#I've so many feelings in my heart for his youthful years | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sehodreams · 9 months ago

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https://x.com/archivetic/status/1758340676193046872?s=46

Anton's milf neighbour asked him to coach her and this is what it lead up to

Link (nsfw)

This was so good, my mind can't deal with all the scenarios, I quickly did this one but I imagined so many things I couldn't do something shorter.

TW and tags: dubcon at the start, humping, cheating, married!reader x younger!neighbor!Anton. WC: 1.9k

Anton had seen you walking around the neighborhood before, you were a young wife that had just moved with his older husband not many months ago, a pretty little thing that stayed alone in her big house obediently waiting for her husband to come back home and that always made his mother laugh.

You had started to warm up with the other mothers not long after you settled in, and you didn't have a child, but you had said how much you expected one, reason why you moved to his neighborhood, a calm part of the city with good schools around that looked out of a movie, the perfect place to start a family, so all of them welcomed you with open arms to the group.

His mother was one of the many wives that decided to dedicate to her family, and now that he was a lot older, had enough free time to befriend the neighbors and go out to enjoy her afternoons with the company of women like her, a group that happily included you.

"She said she's trying to get in shape before her anniversary, maybe you could help her and earn some pocket money this summer" she told him while they were having dinner. Anton was there only for the summer break and he didn't need to work, he never did it, but some extra cash sounded good, and when his dad nodded to what his mother said, it was decided, he'd go and coach the new cute neighbor.

When he knocked on your door you instantly melted his heart with your voice saying Just a second please, and when he saw your pretty smile saying his name, he knew he was fucked, "Anton, I've heard so much about you from your mother, thank you for helping me, I have no idea how to start".

You really had no idea how to start, a pretty little thing like you had never stepped into a gym or done any physical activity that didn't involve lifting your plants in your garden or pushing your furniture to rearrange the aesthetic of your living room.

He can guess why your husband snatched you so fast, if he had been in his place, he'd have done it too, the only thing your traditional family had taught you was how to be a good girl, and he was sure a man like the one you were with had smelled how fresh you were before he trapped you into marrying him.

You were older than him, five years at most, and you were almost three years married already, which meant you were barely older than him before you said yes to the housewife lifestyle.

You dropped out of college, you lived far from your family, and you didn't have friends your age. He was the closest thing you had to the taste of youth, and you received him so easily and with such honest intentions that, little by little, he had started to feel bad for taking advantage of you while training.

"Uhm do you really have to massage that place?" You asked when he made you lie over your stomach one day and his hands pressed its way from your calf to your ass, groping it with the excuse of not risking an injury before your session.

"Yes, we can't let you get hurt, we need to make sure your muscles here are relaxed enough before we continue" he said, making you nod. You weren't the expert, he was, he had trained for so many years, how could you even question his methods?

He had convinced you that everything he did was for your benefit, and if his hand pressed spots like under your chest, the inside of your thighs, or even your ass, it was only to check on your health.

You were uncomfortable with his touch, but you couldn't deny it, it also made your insides tingle, and you felt an excitement you had missed for a long time.

When you were young you would have that exact feeling when your friends told you to sneak out for a party since your dad never let you go out late, or when you knew your curfew was getting closer but you had already lied saying how you were studying at your friend's house when all you were doing was watch movies or talk about boys.

It's not that you don't like the married lifestyle, you love it, you don't have to think about what to do for work or how to pay your bills, you don't have to worry about your dad yelling at you for getting low grades and you can simply enjoy your day if you cleaned and had your husband's dinner ready before he arrived.

However, you couldn't say you were completely satisfied either.

Your husband was handsome and nice, but sometimes he couldn't make you feel as good as when you started accepting him into your bed, it seemed that after the honeymoon phase he was more interested in his big cases than helping you cum at night, and you were getting a bit bored of the exact same routine every day, waking up, cooking, dusting your living room, checking that your plants were okay and then waiting for him to arrive and repeat.

If it wasn't for the older ladies, you would have started crocheting to see if that kept you busy enough.

Still, even if Anton's touch made you feel good, you knew it was wrong to feel like that with another man's hands. You were a good girl, a good wife, and having your panties dripping after your cute younger neighbor came to help you train one hour a day was something that made you feel ashamed of yourself.

The worst part was that you couldn't hide it. Your cheeks would get red every time his mother said hi to you in the supermarket or when all the neighborhood wives met to have a cup of tea.

"I hope my son is treating you well" she would say, and you would only nod with a smile, hiding your face with your cup or grabbing one of the numerous mini snacks to change the subject into how kind the host that day was.

You were sure no one would blame you if they were in your situation. The sensation of the touch from a man like Anton, so big ang strong, would make anyone weak. His hands on your hips and his cock on your ass when he made you do sit ups, or his fingers sinking into the side of your chest to make sure your position didn't break while you lifted those dumbbells would push any other woman like you into doing even more, so you tried to just brush off those thoughts, because, after all, you never crossed any line.

Or at least you never did it until that day.

Anton had made you lie over your back this time, and your eyes tried to not look at the pretty boy over you, focusing on your white ceiling instead.

"Tell me if it hurts, okay? We need to check your flexibility before we try the next exercise" he said while lifting one of your legs and, with his crotch against your clothed sex, putting it over his shoulder.

Your heart started to pound and a choked whimper left your throat when you felt the first push.

Anton was pushing your leg as much as he could with the help of his weight over you, and he wasn't hard, but you could still feel his member and its form opening your lips and resting between them as if it belonged there.

You tried to ignore the way his hand had a firm grip over the back of your thigh and the exhale he gave when he pushed his cock against you once again, getting slightly harder with each thrust.

That wasn't just warming up at all, you weren't that dumb to not notice the way his hips were clashing harder and harder against you, the sounds that left his mouth were too obscene to be a mere exercise, and if anyone could see you two like that, they would instantly notice that something else was starting to happen to the boy.

You moved your eyes from the ceiling to his face, and you could see how his eyes were fluttering and he tried to control his breathing without success. The saliva accumulating inside his mouth made him gulp with every push and his eyes started to get more shiny with every second that passed.

He had a full erection at some point, and you should've stopped him, you told yourself to push him out of your way and warn him to never come back if he didn't want to hear from your husband, but just that little action of his hips against yours made you dizzy, a similar sensation to when husband first touched you, and you needed an orgasm so much that your body, instead of listening to your mind and do what was correct, opened your legs to complete receive him.

He didn't waste any second and started to rut against you, and the two of you were dressed, so you tried to convince yourself that it wasn't incorrect if it wasn't sex.

If you didn't take anything off, if you didn't let him sink his cock inside you, it wasn't cheating. You were just helping a young boy to find some relief, and that was almost like an exercise too, you two were fully clothed and you were dripping over each other, but it was like sweat, so that should be considered more as stretching than anything else, right?

You couldn't hold your voice back, Anton was pounding so deliciously over you that your insides started to clench, and you started to wonder, if he felt that good without directly touching you, how would he would make you feel if he just fucked you.

He was a lot bigger than your husband, his tip was leaving a big wet spot over his joggers and your yoga pants were getting dirty with your own slick, showing him exactly where he should thrust with his cock.

"This is just exercise, you need to train your core too" he said, and you, even if you knew it was all pure bullshit, nodded.

"You're right, Anton, I need it" you cried when you felt yourself getting closer to your orgasm.

Clenching over nothing, with hips jolting to meet his, you felt yourself cumming hard inside your pants, and he, doing it at the same time, left a loud moan while his hands pressed hard at your thighs.

He tried to control how much he was panting, his forehead was wet and his cock was twitching inside his clothes, a mess he would have to hide until he ran to his house at the end of the street and that made him wish he could let everything out inside your warm walls the next time.

He could already imagine how pretty you would look opening your legs and showing him your naked cunt so he could give you what your husband couldn't, because if you were so needy, Anton was sure it was his fault that you accepted someone else's touch.

Before he gave you a last thrust, out of greed because he didn't have anything else to pour, he talked, "we should repeat it, stretching is really important, so, tomorrow same time?"

#riize smut #anton smut #anton x reader #riize x reader #riize hard thoughts #riize hard hours

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mononijikayu · 3 months ago

Text

pasilyo — fushiguro toji.

"Yeah…." he admits, opening his eyes to meet yours. "Just… watching you. Thinking." "Thinking about what?" you ask, your curiosity piqued by the softness in his tone. Toji hesitates for a moment, searching for the right words. "About how lucky I am," he finally says. "How lucky I am to have you, to have this life. I never thought I’d be here, with you, like this. It still feels… unreal, sometimes." Your smile widens, and you shift closer, your hand moving to rest against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. "It’s real, Toji. I’m here, and so are you."

GENRE: Alternate Universe - Canon Convergence;

WARNING/s: Fluff, Romance, Husband and Wife, Parenthood, Husband! Toji, Mamaguro! Reader, Comfort, Fix-It, Domesticity, Family Life, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Light-Hearted, Slice of Life, Mention of Familial Abuse, Mention of Neglect, Megumi is Such A Cute Baby, Toji Is The BEST Wife Guy;

WORDS: 5.4k words.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: hi guys, i'm sorry i've been out and about. my other brother got sick and i've been the one doing much of the his chores and taking care of our younger brother!!! i'm about to write 'thirty-nine' and will be doing another poll for the upcoming works!!! thank you for your understanding and love!!! also @v4ntaaa-w4ves has been waiting for this, so i hope i deliver!!! many thanks <3

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AS A BOY, ZENIN TOJI THINKS HE WAS SACRED TO SLEEP. He remembered how it was frightening to even bat his eyes closed as a boy. His father had a harsh attitude about remaining alert at all times. Jinichi was father’s favorite for that reason, he thinks. Toji never slept a wink on those rough days.

Otherwise, he wouldn’t have time to dodge the incoming attack. Toji learned from an early age that he had to learn fast, that he had to grow up quickly, and be the strongest. Or he wouldn’t be able to live. In those days, he thinks that he really wasn’t deserving to be alive. And he hated it. He hated it every single day.

Those memories are etched deeply into his mind, a stark reminder of the relentless training and constant vigilance. The Zenin way. He hated the Zenin way. And he perhaps always will for the rest of his life. He feels at times that he is still that boy again.

The fear of closing his eyes, even for a moment, was ingrained in him, the bruises and scars serving as his father's unforgiving lessons. Jinichi, with his ability to stay awake and alert, became the favored son quite quickly, leaving Toji to struggle on his own. To be alone in that pit, alone with those cursed spirits as he cried.

Toji's childhood was a relentless cycle of pain and survival, where sleep was a luxury he couldn’t afford. Where youth was thrown for the greed of power, of strength. He learned to anticipate danger, to read the slightest shift in his surroundings, to become a weapon honed by necessity.

It was a brutal existence, but it shaped him into the man he is today. Toji sighs, shaking his head. Those days were over, they were long gone. He doesn’t have to go back. He doesn’t have to suffer anymore. He looks at you and closes his eyes. He’s here, with you. That’s all that matters.

Now, lying beside you, those old habits are hard to break. After all this time, he still doesn’t sleep well. There were a lot of things that have changed about Fushiguro Toji. But the years of conditioning still grip him tightly, making it difficult to find peace even in the safety of your embrace completely. Yet, as he watches you sleep, Fushiguro Toji feels a small measure of that peace seep into his heart.

Toji thinks that he needs to pinch his arm every morning he wakes up. He doesn't think this is real, living his life with you. It's hard to believe that it's been a few years since you've changed his life, for all the better. He turns to you, looking at your still sleeping form. He sighs, his eyes softening as he looks at you. Every inch of you is a treasure to Toji.

His rough exterior belies the tenderness he feels as he gently brushes a strand of hair from your face. The memories of his past, filled with turmoil and struggle, seem to fade away in the presence of your serene beauty. Toji feels an overwhelming sense of gratitude for the love and peace you've brought into his life.

He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, careful not to wake you. As he pulls back, he takes a moment to marvel at how perfectly you fit into his arms, how natural it feels to have you by his side. It's a stark contrast to the solitary life he once led, filled with danger and loneliness.

Toji's hand finds yours beneath the covers, and he intertwines your fingers, feeling the warmth and reassurance of your touch. He knows he's not dreaming, that this is his reality now, a reality he never thought he deserved but one he cherishes deeply.

Toji thinks that his hands are soaking wet, or maybe he’s just feeling it, like a river overflowing with summer rain’s tears falling from the sky. He’s overwhelmed with relief that he could be with you, that he lives a life like this, free from grief and pain. It’s always been like this since you both met.

Toji can pinpoint that exact moment when he first looked at you, the spark that burst inside him. It was your smile—that’s the thing that made him feel alive. Even now, as you sleep, you smile so beautifully. When you smile, Toji thinks the world becomes a better place. It becomes a wonder. And he lives it, every day. And he loves it.

He brushes the hair from your face and takes a languid sigh. If he were to have the words to speak, he thinks they wouldn’t be enough. The words existing wouldn’t be enough to capture the wonder he’s found in you. How his body aches to never be apart from you. How in every breath he takes, he cannot help but look at you. Even when he’s at work, he ends up thinking of you. Of wanting you. Of longing to be with you.

And now that you’ve given him the world, the blessings of life in the form of your dearest son, Megumi, he thinks that everything he feels for you has multiplied tenfold. He never imagined he could feel this way, so completely and utterly devoted. But here he is, holding onto this life, this love, with everything he has.

Toji’s chest tightens with emotion as he gazes at you, feeling a mixture of awe and contentment. You’ve transformed his world, filling it with light and joy he never thought possible. And now, with Megumi, that love has only deepened, rooting itself firmly in his heart.

He knows that no words could ever fully express what you mean to him, but every day, he’ll show you. He’ll show you in the way he holds you, the way he cherishes each moment, the way he dreams of growing old by your side. Because with you, Toji has found everything he never knew he needed, and he’ll spend the rest of his life loving you as fiercely as he does now.

Toji's thoughts are interrupted by the subtle shift in your breathing as you slowly wake. He watches as your eyelids flutter open, and a sleepy smile spreads across your face when you see him. That smile—the one that always melts his heart, no matter how many times he's seen it.

"Good morning," you murmur, your voice soft and warm, like the first light of dawn.

Toji leans in, his hand still gently brushing your hair back. "Good morning to you." he replies, his voice low and tender. He can’t help the small smile that tugs at the corner of his mouth as he looks at you, his heart swelling with emotion.

You reach up, your fingers lightly tracing the line of his jaw, and he leans into your touch, closing his eyes for a moment as if savoring the contact. "You’ve been awake for a while." you say, a knowing look in your eyes.

"Yeah…." he admits, opening his eyes to meet yours. "Just… watching you. Thinking."

"Thinking about what?" you ask, your curiosity piqued by the softness in his tone.

Toji hesitates for a moment, searching for the right words. "About how lucky I am, y'know?" he finally says. "How lucky I am to have you, to have this life. I never thought I’d be here, with you, like this. It still feels… unreal, sometimes."

Your smile widens, and you shift closer, your hand moving to rest against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. "It’s real, Toji. I’m here, and so are you."

"I know." he murmurs, his hand coming to rest over yours, holding it against his chest. "But sometimes… It feels like a dream. A good dream. One I don’t ever want to wake up from."

"You won’t," you assure him, your voice filled with gentle certainty. "We’re in this together, for the long haul. You, me, and Megumi. We’re a family."

