forward, pouring tea into a cup. He stood, taking a couple steps forward to hand it to you. “We have fixed-”
“We have fixed nothing.”
“I am trying to turn a new leaf,” he commanded. You took the cup and saucer from his hand, the warm waft of vanilla and rose giving you a slight reprieve from the threat that rolled off his tongue. “If you do not recall, dear wife, I as well have every reason to resent you. The image of you sucking on my useless brother’s cock is not one I can easily bare. Yet I have chosen to let it be. I could have easily decided otherwise.”
“That would make you a hypocrite.” You glanced at him over the rim of your teacup.
“It does not matter much if I am a hypocrite, does it?” Aemond sat, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. He wasn’t bothered with the food in front of him, focused solely on you. “I hardly see how that would change anything.”
You squirmed under the intensity of his stare, picking up a cherry from the bowl of fruits and rolling the stem between your fingers. “It matters to me. Certainly, it matters for your reputation among the smallfolk. Nobody cares for a selfish prince, my dear.”
Aemond hummed, smirking at the venom you spat at him. You noticed the coin that he rolled between his fingers, nimble and thoughtless as if it were like breathing. Not so much a nervous habit but a thoughtful one.
He couldn’t lie and say that he didn’t enjoy your confidence. It was refreshing. But there was a dip in his gut at the thought that there was no hope for the two of you. Aemond, ever logical, knew he had no one else to blame but himself with his lack of foresight and failure to see beyond the now and here.
Because Aemond had not even considered how things would go on should you not forgive him. He had assumed that you would if not merely on the basis that there was little lost from a relationship that hardly existed in the first place. You had love for him and he was so convinced that such a thing would be impossible that he didn’t consider that it would cause you heartache beyond slighted offence and jealousy.
A violet eye lingered on the cherry that remained between your fingers. Aemond was good at putting on an act. He thought for a moment that he would rather take lashes to his back than have you know that he had no idea how to love someone properly. A part of him was persuaded that he was incapable of being a good lover. The lashes seemed like a blissful gift compared to the self-loathing that simmered in his belly at the probability that he had ruined any chance your marriage had of recovery.
It crossed his mind that it was his ignorance towards you right from the beginning that had damned your relationship.
Either way, it did not help that you had turned to his brother for intimacy. Aemond felt his blood scorch whenever that invaded his mind. He wanted to crumble the walls of this fortress when he wondered if Aegon had enjoyed your womanhood. Jealousy did motivate him well, he realised, and Aemond had the murderous urge to feed Aegon to Vhagar.
Nonetheless, he feigned amusement. “It seems as if you care for one.”
You ate the cherry. It was sweet and rich. All you replied with was an upturn of your chin as you gracefully held a small embroidered towel to your lips.
“So I am not forgiven?” Aemond had to break the silence before it cut him open. “Are we not even?”
Narrowing your eyes at him, you held back a surprised laugh. “You never apologised. Not that it would make any difference.”
“That does not answer my question.”
“Of course you are not forgiven,” you sighed. The tea cup hit the table with a clang. Your disdain for his actions and his ignorance gave you an unfettered confidence around him which you weren’t accustomed to. It made it very difficult to control yourself. “And no, we are not even, my Prince. And since you have brought it to my attention, I am of half a mind to find Aegon and offer him a meal between my thighs. You see, I have often wondered how it would feel and I expect that our King would be happy to indulge my… curiosities.”
Aemond sneered, a silent one that was more visible in his intake of a breath, the curl of his lips and the hardening of his eye. Bullseye.
It took him less than a couple seconds to be on his knees in front of where you sat, a strong hand tightly gripping each side of your thighs over the thick fabrics of your dress. He had shoved the table aside, unphased as tea spilled and fruits and cheeses toppled to the floor. Something in the look of bewilderment on your face had Aemond ready to both grin at your clueless innocence and frown at your shock.
Aemond didn’t let himself dwell on the fact that you had given up on expecting such pleasures from him. He was your husband; nothing about what he was clearly intending on doing to you should surprise you. Cursing himself to perdition would not be enough for how he has failed you.
“I feel obliged to remind you that we had agreed,” he grazed his nose across your knees, looking up at you through his eyelashes, jaw clenched tight as he all but growled his words. “That there will be no more of this foolishness. Not from you and not from me.”
It was an onslaught of different things that had rendered you still and silent. The way Aemond looked at you like you were the only satiating force for his eternal hunger, the wordless mixture of desire and anger in how his fingers dug into the flesh of your thighs, the desperation in his voice, strained by the fear that you would. Or was it the overwhelming feeling that Aemond was finally taking some accountability and that maybe he recognised not what his actions were but the meaning that they carried?
For a moment Aemond just looked at you, conflicted and fragmented and unguarded. The sight of him like this reminded you of a vulnerable child. But it didn’t last long before the menacing, cautionary glint was back in his eye, his posture becoming rigid as shuffled the fabrics of your skirts.
A new kind of anxiety overcame you. Not like the insignificant nervousness you had felt that night when you had wandered into his chambers or used his leg to make yourself peak and not like the clueless apprehension with Aegon. It formed a ball in your chest and made it hard to breathe.
There was no chance he would ever admit it but you could see Aemond’s vulnerability and desperation within the hardened facade he had perfected. He wanted nothing more than to seem strong and powerful at all times, worthy of acclaim and reverence. But here he was, willing to stay on his knees and worship you forever, all under the pretence of rageful infatuation.
It was too hot. Even with the cool of the shadows cast by the dark net curtains that only let in enough daylight to see clearly and not enough to cause Aemond irritation from sensitivity in his eye, it was so warm you worried you would have to rip the sleeves off of your dress.
You were snapped out of your thoughts when Aemond let out a soft, dark groan, running his fingers across the expanse of your legs over your stockings, your skirts already bunched at your hips. Skin burning at his touch, you couldn’t help the way you whined and squeezed your thighs together, squirming under the intensity of his gaze.
His voice was heavy with the burden of lust and regret. “I will be better. In all the ways that I have failed you and more. Your forgiveness, I realise, is not as easily granted as I presumed but I will show you that I am worthy of it.”
There was a moment of weakness in your mind before you caught yourself. You didn’t quite believe him. It had clearly been too easy for him to give you empty promises and there was no reason why things would be different now.
It was odd. Seeing Aemond weak like this.
What would it mean if you let him continue? It was clearly different this time. You couldn’t put it into words exactly but there was a rawness, a blitz of different emotions that set things ablaze and made you want to both weep and mewl for him.
You couldn’t spare a thought about why it was different. Aemond was right there, a weaponised Prince on his knees for you, a lowly Lady with nothing more to offer him than yourself. Since when did you hold all this power over him?
That night in his bedchambers and last night when you had shared a laugh despite everything that had unfolded felt detached in a way. When you had allowed yourself release over his leg it was simply that. A way to ease the tension he had put in your body and a way to leave him wanting.
Aemond’s eye swam with a tenderness you had not seen from him. He continued to look up at you waiting to gauge your response. It was a slight nod of your head which had his hands tearing at the soft fabric of your stockings, his lips instantly meeting the skin of your knees before you had the chance to even gasp. All the while, he kept his eye on you as if his heart would cease to beat if he could not watch the way you reacted to him.
It became increasingly harder to breathe. There were so many thoughts, so many sensations that you struggled to put it all together. Your flushed with anticipation, your cunt throbbed at the wet plushness of his lips on your hot skin and your hips squirmed at what was to come.
Your mind, however, flashed with the image of Aemond, exactly as he was now, between another woman’s thighs. A woman who didn’t flinch at the unfamiliar touch, who didn’t jerk away at the foreign feeling of being pleasured. You wondered if he would be so angered at the prospect of another man’s mouth on her womanhood, if her skin felt softer or more rough on his lips and if he looked at her with the same heated need.
It made you feel sick.
Aemond let himself enjoy the way your thighs tensed, pulling your smallclothes off of you as much as carefully as he could under the restriction of your skirts. There was an urge to rip the entire dress off but he knew it would be a step too far. He couldn’t help the low sounds that left him, sounds he couldn’t recognise. The expanse of your thighs and the sight of your flushed, hot cunt in front of him made his mouth water with a hunger that would have shocked him had he not been so distracted by your scent.
Without complete vision, Aemond had learned to train his sense of touch, taste, smell and hearing to make up for the disadvantage he was stuck with. They were always slightly heightened compared to those who never needed the compensation of senses but in the cloud of desire and lust, he was sensitive.
You whined at the way his tongue glided over your skin, biting down hard but not hard enough to be painful on the flesh of your upper thigh so close to where you needed to feel him. But Aemond was always remarkably patient and he merely made way to your other leg, repeating his ministrations and licking you from your knee to where he bit you at your thigh.
The haze that had possessed you made you lose track of your thoughts so easily. Still, they fought their way to the forefront of your mind at every chance they could and you were reminded of her.
Aemond’s mind was overwhelmed by you. There was no power in the realm that could make him think of anything else, not with the way you were trembling under his feathered touch and making such beautiful sounds for him, and not when he desired for anyone else apart from you.
A heavy breath of shame and excitement tumbled out of you at how lewdly he dragged the tip of his nose across your thigh, pressing it into the flesh that sat above your slick, aching cunt and inhaling. You clenched around nothing, your clit twitching at the sound of Aemond’s unabashed groan.
He grasped at your hips and your legs, his fingers burying into your flesh and tugging as if there would never be enough of you in his hands. It would have driven you into a similarly desperate state had things been different.
The prince between your thighs was a sight to behold. Aemond’s skin was flushed pink, his eyepatch slightly out of place and his hair tousled from the way your legs clenched and unclenched against his head. He was almost drooling, mumbling about how good you smelled and how perfect and pretty your cunt was for him. His cock had never been so hard, constricted by the stiff leather of his training attires.
Aemond enjoyed being a tease but there was only so much he could handle himself. While he wanted you to crave for him the way he was craving you so unbearably, Aemond needed to taste you. He needed to make you feel the blinding pleasure he should have been giving you at every chance he had since the night you were married. He needed to show you the ways of unbridled human desire and to show you all the ways your body could come undone and fall apart only to feel completely whole and fulfilled.
There was no changing the past but Aemond would make up for how completely inattentive he had been. He would show you all the more fervently. When Aemond placed an open mouthed kiss just above your slit, letting a string of his spit glide off of his tongue onto your sensitive pussy, you shuddered.
All at once your mind was once again taken over by unsavoury thoughts. It had your eyes welling with tears, a familiar lump lodging in your throat, threatening to come out in a devastated sob. There was a ringing in your ears and you were back at Aemond’s door, peeking in only to see him giving that woman the same touch he was giving you right now. He had seemed so enthralled by her and the way she must have tasted. It was as if he’d been there before, indulging in her with so much passion it rivalled how eagerly touched you in this moment.
Did her smell fill his veins with fire as yours was? Did her scent alone make his cock as painfully hard as yours did? Did her cunt drip for him the way yours did? Was the hunger in his eye shining for her too?
It was terrifying to consider.
Aemond would spend hours here, he had decided. His duties for the day could be damned to the hells for all he cared. There was a rumbling in his chest for what he saw in front of him, inviting him to indulge and filling his mind with senseless ardour. Aemond let himself enjoy just the scent of you, his eye fluttering shut and his nose gently resting above your folds as he breathed you in, caressing your thighs softly with his hands. As if he were starved for years, Aemond salivated and with no patience left within him, he brought his lips downwards to meet the precious cunt he had been dreaming of.
With a whimper that you couldn’t hold back, you jerked away from him. Aemond pulled away in surprise, his gaze full of confusion and lust and insecurity. “Wait, my love—“
You had slipped free of his grasp, a strangled cry escaping no matter how hard you tried to keep it in. There was one tear that slipped free, followed by countless more and you couldn’t look at him anymore, couldn’t bear to see that he was hurt before scrambling away from him.
She was stuck in your mind. The memory of Aemond’s little trysts with her replaying behind your eyes no matter how hard you tried to shut it out. It was clear that there was nothing you could do to get ahold of yourself because everytime you looked at him, so enthralled in you and your sex, she was there.
Laughing at you in the back of your mind, as if she had taken residence in a permanent place in your head, enjoying the state of despair and madness she and Aemond had led you to.
But she couldn’t be in your head. Not really. Not in the way it felt she was.
You barely glanced back at Aemond through your tears, struggling to even your breathing and calm the rapid beating of your heart. He hadn’t moved much; just simply stayed there frowning at the space that you had once occupied on the chair.
There was nothing he could do to change things. Aemond knew that as well as you did. But there was a pain in your heart at the way he looked so defeated, so guilty that it almost seemed like he would melt into a puddle of remorse. A far stretch from the usual stoic warrior that you had known him as.
“My prince, I–” you swallowed, your voice catching when he looked up at you with a wide eye and furrowed eyebrows. For a moment you remembered that he had no right - but he was trying, was he not? “I cannot continue with this knowing that you had touched her like this. It angers me and it upsets me and it pains me to think of it but ‘tis beyond my control.”
He stayed silent, observing the way you hid yourself from him and struggled to meet his gaze. There was a sullen look to you, one you had not entered with and it stuck needles in his flesh to think that he had been the cause of it. Aemond’s entire body felt hot and he was itching to tear off his leathers. He wished the gods would strike him down as he was for hurting you so.
You had turned away, disappearing from his quarters swiftly. You would never forget the image of how you had left him there–it was both satisfying and devastating.
Aemond, still on his knees for the ghost of you, his expression tortured and his shoulders tensed. It was a pathetic sight, should anyone stumble upon it, but you considered it beautiful. Beautiful in a lethal, catastrophic manner. Not unlike himself; a weaponised source of destruction who had a tendency to bring torment upon those he loved.
The rest of your day had been spent alone in your chambers. You hadn’t cried so much over any of it until now. The tears and sobs that you had held inside of yourself for weeks had forced themselves out, along with the emotions you had pushed down until you could no longer.
Aemond had a certain control while you were sitting in that seat, skirts bunched to your stomach and quivering for him to have his way. Regardless, the power was still yours and you knew that it was Aemond who was wrapped tightly around your finger at that moment. He would have listened to anything you had said–done anything you had told him to do.
Perhaps you had become too stubborn in your anger to have let yourself feel anything else. A retributive anger; one that sprouted from the lack of love that existed in your marriage and reached a climax at Aemond’s brazen adultery. And it only grew stronger in whatever back and forth Aemond had encouraged by dangling his whore in front of your face.
Whatever it was, you were feeling so much more now than you had before.
Or perhaps it was because you could see that Aemond was remorseful. He would never yet admit it but you knew from the way he had behaved since you had visited him in his bed. It was no act of redemption and definitely no apology but it was impossible to ignore the change in him. You had never seen Aemond the way you had seen him this morning.
Vulnerable, gentle, tormented.
A knock on your door had you sniffling and wiping away any tear stains that may have lingered on your cheeks. You had stopped crying for some time but the need to wallow and lament had stayed. When you called out to ask, the guard at your door notified you of the Dowager Queen’s presence.
Oh, seven hells.
There was really no chance you could refuse her so you merely let her in and called a servant to bring some refreshments. Queen Alicent sat herself down but remained tense, carefully watching you as you took a place beside her.
“Have you been crying?” Her concern was comforting. “I believe I know why.”
You straightened, not meeting the eye of the woman who reached a tender hand to your knee. Hiding behind a forced smile, you let out a breathy laugh. “I am certain the entirety of the Red Keep knows, Your Grace.”
“It has been known for some time,” Alicent was gentle, her cautionary gaze telling you that she was apprehensive about bringing her son’s misadventures up. You held your breath. “Since the first time he had summoned that Alys woman-”
“Alys? Is that her name?”
“You do not know?” There was a tense silence. Alicent couldn’t meet your gaze, pity swimming across her features. Aemond was her son and there were many things that she had let her sons get away with but her heart pained at the broken quiver in your voice.
Alicent had noticed the change in Aemond since the night that you had found him with Alys. The second time. He had never paid much attention to you aside from what appearances required yet Alicent knew her son far more than he would be willing to accept. She had known that there was something in his heart for you, no matter how small and no matter how it dwindled until set alight.
Aemond had done the wrong thing. She had no doubts about that. Alicent would have words with him once she figured out what to say to him. But he was her son and there were certain misdoings that she knew she had to defend them through. To protect his marriage, his image and his happiness. The Queen Dowager cleared her throat and reached for your hand, eyebrows furrowing at the way you stared down at your lap, the anguish you felt in your heart written clearly across your face.
“I understand that you are hurting, my dear. Although my husband remained faithful to me until his death and I cannot quite imagine the pain in your heart–I see how you have love for my son, even if you nor him have known it, I do understand,” Alicent took a breath, closing her eyes. “This is the way of men. And princes–”
“Please, Your Grace, I mean this with utmost respect for you but I do not wish to hear your excuses,” you whispered. There was a prickly, breathless worry that had settled in your gut. What did you not know? Was this Alys someone who mattered? “But I would like to know what you are withholding from me about this woman. I believe I deserve that at the very least.”
Alicent stared at you for a moment, examining you. She could drive her son further into the ground with what she was about to say. “Aemond had a paramour–at least it was rumoured, he never spoke of such things with me. Alys Rivers, a wetnurse and servant woman from Harrenhal.”
“A paramour?”
“It was before you were married,” Alicent was quick to clarify. “I had assumed that Aemond wanted nothing more to do with her when she left–at his order, I believe. Some say she was a witch. Perhaps she enchanted him.”
You couldn’t look at her. She was more than just a whore? Had he lied to you right from the beginning? Bile rose up in your throat. There was a thrum in your ears, the sound of your own heartbeat and you feared that you would be sick from the drop in your gut.
“Did he love her? Could he still?”
Alicent sucked in a breath. “I do not know, my child.”
All you could do was nod pathetically. Alicent was a woman of great strength and dedication; you had once wished to be much like her one day. But as you sat beside her now, you wished she had been a liar and a cheat and a meddling gossip. That you could find a way to fault her words but you could tell it caused her great difficulty to speak of Aemond’s actions honestly.
Ever poised and elegant, Alicent only leaned forward to you, her posture straight as a needle and her touch soft as linen. “I did not mean to upset you further. I only meant to speak with you about returning to Courtly activities, with the other Ladies and Helaena has been asking for you. And the Ladies speak–”
“They speak terribly of me,” you scoffed, allowing a humourless laugh. “I understand, Your Grace. I will return to spending my days in company other than my own.”
Alicent hated to pry but she felt that she must, now that she had dealt her cards against Aemond’s fate. “Perhaps you should speak with Aemond. He cares for you deeply. It would be a shame for your union to fall apart over such misunderstandings.”
If not for formality, you would have rolled your eyes. Again, you simply nodded, your mind reeling back to the woman that Alicent had given a name to. You would ask Aemond about her. It would be the less damning option rather than turning to Aegon once more but the idea of speaking to Aemond about a woman he may once have loved still made you want to crawl underneath the sheets of your bed and disappear.
You thought of the woman who you had seen through the crack in the door and wished you had taken extra care in looking at her. There was little you could recall other than the darkness and length of her hair, the paleness of her skin and the perfection in her curves as she pleasured Aemond and as he did the same for her.
As if she was familiar with all the things that made him weak. All the things that made Aemond weak. How she had touched him like she was an expert in his body. And you thought of Aemond, bare and comfortable with her. Aemond with his sapphire glimmering under the lamplight instead of an eye, a rawness and trust that you had never seen of him until that night.
He trusted her.
Alys Rivers.
.....................................................
Tagging: @padfooteyes @thedyingwriter @mamawiggers1980 @queenofshinigamis @ewanmitchellfanatic @nurtargaryen
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self-care night w/ simon
self-care, charcuterie, and movie night with simon <3 he literally doesn't care what for dinner as long as you're for dessert!! tags: a little nsfw, but mostly fluff and loving on simon, i wanna appreciate the quiet moments you get with him <333 a/n: i dont think i've written fanfic since i was 17/18 but my current hyper fixation is ghost and so the brain worms need to come out
'girl dinner~ girl dinner~~~ giiiiirlll dinner~~~~' you sing to yourself, laying out slices of a freshly baked baguette, prosciutto, brie, strawberries, and other delectable little treats along the long cutting board.
youre at simon's flat right now since he's on leave and you both want to spend every second together that you can!! while simon was at the gym, you went to go get snacks for a movie night in together!! you had big plans to stay in and do nothing!! you weren't sure if everything you had planned was really simon's thing but you loveddd a little self-care night and you know that if you love it, simon's always game to play along (he's so sweet to you like that!!)
simon comes out of the bathroom, fresh out of the shower. his hair's still a bit wet and he's wearing a soft worn black t shirt and matching black boxer briefs. it takes all your willpower to not be a horny little shit and start something right now. "'m ready," he tells you.
"ooo yay!!" you cheered, excited. you had specially requested that simon let you do his skincare after showering.
he watches you gingerly setting the charcuterie board on the coffee table. he notices that there's already a glass of whiskey waiting for him. there were also two wine glasses sitting on the table adjacent to a pink wine bottle. and everything was sitting on top of these ceramic coasters you picked out and painted as a surprise for him during one of your first dates <3
simon watches you bounce over to him. you've already changed into one of his shirts and some little shorts. he's undressing you in his head as you take his hand and guide him back into the bathroom.
the corner of his lip quirks upwards as he lifts you by your waist onto the bathroom counter so you can have easy access to his face. you slide to sit closer to the edge so simon can stand right in between your legs.
your toiletry bag was already sitting on the counter. you dig through it pulling out tiny bottles of toners and serums and moisturizer. simon listens intently as you explain what each one does. you shake some toner onto your plans and massage it into simon's face. he closes his eyes and leans into your touch, content and safe. sometimes his mind wanders off to other things -- chores he still needs to get done, if his mom and dad were ever like this, flashbacks to the mission he just completed -- but your soft touch brings him back to the present. simon sits and revels as you work through each step, gently and lovingly massaging the potion you've brewed especially for him into his face. into the scars lining his jaw and cheeks. into the wrinkles of his skin from hours of stress, of laying in the sun, scoping out his target, of fretting about why you're still here, with him.
simon's resting his hands on your thighs, and he gives them the gentlest squeeze. it's a silent reassurance to himself -- that you're really there. with him. the prettiest bird he's ever met is in his little flat welcoming him home from deployment. he still doesn't understand how or why there's a soft spot in your heart for a brute like him, but he's learning to stop questioning it. he's learning that maybe he does deserve you after all. maybe simon does get to be happy.
"almost done~, just gotta do some lip balm next" you chime. simon grunts in acknowledge, his eyes still closed. he can't see anything, but he hears you pull out something else from your toiletries bag. you unscrew it, a moment passes, and simon barely registers the scent of strawberries before feeling your lips press up against his.
simon contently moans into the kiss, thinking about the passionate sex you two had last night... and this morning and right before he went to the gym. he raises his hands to firmly brace your hips against his. before simon has the chance to start nipping at your lips, you pull away and say, "all done!"
you even take a finger to swipe some excess lip balm off the corner of his mouth before you giggle and slip off the bathroom counter, absolutely aware of the effect you have on him. you love being his little minx <3
you walk over plop down on the couch and smile at simon, patting on the seat next to you, inviting him to join. for now, he ignores the growing tent in his boxers.
as soon as he sits down, you scooch up against his side and he raises his arm to wrap it around your shoulders. as you rest your cheek on him, simon feels a warmth creep up inside. you two fit together like pieces of a puzzle. before meeting you, what did he even do while he was on leave? this is the most at ease he's felt in a long time. the long lonely nights of sitting by himself on his couch, trying to figure out what to do next are in the past.
you turn to plant a kiss on his shoulder. there's a part of simon that preens under the ample attention you shower him with.