The mention of Megumi brings a softness to Toji’s expression that only you’ve ever seen. "Our family," he echoes, the words filling him with a deep sense of fulfillment.

You lean in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, and Toji melts into it, his hand moving to cradle the back of your head as he deepens the kiss just slightly, savoring the moment. When you pull back, your eyes meet his, and there’s a warmth there that makes his chest tighten with emotion.

"I love you, babe." you whisper, your voice carrying all the sincerity in the world.

"I love you too." Toji replies, his voice thick with emotion. "More than I can ever say."

You smile again, and Toji feels that familiar spark ignite in his chest, the one that started it all. He knows, deep down, that with you, he’s found something he never thought he deserved. And he’ll do everything in his power to keep it, to keep you, for as long as he lives.

As the morning light filters into the room, bathing you both in its gentle glow, Toji feels a profound sense of peace settle over him. This is his life now, and he wouldn’t trade it for anything.

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TOJI THINKS THAT HE REMEMBERS YOUR WEDDING BEST. You walked slowly towards Toji then. It was a simple wedding, just you, him, and a handful of close friends. The sun was warm against your skin, the air filled with the scent of fresh flowers and the soft hum of nature. Toji stood at the altar, looking almost out of place in his crisp suit, his hands clenched at his sides as he watched you approach.

He had wanted to wait. If he was being honest, you deserved the best wedding. He had spent nights thinking about it—how you deserved the most beautiful flowers, the most stunning dress, the most exquisite ring. The thought of giving you anything less than perfection had gnawed at him.

But you didn’t care. The grand ceremony, the extravagance—none of it mattered to you. When he voiced his concerns, you had smiled, taking his hand in yours, your voice soft but firm.

“It’s okay, Toji. I don’t need all of that. I don’t want all of that. I just want you. Only you.”

He had looked at you then, his heart clenching at the sincerity in your eyes. “Are you sure?” he had asked, his voice rough with uncertainty. “You deserve so much more.”

But you only shook your head, your smile unwavering. “This is more than enough for me. You’re more than enough for me.”

And so, he waited by the priest, his heart pounding in his chest as he watched you walk down the long aisle towards the church altar—and towards him. You wore a simple sundress, the fabric flowing around you as you moved, your hair loose and catching the sunlight. To him, you looked more beautiful than any bride he had ever seen.

As you neared, he could see the happiness radiating from your face, your eyes bright with joy. The closer you got, the more he could feel the tension easing from his shoulders, replaced by a warmth that spread through his chest.

When you finally reached him, your hand slipping into his, you looked up at him with a grin that made his heart stutter. “I’m here!” you said softly, your voice filled with a quiet assurance.

He could hardly speak, his throat tight with emotion. “You’re really sure about this?” he asked one last time, his voice a hushed whisper meant just for you. “About…me?”

You laughed then, a light, melodious sound that seemed to echo through the quiet church. “Toji, I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. I love you. That’s all that matters.”

And with those words, everything fell into place. The doubts, the worries—they melted away in the warmth of your gaze. Toji felt something deep within him shift, a spark of realization that this was real, that you wanted him—just as he was.

The ceremony passed in a blur, your vows exchanged with soft smiles and whispered promises. When the priest finally pronounced you husband and wife, Toji didn’t wait for permission. He pulled you into his arms, holding you close, his heart pounding against his chest. You giggled, your arms wrapping around his neck as he buried his face in your hair, breathing in the scent of you.

“I’m never letting you go, hm?” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. The weight of his words hung in the air, a promise and a vow all in one.

“I’m not going anywhere.” you replied softly, pulling back just enough to look into his eyes. “I’m yours, Toji. Always.”

And years later, as he watches you sitting there, holding your son Megumi in your arms, he knows he was right not to let go. You and Megumi—the two of you are the epitome of all the blessings he has in his life. The only blessings he’ll ever want.

He sees you notice him from across the room, your face lighting up with that same smile that first drew him to you. “Good morning to you, babe.” you greet him, your voice warm and welcoming.

You lean down, gently encouraging Megumi, who’s nestled in your arms, to greet his father. “Say good morning to Daddy, Megumi.”

Megumi, still sleepy-eyed, blinks up at him before mumbling little incoherent noises back at his father. Each and every sound ofhis small voice making Toji’s heart swell with affection. He nuszzles closer to you, your little one, which causes you to giggle.

Toji crosses the room, unable to keep the smile from his face as he kneels beside you. “Good morning, sleepy.” he replies, his voice soft as he cups your face, leaning in to kiss your forehead. Then he turns to Megumi, pressing a gentle kiss to his tiny head. “Good morning, little man.”

He wraps an arm around you both, pulling you into his embrace. In this moment, surrounded by the love of his family, Fushiguro Toji feels a deep, contented peace settle over him. He doesn’t need anything else—this is his life now, and he wouldn’t trade it for the world.

Toji sits down beside you, his arms still wrapped around you and Megumi, feeling the warmth of his little family pressed close. Megumi squirms slightly in your lap, his tiny hands reaching out for his father, and Toji can’t help but smile as he gently takes the boy into his own arms.

"Hey there, kiddo." Toji murmurs, his voice soft as he cradles Megumi against his chest. The boy blinks up at him with wide eyes, a mixture of curiosity and contentment in his gaze. Toji can see so much of you in those eyes, and it fills him with a quiet joy he never thought he’d experience.

Megumi babbles something unintelligible, his small hands reaching up to pat at Toji’s face. Toji chuckles, feeling the tiny fingers explore the rough stubble on his jaw. "What’s this, huh? Not smooth enough for you?" he teases, his voice filled with warmth.

You laugh softly beside him, watching the two of them with a smile that makes Toji’s heart skip a beat. "He’s just curious, I think." you say, leaning your head against Toji’s shoulder as you watch Megumi continue his investigation of his father’s face.

Toji nods, his eyes never leaving Megumi’s. "Well, he’s got plenty of time to figure out all the mysteries of the world." he replies, his voice low and tender. He shifts slightly, adjusting Megumi in his arms so that he can sit more comfortably. "And I’ll be here to help him every step of the way."

Megumi, as if sensing the love and security in his father’s voice, gives a soft coo and reaches for Toji’s nose, squeezing it with a surprising amount of determination. Toji snorts, the unexpected sensation making him laugh, and Megumi’s face lights up with delight at the sound.

"Oh, so that’s funny, huh?" Toji says, his tone playful as he nuzzles his nose against Megumi’s cheek, earning another giggle from the boy. "You think you’re pretty strong, don’t you?"

Megumi responds with more babbling, his tiny hands patting at Toji’s face and chest with a mix of curiosity and affection. Toji’s heart swells as he feels those little hands, so small and fragile, reaching out to him with such trust. Each touch, each small gesture from his son, feels like a precious gift—something Toji never thought he’d be lucky enough to experience.

As he looks down at Megumi, his heart bursts with an overwhelming surge of love and pride. He sees you in every part of his son, from the brightness of his eyes to the way his lips curl into a dimpled smile. Those eyes, so full of wonder, are the exact tenderness as yours, carrying the same spark that captivated Toji the first time he met you. It’s like seeing a piece of you, the most beautiful piece, in the small boy resting in his arms.

Megumi’s laughter, a sweet, melodic sound, is a mirror of your own. It echoes in Toji’s ears, a reminder of the joy you bring into his life every day. When his son pouts—those soft, pink lips curling down on his chubby cheeks in a way that’s both endearing and familiar—Toji can’t help but think of you. The way you’d pout when you didn’t get your way, or when you were deep in thought—it’s all there in Megumi.

Everything about his son that makes his heart ache with love is because of you. It’s in the way Megumi tilts his head with curiosity, just like you do when you’re pondering something. It’s in the way he smiles, a smile that lights up the room and makes everything feel right in the world. That smile, that pure, innocent smile, is a reflection of the love and light you’ve brought into Toji’s life.

He traces a gentle finger along Megumi’s tiny nose, marveling at how perfect it is, how perfect he truly is. And it’s all because of you, his beloved wife. Toji never imagined he could feel this way—that he could look at someone so small and see the entire world reflected back at him. But here it is, in the form of this little boy who’s as much a part of you as he is of him.

Toji’s voice catches in his throat as he whispers, almost to himself, "He’s got your everything." There’s a reverence in his tone, a deep gratitude that he can hardly put into words. "Your smile, babe. Your laugh… even the way he pouts.Megumi…. he’s all you, babe."

You watch him with a soft, loving gaze, seeing the way he’s looking at Megumi as if he’s the most precious thing in the world. "He’s got you too, you know?" you say gently, your hand resting on Toji’s arm. "The strength in his grip, the determination in his eyes… That’s all you, Toji. You are everything that is him too."

But Toji shakes his head slightly, his eyes never leaving his son’s face. "He’s you, babe." he insists, his voice filled with awe. "Everything beautiful about him… it’s because of you."

There’s a moment of silence as you both take in the weight of those words, the depth of love that flows between the three of you. You smiled at him, your eyes bright with summer love. Your eyes have never been one to view him any other way. Just one look and Toji thinks that he’s fallen in love again.

One more look and he’ll see that you’ve fallen for him again too. Toji leans down, pressing a soft kiss to Megumi’s forehead, then another to your temple. He pulls you both closer, holding on as if he never wants to let go.

In this quiet, tender moment, Toji realizes that this is what he’s been searching for all his life. This love, this family—it’s all he’s ever needed. And as he holds you both in his arms, he knows that he’s the luckiest man in the world.

"You’ve got your daddy wrapped around your little finger, don’t you, Megumi?" you tease, watching the two of them with a warmth in your eyes that makes Toji’s chest tighten with love.

"Yeah, well…." Toji says, glancing at you with a soft smile, "Our ’gumi got that from you." He leans in, pressing a kiss to your temple before turning his attention back to Megumi. "You’re both pretty good at that."

Megumi, seemingly satisfied with his exploration of Toji’s face. Toji blinks as your son snuggles closer to his father’s chest, his tiny body relaxing into the safety of Toji’s embrace. Toji shifts slightly, leaning back against the couch with Megumi resting comfortably against him. He glances at you, his eyes filled with a tenderness that speaks volumes.

"Thank you, babe." Toji says softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "For giving me this. For giving me him."

You reach out, placing your hand over Toji’s on Megumi’s back, your fingers lacing together. "I didn’t give you anything you didn’t deserve, hm?" you reply just as softly, your voice filled with love. "This is our life. Our family. And you always, always, will deserve it."

Toji gazes at you for a long moment, his heart so full it feels like it might burst. "I love you," he says, the words coming out as a gentle sigh. "Both of you."

"We love you too, Toji." you reply, leaning in to press a kiss to his lips, a soft and lingering touch that makes Toji’s heart soar. “Always.”

Megumi, still nestled against his father, gives a contented yawn, his small body growing heavy with the onset of sleep. Your little treasure always seems to enjoy sleeping. But Toji understands. He’s a boisterous baby. It’s hard to exist at times, when you’re learning much about life as you go. Toji glances down at his son, a soft smile playing at his lips as he watches the boy drift off, safe and secure in his arms.

"You’re already such a great dad, you know that?" you whisper, your voice filled with certainty as you watch Toji with Megumi.

Toji nods, his gaze never leaving his son’s peaceful face. "I’m just doing my best, always." he replies, his voice thick with emotion. "For him. For both of you."

As the morning light filters into the room, bathing the three of you in its gentle glow, Toji feels a deep sense of contentment settle over him. This is everything he’s ever wanted—this simple, beautiful life with you and Megumi. And he knows, without a doubt, that he will cherish every moment of it for as long as he lives.

━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━

TOJI HAS NEVER BEEN A RELIGIOUS PERSON. But he thinks that if he has something to thank the heavens for — it's you and Megumi. Because Toji thinks that being with you will always be incomparable. No one has ever been able to make him feel at peace with himself the way you do, like your son could do. The quiet moments you shared together, it was everything to him.

Even just a day out in the park, eating out at restaurants on your days off, or simply sitting on a bench at the nearby playground watching Megumi play—are his greatest treasures. They are the moments when the world feels still, when everything seems to align perfectly, and he’s reminded that this is what he’s been searching for all his life.

At times, being with you makes Toji feel like nothing but good could exist in the world. And he’s happy about that. If he could choose, he would do everything and everything to make sure that all his memories were the ones you had built for him.

Toji holds onto these moments, savoring each one as if it were the last. He always prays that it will stay this way for the rest of your lives. That you’ll continue to find joy in the simple things, in each other’s presence, in the quiet, shared spaces of your life together. He carries that little hope with him every day, tucked away like a precious secret.

Every morning, he wakes up early, slipping out of bed with practiced quiet so as not to disturb your sleep. He heads to the kitchen, the routine as comforting as it is necessary. As he prepares breakfast for you, the smell of coffee and fresh bread filling the air, he recites his favorite prayer—a prayer for your happiness, for your health, for the life you’ve built together.

He prays that this happiness will always last. That you will always be together, side by side, through every challenge and every joy. He prays that you’ll grow old together, watching as Megumi grows and flourishes, as your love deepens with each passing year. Toji doesn’t ask for much from the universe, but he asks for this with all his heart, every single day.

As he stirs the pot or flips a pancake, he silently repeats the same words he’s said countless times before. It’s a quiet ritual, one that brings him comfort and strength. He prays that this life you’ve created together will remain untouched by the harshness of the world. That no matter what comes your way, you’ll face it together, hand in hand, just as you always have.

And every time, he ends his prayer with a whispered gratitude for the life he now leads, for the love he never thought he’d deserve. He remembers the day he asked if he could take your last name, a symbol of his commitment to you, of his desire to be fully and completely yours. When you agreed, with that beautiful smile of yours, it felt like his prayer had already been answered.

Fushiguro Toji knows he’s been blessed beyond measure. He never thought he’d find peace, not in the life he once led. But here, in the quiet of the morning as he cooks breakfast for the two people who mean everything to him, he feels it—peace, contentment, love.

And every day, he prays that it will stay this way. That you’ll always wake up beside him, that you’ll always be together, that the life you share will continue to grow and thrive. Because there’s nothing in this world, nothing at all, that could ever compare to being with you.

As Toji finishes preparing breakfast, he carries the plates over to the table where you’re already seated, your hands cradling a warm cup of coffee. Megumi is in his high chair, babbling happily as he plays with a small toy. Toji sets the plates down, taking a seat across from you. The morning light filters in through the window, casting a soft glow over the kitchen, and everything feels peaceful and right.

You smile at him as he sits down, your eyes filled with warmth. “Breakfast looks amazing, as always, babe.” you say, taking a bite of the perfectly cooked eggs. “You spoil us, you know that?”

Toji chuckles, shaking his head slightly. “Just making sure my family’s well-fed, y’know?” he replies, his tone light. “Besides, it’s the least I can do.”

As you both start eating, a comfortable silence settles between you, broken only by the soft sounds of Megumi’s babbling. He sat in his high chair, enjoying tapping the table. He's even excited to eat his dad’s food, small as he is. After a few moments, you look up at Toji, a playful smile tugging at your lips.

“So, what do you think we should have for dinner tonight?” you ask casually, your tone teasing. “I’m in the mood for something special.”

Toji raises an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. “Special, huh? What are you thinking? Something fancy or just comfort food?”

You tilt your head, pretending to think it over. “Hmm, maybe something with a bit of both. Like a nice roast or maybe pasta. We haven’t had that in a while.”