"you wanna try a bite of all this?" you asked. simon knows you're talking about the charcuterie board you put together, but he's thinking about something else he'd like a bite of 👀 👀
simon doesn't even have to give you a verbal response, he just opens his mouth and you slide in a delicate little bite of baguette and brie with a drizzle of honey on top into his mouth. he chews and chews, and relishes it. simon's never been one for 'fancy' food like this, but the fact that you prepared it for him warms his heart. it's been a long time since someone's made food for him. simon nods thoughtfully and takes a sip of his whiskey. "that's fuckin' gourmet right there," he says.
you giggle again. "im so glad you like it!!" you say. it sends a chill down simon's back.
oh, he could get used to this.
#simon riley#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#simon ghost riley#ghost x reader#reader insert#call of duty
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Hi, I wanted to make a request about Luffy x female reader. The reader is feminine but clumsy, emotionally-reserved, unexperienced and kind-hearted. Smart and funny, with a soft spot for Luffy. . As for the plot, "she fell first, but he fell harder", slice of life with a little angst would be perfect. I'm desperate for fanfiction about first experience in everything kinda stuff. I'm not a minor, so it would be very good to see some sensual and awkward smut. I would be glad to read anything you'll write about Luffy x female!reader and I hope that you liked my request (^o^)/ sorry for bad english
It's Okay ~ Luffy x F!Reader
First of all, thank you for being my first request, you made me really happy and I'm really sorry for the really long wait, we had a really rough couple of months. Also, it's the first smut I've ever written so read this with patience. English is not my first language either and I'm sorry for any mistakes. Anyways, I had fun writing this, I hope you'll like it, lots of love!
Words: +3k
Warnings: hurt/comfort, op spoilers, ptsd, mentions of character death, comfort sex, smut with plot, oral (f!receiving), virginity loss (both), unprotected sex, cockwarming, fluffy ending kinda?, no use of Y/N
MDNI
Quiet days on The Thousand Sunny were as rare as mythical zoans. Not only because of dangerous encounters but also because of how calm the whole crew was today. Even your walking ray of sunshine captain was not as wild as usual. But you couldn’t really complain as you could focus on your task in silence.
The tailor of the crew, responsible of sewing, stitching and mending every piece of fabric on the ship. And that included the sails. Strong winds the night before managed a large tear and the next island was a couple of days away. So you had a job to do. Standing on a rope ladder, you effortlessly worked through the sails with elegance. Every piece of fabric in your home deserved care, as you’d always say when you mended the torn up clothes of your crew mates.
You were proud you could provide your family with loved and cared clothes and everything else they needed, top priority along with the dream of becoming the best tailor the seas had ever seen. Your mind wandered away to the smile of your captain every time you placed the fixed straw hat you came to love so much on his head, while you automatically repaired the sail. But your gracefulness started and ended at the needle in your hand.
Looking away into the sea for one second resulted in you prickling your finger. The sudden feeling caused you to lose your step and balance and you yelped as you fell from the ladder, expecting a hard fall and a trip to Chopper’s infirmary. But the land never came, arms wrapping around your frame, drawing you to somebody’s embrace. In fear, you wrapped yourself around your savior’s waist like a koala, your flower patterned dress coming up slightly. Your face went to the crook of his neck for one second, immediately recognizing who it was, and you raised your head to look at him in embarrassment.
“Hi there!”
“Luffy, thank you, I’m so sorry!”
“It’s alright. Was on my way to check if you needed help. Guess I was right.” he said laughing.
You smiled and hugged him tightly as he put you down on the deck. You were embarrassed, part of it because of your own clumsiness, another part because of the way Luffy’s hands lingered on your waist before letting you go.
“Are you almost done? Picked up a new card game from the last island and I want to play with you.”
“Oh, ah, I, I still have some, some work to do...?”
You didn’t. You also didn’t know why you said that. You said a lot of stupid stuff lately. You loved spending time with your captain, especially when you knew there wouldn’t be a crazy fight following you in a few hours. Falling in love with his brown eyes, his goofy and brave personality and his loyalty to his friends was the reason you said yes to joining the Straw Hats after you helped them save Robin in Ennies Lobby.
But ever since you returned to Sabaody, it’s gotten harder to contain the feelings for your first love. The other night while you two were keeping watch and talking about things you loved, an “I love you” escaped your lips without thinking, proceeding to an inept attempt to cover it by saying how you loved he is such a loyal friend. You felt the blush rushing to your cheeks as you looked again on his face and noticed something you were seeing more and more these days. His trademark smile was reduced to a small upward line and in his eyes there was a gleam of sadness. You couldn’t have that.
“It’s fine, I’ll see you around later I guess-”
“On another note, I can always finish it later. Let’s go play, Captain!”
And you grabbed his arm, running like a child playing chase across the deck toward Nami’s tangerine trees, laughing as you tripped on your two left feet, Luffy holding you upwards and laughing in the process, always there to catch you.
~
The ship was in motion, light rain falling from the night sky as Luffy found himself walking aimlessly on the empty deck. His black hair tousled, his straw hat dangling from the string around his neck, his posture slumped, trying to find some sort of relief in the breeze that hit his face. His trembling hands grip the railing, his gaze lost towards the vast ocean, unable to back focus on anything but his most recent nightmare. Memories of Ace's death spreading, like poison in his veins, once again. He tried to steady his breathing but failed as hot tears run down his cheeks, silent sobs leaving his body, trying not to wake up his crew. He hadn’t talked to anyone about Marineford. There was no reason for his friends to see him in that weakened state. He could tell that everyone felt guilty because they weren’t there for him, he didn’t want to feed that ugly feeling inside them.
You felt restless, worry prickling your skin like a hundred needles at once. Sleep wouldn’t do you a favor so you hoped off bed to get some fresh air on the deck and some moments of peace to think. Luffy’s sad eyes lingered in your thoughts. You couldn’t help but think about how much he had changed since you first met. You remembered the scrawny, eager, brave boy he was. Now his hair was longer and spikier, and he looked stronger than ever before, he was almost a man. Despite his carefree looks, a lot had changed about him. Yes, he was still as eager and resilient and determinated as ever, yet more mature, as much as maturity applied to him. And that big scar across his chest was the only testament of the fight he gave alone two years ago, as he hadn't talked to any of you about it. Not that he had to. You all knew you would wholeheartedly give him the support in any form he’d need. You’d do what you knew best. Take care of the people you loved. And from the moment you joined the crew, you knew your heart belonged to the straw hat captain.
You spotted Luffy in the front of the ship. It was unusual for him to be up and alone this late at night. Your eyes filled with concern, you walked closer to him as you noticed the trembling in his form, worry rising in your chest. Your hand caressing his shoulder slightly, you didn’t want to scare him or make him feel worse.
"Luffy?" you asked softly, voice barely audible over the wind.
Luffy wiped his tear streaked face quickly and tried to control his heavy breathing, wanting to be like his usual self, even if he knew it was too late for acting.
“I…”
He took a deep breath trying to hold it all in. He was the one that was supposed to help people through their crying and problems, to protect them. He couldn’t protect his friends in Sabaody, he couldn’t save his brother. He swore he’d never let anything like those things happen again. He didn’t want to be seen as weak. Not again. Not in front of his crew. Not in front of you.
“It’s okay, Luffy.”
His eyes met yours, a warm and safe gaze, always inviting and full of love, ready to be a place of comfort and joy to anyone that needed it. You wrapped your arms around his shoulder and back, taking him in a comforting embrace. His arms went immediately around you, his face buried in the crook of your neck as silent sobs left him once again. He hugged you tightly, hyperventilating as he let every last feeling of grief and pain out. You felt your eyes well too, the pain your favorite person carried alone enough to make you want to scream.
“It’s okay… you’re okay… it wasn’t your fault…”
“I couldn’t… I thought you… were all dead… and… I was right there… I couldn’t save him… he left… in my arms… it should have been me!”
Your heart ached listening to Luffy's sobs, tears running down your face as well. You pulled back slightly, cupping his face in your hands, and looked into his red, puffy eyes.
“Listen to me! Don’t say that again, ever! We all know you’d never let us down. You did everything you could, Luffy, you always do, and it’s enough for us." You said, voice shaking, carrying all the sincerity in the world. "And you always were there for him. You gave everything you had! He loved you so much and you saved him because you showed him how loved and cherished he was! You're still doing everything you can to keep his memory alive. That's what he would want! Don’t do this to yourself, please.”
You wiped the tears off his face and squeezed his cheeks like you usually did when you shared food and laughs together, managing to drag out a small smile from the boy.
“How about we go grab some tea and biscuits from the kitchen before Sanji comes down from his watch and go to my room?” you suggested, knowing Luffy would never say no to food.
“It’s on!”
Stealth wasn’t your strongest suit as you somehow always managed to hit on something. And with Luffy beside you, havoc was almost always certain. Getting out of the kitchen as fast as you could, before Sanji’s yells could reach you, you run into the ship, down to your handicraft’s room. The warmth of the cabin enveloped Luffy, feeling a little more like his usual self now, as he took in the room. That’s were all your great works laid, with needles, threads and sewing machines all over the place. From clothes and blankets to large embroideries hanging from the walls. You laid a soft, fluffy blanket on the ground to sit on. You sipped your scolding tea as Luffy munched on a cookie, taking in your works.
“I don’t know how you can make beautiful things like these.”
“I’ve practiced it a lot. And I love it. I’m glad you like it, Captain.”
You smiled widely, gaining a toothy grin from him.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For always being here.”
You were thinking your next words for a moment before moving the cups and plate from the blanket, taking his shoulders gently as you both laid on the ground, your eyes looking at each other, taking his hand into yours.
“It's alright to not be fine, you know… I'll always be here for you, no matter what.”
“It’s… I’m not thinking about it most of the time… I just have nightmares… it’s hard sometimes.”
“And that’s completely logical, Luffy, you’ve been through hell! I collapsed when I heard the news and couldn’t be with you. I would have run to you if I could. I love you so much and I’m sorry I wasn’t there and…”
You were the one tearing up now, cheeks red from embarrassment as the words slipped through your mouth without thinking. You knew Luffy would be shattered when you heard about Ace. The only thing you wanted was to hug him until you pulled all his pieces back together. He met your gaze. Luffy was never interested in romance. He didn’t thought he needed it. Until he met you and for the first time, he wanted someone to join his crew not only because he wanted them as a friend and they’d be a great addition, but because he felt something different, something he couldn’t quite understand. The only thing he knew was that he loved you a little differently than the rest of his friends. It was his turn to brush the tears off your face now and you melted from his touch. You tried to speak but before you could, his hand, warm and slightly trembling, cup your cheek. His lips pressed into yours, just for a moment, before drawing back only inches from your face.
“I think I love you too.”
Your eyes widened in surprise, heart pounding against your ribs. Never had you thought you’d hear those words from Luffy. Of course, you knew he loved everyone in the crew, but this felt different. You felt like you would burst into flames as you blushed even more.
“You, you do?!”
“Yeah… you’re sweet and strong… always by my side… you’re very important to me…”
You let out a gasp of surprise as you hugged him tightly and crushed your lips into his clumsily, both of you laughing at your enthusiasm. Small, sweet kisses evolved into longer, more passionately ones and soon you were underneath him, his hands caressing your thigh beneath your dress, your hands slowly pushing his vest off of him.
“Are you okay?”
“I am, you?”
“Me too.”
Soon, your clothes landed somewhere else in the room as you felt him caressing your skin everywhere and you gasped into the kiss, him taking advantage of your parted lips to push his tongue into your mouth, tangling it messily with yours. His lips travelled down your neck and lower, soon to be between your legs. A feeling of self-consciousness crept over you as you closed your legs and he smiled up at you as he caressed your thigh.
“Hey, it’s okay, we can stop if you want.”
“No, I want this, I’ve just… never do this before…”
“Neither do I. We’ll find it together. But I want you to be comfortable. You can stop me if you don’t feel okay.”
You smile down at him and relaxed a bit, allowing him to spread your legs and start kissing the inside of your thighs. It felt so good to share another experience with him, and his touch was gentler than you thought it would be. He positioned your thighs on his shoulders and before you could react, his mouth was on you, his tongue licking a stripe before latching onto your clit. Your head fell back immediately as a choked out moan slipped through your mouth, one hand flying to his hair, pulling on his locks gently as the other grasped the blanket beneath you. His eyes were on you, his look was magnetic and focused on the task of making you feel good. A finger circling your tight hole, it pushed inside you slowly as he sucked on your clit, making you whimper from the pleasurable feeling. The stretching inside you new and welcomed, a combination of his mouth and a second finger breaching in has your orgasm approaching faster than you expected. He curled his fingers upwards, hitting repeatedly a spot you had never reached before on your own and it pushed you over the edge unexpectedly. He smiles against you as small moans left your mouth, your whole body shaking, your head spinning.
Coming down from your high, he crawls back on top of you and kisses you passionately, your tongues intertwining. You can taste yourself through the kiss, and it makes you long for more. He breaks the kiss and smiles down at you.
“How was that?”
“Luffy, it was… amazing. How did you know-”
“Didn’t. Just did what felt right. Are you okay to continue?”
You nodded eagerly and he grinned at you, his lips back on yours again. Your hand sneaks between your bodies to grab his dick, gently pumping him up and down, bringing him close to your folds. He moans into the kiss and swats your hand away, gliding himself between your now soaked pussy, his tip touching your clit every time, sending small jolts of pleasure down your spine. He breaks the kiss, his face only inches apart from yours, staring into your eyes.
“You’re sure?”, he whispered.
“Yes captain, please…”
A shiver run through his body as he hears your plead, and he moves his tip against your entrance, pushing in. A small gasp escape you and a sharp hiss leaves his mouth as he slowly slides into you, his movements awkward but gentle, the feeling of your warmth around him making him slightly tremble as he bottoms out. It felt slightly uncomfortable for you at first but the pain you expected to feel was nowhere to be found. His lips were on your neck, nibbling and sucking gently while his arms roamed your body, trying to make you relax as he stayed still, waiting for you to adjust to him. A few moments passed and your hand cupped his chin, bringing his lips to yours in a sweet kiss.
“Feels better now?”
“Yes, Luffy… please, move…”
He smiled down at you and placed another soft kiss on your lips as he began to move, taking it slow and tender, setting a rhythm that made you gasp, the pleasure spreading over you. One of his hands on yours, intertwining your fingers as the other grabbed your thigh to keep you against him, his forehead on yours, eyes closed as you both relished the feeling of your bodies pressed together. His speed picked up slightly as he finds a steady rhythm and you moan his name, your legs wrapping around his waist to keep him close. He smiles widely and kisses you deeply, his tongue exploring your mouth, your fingers running through his hair, gently tugging at his dark locks.
One hand gripped your thigh rougher now, pushing it upwards, the shift in position allowing him to go deeper, the other sneaking between your bodies to rub at your clit. Your face buries in the crook of his neck, trying to choke down your moans, the knot in your stomach tightening as his thrusts grow faster and sloppier, you feel that he’s close too.
Your lips connect again in a messy kiss and your back arches as you come undone, crying out through the kiss, your nails dragging down his back. He breaks the kiss, his lips trailing down your jaw and neck, his hands grab your hips to drag you to him as he fucks you through your high, his hips stuttering, feeling your walls squeezing him tight, pushing him over the edge with you.
You stay like this for a while, hands wrapped around each other, his face buried in the crook of your neck, savoring the moment. He places a tender kiss on your cheek and turns to face you, his head on your shoulder.
“How do you feel?”
“I feel… wonderful…” you say with a sigh as you smile up at him. His hand caressing you cheek, he placed another sweet kiss before stretching his hand to grab another blanket nearby, covering the both of you. He then lies flat on top of you again, his arms wrapping around you, and closes his eyes, still inside you.
“Luff, we…”
“Can’t move, I feel snuggly right now.”
You laugh softly as you hug him back, feeling his breath slow down as he slowly falls asleep, your eyelids getting heavy as well, a content smile playing on your lips.
“Goodnight dummy…”
#luffy x reader#one piece#one piece x reader#luffy x you#luffy smut#one piece smut#luffy x female reader#monkey d luffy#monkey d luffy x you#monkey d luffy x reader#one piece fanfiction#luffy x y/n#monkey d luffy x y/n#luffy x reader smut
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I'm having a shit day, I need Quinn to fix it
Please and thanks
Rain, rain, go away, come again...when you didn't have a hundred errands to run and were short on time to do them. Naturally, it would pour the entire time you were out and about, and your umbrella had decided to break the first time you went to use it. It really set the tone for the rest of the day; a terrible foreshadowing you had hoped wouldn't be the case.
The only reason you were out running those errands in the first place was because you had taken the day off to make sure everything was nice for when Quinn got back home. You knew he was going to be exhausted after finishing another six straight games on the road. Plus, you wanted to enjoy the evening with him knowing nothing would be looming in the back of your mind that would take away from your time together. However, since the minute you got up it was like everything was stacked against you. You had slept through your alarm, getting up almost two hours later than you had intended. You thought you had plugged in your phone but hadn't make a proper connection so your battery was at 12% to start the day. And to add insult to injury (literally), you had dropped a glass while in the kitchen and had cut your hand while trying to pick up the pieces.
Today was proving to be one of those days that were best spent at home, but unfortunately, that wouldn't be the case for you. By this point, your phone was now sitting at 6%, because you realized, after you had left the parking garage, that the charger you left in your car was in Quinn's. You just hoped it would hold on long enough to get you home.
You would be stopped at a red light, mid rush hour, when a message would ding in. It was Quinn and the dreaded text you didn't want to come across your phone until you were already back at his apartment.
"Hey baby, we just touched down. I'll see you soon. I love you."
"I might not be there when you get home. Stuck in traffic. </3 I love you, too. <3 <3 Also, phone is about dead. >:("
"Just be careful. I've missed you."
"I've missed you, too."
- - -
Getting everything out of the car had been hard enough, but carrying them with your cut palm was the worst. Being half asleep and dealing with broken glass was not a good combination, something you would note for the future. Sure, you couldn't have texted Quinn to see if he would help you, which you knew he would have, but you were determined to get it done yourself.
When you stepped into the elevator, from the parking garage, all you could think of was "please don't break down. I do not want to walk up the stairs. I do not want to be trapped in an elevator with a dead phone." Thinking it was a bad idea to put such thoughts into the Universe, you'd just count floors instead until you reached Quinn's.
It was a struggle to unlock the door but you had managed though your hand was burning and you were pretty sure you were bleeding again. Just something else that would get tended to later. Once inside, you'd drop everything at the door and Quinn would come from the bedroom to greet you.
"Oh sweetheart, why didn't you tell me you were downstairs? I would have helped you with all of this." He wrapped his arms around you and you melt into his body. "I have missed you so much."
"I'm so glad you're home." All of a sudden and without warning, you begin to cry. Likely a culmination of trash sleep, stress, no food, and pain. Your body and emotions were just fried; not to mention you hated when he was gone for so long.
"What's wrong, baby?" Quinn would say softly, gently tightening his hold on you. "Are you alright?" Anytime you were having a rough day, he was the first person to notice and always did everything he could to make you feel better.
"No," you said, hiding your face in his neck. You weren't ready to have him see how much you were struggling.
"Why don't you go sit, hmm? I'll get this."
"I wanted to have everything done for you but today has been awful."
Quinn pulls away from you just enough to tip your chin up towards his face. You can't escape him now and the look on your face makes his puppy eyes heavy with emotion. "Oh, baby~"
He kisses you several times, each one of them sweeter than the last, yet the tears still continue to fall from your cheeks. "Come on, this stuff can wait."
Taking your non-bandaged hand, he ushers you to the sofa where he insists you sit in his lap so you can be as close to him as possible. You loved moments like these just on better circumstances than today had given you.
"Baby, you're bleeding. What happened?"
You had reached up to brush some hair from your eyes when he caught sight of the bandage now tinged bright red in the center. You dropped your hand to your leg and shook your head. "It's nothing. Just a clumsy accident."
"Let me see."
You refuse, sniffling and trying to hold back the welling tears.
"Please?"
Damn those eyes of his; damn the tone of his voice that just took your breath away. You could never truly tell him no and this was no different. You'd turn your palm upwards when you presented it to him, scared it was worse that you thought it was initially.
"May I look at it?"
You just nod, before laying your head against his shoulder. You didn't want to see it and you knew him pulling back the adhesive of the bandage was going to hurt, even though he had the softest touch.
Quinn was always so careful with you; always asking for permission especially if it would potentially cause you pain. Slowly he'd remove the bandage and you would wince against the discomfort even though he did everything he could to make it easy on you. "How did this happen?"
Quinn's tone conveyed deep worry and hurt and that didn't give you the reassurance you were hoping for.
"This morning. I got up late, and was half asleep taking my vitamins and I guess my hand just stopped working and I dropped it. It shattered everywhere. I didn't realize I had grabbed the raw edge until it was too late and I cut myself."
"Oh sweetheart," Quinn whispered laying his head against yours. "Want me to fix you up?"
"I'll get it."
"Please?"
Twice now, he had used that word with (that) tone, and twice now you would fold without another chance to resist. Again, you would silently nod, letting him slip out from under you while he disappeared into the bathroom for a few moments. You remembered how you had left it and it made you feel worse, but when he returned, the only thing that mattered to him was making sure you were alright.
"You said today was awful, how come?" He talked to you while he worked so to keep you from focusing solely on your hand and the pain. Everything he did was so thoughtful.
"I stayed up too late watching The First 48, then I slept through my alarms this morning, so I was two hours behind. I guess I hadn't clicked my charger into my phone fully so it didn't charge. I dropped the glass. I didn't get the apartment cleaned. I didn't get the laundry put away. I forgot my charger was in your car. My umbrella broke." With each added reason for the bad day it made you more emotional to the point that he had to stop cleaning the cut to lay a hand on your leg and try to calm you.
"Shhh, baby, baby, it's okay. None of that matters now. I didn't expect you to be waiting for me at the door. I'm just glad you're here now, but I'm sorry you had such a hard day. The apartment is fine, please, don't worry about it."
"But...I left the bathroom~"
"I don't care about it. Honest. I want you to feel welcome here; I want it to be your home. Home should feel lived in." Quinn leaned forward to kiss you yet you frown. You still felt so bad for everything not being done like you wanted it to be. "If you're here, that's all I want."
"You're so nice," you squeak out, hiding your face with your free hand. You don't realize you were breaking his heart, feeling so bad about missing your self-imposed marks.
"Sweetheart, will you look at me, please?"
Dropping your hand, you let your eyes be exposed though you keep it pressed to your lips.
"You're the only thing I care about when I'm here. If you're okay, I'm okay."
"But I'm not okay."
"And I'm not either. May I finish this for you?" His smile was so sweet, so heartfelt as he held your injured hand in both of his. When you answered "yes, please" Quinn brought it to his lips before finishing what he had started. With each new step of the process, he'd check in with you before continuing. He didn't feel that you had any glass in the wound or that you needed stitches, but he didn't want you to do too much the next few days.
"Alright, babe, all done."
"Thank you."
"Of course. Anything for you," his smile continues. "How about you go change your clothes, get into something comfortable and we'll have a lazy evening in bed. I'll get the groceries put away and we'll order take out. How's that?"
"Do you want some help?"
"No babe, I can get it. It won't take me that long, but thank you. I'll meet you in there, okay?"
"Okay." You give him a kiss as a thank you, later apologizing for your mild breakdown earlier.
"It's alright. You're only human, sweetheart and you had a bad day. I can't say I'd do much better. I'd never judge you for anything like that," Quinn replies, holding your face for another kiss. "I promise."