He nods, considering the options. “Pasta sounds good, babe. I could make that sauce you like, with the garlic and herbs.”

Your eyes light up at the suggestion. “Ohhhhh! That sounds perfect!” you say, leaning back in your chair with a contented sigh. “But you know, we could always make it a bit more special.”

Toji gives you a curious look. “Oh? And how would we do that?”

You lean forward, a mischievous glint in your eye. “We could have dinner just the two of us… after Megumi’s asleep. A little date night at home.”

Toji’s expression softens as he catches on to what you’re suggesting. He sends you a tender smile. “That sounds nice, babe.” he says quietly, his voice filled with affection. “Just you and me.”

You nod, reaching across the table to take his hand. “Exactly. We don’t get many chances to have a quiet dinner together these days.”

Toji squeezes your hand gently, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “We’ll make it happen, don't worry.” he promises, his eyes locked with yours.

You hold his gaze for a moment before your expression turns a bit more serious. “You know… I’ve been thinking….” you begin, your voice soft.

Toji tilts his head slightly, his brow furrowing in concern. “What is it?”

You take a deep breath, gathering your thoughts. “I’ve been thinking about us… and our family. About how happy we are with Megumi. And… well, I was wondering if you’ve thought about having more kids.”

Toji’s eyes widen slightly in surprise, and for a moment, he’s quiet, processing your words. He nearly loses his balance. Your eyes go wide as you see him, but he manages to get a good steady composure. He clears his throat, turning to you again.

“More kids?” he repeats, his voice laced with curiosity.

You nod, giving him a small smile. “Yeah. I mean, I know it’s a big decision, and it’s something we’d have to really talk about, but… I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately. About how much I love being a mom, and how wonderful it would be to see Megumi with a little brother or sister.”

Toji’s expression softens as he watches you, his heart swelling with love for you. “You really want that?” he asks, his voice gentle.

“I do,” you admit, your eyes shining with emotion. “But only if you do too. I don’t want to push you into anything. I just… I wanted to know how you feel about it.”

Toji is quiet for a moment, his thoughts racing. He never imagined this kind of life for himself—a life filled with love, a life where he could be a father, where he could be loved and cherished. The thought of having more children, of growing your family even more, fills him with a sense of warmth and possibility. Being the father he had always wanted. He thinks that nothing would make his heart anymore fuller. And with you by his side? He thinks he would end up the happiest man alive.

Finally, he squeezes your hand again, his gaze steady as he meets your eyes. “I’d like that too.” he says, his voice thick with emotion. “If that’s what you want, then I’d love to have more kids with you. Nothing would make me happier.”

Your smile widens, relief and happiness flooding through you. “Really?” you ask, your voice soft with hope.

Toji nods, his expression serious and filled with love. “Really. I want to give you everything, and if more kids are part of that, then I’m all in. Whatever makes you happy makes me happy too, babe.”

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you lean across the table, capturing his lips in a tender kiss. “I love you so much, Toji.” you whisper against his lips.

“I love you too,” Toji replies, his voice just as soft. He pulls back slightly, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “So, pasta for dinner… and maybe a little planning for our future?”

You laugh, the sound filled with joy. “Sounds like the perfect evening.”

Toji smiles back at you, his heart filled with a deep, contented love. He knows that whatever the future holds, as long as he has you by his side, everything will be just fine. As long as you’re together, as long as his little prayer will be answered — everything will be okay. That’s all that matters.

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justawritterwithideas · 2 years ago

Text

Boy Wonder and the Rockstar | s.r

✩ previous part | next part ✩

summary: The BAU rushes to Washington after discovering that the lead singer of a famous band may be in danger, causing Spencer to come face to face with his past after 15 years.

general warnings: this series contains topics such as mentions of death, alcohol, drugs, strong vocabulary, as well as talk of heartbreak, disappointment and arguments. It also contains content regarding CM season 13, so it clearly contains spoilers.

chapter warnings: this chapter contains mentions of murder, vomiting, mistreatment, as well as the use of strong vocabulary. this is a spencer reid x famous!reader story.

words: 4,269 words.

a/n: hello! here i come with the second chapter of "boy wonder and the rockstar", i had fun writing this chapter as i also suffered from lack of creativity ( T T ), but finally inspiration touched me. I hope you like it. Remember to read the chapter cautions and have a good read.! English is not first language, so I may have mistakes, if so, I'm sorry. :(

𝟎.𝟐: 𝐌𝐲 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫.

For many people, memories that are related to times in their lives relate to certain aspects of the five senses, whether it's certain sounds or textures, music that brings them back to that exact memory, or simply tastes of foods that remind them of what their loved ones used to make.

For Spencer, it was smells.

Despite possessing a memory that makes him remember even the smallest detail of what happened the day before, his olfactory memory was much more developed than other senses.

During his childhood, or what he considers childhood, his memories smelled of the pages of old books that his mother read to him and her perfume, impregnated in the bed sheets when they sat together to read some classic of literature. When he was in his youth, sometimes the smells reminded him of the charcoal in his pencil, writing mathematical exercises on white sheets, or sometimes the smell of chlorine, because of the thousand times bullies forced him to go to the bathroom.

But during his college days, he always thought that the smell that would be his favorite was the soft smell of the library, of wood and humidity; but no, those memories had the smell of freshly brewed coffee, cherries and menthol cigarettes.

His good memories always brought smiles to his face in the middle of nowhere, as if he was remembering one of those old bad jokes they used to tell him and he couldn't find the humor in them, or maybe the less thought out answers to such logical questions. His good memories caused his stomach to clench tightly and his chest to feel heavy, as if a stone was replacing his heart.

Spencer knew why. Why his body felt that way.

But he didn't want to admit why.

Because if he admitted it, he knew the only reason he did would make him regret it, he would have to give reason to his sentimental side than the rational side.

And he hated not being right.

"Spence."

J.J.'s voice brought the boy back to his desk, taking his eyes off the nearly iced coffee with a pound of sugar to keep him awake.

He'd been daydreaming about Y/N's laughter in his ear for nights now, just like when they had sleepovers at her apartment. He couldn't get her out of his head, let alone get the smell out of her hair when she was the small spoon.

"What, what's going on?" the opposite replied, looking at the blonde. She seemed to be trying to decipher what was going on in her friend's head.

"I'm asking you, is something wrong, are you sleeping well?"

"Yes." Bullshit.

"Are you sure? Your eyes say otherwise." The black circles under his eyes gave him away.

"I've been sleepless for a few days, but it's because my neighbors won't let me sleep." Another bullshit.

"You should talk to them, you know." The boy nodded, giving the blonde an elongated smile and returning to his paperwork.

"Really all right?"

"Yeah, J.J. It's fine."

"'S okay, you know what you can tell me."

"Yes J.J., thank you."

The answer didn't leave the blonde satisfied, but she made an extraordinary effort to ignore his attitude and return to the desk with Luke and Matt, who had been staring at him for a couple of minutes.

"He's rambling again." Commented J.J as she returned, who kept her eyes on her best friend and tried to figure out what was wrong with him.

It was usual at this time of year, when the leaves were beginning to turn their last summer colors, that Spencer would go blank staring at a spot in the room more than once.

No one quite understood why that happened to him, the only one who knew was Gideon. But he never shared any of Spencer's secrets, not even if a gun was held to his chest.

"Guess whateee, my dear friends!" The conversation was interrupted by a cheerful and enthusiastic Penelope, who commanded everyone's attention with her sonorous voice.

"What's going on, Garcia?" Luke turned to see her, who was coming with an envelope in her hand.

"Your genius did it again, rub the wishing lamp and I got tickets to the best concert of the year - Paradox in Virginia! Can you believe it?"

"You got them!?" J.J. was the first to startle, coming closer to see the tickets for the most anticipated concert of the year.

"That's right, my dear friend! A girls' night out to see Paradox. You, me, Emily and Tara."

"No way, god. I'll talk to Will and rest assured I'll be ready for that night." J.J smiled hugging her friend's arm.

"What's Paradox...?" muttered Luke, causing Matt to turn to look at him. The poor Luke was trying to comprehend what his friends were talking about.

Was he too out of date on pop culture or were they speaking in some kind of secret code?

"Oh Luke, why did you ask that?" Matt shook his head, earning a glare from the blonde couple.

"What did you say, newbie, don't you know what Paradox is? Oh god, no way. I'll have to bring you up to date with a course on what today's music is right now, follow me." Penelope motioned to the boy, who turned to see Matt who was lifting his shoulders laughing.

"No Penelope, you're not going anywhere. We have a case, and it's urgent. There's no time, meeting room now."

The rest of the people turned to look at each other, abiding by their boss's orders as they saw her so anxious and serious about a case.

That didn't look good at all.

The adrenaline and euphoria of last night's show, plus the last two dates, had been enough of a stimulant for Y/N to fall asleep in bed once they arrived at the hotel. Her whole body was exhausted, and at that moment all she wanted was some chamomile tea and a thousand hours of sleep.

She loved her job, of course she did! But she was mentally and physically exhausted from giving almost 15 concerts without a break, from one state to another, with more cups of coffee and energizers in her body than times where her eyes closed to sleep.

And the only time she found peace and quiet was when her body was being moved from one location to another, so, at that moment, her body was resting in the comfortable seat of the SUV after being driven to an interview and returned to the hotel to rest.

She felt her limbs meld with the seat, feeling like she was in heaven itself where her muscles all over her body were relaxing after days.

Her peace didn't last long when she heard a soft call.

"Psss, Y/N."

The, now, blonde heard the call from Felix, also known as the band's drummer and her best friend.

"What? You ruin my beauty nap."

"What did one wall say to the other?"

Y/N could hang him right then and there.

More the tiredness in her body made her think, trying to devise the best answer to get him to leave her alone.

"What?"

"I'll meet you at the corner."

"I'm having the biggest self-control to not kill you because you just interrupted the only moment of peace I've had these past three months, asshole."

"You haven't been able to sleep?"

Y/N denied with her eyes closed, desperate to get back to her attempt at sleep.

"Not a single moment, I woke up three times last night and that was the best attempt at sleep I've ever had."

"Your pills aren't working?"

"They're placebos, they won't make my body calm down just like that and go back to my eight hour sleep cycle that I'd had for the last two years without touring." The young woman opened one eye, looking at her friend. "I just have to get used to it, I have to get back to the cycle of excitement I used to have when it was tour after tour."

"Maybe if we talk about that thing that bothers you-"

"No way."

Y/N knew what he meant, knew it was talking about a certain doctor who gave her goosebumps every time she thought about him and took her back to her college days.

Why was she still thinking about him? It had been almost 15 years since they last spoke.

Y/N looked at the date on her phone.

No, she was wrong.

It had been 15 years since they last spoke.

Today was 15 years since she had received the last letter from Spencer with her name written on it.

The last time she felt the smell of his perfume on the sheets and his ugly doctor's handwriting on a sheet of paper.

The last time she saw written "wherever you are, whatever you do or whoever you are with, you are always on my mind and in my heart, Y/N."

Last time she saw written "Love from Quantico, dr. Spencer Reid. I'm also known as your #1 fan, but only you know that."

Was that the reason she hadn't slept well that night? Yes.

Was that the reason she hadn't slept well for that last week? Yes.

Was that the reason why, every time she closed her eyes, she saw him smile? Yes.

Was she going to admit it? No.

Never.

"Y/N..."

"I don't want to talk about it, Felix. Don't insist."

"But, Y/N-"

"Let it go, Felix. Really, don't insist." Tyler's voice made Felix turn to look at him angrily.

Tyler and Shawn, the guitarist and bassist respectively, shook their heads and made an "X" symbol with their fingers, muttering at the same time "don't do it, don't be stupid."

"Enough kids, let it go. In two days we have a very important concert to give in Seattle, so I don't want any fights."

"You heard him, Felix." Y/N smiled opening her eyes, looking in the direction of Gerald, her manager.

Thank you, Y/N murmured in the man's direction.

Gerald just raised his shoulders, noticing how the van parked.

"Okay, down."

Tyler and Shawn were the first to get out, followed by Y/N and then Felix.

Felix hated to come off as meddling in Y/N's life, so whenever he meddled too much in the girl's life, he simply knew that seeking forgiveness from her was his best option.

"Sorry Y/N, I didn't mean to insist."

"It's okay, Felix. I know you meant no harm, but I don't want to talk about it."

"And when will you?"

"I don't know, I guess when I'm ready."

"It's been 15 years, Y/N."

"I know, but I'm still not read-"

"Miss Autumn?"

Y/N turned to see the receptionist, who was holding a package.

"A package has arrived for you."

"Thank you, do you know who brought it?"

"No miss, I'm sorry."

"No worries, thanks again."

Y/N received it, walking to the elevator along with Felix after seeing how the package had a sticker on it that said "express delivery."

"What did you order, compulsive shopper?" Gerald turned to look at her, causing Y/N to deny in confusion.

"Nothing that I know of, I promise."

"Maybe it's a collaboration, Tiffany's already started putting the ads with your face all over it." Shawn smiled, elbowing the arm of the store's new ambassador.

"A gift for you to occupy at the next gig." Gerald replied, nodding softly as he looked down at his phone.

The box was small and covered in the typical plastic they place around it. Compact enough to drop a set of jewelry on behalf of the brand, but it seemed odd that it came directly and without warning.

The group made their way to the small meeting room where they had set up everything they needed, ready to hear the itinerary Gerald had prepared for them about their upcoming events.

Y/N's fingers went to open the package once it was placed on the table, watching as the "Tiffany & Co." logo on its little sky blue box.

"Okay guys, tomorrow you have rehearsal from noon until three in the afternoon, then you'll have an interview on a radio station near the sta-"

A beautiful gold ring with a navy blue gem in the middle was the first thing that caught the young woman's eye, perfect for the occasion. But it was heavier than usual.

"Then you can go eat and rest, we'll still have dress rehearsal, so you can get ready-"

A shout coming from Y/N deafened the group of people, causing them all to look in her direction.

Her skin was as white as paper, her eyes fixed on the box she had just opened and her face with an expression of pure terror from an experimental horror movie.

All eyes went in the direction of the box, which Y/N felt like everything she had eaten that morning was going to spew out of her mouth right then and there.

"Shit."

The beautiful ring encircled something.

A human finger.

A human finger that stained the bottom of the box.

A human finger that was accompanied by a note.

"I hope you enjoy my gift, my sweet star. I made it just for you, good luck at the concert."

"This morning at the Queen Elizabeth Hotel in Washington, the lead singer of the band Paradox received a package. Inside was a human finger with a ring on it." Emily was passing around the photographs that had been sent by the Washington police, it showed just what she had just described above. "According to the receptionist it was dropped off by someone from a package store. The police questioned him and he said it had arrived with yesterday's load of packages."

"From where?" Luke asked.

"They don't know, they collect packages from all over the country so they don't know where it came from. They're looking for the tracking code of the branch they sent it from."

"How grotesque, who would send such a thing to an artist like her?" Tara looked at Emily, who sighed.

"But what do we have to do with this case?" Rossi looked at his tablet, zooming in on the picture of the ring.

"The DNA results came back to find out whose finger it is." A photograph of a stranger appeared on the TV screen. "He is Bruno Colombo, an Italian artist and the owner of that finger. We just got word that his lifeless body was found in his art studio."