#so sorry you're having a bad day - anon#I hope this helps a little#quinn hughes#quinn hughes imagine#quinn hughes x reader#quinn hughes fic#quinn hughes one shot#quinn hughes fanfiction#hockey fic#hockey fanfiction#hockey oneshot#hockey imagine#nhl imagine#nhl one shot#nhl fic#nhl fanfiction
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I thought I was done talking about Style in THK's episode 2, but jokes on me, no I'm not.
I keep thinking about Style and Bison's first interaction and how pure and sweet it was. In the middle of the mess that is this 4-way whirlwind of lies and deception, it felt like a refreshingly honest conversation between two people who are only accidentally lying to each other.
Style seems incredibly earnest when he tells Bison that Kant is "down bad" for him. It doesn't feel like Style is 'wingmanning' Kant here; or if he is, it isn't meant to be malicious or to mislead Bison. It feels like someone being friendly with his bff's crush and hoping that they can get along because he thinks this one's going to stick around.
Similarly, when Bison tells Style to go for Fadel for real, it feels very honest and earnest. Setting aside whatever games Bison is playing with Kant, Bison seems to genuinely want someone for his big brother, and not just so he can date who he wants or as a distraction.
It's also interesting how Style's protest is that he can't see himself actually gaining feelings for Fadel because in a way there's nothing to recommend Fadel to Style at this point. As far as Style is concerned, Fadel is arrogant and condescending, rude and ungrateful (after all, he did replace a bunch of parts in Fadel's car for free), a stick in the mud about his brother dating, and can't seem to take a joke.
We see the polite, pleasant and reasonable Fadel, but Style doesn't.
Which is why I've been obsessing over Style's expressions immediately after the conversation with Bison. Bison's parting insight is "He's rough on the outside, and on the inside," and I think he accidentally piqued Style's curiosity with that line. Because why does Bison still want his brother to have a "real" relationship, then? What makes Fadel worth loving, despite (what Style thinks is) nothing to recommend him?
Ugh I wish I knew how to make gifs because BLESS @airenyah FOR MAKING THESE GIFS!!! Dunk goes through a whole sequence of expressions here that suggests a shift happens in the way he's thinking of Fadel. There's a pensive and thoughtful look and then almost like, "Oh what the hell, might as well see where this goes" kind of amusement at the end. And I think the reason he has this shift is because he's realised that Bison clearly loves his brother and that must mean that there's more to Fadel then his initial impression of the man.
It's interesting that his next attempt at messing with Fadel actually invites Fadel to play along with it. It's so much tamer and more private than the previous attempts because he isn't actively trying to humiliate Fadel this time. And it works?? Fadel engages in the roleplay, indulges Style's ridiculousness, actually chops faster (whilst the most hysterical series of minute expressions play over Fadel's face <3). Perhaps this was Style testing the waters: can Fadel engage with something playful and not take everything way too seriously? Huh, turns out, he can!
The next time Style shows up around Fadel, he's circled back to that playful over-the-top flirting that characterised the garage scene. This is the first time in this episode that Style is actually flirting. Every other time was just to frustrate/humiliate Fadel but notice how he's actively trying to look attractive to Fadel now? He's putting all his best (ahem) assets on display, and poor Fadel has no real protection against this. And, oh, Style is loving this! He's gleefully lapping up every single time Fadel fails to completely hide that he's affected by him.
This, though. THIS precisely is the point I think Style decides that he really does want Fadel for himself. There's so much playing out over Style's face: the determination to push things further, the delighted surprise to see Fadel so rattled, the razor sharp focus, and then desire. Style has finally broken through Fadel's "roughness" and he loves it.
If that uncle hadn't walked in, I'm convinced Fadel would have let Style do anything he wanted, and I think Style knew that.
It's the first time Style immediately chases after Fadel when he walks away from him, and he's absolutely delighted when Fadel all but chokes him against the lockers because that means he still has Fadel within reach.
The whole conversation about "love at first sight" is breathtaking because it feels like Style is discovering what's going to make Fadel crack as he says it and realising just how much he wants this. And no, I don't think he's in love with Fadel yet (not by a LONG shot), but I think he realises that he wants Fadel to fall in love with him. This is such a shift from what he expressed in the diner to Bison. In the diner, there was no hope, no chance for this.
The kisses catch Style by surprise too: you can see that he's just reacting, pushing to see where Fadel will finally draw the line. Because Fadel kisses back in the first kiss and actually fails to push Style away for quite some time in the 2nd kiss (the camera purposely lingers on the way Fadel's hands hover over Style's waist without shoving him back). The third kiss is the point Fadel finally starts fighting, and in the immidate aftermath you can see Style watching so carefully again. And Fadel nearly kisses him again, you see the way Fadel's eyes drop to Style's lips, the way they both freeze and linger in the moment for that one second. The way Style registers that moment and it leaves Style shaken himself.
It's so interesting that this is how we leave Style in this episode (we only see Fadel's fantasy version of Style after this point). I've got two possible interpretations for this line:
Style possibly catches on that Fadel is more dangerous than he seems. Maybe just from vibes, maybe from something in the way Fadel threatened him that kicks off some kind of fearful instinct. This could be what makes Style start questioning if Kant told him the full story and lead to whatever scene it is where Style demands answers in the episode 3 preview.
Alternatively, perhaps Fadel is starting to become real to Style in ways he wasn't before. Fadel was almost a caricature of a man, one which Style didn't like very much before, and that made it easier to fool around with him. But this? This almost tortured man who clearly wants Style but can't seem to give into that desire? Something is going on and Style isn't sure it's worth the game to either of them anymore. Because maybe Style recognises that he's more affected than he should be. And that has implications that Style was not ready for.
#this is also secretly an appreciation post for Dunk's fucking stellar acting in this episode because taking all these screenshots really#made me aware of how quickly Style shifts through expressions but also how CLEAR they are??#Style is SO expressive - and not just in his eyes or lips; but the way he moves and tilts his head and body#and then there's the use of tone and inflection; the way Dunk DELIVERS his lines that communicates what Style is thinking/feeling too#there's SO MUCH going on in every single scene it makes my brain whirl when I try to parse it#and tbh I already noticed Dunk doing this in SIMM - esp in regard to using his VOICE to convey emotions the way#Dao had a lot of hurt and anger that would bleed through in crucial moments and Dunk was already very good at that#but I'm really loving how much of that is evident because Style is a much more expressive character with very high energy/intensity#and it allows Dunk to really flex and show that skill off <3#the heart killers#the heart killers the series#style sattawat#fadel#fadelstyle#dunk natachai#joong archen#joongdunk#thk meta#style meta#hui talks thk#hui talks thai bl#thk ep 2
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pasta a la erik karlsson
THE INGREDIENTS: pasta. alfredo. meat sauce. raw (red) onion. hot sauce (cholula, judging by the video). ketchup (heinz, i think?). a little salt and pepper.
THE RECIPE: boil pasta, chop the onion, serve with all sauces. eat and not die.
hi my name is emily and welcome to jackass
instead of liveblogging this process, i'm just going to add my thoughts to one big post to make it cleaner <3
6:48 pm: the pasta is boiling. i keep looking over at the Pile of Sauces and giggling. i have whispered "what the fuck" to myself a few times now. i'm cooking the whole box, because we're all having spaghetti tonight, but i'm the only one brave enough to try... This
6:54 pm: erik did not mention this as part of the meal but i poured myself a glass of rose. the onion has been chopped. i tried to get them chunky to match the video but that's like too much man, at least have your onions DICED why are they in CHUNKS ERIK
7:05 pm: writing these time stamps i'm realizing i'm a slow cooker because i keep getting distracted by my playlist (rn it's rebel rebel by david bowie). i am starting the alfredo sauce and it's sinking in that i'm about to actually. eat this. like a few bites, there's no way i'm eating this whole plate (this is NOT foreshadowing)
7:07 pm: i almost panicked because i didn't think i had enough milk for the alfredo but surprise, i had EXACTLY enough. this is a good omen.
7:15 pm: everything is done, i am just waiting for the meat sauce to warm up. i'm still whispering "what the fuck to myself".
7:21 pm: it's time. to assemble.
i grabbed a small plate, but i'm realizing. maybe i should have grabbed less. this is revolting. and i'm not even done adding things
added and mixed. i'm laughing. erik eats this. before every game? it overwhelmingly smells like cholula which is fine but oh my god. oh my god? no. no. this poor man's stomach. oh my god
7:30 pm: i've put it off. it's time to take a bite
IT'S JUST. IT'S JUST A LOT OKAY. THIS IS A LOT OF FLAVOR AND NONE OF IT REALLY GOES TOGETHER? it's like way too acidic. biting into a red onion is a terrible surprise. it's too saucy and it doesn't feel Good in my stomach, like i have taken two bites and it's settled so heavily already. okay no three bites. it's... it's just upsetting. this is an upsetting experience. what the fuck is wrong with you erik karlsson. you eat this and then you go and play professional hockey?
FOUR BITES IN AND IT DOES NOT GET BETTER. why does he do this to himself like can we send someone to check on him fr i am genuinely concerned about this man like i made this meal for the bit but he willingly does this to himself?????? 82 games a season???????
IN CONCLUSION: i managed five (5) bites. they were all bad. don't make this. someone arrest erik karlsson immediately i am so serious.
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hello!!! slight trigger warning for SA (and i would like to preface that you do not have to write this if this makes you uncomfortable!!)— can i pls request blue lock characters (isagi, nagi, chigiri and any others of your choice) finding out about reader’s history of being SAed and comforting them :') ?
again, you don’t have to if you don’t wish to. i love your writing, take care of yourself! <3
hallo!! don't worry, 'm perfectly okay with writing these :3 KINDA OOC NAGI?? i'm so sorry i've never written anything like this before and i really don't want to write anything that would be uncomfortable so i made sure to avoid any sensitive topics at ALL.. BUT I STILL HOPE YOU LIKE IT!!! im sosososo sorry if it's not what you wanted,, if you wanna change anything feel free to ask me again!!! i'll definitely try to change it according to your request
warnings: might be ooc, nagi's might be done a little overboard (sorry), mentions of scooting closer to chigiri.
ISAGI YOICHI:
he nearly missed his goal.
"...what?" everything about isagi was screaming incredulous. "you— ..are you, serious? you're not joking with me right, 'cause if you are i'll.. i'll be really mad at you."
though, the way your lips pursed, and the way your eyes held the slightest throb of guilt just made isagi melt.
"i believe you, (name)." he sputtered out the instant he heard your silence.
"...sorry, i've never— been in this situation before but," he paused, heeling a soccer ball up into his palms.
the ball nudged, so gently against the borders of your stomach and chest. "i'm here for you. ...if you need it, of course.!"
...your hands reached out slightly—they didn't need to stretch much to accept the football prodded at your abdomen.
it's a simple, straightforward gesture, but it meant everything—a symbolism that, for as long as soccer exists, for as long as there is even a single football in the world, isagi's with you,
and he knows it'll exist forever.
SEISHIRO NAGI:
"...really?" nagi's game was still running, but not for long once the jarring sound of a bold "game over" disrupted his surprise—nagi turned off his game immediately. he made sure to choose his words, for once. "...you should've told me sooner, i wouldn't have been all over you without asking if i'd known..."
"does that mean we can't cuddle 'nymore..?" nagi'd sulked, but he wasn't waiting nor demanding an answer from you. you'd find yourself under a pool of blankets almost immediately.
he wasn't quite sure whether you would want him to physically comfort you after that confession, so instead of him cuddling you, he'd let your (his) blankets do the hugging.
"...we can stop the (name) limousine, or the nagi limousine. and the carrying, and cuddling. 'nless you want to, of course. whenever you're ready, (name). i can wait."
CHIGIRI HYOMA:
"...and it's been how long?" the air wafting noises of a hair dryer had come to a halt, chigiri's undivided attention solely locked onto you now.
"don't need to answer that." he stopped you with a palm before your face. "did you know? it takes about twenty-eight to forty-two days for skin cells to fully replace and regenerate over old ones."
he flicked the switch of his drying device until it popped the middle—a setting of "not too cold, not too hot."
"you can say you've been completely rebirth after forty-two days. come, scoot closer." he patted the spot in front of him, hands gently tapping on the freshly tumble-dried sheets to offer you a seat. "want me to dry your hair?"
#chigiri hyoma#chigiri hyoma x reader#hyoma chigiri#hyoma chigiri x reader#nagi seishiro#seishiro nagi#seishiro nagi x reader#nagi seishiro x reader#isagi yoichi#isagi yoichi x reader#yoichi isagi#yoichi isagi x reader#blue lock x reader#bluelock x reader#bllk x reader
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i've been struck by inspiration
here's my ranking of twisted wonderland students by how likely i'd be to let them behind the wheel of a car. this is gonna be a long one bc i'm including explanations of course. (and i know that in-game it's rare to be able to drive, we're ignoring that and pretending it's common to drive around)
1. Leona: canonically, he can drive and drive well. i feel like this was an easy one. but it makes sense!
2. Vil: he just has so many random skills that i feel like driving would be no problem at all. honestly, there's not much that i think vil CAN'T do
3. Trey: everything about him screams Responsible Driver. he would definitely play chauffeur for heartslabyul whenever they need to go somewhere. AND he'd have snacks in the glove compartment. 10/10 ride
4. Jamil: he can absolutely drive well - near perfect i'd argue. what's the alternative? let KALIM drive? get real. it's his duty to get where he needs to go safely
5. Jack: the self-discipline that this boy possesses is unrivaled. he would be locked in behind the wheel. he spent so long becoming the best driver he can be and by god, he's gonna prove it
6. Deuce: LISTEN TO ME, LISTEN! he's really good on that blastcycle which is more dangerous and difficult (said as a former bike/atv guy). a car is nothing to him. plus he's on his Honor Student streak so he's trying his best. my only worry is speed. slow it down, friend
7. Epel: similar to deuce. farm kids learn to drive really early in their lives. HOWEVER... driving safely?? hmmmm... his biggest flaws are going too fast and whipping around curves when no one else is on the road
8. Riddle: he would definitely follow all the road rules. to the letter. every trip would take an extra 30 minutes to an hour. no music, windows up, silence. he won't even let YOU be on your phone lest he become distracted. also ROAD RAGE. interstate driving would get very scary
9. Ortho: fuck it, let the robot give it a shot
10. Azul: i feel like once he figured out the mechanics, he would be fine on the road. however, if he got pulled over he would definitely argue with the cop and get us both arrested. so... i'm gonna pass
11. Jade: yes, we're getting where we need to go. but... nefariously. and there's something in the trunk. i feel like he'd also randomly go "oops" just to freak out his passengers. "what do you mean OOPS?" "don't worry about it :)"
12. Ruggie: there's a wildness to my boy that drove his ranking down. he would definitely drive a jeep with the doors off. music blasting, wind whipping around everywhere. it would be a fairly safe drive but not a particularly enjoyable one. also i would fall out
13. Silver: i don't know, i feel like he would be chill. i put him low bc briar valley doesn't have cars so his driving education would be quite scarce and he'd be a new driver. but he could get the job done. probably
14. Sebek: similar to silver but he needs to relax. malleus is fine, we're just going to walmart
15. Ace: he just gives off the vibe of "16-year-old kid in the car his dad bought for him." never lets anyone merge, hits curbs, can never figure out the speed limit, etc, etc. even worse if deuce is in the car! "ace, watch out for the mailbox!" "don't tell me what to- *BANG*"
16. Cater: gay people can't drive
17. Rook: distracted driver. god forbid there's wildlife around, he would turn 180 in his seat to look at it. this Oh Shit Handle is getting some use. also i KNOW his car would be shit. i don't care that his family is rich, he's driving a 2003 hyundai sonata
18. Floyd: LISTEN! there's a 50/50 shot that everything goes perfectly fine. like as long as he's in a good mood, he can get the job done. you definitely just have to check in before you buckle up. get ready to tuck and roll
19. Malleus: what is a car?
20. Idia: there's so much anxiety there i feel like one thing would go slightly left and he'd almost pass out. he's white-knuckling the wheel, praying that no one else is on the road. it's alright buddy, you can be a passenger princess
21. Kalim: No.
22. Grim + Yuu: okay, for this one it's a joint effort. yuu at the wheel and grim on the pedals. there's so much chaos and screaming. four-way stops don't exist. yellow lights are green and red lights are yellow. the horn has not stopped honking since the engine started. this is an emergency situation ONLY. like someone is bleeding out in the backseat and no one is answering their phones
23. Lilia: absolutely not. i will walk
#twst#twisted wonderland#twst headcanons#twst heartslabyul#twst savanaclaw#twst octavinelle#twst scarabia#twst pomfiore#twst ignihyde#twst diasomnia
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FROM THE ASHES w. hansol vernon chwe
supernatural horror au + childhood best friends (5.8k)
SUMMARY: in which you and hansol reunite ten years later to face the horrors of the past that left you both scarred and haunted. (reader and hansol centric)
pairing: hansol vernon chwe x fem!reader
featuring: lee chan of seventeen & lee nakyung of fromis
genres: SLOWBURN, angst, kinda horror, supernatural, action, childhood best friends w trauma, set in the 80s
warning(s): crazy amounts of lore, so much slowburn, hurt/comfort, mild descriptions of violence, character death
notes: wrote this purely for my own entertainment after replaying the game the other day. this is inspired by two games actually! it has elements of choices' book called it lives in the woods and romance club's shadows of saintfour. this has some heavy lore but i've done my best to break down most of it so you guys can understand it without playing ♡
if you liked this read, please don't forget to reblog with your thoughts and give it a like !
i. bravery.
it’s late in the evening, and the air feels heavy. you’re standing in front of the old house, the one that’s always felt both like a home and a prison. your small hands are trembling as you clutch the hem of your jacket, eyes scanning the darkened street outside, the distant sounds of the city muffled by the thick fog that has rolled in. you’ve been told not to go out past sunset, that the pisadeira—that thing from the nightmares—will get you. but your mother has been distant for weeks, locked in a room, her eyes wide with fear, always watching the shadows like they’re waiting for something to come.
you know you’re not supposed to be out here. you know the stories. everyone does. don’t go near the flowers. don’t look into the darkness. don’t listen to the whispers. but your feet move before you can think about it, the pull of the unknown stronger than any fear you’ve ever felt. you cross the threshold into the garden, the flowers there too large, too bright, almost alive. your heart races as the petals glisten like they’ve been touched by some forbidden magic, their beauty something both inviting and dangerous.
it’s then that you hear it—the soft voice, like the rustle of leaves in the wind, and you freeze. "come closer."
your breath catches in your throat. you don’t know why you don’t run.
ii. cowardice
hansol is young, barely a year older than you, but already carrying a weight in his chest that most kids his age wouldn’t understand. he doesn’t like to talk about it, the feeling—the one that makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand up when he’s alone in the dark. it’s not fear, exactly, more like a sense that something should be there. a presence. a pressure. something pulling at him from the shadows.
his family has always moved around. never staying in one place too long. too many unanswered questions about his father’s work, too many late nights with hushed conversations. hansol never really thought it was strange, until that one night. the one when he was alone in his room, playing with his toy cars, and he felt the air change. the floorboards creaked under someone’s weight—someone who wasn’t there.
the whispers started soon after. he couldn’t remember when, but they were always there, following him like a second shadow, calling him to the dark corners of the house. come closer. i’m waiting.
he told no one. even when his mother came in to check on him that night, he lied, said everything was fine. but deep down, hansol knew something was wrong. there was something in the dark, something that waited for the right moment to pull him under.
iii. small
the bell rings, and you’re at the gates of the middle school, your heart thumping in your chest for reasons you can’t explain. hansol is standing at the edge of the crowd, his usual stoic expression softening when he sees you. he waves shyly, like he always does, and you can’t help but smile back.
“hey, hansol,” you say, walking up to him with a grin. “you know what’s worse than studying for a pop quiz?”
he raises an eyebrow, the faintest spark of interest in his eyes. “what?”
“studying for a pop quiz with the teacher standing over your shoulder,” you say, laughing at the face he makes. “you’d think they’d give us a break.”
he tries to keep it in, but the smile breaks out anyway, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards. it’s small, but you notice. “you’re a terrible influence,” he says with a shake of his head, but you can see the fondness in his eyes. inside, his chest flutters, and it’s the kind of flutter he wants to squash. but he can’t, not when you’re standing so close, your laughter light in the air, something unspoken between you both.
iv. sleepover
the annual sleepover at your house is always the most anticipated event of the year. even now, with the haunted past of saintfour hanging over your shoulders, it feels like something that should bring comfort. something normal. but things feel different this time.
hansol is the first to arrive, as always, but this time, there’s an unease in his eyes, a look that doesn’t quite belong in a child his age. he brushes it off when you greet him with a teasing smile, ruffling his hair as he steps inside. a small girl follows behind him and you swoop her up in your arms.
"it's not funny, you know," he mutters, brushing off your hand, but the corners of his lips twitch.
“gyul thinks it is, right?” you giggle and so does she, mirroring every expression you make.
hansol rolls his eyes and takes her from you so you could go and get things settled for the others.
as the night wears on after putting the youngest attendee to bed, you and your friends, hansol included, settle into the living room. nakyung is the first to start whispering, chan and hansol are too wrapped up in their snacks and games to notice that the air around you all is growing thicker, heavier.
“hey, do you guys feel that?” you ask, glancing around the room. your voice is shaky, uncertain, but they all brush it off.
“it’s just the storm outside,” nakyung laughs, waving it off. “you’re imagining it.”
but you know what you feel. the chill in the air is different. unnatural. and then you hear it. the soft whispers again, curling around you like smoke. come closer. it’s time to wake up.
before you can react, you feel it—something cold, something sharp, dragging its claws down your neck.
“no!” you scream, stumbling back, but the pain is overwhelming. the petals of the flowers from your nightmares begin to fall, drifting like snowflakes, but the touch of them is suffocating. you gasp, trying to push them away, but it’s no use.
“help! someone help her—!”
your vision dims, everything turning dark as the pain intensifies. you feel yourself slipping, your body falling against the ground as your breath catches in your throat. and then, everything goes black.
when you wake, you find a scar on your neck—a mark of the night you almost didn’t survive. the petals, though, are gone. the whispers are silent. but you can still feel it. she’s still here.
v. whispers
it’s been ten years. a decade of silence. no phone calls, no texts, no letters. you’ve gone your separate ways, drifting through life without the familiar presence of hansol, nakyung, or the others. it’s as if the past—the horrors of saintfour—were a shared dream that none of you wanted to remember. and yet, here you are, standing in the same auditorium once again, the weight of that history pressing down on your chest.
you sit in the crowd of new and old faces, the orientation assembly unfolding in front of you like any typical college event. there’s laughter, excitement, and the usual pre-university buzz in the air. you know hansol is somewhere in the crowd, though you can’t bring yourself to search for him. you feel the pull of your past, that strange, unexplainable tug, but you push it down. this is your fresh start. you won’t let the pisadeira ruin it.
but then, the lights flicker.
it’s subtle at first, just a quick blink, a brief interruption in the otherwise seamless flow of the assembly. no one else seems to notice, but your heart skips a beat. something’s wrong.
the smell of wildflowers invades the air. not the delicate, sweet fragrance of a bouquet—no, this is sharp, invasive, almost suffocating.
not again.
your pulse spikes as the familiar voice drifts into your mind, soft, like a breath against your skin. come closer, (your name).
it’s her. she’s here.
you try to steady your breath, your hands trembling as the whispers grow louder, more insistent, more malicious. i’ve waited for you. don’t run away.
your vision blurs, the room spinning as you struggle to stay grounded in the present. you glance around quickly, desperate to find someone who isn’t caught in the same trap. but everyone else is oblivious, lost in the crowd, unaware of the danger lurking at the edge of your perception.
except hansol, who locks eyes with you. he knows.
you’re back in it. back in the nightmare you thought you escaped.
vi. reawakening
it’s the third week of college when he knocks on your door. hansol. standing in the hallway, looking exactly as you remember, but older, quieter. his eyes are darker now, shadowed by years of things unsaid, but they still hold the same familiarity. you’re caught off guard, unsure of how to react. you weren’t expecting this, not after ten years.