"He's Autumn's ex-fiancé." Penelope commented, surprised at all that was going on. "In 2016, he and Autumn got engaged after dating for two years, but after a few months it was discovered that the engagement ended after Autumn discovered him and an art gallery owner having sex in his studio. According to him he did it because he wanted to make an exhibition that would portray Autumn's true feelings, and this way he could see her feeling of anger and sadness. There are still people who idolize him for that."

"What a jerk." Matt muttered.

"And how come no one noticed his absence?"

" According to this, he was isolating himself when he was setting up exhibits so it wasn't out of the ordinary for him to suddenly disappear."

Spencer felt his heart pounding, why would he get like this over a clear case of a stalker obsessing over a music star?

It's not like he even knew her.

"Apparently, this relates to a series of related cases over ten years that the only common element is this band, Paradox. No one has ever linked them before as none of the modes of operation are the same, the only factor that unites them is the viciousness with which they are carried out and the band, of course." Emily sighed, showing the various faces and deaths that surrounded them.

"Race or religion has nothing to do with it, it seems neither does gender." Spencer commented, quickly reading each of the bodies found. "But it looks like they all had an encounter with the band or one of the members. From 2008 when the first body was found until now."

"The director asked us to take on this case, the level of this band is insane and it seems to be going against the vocalist, Autumn. They are currently on a world tour after two years of no activity, plus not much is known about her in general." Emily turned to look at Penelope. "Garcia, you're joining us on this trip. You serve us better back in Washington than you do here at Quantico. Reid and Lewis will go meet the M.E., the rest of us will go to the station and then we'll all go to the Queen Elizabeth Hotel, we'll meet the band and their manager." The whole group was surprised, especially Penelope who held a surprised expression. "Wheels up in 30."

Y/N always thought that the whole thing about having human parts shipped to you in a box was part of fiction. At best, news fiction.

But what she had just experienced was surreal.

Her body was shaking with a cup of tea in her hands, feeling her hands stinging around the cup.

"Who the fuck would send something like that to Y/N? No one we know is capable of doing anything to her, they would fuck up their careers if they were exposed like that." Tyler turned, annoyed, in the direction of Y/N. "Who did this to you, are you hiding something from us?"

"No, Tyler. I'm not hiding anything, why would I hide the fact that someone sent me a fucking human part on my name to a hotel in the middle of our comeback tour? You're blaming me for something, huh? Tell me to my fucking face, Tyler."

Y/N stood up in exasperation, letting the hot water spill onto the floor.

"I don't know, you tell me, Y/N. If you got sent a finger."

"Go straight to hell, Tyler. Right straight up." Commented the girl raising her middle finger.

"Enough! Both of you." Gerald's loud voice interrupted them, separating the band's strong personalities. "Right now we can't fight. They just sent a fucking human finger to Y/N, we can't get mad about that, we should be worried."

"Finally someone with sense." Y/N sat back down, setting the cup aside.

"What are they seeing so much of us, why aren't they doing anything? They should be looking for the person responsible." Felix got up walking towards the officers, being stopped by Shawn.

"Hey, they're doing the best they can. If we go in there and raise our voices, we're going to hinder the investigation, don't be a dickhead."

"Damn it, this can't be happening." Y/N stood up, starting to walk over to her purse to pull out a cigarette and place it between her teeth.

"You can't smoke in here, Y/N." Gerald's warning went in one ear to the girl and out the other, flicking her lighter. "Y/N."

"What, look at the shit we're in, I just got sent a fucking human finger from who-knows-who and you're asking me to keep my cool!? I can't! There's a crazy person out there sending me that shit with 'nice words'." The girl threw the lighter at who-knows-where, finding herself on the verge of an anxiety attack. "Don't fuck around and leave me alone to have a smoke, Gerald."

The group fell back into the same silence that surrounded them four hours ago, letting the cigarette smoke flood their nostrils.

They were desperate, they needed to get to the root of this.

Y/N knew it. Right now she was the eye of the hurricane, who that box and message were addressed to; the same person who had sent her that, had taken it upon himself to send her flowers and letters with the same nickname, "my sweet star."

At first she thought it was nice, of course it's nice when you get your favorite flowers along with letters of good cheer and best wishes, but it's not nice when you get a gift like today's.

But her attitude would get her nowhere, she was annoyed and exasperated, but they didn't deserve that kind of treatment.

"I'm sorry, but this is too much for me, I can't handle this alone and my attitude isn't helping anything. " Y/N commented, taking her eyes off her cigarette and looking at the people closest to her. "We should be in this together."

"I'm sorry, kid. I got upset that I couldn't help you, that you didn't know who sent you that." Tyler sighed, giving the girl a rueful smile.

"Don't worry about it, Ty. I'm really sorry, everyone."

The girl took another puff on her cigarette, letting the minty flavor cool her lungs.

"The FBI is here."

The announcement made everyone look at each other, taking their last breaths and letting Y/N finish what she was doing, the only thing keeping her sane at that moment.

"I'll see you downstairs, okay?" Felix left a kiss on the young woman's forehead, taking his leave to get on the elevator.

Y/N found herself alone in the room, again feeling disgust rise in her throat. She couldn't get the image of that package out of her mind, how was someone capable of writing those sweet words and sending something as grotesque as that.

The girl's hands gently stroked her cheeks, waking up and she shook her head. She would make one last stop to the bathroom before heading downstairs, so she could go more consciously for who-knows-what things would make her talk.

The BAU met up with a group of people who, thanks to the way Penelope was getting excited, could be sure it was Paradox.

All along the way, Spencer had listened to Garcia's theories and who it could have been. He loved listening to her talk, but his head was somewhere else, somewhere else but there.

Something inside him sensed something, something he wasn't sure what it was. Maybe it was the lack of sleep, or maybe it was his thoughts of the past that had been running through him since morning.

"Agent Prentiss, I'm Gerald Murphy, the manager of Paradox." The man shook hands with the woman, who was looking over his shoulder at three people. "These are the members of the band: Tyler, Shawn and Felix."

The three let out a wave into the air, giving them a smile of sorts.

Spencer knew they weren't entirely happy they were there, he read it in their body language.

"I understand there are four of you in the band, here I see three." Emily looked directly into Gerald's eyes.

"Yeah, Autumn, the vocalist, is upstairs finishing something. But she's coming down now, right?" Felix nodded, watching the FBI agents.

Felix crossed glances with Spencer, feeling that familiar air from somewhere.

Spencer felt that familiar air too, but maybe he thought his mind was playing tricks on him.

"Please, let's go somewhere more private. That way we can talk more quietly."

Gerald motioned to the three men, who plunged inside the room, followed by everyone else.

The BAU settled down in front of the four people seated on the couches.

"If you like, we can wait for Miss Autumn." Emily glanced at the group, all of whom nodded.

"It's for the best, she's the most affected." Felix looked in the direction of Tyler and Shawn, who simply nodded in unison.

"You've never received anything like this before?" Luke directed his question at the group of people, causing Tyler to let out a sarcastic laugh.

"You think that's a normal thing to receive, a human finger? Please, be realistic."

"Tyler, shut up." Shawn motioned, slapping the young man's knee.

"That's a stupid question of his, since when is getting shit like that going to be normal?"

"Tyler!" Shawn gave him a stern look, turning his gaze back to Luke. "I'm sorry, we're touchy about this that just happened."

"My question was out of line, it's my fault." Luke admitted, turning to look at the rest.

"When is Autumn getting here?" Felix's question seemed to work magic, smelling her best friend's signature scent.

A strong smell of cherries and menthol tobacco made Spencer shake his head.

It wasn't time to remember Y/N, it wasn't time to focus on something like that.

It felt like his head was playing a joke on him, as if she was suddenly here. But the smell didn't go away, in fact, it intensified to the point that Spencer could feel his head hurting.

"Sorry I'm late."

Spencer felt his entire body freeze, as if he were turning into an ice cube.

The voice he thought he would never hear again.

The voice that escaped so much in his dreams.

He could hear it there, like an echo in his head.

His head turned, catching the figure that had just entered with some haste.

"Nice to meet you, I'm Autu-"

"Y/N."

The girl looked up, meeting Spencer's hazel eyes.

No way, Y/N thought.

Her heart stopped, as did the time around her.

Standing in front of her was a much older and mature Spencer Reid, but with that same lotion that made her dizzy.

The woman's mouth opened slightly, feeling the air in her lungs catch and no words came out of her mouth.

Her lip quivered, her pulse altered.

"Spencer."

Oh fate, how cruel did you have to be?

If you like it, don't forget to like and repost it.

a lot of love, alme. ❀

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x you #spencerreid #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid x famous!reader #criminal minds fanfiction #it's my first series #almeseries

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mrinafria · 5 months ago

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Is Seon Jae corny?

One of the biggest charms of Lovely Runner for me is how it portrays a romance that is youthful, goofy, foolish and yet touches your heart in the most sensible and mature way possible. It doesn't forget it's a romcom at heart and serves us just that, so going into the show expecting a different genre is just unfair to the show (and yourself because you are the one setting yourself up for disappointment imo).

I'm not a big fan of immature childish romance devoid of any substance but that is not what we see here, despite Seon Jae being 19yo (or 20 or 34 yo). There's youthful anticipation, excitement and emotions but somehow Seon Jae's character (and Im Sol's character too, although she's always been 34yo in the main narrative) manages to transcend the notion of age and time with what he feels for Im Sol, the extent of it and the way he acts when it comes to her. Romance today is calculative and is often done in moderation, which is not necessarily a bad thing, because it is essential to learn to love ourselves too as we love someone special, but for both Im Sol and Seon Jae, loving themselves is also intrinsically connected to loving each other. Im Sol learns to appreciate life through loving Seon Jae, Seon Jae loves Im Sol because he appreciates what life has to offer.

This scene, for instance. I've rambled about this in the past too. It always warms my heart to see how, in all the timelines, he never gives up on life itself due to Im Sol not reciprocating his feelings/not remembering him. The guilt/heartbreak, longing and lovesickness are palpable in all versions of Seon Jae across all timelines but every time, he chooses to move forward in life (despite his heart being stuck in time with his Sol-ah), embracing everything life has to offer him. One of the things that becomes evident pretty early on in Lovely Runner is Seon Jae loves life. He may struggle sometimes but he doesn't think of it as a chore or burden to live on. He has things he cherishes, people he hangs out with, his dreams, aspirations, pain and struggle outside of Im Sol. He is not a pushover, he has stuff going on, he has a life. And he's not someone who'll casually say things like "I'll die for you" to anyone just to impress and get them to date him. Such grand statements don't usually make much of an impact on me as a viewer either but here, it somehow just works? Perhaps because we know he loves his life and wouldn't give it up no matter how hard things get, except for when he, his first and only love, part of his soul, is in crisis--tested by fate and time and death--and he is adamant about not letting it mess with his happiness, just like he wasn't ready to give up swimming despite Im Sol's warnings and his existing injury. That is the only time he'd make an exception: choose to live a short, worthwhile life, than live a long one devoid of any happy memories or love. It is not his childishness. In fact, he is doing what many of us can never, ever do. And perhaps that's why it doesn't sit well with some of the viewers; he complicates how we define love, happiness, fulfillment these days.

And come to think of it, he doesn't really say he'll die for her. He says Even if I die trying to save you, it's okay: it's a sad thing, Sol-ah. it's painful, yes, but it's okay. I might be worried for the remaining 14 years of my life, but that's because I'll have very little time to love you, to be in this feeling, to cherish the moments I make with you. I'll be sad that I won't see my first grey hair with you or be with you in so many of your big milestones in life, but it's okay. I'll try to make the most of whatever we get, now and tomorrow.

His sadness and heartbreak comes not from not being able to live his life to the fullest, but not being able to live his life with her. That exact same sentiment is conveyed by the final 2023 Seon Jae too, who doesn't even remember Im Sol or any of his old timeline versions and yet says the same thing.

The 2009 Seon Jae doesn't say 'I WILL die trying to save you'; he says 'if', there is a conditional. Even when he's aware of the impending doom, he doesn't give up on his life, on the 'if'. The guy with that face that has accepted a death that is yet to come, with eyes brimming with tears, with a heart determined to live hoping for an 'if' until then… when this guy makes such cheesy claims about his love and death, it's no longer an empty exaggerated promise. It hits a lot harder and leaves me momentarily breathless. That claim, stemming from the inherent human instinct to just want to be happy, and that non-calculative, selfless, pure kind of love, is exactly the thing I signed up for. That proclamation—simple, corny—is pain wrapped in momentary happiness, and my heart sinks, thinking just how fast he had to grow up in that short span of moments.

Ryu Seon Jae is like a North Star—he may not shine the brightest, but he shines bright enough in the same way, consistently, in every timeline we see him in. He is the star you could identify even in the sea of a million stars. Because that's how distinct his persona is. He may be corny and a loser, but he is corny and a loser exclusively for Im Sol, not in his life. That's the best kind of corny and loser one could find.

#Byeon Woo Seok #Kim Hye Yoon #Lovely Runner #Sun Jae #Im Sol #Seon Jae #선재 업고 튀어 #kdrama #kdrama recommendations #east asian drama #episode reaction

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shesjustanothergeek · 2 months ago

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The Gods We Can Touch Chapter Seven: Ending Anew

|Aemond Targaryen x Strong!Reader|

Masterlist of Series

Summary: The older twin of Prince Jacaerys Velaryon, you were a picture of the maiden, untouched and untainted by man's sins. At least, that was what Alicent Hightower believed when she held you in her arms moments after her old friend's labors. You were her shining light, her dream. Though you were never hers, she believed you were meant to be.

What will become of you as time passes and the Queen's shining light grows within the blackened darkness? Will her eldest son's morbid fascination with the light burn the realm? Or will her second son's obsession with the only daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen change the course of the Seven Kingdoms as we know it?

Author's Note: Thank you for your patience and understanding with the uploads. I've been working six days a week and have only one day to myself where I can do basic necessities like wash clothes and clean. My bedroom has certainly paid for it and so has my hobbies. (Or lack there of) I hope y'all enjoy this seeing young adult Aemond and reader! (⁠ﾉ⁠◕⁠ヮ⁠◕⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠*⁠.⁠✧

Chapter Warnings: sexual harassment, dubious consent, bastardphobia, implied mental illness, lots of sexism.

The distinction between those we love and those we hate can be subtle. Both emotions are directed towards an individual based on their inherent qualities. Despite this commonality, they are often perceived as opposites. Loving someone entails wanting them to thrive while hating someone involves wishing for their suffering or transformation. However, love and hate can coexist despite their seemingly contradictory nature.

Six years ago, you experienced deep affection for an individual during your youth, believing that their sun-kissed hands epitomized kindness. However, after enduring years of distress, you discovered the unexpected capability to harbor animosity towards this once beloved person. This realization perplexed you as you contemplated whether he endured similar inner turmoil.

You hated Uncle Aemond for hurting your brothers the night at Driftmark many years ago and for not responding to your countless ravens who sought to apologize and keep broken promises. But because of the love that never ceased beating in your heart, you continued to create reasons for yourself to loathe him. Despite realizing your uncle would never respond, you still sent him letters with the blind hope that someday you would have one addressed from King’s Landing, though if one ever did come, they were from Queen Alicent, and in which you promptly fed them to the fish-eyed billy goats on Dragonstone.

The contents were of anything and everything you could think of. Sometimes, you retold important events like leaving to study at the Citadel and becoming a lady of Queen Esabella of Dorne as a temporary peace bargain for what happened in the Stepstones. Other times, it was your interests, such as a new plant or a medical technique, that you learned and thought would help him with his… ailment.

Though you heard nothing from Aemond, that did not mean you knew nothing about him. You heard rumors that he took to putting a sapphire in his empty eye socket, and while the idea was sure to inspire fear in the hearts of many, it fascinated you, wondering if the gem was smooth and round or jagged and sharp, much like your uncle’s personality. It seemed like him to fashion something such as that as he was always a bit odd, though you never minded it. You imagined the discomfort his wound might cause despite it becoming scarred. From what you understood about those with similar injuries, the person could feel the severed nerves and tissue healing themselves, the sensation like a thousand hot needles in the skin.

It was no wonder why he was gossiped to have such a cold demeanor. You hoped one day you would be allowed to see it yourself, even if you were on the receiving end.

Some of you worried that Aemond never received your letters, thinking you abandoned him and all the promises made in secrecy. Queen Alicent wouldn’t be the one to bar them from him as she most desperately wanted you to visit the Red Keep and mend the bond broken on the night at Driftmark. You didn’t understand why it had to be you to be the one to do so. These were matters created by the ruling adults in your life, and they should have sought to fix them.

Nevertheless, neither you, your parents, nor Queen Alicent tried to mend what occurred between the family. Still, that lack of effort did not extend to your relationship with your uncle. You still wanted to fly with him as you promised some years ago.

“The Conqueror and his sisters sailed with a great army,” Jacaerys translated from High Valyrian, his words proud but still holding a certain waver to his voice now that you weren’t there to assist him.

You stood by one of the tall metal-paned windows in the Chamber of the Painted Table in Dragonstone, the ancient seat of your family, silently mouthing the words of your ancestors’ histories spoken by the Maester in your mother tongue.

The thick, gray clouds outside cast a dull light into the room, creating a somber yet peaceful atmosphere. You and your brother understood that your imposing maternal presence made him nervous and hindered his concentration. Over the years, you developed the habit of speaking over Jace during your studies.

This hadn’t gone unnoticed, leading to reprimands from Maester Gerardys and your mother for not giving your twin a fair chance to learn. You only wished for Jace to be the best version of himself he could be. He was to be your King when Mother passed.

“Se Blākuata Rāsho drāñot vilinio viartis,” (And made landfall at the mouth of the Blackwater Rush) Maester Gerardys conveyed, his words slowed and accent thick to convey their meaning.

The resounding echo of the chamber doors opening filled the air with the unmistakable clang of metal. As they parted, a graceful figure emerged—your mother, adorned in a flowing, vibrant red dress that complemented her regal presence. She moved with a poised and graceful stride, her hand tenderly skimming over her gently swelling belly, radiating an undeniable sense of maternal warmth and affection. Catching your gaze, you offered her a tender smile, and in response, she bestowed upon you a fleeting yet soft expression that spoke volumes of her boundless love without the need for words.

“Drāñot,” your mother asked Jace to repeat, but he stared at her wide-eyed, the words slipping from his mind.

Meeting your mother’s strides to greet her, you answered for him with a bright and eager-to-please smile. “The mouth.”

She flashed a tight-lipped grin and scrunched her nose, lightly nodding as Jace slouched in self-directed disappointment. “Mouth! I knew that, sister. You needn’t answer for me,” he expressed with disappointment, stomping his foot on the ground.

“If you keep speaking for your brother, he will never learn,” your mother lightheartedly scolded as she kissed the top of your head. You have heard those words for the past six years.

If Jace knew the answers, you wouldn’t have to help him, you thought reproachfully.

You did not rush to pay attention to your twin as you knelt beside your younger brothers Aegon, Viserys, and Joffrey. Instead, you focused on the youngest, Viserys. With great tenderness, you gathered him into your lap, the book Elinda brought for them cradled in your hands.

Leaning in close to your half-brother, you whispered. “I will teach you our mother tongue once you learn to speak,” as you lovingly smoothed the silky strands of his blonde hair.

“Drāñot. Drāñot,” your brother repeated, as if the meaning of Maester Gerardys’ words would magically appear in his mind.

“And made landing at the mouth of the Blackwater Rush,” you whispered under your breath so no one would hear, answering for him.

You and Jace were the same age, two bodies with one soul, yet different. You could have helped him more if Mother had not sent you away. You never understood why she separated you instead of betrothing you to Jace. She constantly danced around the notion of marrying for years, which was incomprehensible, seeing as the match was the only option that would make sense. You would rule together, and the realm wouldn’t have the same unrest they did with your mother.

“Perhaps that is enough for today,” your mother offered as Jace became increasingly frustrated with his inability to master High Valyrian.

“No!” He exclaimed ardently, holding his arm as if to stop the suggestion physically. “I-I want to keep going.”

You smirked and flipped the page in the picture book you showed Viserys as he babbled nonsensically, his tiny fists grasping the bound leather. As you touched his plump cheek, he smelled like tallow and lavender.

Your mother allowed Jace to proceed with the bob of her head as Maester Gerardys began again. “Guēsi ropakakson Āegon ūndas.”

“Aegon gave orders for the trees to be felled,” you responded as if the question was directed toward you. Your mother quickly snapped her violet eyes in warning. You were used to that look and continued to tend to the babe like nothing happened, as Jace answered with stutters.

“Aegon… ordered that the trees should be… killed,” he stated proudly. You released a puff of air through your nose that sounded like a laugh as Viserys took the tome with tiny, curious, grabby hands.

“Felled. ‘Tis a related word,” your mother gently corrected as she clasped her hands behind her sturdy back. “I don’t expect you to learn High Valyrian in a day, Jace.”

“A king should honor the traditions of his forebears,” your brother steadfastly declared as you turned with your brows raised, spine cracking.

“That sounds like something your sister would say,” your mother expressed with a slight tightness in her tone. Pursing your lips with guilt, you returned to Viserys, acting as if you weren’t paying attention.

That was precisely what you said to him before your lessons today.

“Unless you plan to depose your mother, you have plenty of time to study,” she teased with a grin like she always did, her happiness becoming contagious as you returned the look over your shoulder. Jace did not share the same enthusiasm as the chamber doors opened again, revealing that of your stepfather strolling down the steps.

You looked to Daemon grimly as he met your mother with a grave expression on his time-worn visage. She declared that you all leave the room as he entered without looking further at you and your siblings. Jace called the young Joffrey to follow him, and you and your mother’s lady took Aegon and Viserys. As you passed your stepfather, he brought his hand out, noiselessly ordering you to stop while handing your mother the sealed letter in his fingers. He traced a calloused knuckle over his son’s cheek and placed a kiss on his crown, purple orbs piercing your dark ones.

He knew of your distaste for him ever since he wed Rhaenyra mere days after your father’s death, refusing to leave your rooms unless necessary. While you never felt like the Velaryon side of your family liked you, they agreed with the unspoken sentiment that Daemon had something to do with your father’s death. You disagreed with the idea that your mother did. She loved your father in her way and, in your mind, wasn’t capable of plotting the murder of her children’s father.

You didn’t outright disrespect Daemon; after all, he was still a prince, but he would never be someone you looked up to or went to in times of strife. He would never be your father, not even as he irritatingly called you daughter and played with the new pearl and sapphire necklace your mother forced you to wear today—a gift from your stepfather.

You understood Daemon only did these things to irk you, refusing to play with the ruse like usual. With no sentences exchanged between you, the Rouge Prince sent you on your way with his offspring wrapped securely in your arms.

“Another raven from Dragonstone, Your Highness,” a Steward announced, holding a rolled piece of parchment sealed with a delicate blue ribbon.

The One-Eyed Prince sat in a green armchair by the hearth, seemingly unbothered, his lithe form in thought and leg crossed over the other. He did not move. His violet eye trained on the flickering orange and blue flames. No words of acknowledgment were said, and the servant placed the letter on the Prince’s foot table as he took a long sip from his goblet in hand.

You were always stubbornly loyal to whoever you cared for, and he thought it rather pathetic, especially when you still sought contact from him after you were met with uncaring silence.

On more than one occasion, his mother attempted to uncover what you said to him, Aemond discovering her rummaging through his writing desk drawers. He met her with an anger he had never felt before, as if she had stolen his most prized jewels.

The Prince told himself that he didn’t care if passersby discovered them. They were inconsequential items containing meaningless ink, and he thought they were a waste of paper until she almost found them. Although he loved his mother dearly, this was something that was Aemond’s, untainted by neither her nor his grandfather’s fingers.

He spent many hours pouring over the subjects you wrote as he battled with the urge to burn your writings, yet desiring to fly to Dragonstone atop the Mighty Vhagar and ensure the oaths you declared in the refined loops of your High Valyrian were indeed true. Aemond never did, only having gotten as close to Driftmark and spotted the glinting silver roof of High Tide before the suffocating feeling inside his chest took hold.

Blood, screams, and horror on your face as he clung to your chest before you crushed the childish hope of being different from the rest of them.

As the Prince grew, he found solace in places he never did before, frequenting the Keep’s gardens and Godswood with Helaena when he wasn’t on the training grounds. He was never fond of the outdoors, preferring the company of a good book curled next to a simmering fire, but he discovered that spending time in those areas brought a sense of contentment, though he was uncertain as to why.

Taking one last sip of his wine, Aemond sat his silver goblet and replaced it with the rolled parchment, licking the sticky remnants away from his lips as he untied the soft satin ribbon.

“Uncle Aemond, I hope this finds you in good health and spirits, as I cannot say the same for myself while writing this. I have overcome a recent bout of melancholia, as Maester Gerardys calls it, and now I’ve heard that Lord Corlys was gravely wounded during an ambush in the Stepstones. Insultingly, Ser Vaemond Velaryon has petitioned the Crown to declare him my Grandsire’s successor upon his passing. This infuriates me to no end. I know if my father were still alive, he would have protected him with his life, and we wouldn’t be having such a discussion. My younger brother will be the next Lord of the Tides since our father is gone. While we may disagree on specific lines of heritage, Luke is my father’s son, and I am his daughter. I find it ironic, however, that a place that haunts him, and you, he will now have to preside over. He shall be forever reminded of the great misdeed he infringed upon you, and I do find a sort of justice in it, but I would never dare to voice such a thing aloud. Luke is my brother, after all. I love him with all my being, but a part of me will never forgive him for what he did to you. I’m sure you feel the same. Mother said we would attend the petition to affirm my brother’s long-decided succession, but we both know the actual cause behind this. I do not enjoy discussing these matters. It boils my dragon blood whenever the false rumors surrounding my birth are brought up. Laenor Velaryon is my father and loved me as such. ‘Tis a fact that will never change no matter what lickspittles and gossipers claim. Oddly, despite its negative connotation and history, I eagerly await my arrival at the Red Keep. Do not think I am forgetful of you. You would not believe me if you knew how often you are in my heart and mind. I hope to see you in good health and that my recommendations for your eye, which I’ve mentioned in previous correspondence, have proven useful. Until we meet.”

Aemond did not know whether to throw your letter into the smoldering fire and watch the flames engulf the tan pages or to rip it into a dozen tiny pieces. He hated you. He loathed you with his entire being as he dangled the parchment over the orange and yellow embers, yet he could not will the rage in his heart to drop it as the heat burned his fist. Aemond welcomed the discomfort, the pain. He grew accustomed to and welcomed it until he felt the water beneath his flesh bubble.

You were no more than a dirty bastard, a daughter of a whore, yet you flaunted riches like a Targaryen princess, unbefitting of your actual status. Aemond did not want to see you ever again, lest it be you groveling on your knees for his forgiveness. It was you who broke the vows and betrayed him, choosing your filthy, Strong brothers over him. He would never forgive you, though seeing you knelt before him as your pretty tears decorated your plump cheeks would be a lovely sight. The Prince felt his cock impulsively swell at the image.

He abhorred you, yet Aemond meticulously placed your letter amidst a collection of others in an exquisitely crafted wooden lockbox adorned with intricate carvings of dragons. As he savored a deep gulp of wine, his gaze fixated on the flickering light evoked by your memories. It brought to mind the recollection of your unique grace, a quality that remained unmatched despite the countless attempts made by him and Aegon to find women of similar allure. The sharpness of his eldest brother’s words and the acrid scent of his breath lingered in his memory as Aegon leaned in on his thirteenth nameday.

“Worry not, brother. We’ll find one that looks like her for you. Time to get it wet.”

Without hesitating, he flung his drink into the fire, extinguishing its voracious flames.

The ground was cold beneath your fingers despite wearing gloves as you pruned the small plot in Aegon’s Garden. Budding crocus dotted the moist area with tiny bursts of purple petals and green stems, withstanding the late winter season. Spring was a moon away, but winter refused to release its clutch on the land, leaving the dirt to keep the frigid dampness that few things could grow in.

Aegon’s Garden was where you found yourself in strife, seeking peace and distraction in your passion. Now, with your mother’s nerves upon hearing that Ser Vaemond Velaryon decided to challenge the line of succession to the Driftwood throne, you felt the heavy burden of the future on your hunched shoulders. You felt bad about the whole situation, from your Grandsire Lord Corlys’s serious injury to the unspoken notion that Vaemond bringing this petition to the Crown was that Lucerys, and by extension, you and Jacaerys were illegitimate. The truth did not matter, not really. It was what those believed or those in power seats told those to think, and it was that you, Jace, Luke, and Joffrey were the offspring of Laenor Velaryon and Rhaenyra Targaryen.

As the King declared, you were next in line to the throne after your mother and Luke for Lord of the Tides after your Grandsire. His word was law, but it was no longer that of a King who sat on the throne but a Queen.

“You should be readying for the journey, Princess. Your mother wants to leave at first light,” Edwina, your most loyal lady, stated. She stood with her broad shoulders squared, hair tucked underneath her white maid’s cap, and hands clasped behind her back. Though she was barely a few years your senior, she acted as if she had decades.

You sighed, rolling your dark eyes in annoyance and sitting on your haunches. You supposed Edwina’s mothering was not unfounded, as your impulsiveness tended to lead you into regret. “I will not be joining my mother and Daemon on the ship. ’Tis much faster on dragon back,” you quipped.

“The Princess wants you all to arrive together,” your lady expressed, taking a few steps closer to show her seriousness.

“To show a united front. Yes, I know Edwina. I could not go,” you teased, smirking, removing your leather gloves finger by finger. “I have no love for the Red Keep, my extended family, or them for me.”

Edwina knew that was a lie. It was evident how she saw you pour over letters addressed to King’s Landing. The maid knew not who the intended recipient was, but there was someone who held a secret place in your heart. The Karstark often wondered if it was Aegon, seeing as a betrothal was whispered in the past, though that idea was quickly squashed after you had an uncharacteristic fit when she voiced it.

“I understand, Your Highness, but duty is sacrifice. Those of your standing must do things in service to your House and family that are against your wants. I do not envy that,” Edwina offered with a half smile of pity as the pair of you entered the benevolent brimstone walls of Dragonstone.

In response, you hummed, linking her strong arm in yours and lowering your head with a look mirrored hers. “This a small price to pay to live a life of privilege.”

The lady nodded in acquiescence as pictures of the poor folk in line for their food rations showed in your mind. Your travels gave you a perspective that your family did not have, forcing you to confront privileges you were unaware existed until they were thrown into your face. You held a sinking feeling inside when you thought of it for days after, guilt gnawing at your heart every time you were draped in lavish dresses of Velaryon blue and adorned with lavish jewels. It sparked you to grow your plot in Aegon’s Garden when you finally returned home and give to those less fortunate despite the odd looks your family gave you.