“what are you doing here?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper, trying to mask the shock that’s creeping up your throat.
he hesitates before answering, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jacket. “your parents blame me,” he says quietly, his gaze not meeting yours. “and I’ve accepted it.”
the words hang heavy in the air, a confession of guilt, an admission of the years he’s spent with that weight on his shoulders. your stomach churns, a mix of anger and sadness rising up. how could they? how could they blame him for something neither of you could control?
you swallow, trying to process everything, but all you can think of is the way hansol looks so small now, so paralysed by the memories of things that shouldn’t be real. you’re reminded of the times when you both stood on the precipice of danger, and you couldn’t protect him. you couldn’t fight back against the monsters that seemed so real.
but you will now.
a fire stirs in your chest, something deep inside you that makes you want to protect him this time. this time, you’ll fight.
you find yourself tracking him, watching from the corners of campus, noting the places he frequents when the weekend comes. you never ask him where he’s going—never question it—but you always seem to find the empty seat next to him, always make sure to sit there when no one else does.
he doesn’t question it at first, but soon, he gives you a sideways glance, his gaze sharp but unreadable. “why didn’t you ask me first?”
you shrug, a small, playful smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “didn’t think I needed to.”
and he doesn’t question how you found him, either. perhaps he’s just relieved to have you there, even if he doesn’t admit it. but his silence is heavy, and you know there’s more to his avoidance than he’s letting on. there always is with hansol.
you’re back in each other’s lives now, and you can feel the weight of what’s coming. you both know it’s not over. it never was. but maybe, just maybe, this time, you won’t be alone.
vii. dive
the party hums with energy, laughter, and loud music, but hansol is nowhere near the centre of it. you find him by the garden, crouched by a patch of daisies, plucking their petals with deliberate precision. with each one, he tosses it lightly into the nearby pool, watching as they float and swirl on the water’s surface.
“you know, that’s supposed to be romantic,” you tease, crossing your arms as you approach. “daisies in a pool? what’s the occasion?”
he glances up at you, his expression unreadable but familiar. “just thought it was nice. peaceful, you know?”
“peaceful? at a party?” you ask, tilting your head. “didn’t think you’d even show up to something like this.”
“figured it’d be less lonely,” he replies, brushing a stray petal from his hand. “knowing the people I grew up with would be here, even if I’m not exactly a part of it.”
you blink, caught off guard by his honesty, but you quickly recover. “well, you’ve got company now,” you say lightly, sitting down on the edge of the pool beside him.
the conversation shifts to small talk, catching up on little details about classes, professors, and the mundane chaos of college life. hansol doesn’t say much, but when he does, his words are careful, thoughtful. he seems more at ease out here, away from the crowd.
then, david bowie’s modern love starts playing from the speakers, the familiar beat making your foot tap instinctively. you nudge his shoulder, a playful grin spreading across your face. “come on. dance with me.”
he leans back slightly, shaking his head with a soft chuckle. “me? dancing out there? maybe you should ask chan. he’d love to dance with you.”
you roll your eyes, laughing, but you pause to search his face. there’s no hint of jealousy, no hard feelings—just a quiet acceptance, as if he’s fine watching from the sidelines. reassured, you rise and wave over chan, who doesn’t hesitate to grab your hand and spin you in a dramatic twirl that makes you laugh out loud.
soon, you’re in the middle of a lively group, dancing like you’ve known each other for years. you fit right in, your energy infectious, your smile bright.
from the edge of the garden, hansol watches you. there’s a flicker of something in his eyes.. you’re the same as you’ve always been. plucky, bold, unafraid to dive into life headfirst.
some things never change, he thinks, his lips curving into a small, almost imperceptible smile.
viii. reverse
study hall is quiet, save for the soft rustle of papers and the occasional tapping of pens against wooden desks. you’ve claimed a corner of the room, surrounded by textbooks and open tabs on your laptop—not for your upcoming pop quiz, but for something far more unsettling.
“pisadeira,” you mutter under your breath, scrolling through yet another article on the folklore.
“still on about that?”
you startle at the voice, looking up to see hansol standing there holding a takeout paper bag for iced americanos without waiting for an invitation, he sets the bag down and slides into the seat next to you.
“you’re supposed to be studying,” he says, nodding toward the pile of notes sprawled across your desk.
“and you’re supposed to avoid this topic,” you counter, narrowing your eyes. “why are you even here?”
he shrugs, taking a sip of his coffee. “figured you’d need a distraction.”
you scoff, though the sight of him flipping through your notes catches you off guard. hansol hasn’t willingly spoken about the pisadeira since that night ten years ago, and seeing him this invested stirs something uneasy in you.
“you never wanted to talk about her before,” you say, your voice quieter now. “why the sudden interest?”
he doesn’t answer immediately, his gaze fixed on one of your highlighted sections. “because she’s not just in your head,” he finally says.
you grit your teeth, frustration bubbling up. “i had another nightmare about her,” you admit. “last week. it was—” you pause, shaking your head. “it felt so real.”
“it’s just a dream,” he says firmly, turning to face you. “you’ll be ready if it happens again. we both will.”
his words are meant to comfort you, but they only add to the weight you already feel. you let out a heavy sigh, rubbing your temples. “you know, sometimes I wish I could just live a normal college life. no nightmares, no supernatural shit, just classes, lazy and terror professors in between and stupid long exams that require all nighters.”
hansol chuckles softly, the sound breaking the tension between you. “if all else fails,” he says after a moment, “you can always swing by my place in the future and help me with boring work stuff.”
you smile faintly, glancing down at your notes. “i might just take you up on that,” you say softly.
for the first time in what feels like forever, the weight on your shoulders feels a little lighter.
ix. time
the sorority house is alive with music and chatter, fairy lights strung across the ceiling casting a soft glow over the room. it’s the first party of the semester you’ve hosted, and your sorority sisters flit around the space, greeting guests and pulling people onto the makeshift dance floor. the air smells faintly of sweet cocktails and the flowers you’d arranged on every table earlier, a hollow attempt to lighten your unease.
it’s been two months since you last dreamt of the pisadeira. the quiet should be a relief, but it isn’t. not when reports have started to trickle through campus about students collapsing, choking on petals of purple flowers and other strange remains. she’s here, you know it, even if she hasn’t come for you yet. but why?
your stomach tightens, not from the pisadeira’s absence but from the creeping feeling of not belonging. this isn’t your scene, no matter how hard you try to pretend otherwise. you’re smiling, laughing, blending in, but for the first time, you feel out of place.
you force the thoughts away, telling yourself this party is meant to be a distraction. another night to blend in, to laugh and pretend like you don’t have a target painted on your back. nakyung has been doing her best to keep you entertained, introducing you to some of the boys she brought along, but none of them hold your attention. they’re polite, but their smiles are shallow, their conversation uninteresting.
“come on, smile,” nakyung whispers, nudging you with her elbow as she gestures toward a small group of guys lingering by the makeshift bar. “they’re cute, right? you should at least try.”
you force a smile, but it feels brittle. “they’re not my type.”
“you don’t have a type,” she retorts, rolling her eyes. “you’re just being stubborn.”
as nakyung drifts off to entertain someone else, you take a deep breath, your stomach knotting tighter with every passing second. the truth is, this isn’t your scene. it never has been. tonight, you feel the weight of that reality more than ever.
you glance around, catching sight of hansol by the snack table. he’s pouring himself a drink, looking more like a ghost than a guest.
he’s been here for five minutes, maybe less, and already he’s drifted to the edge of the room. across the hall, hansol is doing his best to blend into the wallpaper. chan had promised this party would be fun, nudging him along with a grin as they arrived. but as soon as they entered, chan was gone, disappearing into the crowd to charm strangers.
hansol doesn’t join him. he never does. instead, he hugs the corner of the party, his fingers curling nervously around the rim of his glass. his stomach churns, not from the punch but from the persistent tug of unease that’s been gnawing at him all evening. the music thrums against his chest like a second heartbeat, and yet he feels like he’s the only one moving in slow motion, the clock dragging its hands with agonising patience.
he’s by the snack table you meticulously laid out earlier, his shoulders hunched. hansol feels like an afterthought here, a placeholder for a party that doesn’t need him.
he glances at his watch, willing the minutes to pass faster, his chest tight with unease. it’s not the party that’s getting to him, though. it’s the clock. it feels like a countdown to something you can’t name, but every second that ticks by only makes him feel sicker.
he looks in a hurry. like he’s chasing time, trying to outrun something.
and then, as if sensing your curiosity, his gaze finds yours across the room.
you’re across the room, framed by the warm glow of fairy lights, your expression distant. for a moment, he wonders if you’re as uncomfortable as he is. when your eyes meet, it’s like the noise of the crowd fades into the background.
you smile—a small, fleeting gesture, but genuine.
he wants to smile back, to walk over, to say something, anything. but the moment stretches too long.
he doesn’t move, and neither do you
instead, you turn away, letting the crowd swallow you back up. hansol stays rooted to the spot, watching as you slip back into the crowd, a forced laugh on your lips as nakyung waves you over to meet another new face. hansol watches as you disappear into the sea of faces, his grip tightening around the cup in his hand.
somewhere in the corner of your mind, you replay the brief encounter, wondering why your heart clenched in that strange, familiar way. for a second, you’d felt tethered, but now the party feels lonelier than ever.
maybe he could’ve walked over, said something, done anything, if he didn’t already know what was coming.
but he does.
he looks at his glass, his reflection faintly visible in the surface of the drink. for a moment, he swears he sees something ripple beneath it, a flicker of purple that disappears the second he blinks.
x. pisadeira
the ruins reek of blood and decay, the air thick with the copper tang of the pisadeira's end. your dress clings to your skin, sodden with sweat, dirt, and her blood—so dark it looks black under the moonlight. your breathing is laboured, each inhale a desperate attempt to find clarity, but there is none to be found.
"leave them," hansol says, voice sharp as a whip, pulling you away from the remains of her carnage. the “dogs”—summoned guardians nakyung had managed to control—snarl and lunge at the creatures spilling into the ruins, their teeth gleaming like moonlit steel. "we have to go."
"we can’t just—" you start, but he grips your arm, the pressure of his fingers like iron.
"there’s no time!"
the urgency in his tone silences you, but the unease in your gut only grows as he pulls you, nakyung, and chan into the woods. branches claw at your ruined dress as you stumble after him, feet numb from the cold. the shadows seem alive, writhing like snakes in your periphery. hansol moves with a singular purpose, his jaw tight, his eyes flickering with something unreadable.
you glance back at chan and nakyung. chan’s face is pale, his usual easygoing charm replaced with grim determination. nakyung looks shaken, her lips pressed into a thin line, but she follows without question.
"hansol," you say, your voice trembling. "what’s going on? where are we going?"
"somewhere safe," he says, but there’s a crack in his voice, a crack you don’t miss.
"safe?" nakyung repeats, her tone laced with suspicion. "what do you mean safe? safe from what?"
"just trust me," hansol says, not looking back.
you want to trust him. god, you want to trust him. but something about the way he moves, the way his hand keeps brushing the pocket of his jacket, makes your heart pound with something other than exertion.
the forest thickens, the trees closing in around you like skeletal fingers. the air grows colder, the smell of wildflowers creeping into your nostrils. your steps falter.