A similar heavy, sinking weight inside your gut returned as you thought of going to the Red Keep, seeing your uncles and Queen Alicent after what happened at Driftmark. Your guilt and shame felt as prominent as if you were the one who sliced into Aemond’s eye. You tried to reason that he deserved some form of punishment for hurting Baela, Rhaena, and your brothers, but it never worked. Your conscience was too steadfast to allow lies like that to blind you.

Your mother planned on staying in the Red Keep for a night to spend time with her father and to renew her place at court. There was no joy in your heart to learn of her plans as you chose what dresses and jewelry to wear before supper. Though King’s Landing was once your home, it no longer held the wonderous warmth that came with a place of rest. Childhood memories spent there did not come with a smile when you thought of them. Instead, misery came to mind with lingering stares from adults and Aegon and Aeomnd’s relentless teasing regarding your birth.

The cold, briny halls of Dragonstone were your home. Everyone loved you and your kin here, and there was no whispering behind silk fans wherever you went. The only gossip was if you would become with child before or after Princess Rhaenyra betrothed you and Jacaerys.

After you supped with your brothers, mother, and Daemon at night, you lay within thick furs that threatened to let the frigid midnight air in. When you woke to leave, the ground would dust with the crystalline covering of frost, and you knew how Gaeli despised the cold. He would fly at your command regardless, but you would undoubtedly feel his displeasure until he resided in the heat of the Dragonpit.

This petition felt like a dark cloud looming in the distance of a clear sky, promising its threat of a storm as you soared over Blackwater Bay. Despite your mother’s insistence that you ride on the ship with her because of her pregnancy, you choose to take Gaelithox across the water. In turn, that caused your brothers to want to take their dragons to King’s Landing and leave your mother to make the journey with only the comfort of her husband, which you were sure she didn’t mind.��

It was customary for the family to make an entrance together and be greeted by the host’s kin, but when you emerged from the wheelhouse that took you from the Dragonpit, its dark caverns still the same, you were greeted by only guards. The lack of forethought and the apparent insult of the Green’s absence sent an icy feeling into your gut, causing you to itch at the skin beneath your black dress.

The gown was not your typical style choice, as it was your Velaryon blue and pearls, but your mother wanted you to wear one of your garments fashioned in the Targaryen colors of black and red with a golden linked belt and rubies to match. She planned to present a united front before the Court and the Greens and, without it said, further solidify her and your siblings’ legitimacy to the throne.

As you stepped out of the carriage with an encouraging inhale, Jace, Luke, and Joffrey, along with the nursemaids carrying Aegon and Viserys, followed after a chill running through the air. You brought your fur-lined cloak closer to your goose flesh arms, shuddering as you observed the Red Keep in all its grandeur. It was as big as you remembered, looking at the tall pale red stone towers, windows, and colliers. You felt small, the unmistakable burn of tears under your eyelids, your nose beginning to run as memories from six years ago flashed inside your mind’s eye.

Luke and Jace came to stand behind you, taking note of your trembling lip and pink cheeks. The youngest of the two was filled with the same anxiety as you and quickly took his hand in yours—a united front. They did not know why you were shaking in your riding boots, squeezing Luke’s fist for comfort as Lord Caswell led your family inside the front gates.

While the red and black banners of House Targaryen were raised on the Keep’s walls, it seemed to be House Hightower that occupied the castle. The Seven-Pointed Star was everywhere you looked throughout the halls that once were Harold with the tapestries of flying dragons, riders bounding with their mounts, now those of the Seven, holy pictures of the Crone and her guiding light, the Maiden with her pure, ethereal beauty, and others of religious importance.

It reminded you of your time in the Citadel in Oldtown, the ancient seat of House Hightower, who aligned themselves closely with the Faith of the Seven. Your family’s relationship with the Septons and Septas was strife until the late King Maegor ruthlessly crushed the Faith Militant Uprising. However, during your stay, you heard whispers from passing Lords and Ladies that the animosity supposedly vanquished long ago was still there, simmering below their fear of House Targaryen and their dragons.

While the Seven did offer you something to soothe your soul in times of unease and explain unanswered things, it didn’t provide you consolation seeing it paraded around grotesquely in place of your House’s history. It churred the feeling of anxious dread in the pit of your stomach as your brothers eagerly left your side to explore the long-forgotten Red Keep.

“I would say it’s nice to be home, but I scarcely recognize it,” your mother said, a slight lilt to her melodic voice and sharing a knowing glance with Daemon.

You stood closely by her side, moist lips tucked in concern as you observed your stepfather’s butter smirk walking before the two of you. You and your mother stayed unmoving for another moment to allow the situation to settle. The abrupt raven, Lord Corlys gravely injured, Princess Rhaenys traveling to King’s Landing, Luke’s legitimacy loudly called to question all happening within a few days was more commotion than you had within the entirety of your stay at Dragonstone. It was a wonder you hadn’t plucked at the hairs of your Crown, your digits twitching and coming to scratch at your scalp.

Suddenly, you felt a shift in the air, unable to name the sensation as you turned to your mother, whose beautiful violet orbs were trained on a series of portraits of your kin. While your King grandsire, stepfather, mother, Queen Alicent, and her children were there, your siblings were not, leaving only the elegant, rectangular golden frame of your countenance in the places of your brothers. You felt your heart drop and glanced at your mother with wide, curious eyes.

This meant too many things. Not only was it an insult to your mother and siblings to have all but their pictures, but the fact that it was only you there out of the six of you. It was no doubt Queen Alicent’s doing as you forced yourself to swallow a lump in your throat. The tears you kept at bay reemerged as your fingers dug under your black mesh veil, rolling the fine dark hairs at the nape of your neck between the pads of your thumb and forefinger.

Swiftly, your mother took your wrist, soothingly rubbing your knuckles as she gave you a brief yet wistful smile. “Why don’t you find the Godswood, yes? I shall meet you there shortly.”

You bobbed your head stiffly, willing your tears and trepidations to quiet as you rubbed at your damp lashes. “Yes, Mother,” you responded in kind with a sniffle.

You found yourself within nature as you always did in times of strife, gazing up into the crimson leaves of a Weirwood, the soft rustle of branches reminding you of inaudible whispers. They were hard to make with the sky’s brightness, only to see the fuzzy outlines with the gray clouds, but they comforted you. The Old Gods watched you with their unseen eyes as your fingertips traced the rough bark grass crunching beneath your boots.

The Godswood was the only place within the Keep’s grounds that did not cause you significant stress, as only fond memories of your times with Helaena catching insects and playing games with Jace and Luke filled your mind. You had no desire to return to King’s Landing despite being away for so long. It felt as if no time could heal the irreparable wounds caused within these walls and the person who did it.

Many rumors spread throughout the realm and to your little island of Dragonstone from the smallfolk, whispering that Prince Aegon’s appetite for depravity did not curb after his marriage to Princess Helaena. The people said it increased tenfold as the Prince was spotted frequenting the gambling houses, brothels, and illegal fighting pits. It seemed fitting for your eldest uncle’s character to become the worst of something he was supposed to make the best of.

You could only think of the innocent children sired into this world without their mother’s consent and then put into the fighting pits so that Aegon and other highborns could have their entertainment. When you are Queen, you shall kill every man or woman who dares to share the same interests as your uncle. You would not willingly allow such depravity under your rule. No amount of coin from such establishments could be worth it to keep the economy afloat.

The soft crunching of late winter grass caused you to jump, tearing from your thoughts as you turned to see your grandmother, Princess Rhaenys. You bestowed her with a deep curtsy and smile, coming to greet her with open arms.

“Grandmother!” you called with unspoken joy in your tone. “Tis a pleasure to see you after so long.”

She extended a tight-lipped smile that looked like a grimace, and you felt deflated. “I wish I could share the same unwitting joy you do, seeing as my Lord Husband lays battling with the Stranger.”

You lowered your arms with chagrin and took a few paces back as you felt the sting of tears resurface. “Apologies, my lady. I did not mean for my joy at seeing my father’s mother to make light of the gravity this day brings.”

She chuckled wryly at your words, shaking her head as she looked to the Weirwood tree behind you. Following her gaze, you moved from her path as she took steps forward. There were so many things you wanted to say to her, to scream to her how much you loved your father and wished for those involved with his death to pay as you twirled his signet ring on your middle digit.

Princess Rhaenys looked to you in the serene noiselessness of the Godswood, the chill in the wind causing you to shiver, gaze drifting to where you worked the gold around your knuckle. She said nothing with her mouth. She needn’t, as you could see it written plainly in the deep wrinkles lining the corners of her eyes. The Princess felt the same but would never admit it aloud to a… bastard.

“I shall leave you in peace, Princess,” you bowed again, walking with less brightness into the Keep as you left the one person you could speak about your father to.

You felt like an imbecile for what you said, even though any grandparent should feel the same glee you did at their grandchildren’s arrival. A hot wave of embarrassment seared your insides, causing you to dig the heels of your palms into your eye sockets, ripping your veil off in anger. You didn’t care about the beautifully plated hair your ladies created, scraping your nails into your scalp to feel the threadlike texture of your bothersome strands that ached to be released as you ran blindly through the stone halls.

There had been times when Aemond had forgotten who you were, your smile, your laugh, your eyes, who your birth father was, and the sweet kisses you bestowed on him alone in his chambers. That is why he reasoned that he was surprised to see a woman grown and no longer a girlish figure with a short, flat torso and legs. Instead, it was a lady with the slope of your neck dripping with rubies and dragonglass barely hidden beneath the crevasse of your swelling bosom.

Your eyes were all he could think about from the moment you emerged from the second wheelhouse. A scared, almost dovelike look to them as he watched Luke and Jace come to your side.

Good, he thought. You all should be terrified. Yet he did not hold the same conviction as his stare drifted back to you.

The Prince thought you were so small and fragile from a distance as he observed you leave the Godswood, an arch to your dark brows that seemed to be in pain. He thought there should be nothing within your perfect ideal life to be so torn about and wanted to give you a reason to be upset. Aemond planned to spit all the vitriol he held within these six years as you rounded the corner, and yet, as Aemond held you within his bruising grasp, you stared at him with such fire beneath unshed tears.

The passageway Aemond cornered you into carried a chill seeping in from the outside as he saw your cheeks redden in ire. Your moist, plump lips slightly parted to breathe as he dug his blunt nails into your biceps. He felt his breeches become impossibly tighter as you swallowed, darting your pink tongue out in nervousness, much to his frustration.

Aemond was no longer the sun-kissed Prince with wide amethyst eyes full of light. His plush, boyish face had slimmed in the time lost and turned into one of hardened maturity with a sharp nose and chiseled jaw that came to a point with thin pink lips. His countenance resembled the statues you saw in Dorne as you felt his strong hands dig into your muscles like he wanted to tear at your essence. You felt your body weaken against your will, succumbing to the emotions you felt for your uncle in your youth, but resolved to stay firm against his intimidation. There were still hints of the Aemond you briefly knew in your childhood, the one that kept that night a secret still to this day.

“Unhand me, Aemond!” you spat as if he had swiped filth across your face, a deep wrinkle on your forehead.

Aemond wanted to laugh despite your seriousness as he pressed you further against the pale red stone wall, uncaring if Princess Rhaenys heard your cries. You dropped your headpiece in your struggles and attempted to retrieve it before your uncle’s piercing grip righted you again.

“Must I?” he quipped, his stomach churning with excitement as the familiar scent of citrus and something darker wafted into his nose. “You’re a strong lady. I’m certain you can overpower me.”

Aemond allowed his gaze to roam over your face as you scoffed with a squirm. He wanted you to be ugly, for you to become the personification of all the wrongs your family committed against him, to be the picture of the betrayal he felt for you choosing them over him on that dreadful night. Up close, he unwillingly realized you were what the smallfolk claimed you to be. The picture of the Maiden though he knew you were anything but. Aemond wondered what they would think should the people discover your true nature.

“You believe yourself a true Velaryon, do you not? The Old, the True, the Brave,” he asked, his voice low and menacing. His face was so close to yours that you could see the intricate stitchings of his brown leather eyepatch. You wondered if he wore his sapphire today. “Your hair is decorated with gold and pearls, fingers adorned with jewels, and wrapped in lavish dresses. Yet beneath all the decadence you wear, you are still nothing more than Strong.”

His insults meant nothing as you realize your uncle felt the same inner turmoil. Why else would he speak such prose of your being? He loathed and loved you in the same breath, something he fought to keep inside.

“Do not hide behind cruel words, Aemond. I see you as you are.” A delicate hand came to cup his marred cheek, the smooth pads of your fingers tenderly stroking the plunging indentation through his skin. You wished to get through to him, to tell him that despite the rift between your families, you cared for him. He could still be your Mors Martell.

The Prince felt himself crack, an unconscious twitch of his lip that he disguised as a sneer. Aemond felt a sensation he fought to keep at bay since he was disabled, struggling to hide the way memories from long ago clouded his mind. Instead, the Prince focused on how you inhaled a sharp breath when his hand left your arm and came to your face, jerking it towards his as Aemond lost your tender touch. He would swear upon his death that he saw your eyes dilate a fraction too much for it to be the shadow of the torchlight.

Wondering then if the rumors were true that you and your twin had a closer relationship, he brought his other fist to encircle your waist, trailing it down the back of your plump thigh until he forced it to wrap around his hip. A part of Aemond was sure you would scream for help as you did when he found you with Aegon, but no words escaped your moist lips.

“You hurt me, my light. Can I not simply bask in the presence of my long-lost dream?” he mocked and realized that he might have gone too far as he felt your body stiffen and face blanched. The expression on your visage reminded him of the times he saw wounded soldiers return from minor village uprisings, the bloodshed changing their perspectives.

The Prince understood that there was no returning from what he said, seeming to have flipped an unseen switch inside you at the mention of his mother’s petname for you. Your lips began to tremble on their own volition, and you abruptly noticed the striking resemblance between Aemond and his older brother. The most venomous expression you could muster curled onto your face, hiding your fright and not allowing him to hold power over you any longer.

“Don’t insult my intellect, Aemond. I know what disgusting thoughts play inside your mind, and they intimidate me for naught. You are more alike to Aegon than you allow,” you jeered. You knew what to say to wound him, to compare him to his wastrel of an older brother who raped innocent serving girls and his kin.

Unable to help your wandering eyes, you watched how your uncle’s pink tongue moved within his mouth, how the wetness glistened with the flick of his ire.

“And what of you?” Aemond rebuked. “You cannot simply only be close siblings. The dragon’s blood runs thick and even more so between twins.”

You were silent, leaving only the faint rustling of nature in the distance wrapped around the pair of you like a rope, tightening against your skin and pulling you and Aemond closer. Despite the frigid weather, it became hot, sweat collecting on your upper lip and nape. All Aemond could hear was the fierce rhythm of your breathing, his eye wandering down to the elegant necklace perched on your chest.

“You spout baseless, vile accusations of your kin that have made lesser men lose their lives,” you rebuked, fists coming to clutch at his jerkin and wrapping your digits in the green leather as if you meant to fight him.

“Perhaps,” he breathed with an air of superiority, “but I don’t believe it to be treason to question your morals,” he replied coolly, his light brow quirking with his tone of practiced impassivity.

The Prince was stunned into silence when your tiny, delicate palm echoed off his marred cheek. It was not the force that shocked him, but rather the notion that you did it despite the threat of violence.

For a brief moment, white, hot pain seared at his left temple and into his skull as he turned to you and saw an expression of regret. Aemond felt the heat on his cheek and smirked. He knew you intended to hurt him by striking him on his injured side and now understood how to cripple you as Luke did him. It would always be your beloved family—your weakness.

The lamb bit as fiercely as the wolf, Aemond mused. You may not be as frail as he thought.

Excitement curled the Prince’s toes at the whimper that escaped your lips as he used his strength around your throat, perfectly styled hair fraying on the stone. Your once flat irises now burst with life as they darted across Aemond’s lean form in brief terror, a proud grin wrinkling his eyes.

“You ignorant bitch,” he declared, pressing himself closer, his hand firm around you despite attempting to pry them off. His other limb reached down, shifting you to the tips of your toes as he dropped your leg. Though fruitless, he reveled in the terror that washed over your features as you attempted to fight him. He wouldn’t dishonor you, but all that mattered was that you did not.

Aemond felt disgusted at his actions, believing for a moment that you were right about him, that he was indeed the same as Aegon, yet in different colored clothes.

“I’ll scream. Just as I did that night.”

“Then do it and let the whole Keep think worse of you,” the Prince mocked, bearing his white teeth. “I shall say it was you who seduced me, and who will they believe? The King’s second son or the bastard daughter who fucks her brother?”

He could feel your humid breath against his face, fanning the spot where you had struck him. Aemond stared at this vicious yet adored creature in his grip as he concealed his insecurities with the intimating tilt of his head as if examining a new book. His violet eye traced the ink, waiting for your next move. The Prince would have you think him to be Aegon if it meant fucking his spend into you no matter how undeserving you were of it. Perhaps you would finally see what the true seed of a dragon looks like. Aemond grinned with his unspoken words and felt satisfaction with the anger he stoked in your eyes.

“You will let me go. Now,” you demanded, pushing against your uncle as you struggled for purchase.

“And then what will you do? Run? Men in King’s Landing are not as kind as I when they see a distressed lady.” Your jaw ached, feeling like a rabbit cornered by a fox as a familiar and unwelcomed primal warmth blossomed between your thighs.

You wanted to threaten him, to say that you would feed Aemond to your dragon or poison him in his sleep, but nothing came to mind besides the smell of too-sweet wine and the taste of dried dates. Memories came from that night, as you felt yourself becoming faint, the will to fight to leave you just as it did with Aegon as powerless tears welled on your lashes. You were a fool to think Aemond would see past his injustice for the sake of the past and resign yourself to whatever fate he chooses for you.

There was no point in fighting. Once again, you were at the mercy of your uncle, and you only prayed that this one would be gentle.

The Prince no longer felt proud of his actions as he watched your body recoil into itself. There was something in your eyes that Aemond couldn’t name as he looked between them, feeling himself slowly pulled into their depths as he did the night after Aegon. The Prince wasn’t going to hurt you, not really. He was young and foolish, but not to the extent that he would commit an act of one of the highest sins.

As if the mother herself took mercy on you, the soft murmur of voices down the hall echoed into your and Aemond’s ears. You could not hide your smirk as he stared into you with a deep scowl on his porcelain face. Whatever plans he had, they crumbled like dead leaves underneath your boots as your mother and step-sister came. Taking his momentary distraction to your advantage, you shoved against the hardened planes of his chest, your sudden rush of strength knocking Aemond off balance as you retrieved your forgotten headpiece.

Soon, they came into view, their destination no doubt being that of the Godswood as you fixed your disrupted attire. You couldn’t help the grin that pulled at your plump cheeks as you saw your uncle’s scowl, taking a few paces to reach them. You seemed the proper princess to the outside, greeting them with a quick embrace and your chin high.

Rhaena acted like Aemond wasn’t there. Only the uncomfortable shift of her shoulders revealed she noticed him while your mother extended a short but polite acknowledgment before he stalked away without proper dismissal.

“What did he do to you?” your step-sister pointedly questioned, scanning your form for any injury.

You looked at her in what you hoped was a confused yet grateful expression and not one of guilt. “Prince Aemond merely wanted to make amends for the lack of presence at our arrival. I do not believe him to be sincere.”

Your mother smirked her delicate peony lips, releasing a scoff of disbelief as she shook her styled hair. She closed the space between you and tenderly grasped your shoulders as she scanned your form for injury.

“Do not let them get to you. They seek only pride and glory,” your mother declared steadfastly, a vibrancy you had never seen before in her amethyst eyes.

Nodding in acquiescence, you extended another brief embrace before you excused yourself, wanting nothing more than for this day to end as you went to search for your brothers.

You needed Jace—to feel the comfort only your twin could give after facing the scars of the past. Before reaching your destination, you felt an iron-like grip across your upper arm, pulling you into a secluded alcove. You feared the worst, that someone planned to harm you and that your last words to your mother would be lies.

“You are quick, niece,” Aemond whispered haughty into your ear, causing you to drop your headpiece in fright, “but that quickness will do you no good in King’s Landing. Your whore mother has no hold here.”

Just as quickly as your uncle took you, he released you with a shove. You wanted to bite with some clever or witty remark but thought of none. Tears of embarrassed frustration welled in your eyes as you spun on your heel, ignoring the tickle on your wrist like something had touched it.

As Aemond watched your womanly form retreat, dark eyes trailing over your curves, he did not feel the satisfaction he believed the interaction would create, spotting your discarded veil on the flagstone floor. He stared at it for a long moment, tracing the intricately sewn beads as he picked it up.

Unsure of what came over him, he brought it to his nose, the scent of citrus flooding his senses and into the blood that engorged his cock. He was able to appreciate the feminine quality of your fragrance fully. Your aroma was refreshing and rounded, sweet but complex and deep simultaneously, similar to the limes that garnished drinks during the Keep’s summer gatherings, but with floral, herbal, and resinous undertones.

With a guttural noise, the Prince tightened his grip on the headpiece, channeling all his hatred towards your family into his clenched fist and tucked it into his jerkin. He swiftly went to the training session with Cole, hoping the knight wouldn’t see through his façade before witnessing the impending downfall he believed your family deserved.

Masterlist of Series

Spotify Playlist

Sooooo, what did we think about their reuniting? Just two mentally ill and horny young adults. XD I originally wanted the whole meeting with Aemond again, the petition, and the dinner scene to be all in one chapter, but that was waaaaaay too much. I split them up to get those infamous scenes in the next chapter. I'm excited. It's gonna be juicy!

I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Thank you so much for reading! (⁠ ⁠´⁠◡⁠‿⁠ゝ⁠◡⁠`⁠)

I wanted to briefly give credit to @targaryenrealnessdarling, and their fic The Blood is Rare for inspo of the setting when Aemond and the reader meet for the first time. However, I did change things to make it my own. They have a lot of Aemond fics that will surely quench your thirst as y'all wait for the next chapter. (⁠◠⁠‿⁠◕⁠)

Tagged Peeps: @millies0bsimp, @britt-mf, @marvelescvpe, @haikyuusboringassmanager, @discofairysworld, @lottiemsgf , @nessjo @fiction-fanfic-reader , @qvnthesia , @hotvillianapologist , *@p45510n4f4shi0n, @theendlessvoidofdarkest , @readerselegance , @gothamgurl2024 , @aleemendoza2425-blog , @vaylint , @ln8118 , @prettyduckling22 , @primroseluna

*bold means I can't tag you for some reason ｡⁠:ﾟ⁠(⁠;⁠´⁠∩⁠`⁠;⁠)ﾟ⁠:⁠｡

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sonarspace · 7 months ago

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warmth, satoru gojo

a/n: a case of listening to don't let me go by CAS on repeat :D content: angsty wc: 440

𓇼 ⋆. 𓆝⋆. 𓇼 ˚｡𓆉 ⋆𓇼 ⋆. 𓆝⋆. 𓇼 ˚｡𓆉 ⋆𓇼 ⋆. 𓆝⋆. 𓇼 ˚｡𓆉 ⋆𓇼 ⋆. 𓆝⋆. 𓇼 ˚｡𓆉 ⋆𓇼 ⋆.

"satoru," you whisper. the room lit by the full moon peeking through the curtains. he hums sleepily. "can you hold me" your voice quivering with so much emotion his eyes shoot open and he immediately wraps an around your waist.

your back to his chest. "don't let me go. stay with me. i've missed you, satoru." you cry into the pillows. he kisses you on your temple in return. "i'm here," he speaks into your hair.

you turn around in his arms. "so many years satoru. we wasted so many years" you speak through the tears. he doesn't speak, just keeps holding you. his hand moves under your shirt to comfort you. his cold hand against your warm skin.

"i know. i know. i'm sorry. i'm here now, aren't i?" he smiles. beautiful smile. oh how you miss his beautiful smile and that mouth that spoke sweet words like honey. only reserved for your ears. the mouth that left sweet kisses all over your skin.

"no." you speak into the empty room. and just like that satoru's ghost is gone. you curl further into your self and remember his words. when he held your hands with his bloodied ones. you remember how his warmth vanished and was replaced by unbearable cold. how his once blue gleaming eyes that could challenge the stars went blank.

you remember your youth with satoru. how easy it was when you didn't have to worry about anything. everything had to come to an end. no one else could share the love you had. a knock on the door brings you out of your thoughts and you quickly wipe your tears.

"come," and in walks your daughter. her hair white like satoru's, her eyes the exact shade of blue. she was a carbon copy of him. "had a nightmare, again." she hiccups.

"aw baby, come here." she runs into your arms. "i miss daddy," she whispers and your heart clenches. "me too, sweetie." you lay her on the bed next to you. "he's in a better place now" you smile. "he was in a lot of pain, baby. but he's okay now." wherever he was in the afterworld. you prayed and prayed he was okay.

"look, daddy sent the moon again." your daughter points at the window. "you think he's watching us?" she asks you with sweet innocence. "yeah. i think he is." you hold your daughter close to your chest. you fall asleep thinking of satoru and his warmth.

just as he promised, satoru watches you two from the afterworld. he lays down and wraps an around you both, hoping you could feel his warmth.

𓇼 ⋆. 𓆝⋆. 𓇼 ˚｡𓆉 ⋆𓇼 ⋆. 𓆝⋆. 𓇼 ˚｡𓆉 ⋆𓇼 ⋆. 𓆝⋆. 𓇼 ˚｡𓆉 ⋆𓇼 ⋆. 𓆝⋆. 𓇼 ˚｡𓆉 ⋆𓇼 ⋆.

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bumblepony · 17 days ago

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Tess Lives Fic Rec (Outbreak Version)

Hi all, I've been working on this for a little while, and I'm really excited to finally share it. Here are my Tess Lives fic recs in no particular order! These are all fics where the outbreak still happens, I have a separate list coming of non-outbreak fics.

the sun’s probably shining in wyoming by @march-flowerr - Tess lives. She and Joel build a life in Jackson. A day in each season over the course of a year. - Mature

but it’s golden, like daylight by @becomethesun - During their first days back in Jackson, Tess, Joel, and Ellie grapple with the weight of their shared and individual pasts, and begin to find a sense of peace, belonging, and family.

Drifters, a book of Tess and Joel by @hypnotisedfireflies - This series comprises of: 1. A mostly canon-compliant origin story of Tess, following the first 20 years between Outbreak Day and the events of TLOU and 2. A very non-canon-compliant fix-it fic that you can either take or leave, depending on whether you like happy endings or not and 3. A collection of stories based on reader prompts that further the tale. - Mature

Future Proof by Capricordinary on AO3 - Joel is somehow transported into the past, well before any of the events of the Last of Us Season One take place. Armed with the knowledge of everything that happened the first time around, he makes it his mission to find four year old Ellie, reunite his family and find a safe place for them in the Wyoming wilderness. Once he establishes himself as Jackson's leader, he gets to work giving Ellie the childhood and the family she deserves.

and in the end i'd do it all again (i think you're my best friend) by @seethesunny and @bradfordchens - More simply put: Tess and Joel each end up in their own time loop.

in flagrante delicto by @penandinkprincess - 5 times ellie interrupted joel and tess having some alone time, and 1 time they got all the way to the finish line - Mature

babyverse by @penandinkprincess - A series of fics where Joel and Tess find Ellie in the QZ when she's 4 and decide to keep her, the story evolves from there.

'Tess Lives' AU by @adhdprincess - Remember that crazy AU where Tess died? Glad that didn't really happen.

part of something good by @two-birds-alone-together - Tess lives. Some things change. Some things stay the same.

patching up by melforbes on AO3 - In Jackson, Tess stitches up one of Joel's injuries. - Mature

Bone Of My Bone by @emilylawsons - It takes him two years after they arrive in Jackson to convince her to marry him.

A New Dawn by @ameerawrites - One morning in Jackson, Tess reflects on grief and healing.

Taste your beating heart by @finnelfin - Tess's traveling companions are keeping secrets. (Werewolf AU) - Mature

A woman is a changeling by @treadlightlymydarlinggirl - Tess Lives and she makes the journey with Joel and Elle across the country. - Mature

where the heart is by queenkiller on AO3 - Tess makes it to Jackson.

dance by firelight by @raffinit - He’s filled with a rush of something he can’t quite place; a giddy sort of youthfulness he hasn’t felt in decades. A faded memory of prom nights and slow dances underneath disco balls lingers in the back of his mind. The overwhelming urge to touch her, feel her fingers slipping between his; to feel the weight of her body pressed against him as they danced — He moves before he can help himself. Guided, as he always is; blindly, devotedly, to her side. - Mature

At the end here, I am adding a few authors who have written so many good Tess Lives stories it's best to just go pursue their AO3 pages.

tessaservopoulos - @bradfordchens on Tumblr - Mature

Glitter_Gecko - @seethesunny on Tumblr - Mature

sillylily07 - Mature

Last, I am going to add my Tess Lives fics under the cut because I really am not trying to toot my own horn, but I want to have them on the list so I can have them all in one place.

When The Time is Wrong, We Make It Right - IE: Time Travel-Timey Whimey - What would happen if Tess, Joel, Tommy & Maria went back in time to 1992? What would change, and what would stay the same? - Mature

To Wash Internal Blackness White - IE: Five times Tess hugs Tommy, and one time he hugs her. A Tess Lives Storyline. - Mature

I'll Keep Us Together Whatever It Takes - IE: Tess makes it out of the museum, and she and Joel need a minute to process. - Mature

Above Thy Deep And Dreamless Sleep - IE: Joel and Tess are looking for a place to stay on Christmas Eve.

We're Only Going So Far - IE: Dying in your sleep isn't how anyone expects to go, not in this world, least of all Joel... and yet.

If Only We Were Pirates - Tess gets kidnapped, and Joel goes and rescues her.

Two Blue Lines Like a Crossroads - IE: Tess finds out that she might not be too old to be a mother after all. - Mature

#tlou #the last of us #tlou fanfiction #tess servopoulos #ellie williams #joel miller #tommy miller #maria miller #ao3 #Tess Lives #fic recs #lists

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misstycloud · 1 year ago

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Unfortunate Love

Yandere childhood friend x taken GNreader

—————

Finn took a deep breath, a poor attempt to loosen his nerves. He had all reasons to be nervous, he was finally getting to see his long-time best friend after so many years. While they did speak on the phone and spent hours sending texts back and forth between their devices, it was nothing compared to the real thing. The blonde's felt his heart thump loudly against his chest, reminding him of all those moments in their youth when he was painfully in love with his friend and they had no clue.