"hansol," you whisper, panic threading your voice. "she’s here, isn’t she? the pisadeira’s not—"
"it’s not her," he cuts you off, his voice low and haunted. "not anymore."
you stop in your tracks. "what do you mean?"
he turns to face you, and for the first time, you see it—the torment, the guilt, the unbearable weight he’s been carrying.
"hangyul," he says, his voice breaking. "it’s my sister."
the world tilts and you feel like the wind’s knocked you off of your feet. "what?" you breathe, stepping back.
"she’s the one," he says, his voice trembling with the effort to stay steady. "the one who’s been hunting us. the one who’s been killing them."
"no," you say, shaking your head. "no, that’s not—she’s dead, hansol. she’s been dead for ten years."
"because of you," he snaps, the venom in his tone slicing through you. "because you failed to save her. because you let pisadeira take her."
the accusation hits like a physical blow, and for a moment, you can’t breathe.
"that’s not fair!" nakyung interjects, stepping forward. "you know it’s not her fault."
"isn’t it?" hansol says, his eyes locking onto yours, sharp and unyielding. "she was the one who insisted we stay in that house. the one who convinced us it wasn’t real. and now my sister—she was innocent ! ” hansol turns to you, exasperated and eyes blurred with anger. “you turned her into a monster."
"she wasn’t your sister anymore," you say, your voice trembling. "not after what the pisadeira did to her. you know that."
"and you think that makes it easier?" he shouts, his composure shattering. "you think that makes it any less my responsibility to save her now?"
"save her?" chan echoes, his voice sharp with disbelief. "by doing what, hansol? what are you planning?"
silence falls, heavy and suffocating. hansol’s hand moves to his pocket, and when it emerges, it holds a knife.
"no," you whisper, your blood turning to ice.
"i’m sorry," he says, his voice hollow. "but this is the only way."
"you’re not making any sense!" you scream, backing away. "hansol, stop ! "
but he doesn’t stop. he steps forward, his grip on the knife tightening.
"i can’t let her keep suffering," he says, his voice breaking. "and i can’t let her come for you again. if i have to end this—if i have to hurt you to save her—then so be it."
"you’re insane," nakyung spits, stepping between you. "you think killing her—killing us—is going to fix anything? you’re just as much a monster as she is!"
"hansol, please," you say, your voice cracking. "don’t do this. we can find another way."
but he shakes his head, tears streaming down his face. "there is no other way. i have to end this. i have to end her."
and then he lunges.
your survival instincts take over, your body moving before your mind can catch up. you grab a fallen branch, swinging it with all your strength. the knife slices through the air, grazing your arm before you manage to knock it from his grip.
"traitor," you hiss, your voice filled with betrayal and heartbreak. "you brought us here. you led us into this."
"because i had to," he says, his voice breaking. "you don’t understand—"
"then make me understand!" you scream, the weight of ten years of pain and regret crashing down on you.
but he doesn’t answer. instead, he stumbles back, his hand clutching his side where your makeshift weapon struck.
"hansol," nakyung says, her voice trembling. "don’t make us do this. please."
he doesn’t respond. instead, he looks at you, his eyes filled with an agony you can’t begin to comprehend.
when the knife finally finds your back, the betrayal hurts more than the sting of the blade.
xi. bravery
the room is a warzone of exhaustion and regret, every shadow crawling with the remnants of what had just unfolded. nakyung and chan lie unconscious but breathing, their bodies splayed across the cold stone floor like broken dolls. the silence that follows is heavier than the chaos it replaced. the spirit of the pisadeira looms ahead, a gnarled figure of fury and vengeance, her form almost too grotesque to look at directly. but your eyes are drawn instead to hangyul’s ghost—her face streaked with spectral tears, her cries thin and keening, a sound that seems to reverberate inside your chest.
your body is screaming at you to stop, to lay down and give in to the pain radiating from your back where hansol’s knife had found you earlier. you clutch the wound with trembling fingers, sticky with blood, but your legs stay steady beneath you. barely.
hansol moves towards you like a puppet with its strings cut, dragging his feet as though the weight of his guilt has made it impossible to walk properly. his face is pale, streaked with sweat and grime, his eyes hollow and faraway. when he finally stands in front of you, you see a boy unravelling, a man drowning in the consequences of his choices.
he whispers, “i’m sorry,” but the words fall into the abyss between you, too light to matter now.
you can feel the fury bubbling in your chest, threatening to spill over. “sorry?” your voice trembles with anger and anguish. “you think that fixes this? you think that fixes her?” you gesture to hangyul’s ghost, to the weeping figure of the sister he’s chased after for so long.
his head dips low, his shame radiating like heat. “everything I did… was for her,” he says, his voice cracking. “i thought—i thought if i gave her what she wanted, if i made it right—”
“you betrayed us,” you cut him off, your voice sharper than you mean it to be. “you betrayed me, hansol.”
the words land like blows, and he flinches visibly.
but then you see it—the way his hands shake, the way his lips press together as though holding back a sob. he doesn’t want to fight anymore. he doesn’t want to keep running.
and despite everything—despite the knife in your back, the blood on his hands—you see the boy you grew up with, the boy who once handed you the last piece of bread during a sleepover, who once told you your laugh was louder than the cicadas.
“you can’t fix this by throwing yourself into it,” you say, softer this time. “don’t you see? the pisadeira doesn’t want justice, hansol. she wants suffering. she’ll take you, and it’ll never end.”
he looks at you then, truly looks at you, and you can see the cracks in him deepening. “then what am i supposed to do?”
you glance at hangyul’s ghost, her ethereal form flickering, fading in and out like a candle struggling to stay lit. your mind is racing, calculating the options. the pisadeira’s form trembles, growing impatient, her sharp, distorted voice rasping through the air.
“one soul,” she hisses. “one soul to replace the one lost. a fair trade.”
hansol starts to step forward, his movements deliberate, but you stop him with a hand on his chest.
“no,” you say firmly.
“(your name), please,” he whispers, his voice breaking. “this is my fault. let me fix it.”
“if you want to fix it, you stay alive,” you snap, your breath hitching from the sharp pain in your back. “you stay alive, and you remember this. you live with it. and you make it mean something.”
he stares at you, wide-eyed, as you step past him. your body feels like it’s made of lead, every movement torturing him, but you don’t stop. before he can stop you, you turn and step toward the pisadeira, the wound in your side burning like fire, your legs trembling but unyielding. the creature watches you with a twisted smile, her skeletal fingers outstretched. hangyul’s ghost weeps behind her, mouthing a silent plea for you to stop.
“no!” hansol lunges forward, grabbing your arm, but you wrench yourself free. you feel hansol’s scream more than you hear it, but you don’t turn back. bravery is all you have left.
"let her go," you say, your voice clear and strong. "take me instead.".
“don’t make me watch this again,” you hear hansol plead, his voice desperate, tears streaking his face. “please, (your name). don’t—”
“it has to end. you told me yourself. this happened because of me.” you say, your voice steady despite the fear coursing through you. “so it will end with me too.”
you step into the circle at the centre of the room, where the ritual had been poised to complete with hansol’s sacrifice. the pisadeira snarls, her twisted face splitting into something that might have been a grin.
you glance back at hansol one last time, your eyes meeting his. you see the devastation there, the love, the regret. and for a brief moment, you smile. “be brave and live well, hansol,” you tell him. a tear falls and you can’t bear the thought of looking back and seeing him broken.
you see hangyul’s ghost move closer, her lips forming the words "thank you." before she vanishes like a light. at the same time, the pisadeira’s grin widens as her claws pierce your chest, the pain white-hot and all-encompassing. as the darkness closes in.
and then, nothing.
xii. cowardice
when the silence falls, it is not the peaceful kind. it is the suffocating quiet of loss, the heavy weight of a world newly broken. hansol’s knees give out beneath him, and he crumples onto the cold, uneven ground. his head falls into his hands, shaking as sobs tear from his throat.
"no," he whispers hoarsely, his voice trembling and thin. "no, no, no…"
the ruins are bathed in an eerie stillness, illuminated only by the dim glow of the moon. nakyung and chan stir on the floor, groaning faintly as they start to come to, but they are not awake enough to witness the wreckage left behind. hansol feels the briefest flicker of relief that they’re alive—alive, because of you—but it is fleeting, swallowed by the sight of you lying motionless, your body crumpled on the stone floor, your skin pale and cold to the touch.
this is his doing.
"it wasn’t supposed to be this way," he rasps, his hands trembling as he cups your face, brushing his thumb against your clammy cheek. he pulls you close, his tears falling onto your lifeless skin. "you weren’t supposed to—" his voice breaks, and he clutches you tighter, as though holding you close might bring you back.
the sound of sirens pierces the distance, their wailing cry growing louder with each second. hansol freezes, his chest heaving as panic sets in. he can’t be seen here. not like this. not holding your body, your blood on his hands, his knife discarded somewhere in the wreckage.
they’ll blame him. they should blame him.
"no, not like this," he whispers, his hands shaking as he gently lowers your body back onto the ground. his fingers brush your hair away from your face, his breath catching in his throat as he takes in every detail of you—the softness of your features, the way your lashes rest against your cheeks, the faint traces of the bravery you wore so fiercely etched into your expression.
a daisy lies nearby, untouched amidst the chaos, and he picks it up with trembling fingers. carefully, he tucks it into your hair, his movements deliberate and tender, as though this small act might undo the horrors of the night.
"i’m sorry," he whispers, his voice breaking. "i’m so sorry."
the sirens are close now, too close. hansol’s heart pounds in his chest as he looks at you one last time, memorising every detail, every part of you that he couldn’t save.
and then he runs.
— please do not copy , translate or repost any of my works anywhere.
© l2vedive on tumblr
#vernon x reader#vernon imagines#vernon scenarios#svt x reader#seventeen x reader#svt imagines#seventeen imagines#seventeen vernon#vernon chwe#svt vernon#svt vernon x reader#svt angst#seventeen angst#seventeen scenarios#svt scenarios#svt smau#seventeen smau#l2venotes
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Hi All! I thought it was time i gave a lil update from this game and how its been going.
I'm one that tends to keep to myself till a project is fully complete or close to complete, but I've gained a lot of asks about this over time and more as of late lol. So thought I'd cut the radio silence a tad and answer a few repeat questions id gotten!
Are you working on the game?
Surprisingly, yeah.
Will this be a completed game to buy?
Definitely not, least not now. My plan is to make a basic demo of the game as building a complete game with the script and everything would take a very long time and a lot to learn!
It would also be a free to play game, as Its a fan game.
When can we see it, are you almost done, videos and updates!!!
Well... 2023 was a busy year for me personally. And as a person who is still learning to animate along with barely any knowledge of game coding. Led to me needing to learn a lot and do trial and error.
A lot of things are temporary placeholders and incomplete textures with testing. So I didn't feel they where good to share progress of.
a lot of it was me learning, trying different styles to work with the game, and sketches throughout.
Can i help with the project????
I do appreciate you all asking for help,But I don't know much about game development and working with a team on this. So it's more of a passion project for me, and so far what I have learned has been nice :>.
I didn't wanna rely and give up on the project or delay it so much due to factors so I'm workin on it alone right now till the project is farther along and more stable.
Will it look exactly like the trailer, what kind of game is it, what all do you have planned for the demo?
Admittedly I had originally made sprites and everything to match the video, but i ended up going for a more chibi type style as its easier to work with.
Its a side scrolling game with rpg like elements.
The current plan is to have two fully completed stages, a mini game, 4 playable characters (2 being Sun and Moon), and some extra features.
Will the demo be out this year?
I can't say, it all depends on how much time i work on it and learn ;o! I don't like to get hopes up, but I work it on it when I can.
Crumbs, please
Some of the daycare and model updates. It's not much, but I find it fun to run around and interact with things lol
So all and all for those really wondering about the project, its still a heavy work in progress. A fun and frustrating one for sure, but Its been nice actually learning to code and design it so far.
Hope this answered a few questions and of course you can ask other stuff about it, I don't mind.
Thank you!
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