Hah, they still don't! (Y/n), his bestie who doesn't know how they make him feel every time they speak. (Y/n) who had no idea of the lovesick gazes he would send them whenever they weren't looking. (Y/n) who was oblivious to his feelings for years, somehow never realising despite it staring them straight in the eyes. (Y/n) who remained clueless to his despair the day they announced their relationship. (Y/n) who never saw him on the floor in his room, covered with snot and ears, desperately crying for them.

Finn dubble checked his phone to make sure he was at the right address, it would be embarrassing to hype himself up only to be met with an old lady in the doorway. Geez, he knew (Y/n) would laugh their ass of if that happened and he'd rather not be ridiculed during their first reunion in so long. He smiled at the thought, god how he loved that laugh.

His friend always complained they hated it, but he found it cute and always reassured there was nothing to be ashamed of, even if they sounded like a 'dying-elephant-choking-on-its-own-trunk-while-having-a-cold-and-birthing-a-new-elephant.'

After just a few seconds after knocking on the wooden frame, the door swung open and he laid eyes on the most important person in his life.

"Oh my god, Finn!" You exclaimed in joy at the sight. "I haven't seen you like this in ages. It's great that you could come, I can't wait to show you everything I've told you about."

He giggled at your enthusiasm, it was always like this, you lifting him up and making him see the beauty in things he would otherwise pay no mind to.

You pulled Finn inside your apartment, excited to exhibit your home to him. "We've gotten a bunch of plants- to make the air in here fresh you know- and even started our own little plantation on the balcony. There are lots up on the roof, too. It's accessible to everyone in the building so we're not the only ones doing this. Oh, and there's a pool you can use! It's awesome for parties."

As the blonde man was getting sucked into your babble, one word in your speech painfully stuck out to him: We. Oh, right. He almost forgot. Your not alone living in this home.

"(Y/n), have you seen the wine? I wanted to bring it out for when- oh!" Finn looked passed you and saw a tall, handsome brunette make his way around the corner and meet eyes with him. "Why didn't you say he arrived already?" He chuckled and wrapped his arm around your waist. "Trying to make me look bad, are we?" Your boyfriend teased you.

You slapped his arm, "Of course not, just got a bit caught up in the conversation, Eric. And I put the wine in the second box in the fridge, it's behind a bunch of other stuff so it's hard to see."

"Haha, okay, was getting panicky there." Eric stepped forward to properly greet his guest. "Hey, I'm Eric as you probably already know."

"Finn." He responded dryly, but if the other man noticed, he didn't express it. Or perhaps he simply didn't care.

"It's fun to meet one of (Y/n)'s old friends, I know you two go way back." Ushering his partner's childhood friend further inside, he spoke, "I hope the trip wasn't too much of a hassle, wouldn't want this to be of any trouble for you."

Of course it wasn't any trouble, Finn wanted to snap. But he wasn't dumb enough to do that. He understood what would happen if he acted upon his feelings.

“No, there were no issues.”

The three of you sat down in the living room, pouring the liquid evenly and getting the conversation started. Finn found himself multiple times wanting to throw your partner against the wall. It was so unfair. Everything was. Why did Eric get to live with you and he didn't? He knew you way better than your own boyfriend. You two have been together since you were crawling around in diapers. What could possibly beat that?

He was there when you lost your first tooth. He was there when you first learned to ride a bike, when you got that job at the ice cream shop in the plaza, and moved out of your parents house. All the important moments in your life, he had been present. And what the hell has Eric done except watering some plants with you? It was laughable. Anyone could see he was not worthy of being your boyfriend. Finn would do anything for you and he doubted the same could be said for Mr. Gardner.

A part of him was ashamed at the unethical length he was willing to go, but on the other hand those feeling were washed away when he saw you beaming at him. It was all worth it if it was for you.

You and Eric were retelling funny stories of your time in the city while Finn was writhing in envy, glaring slightly in the other man's direction, not that you noticed of course. Dinner rolled around and you served your friend with great eagerness, you have been working on your culinary skills for a while now and it was time to see if the work had payed off. The brunette had endured as your Guinea pig and said it tasted good, but you insisted the true test was giving the food to someone else.

"How is it?"

Finn gasped for added affect, "It's amazing (Y/n)! You're a fantastic chef, this is definitely the best meal I've ever had." He praised, and your ego nearly boosted through the roof.

Your cheeks dusted a light pink. "Haha, well thanks. It's not that good, but I appreciate it."

The blonde man simply smiled in content. The truth was, the dish was in fact not that good. It wasn't bad by any means, however it wouldn't win any award. The past was cooked too long and the sauce had a burnt taste to it. Despite all these factors, it was without a doubt the best meal he ever had. Because it was something you had made for him with your own hands. Even the ingredients were ones you'd grown by yourself. (Partly with your sweetheart's help, but Finn pretended not to know.)

You really were his true love. Which is why it is so sad. He wasn't sure if he could love anyone other than you. After he found out about your relationship status the young man tried to make himself like someone else; not everything works out the way we wish them to and he was therefore forced to live with his unrequited love.

"Actually, there's another reason we wanted you to visit." You joyfully mentioned. "It's pretty important."

Your friend chewed his food and gave you a nod, signaling you to continue your speech. He wondered what is was. It appeared to be a big deal, but he assumed it wasn't anything bad judging from your happy expression, one that was mirroring the brunette's. A dreadful feeling formed in his gut. He didn't like this.

"Well," you started, coyly. "Me and Eric have been dating for a long time now, and we want to take the next step in our lives together."

No, he really didn't like where this was going.

"So, we made the decision to-" you could barely contain your smile, " get married!"

Something in him shattered. Married? You? To someone else. Fuck, he wanted to cry. But that would definitely set you off into a worrying mess, something he'd rather avoid. No, no , no, he thought. It can't be! Although he tried to contain his emotions as best he could, it appeared som e of it slipped passed the mask.

"Hey, you good man?" Eric asked.

This comment attracted your attention, "Huh, are you not feeling well, Finn?" Fretting over his condition only served to worsen the situation, reminding him of what he couldn't have.

In the end he had to excuse himself and lie that he did feel a bit sick, and that he had been for a while but thought he would be fine after a while. You were sad that he had to leave so soon and wished him well. Escorting him to the door, you said to him, "Sad you're not 100% top today."

"Ehehe, yeah...." he awkwardly scratched the back of his head. Technically it wasn't a lie, he did want to go and bury himself in a corner, though it was for other reasons entirely.

"Are you sure you don't want to spend the night here, it's no problem?" Oh how good willed you were, offering up space in your home to stop your friend from having to spend money on a hotel. Normally he'd love to spend the night, this time however, he didn't believe it to be a wise idea for any of you.

"Yeah I'm sure. I'll just get a hotel room not far away and then I'll drive back home tomorrow."

"Okay, maybe we can hangout before you go if you're better tomorrow?" You asked hopefully. "Just you and me like old days."

This made him smile. Just you and him. That sounded good. He agreed to your request and hugged you goodbye for the night. You waved to him from the window when he'd made his way outside and into his car. Watching Finn drive away, you felt a hand sneak itself around your waist.

"Think he'll be alright?" A deep voice sounded from behind you.

"Yes, it'll be all fine. Nothing a goodnight's rest can't fix." You assured. Though, something about your friend's reaction didn't sit right with you. He should be over the moon of your engagement, he seemed nothing like that. If anything, he looked...pained?

//////

Back in the car, the volume from the speakers were loud enough to burst one's eardrums. But that didn't matter the the driver. No he had a lot more to think about. The blaring music did nothing to ease the pain or distract him, which left him misrable.

Why the hell did you have to get engaged. Couldn't you have been fine as it was. Now, it was more serious than ever. In the beginning, he had actually hoped that you would eventually break up. That wouldn't happen now. Now it was legit. Legal papers and documents and everything. What was next on the list, kids?

Finn heaved a heavy breath, releasing a mix between a gurgle and sob. Tears streamed down his cheeks and he slowed the vehicle to a stop by the deserted road. The darkness kept people from seeing his sorry state; not that there were any out to begin with. Slamming his fist on the dashboard, he yelled his pain.

Why do love hurt so much?

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juniperss · 4 months ago

Text

Soft!Darry Curtis Headcanons

A/N: This was originally written on my main account a few years ago but I decided to move it here since I don't change this URL as often and it makes easier to find my writing! Also It's been a while since I wrote these so I'd like to think that I've improved somewhat since then!

Getting Darry to open up and soften up takes a lot of time and patience. He's a busy guy juggling work, his brothers, and the group so a relationship is another thing he has to find energy for. So patience is key when it comes to the relationship.

Darry had a crush on you for a while but pushed his feelings aside because he didn't think he had the time. However, once Soda and Ponyboy found out about his crush?? Oh boy they all but harassed and threatened Darry to talk to you. He had planned on asking you out when you swung by to hang out with the group at the drive in which automatically made you suspicious because....Darry doesn't do movies. Cut to the two of you being volunteered by Soda to go get the popcorn and drinks only to have clueless Dally cut in.

Well he didn't end up asking you out until you all got back home and you were pulling the chocolate cake out of the fridge. Mr. Superman was blushy and nervous but managed to ask you out before the boys ruined the moment .

Darry tries to schedule dates but with all his responsibilities you two kinda end up just hanging out. Which actually is nicer than any fancy dates he could've planned. Watching movies on the couch with his head in your lap and playing with his fingers. Baking chocolate cake late at night for the boys to have in the morning. Sitting on the porch tucked under his arm, back pressed against his chest while you two talk about life.

SPEAKING OF HIS ARMS AND CHEST. Darry Curtis is pure cuddle material and he loves cuddling. Strictly in his room or on the couch once the boys are asleep or if they're out. He loves feeling you against him, loves when you fall asleep on top of his chest while he's reading or watching TV. Probably one of the fastest ways to get him to relax is to fall asleep against him.

This happened once and the gang came home to find both you and Darry asleep on the couch. Steve teased him about it and it was one of the few times that Darry didn't wack him upside the head. He just leaned back in his chair and looked at you sipping your coffee next to him.

Darry isn't really a man of many words and really just likes to listen to you talk. You could talk about dirt and he'd hang onto every word you said. When you two start dating and he gets to know about your interests he'll actively try to learn more about them.

Darry isn't really into big romantic gestures, he's a lot more subtle and it's sweet. He remembers almost anything you say and uses that to his advantage. Once you mentioned that you liked food from this one diner a couple hours away and for your birthday he drove out there and brought it back to the house. He leaves you notes where he knows you'll see them, always makes sure to have your favorite kind of coffee at the house. Things like that.

Watching you do anything domestic instantly melts his heart. And if you do things to help him out without him asking? He melts into a pile of goo. He's so busy and always has a thousand things to do so you going out of your way to help him is really special. Helping Ponyboy with his homework? You're an angel. You did the dishes and the kitchen is clean when he gets home? You're too good for him.

Darry struggles a lot with balancing working and taking care of himself. He needs someone to remind him to slow down. You remind him to take moments for himself. Moments to hang out with his brothers outside of scolding them or group activities. And once you begin helping out with work + home stuff it makes it easier for him to do that. He's so thankful. Thanks to you he has part of his youth back.

Ponyboy says in the book that he front door is always unlocked in case one of the gang needs a place to crash and I feel like Darry prefers to be home in case they ever need him. Especially after what happens with Johnny. So most nights you end up staying with him if you can. You have your own drawer and Darry makes sure to save you room in the bathroom for your things.

He starts sleeping better when you're next to him not that you could really tell because Darry is asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow. He mentioned that his dreams are better now or that he doesn't even remember dreaming now.

Darry tends to sleep on his back and not move but somehow his hand always finds your body in the night. Whether he ends up with his hand on yours or back, arm wrapped around your waist.He wakes up early most mornings out of habit of making sure that Ponyboy is up for school. Even during the summer it happens and it used to annoy him but now he's thankful for the quiet moments with you.He's especially cuddly in fhe mornings and affectionate.

Darry isn't one for PDA but mornings? Will kiss you for as long as you allow, is happy to let you doze in his arms or against his chest, please play with his fingers.

HIS HANDS! He's got the strongest and roughest hands in the world. And you love to hold them. And he loves when you hold them. Does the cheesy thing where he holds your hand against his to see the size difference.

Strong boy gives the best hugs (only second to Soda and no I don't take criticism) and honestly a hug from Darry is the cure to a bad day. One time when you you had a nightmare and couldn't fall back asleep he sat up against the headboard, pulled you up with him and just hugged you. His chest is a wall of warmth and his arms are so secure that nothing could pry you away. And in the quiet moments is when he usually finds things to say. He just spoke about work, about the house was working on, and soon you fell back asleep

Darry dreams of having a bigger house some day. Nothing huge, maybe just two more rooms than the home the Curtis boys have now. He wants to send Ponyboy to college, help Soda get his own place, and maybe adopt a dog or two (though he's not opposed to a cat, but he wants a really fat one). And you. He wants you. That's it. He'd be happy with that.

#my writings #my writing #darry curtis #darry curtis x reader #the outsiders #the outsiders x reader

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paperdice · 5 months ago

Note

Hey can I request a headcannon of the ancient Heroes feelings towards a new hero with the powers of all might

(sorry if I'm sending this a second time my brain couldn't remember if I sent it the first time or not)

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐚 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐨 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

"The people, the heroes, even the villains, I stand to set fire in their hearts."

⋆｡˚♡•ᴗ• And here he thought hes heard some of the most incredible abilities, hearing stories of a new hero arising. Or that's what the cookies referred to them from pure vanilla cookies longshot memories.

⋆｡˚♡•ᴗ• hes heard of the growing of this hero, even meeting cookies that had been saved by said hero throughout the years. Every story seems to out do the last, one amazing save to another. Such inspirations.

⋆｡˚♡•ᴗ• He always smiled when hearing of this hero, to know there's a cookie out there with immense strength doing good with their heart of gold. He wondered if he would ever cross paths with this hero..

⋆｡˚♡•ᴗ• When he saw it first hand his eyes widened. A cookie was holding off a strong opponent that was attempting to attack innocent cookies, for "fun". He saw the hero throw one punch, one punch sent off strong wind behind the opponent causing all kinds of cracks on the dented ground.

⋆｡˚♡•ᴗ• Some pieces of the ground broke up and went straight flying in the air, yet by a mere second the opponent dodged it. pure vanilla was awestruck, calmly closing his eyes once again smiling that there was no need for worries. Not when this cookie is around.

⋆｡˚♡•ᴗ• He always gave props to the cookie, asking softhearted questions on how their dough can handle all that strength! Their powers were just like the gems but you know, with no gem!

he gave a quiet soft laugh at his own question, "please do tell me of your travels, i've heard of many wonderful stories with you in the center of it."

⋆｡˚♡•ᴗ• Though he does admire their powers he does have to tell himself to look out if they're going to throw any attacks, just so he can try can hold steady through the massive air waves and intense rumbling of the ground. Holding his hat and staff at the same time makes it a bit more difficult.

⋆｡˚♡•ᴗ• Sometimes the rumbling reminds pure vanilla of his youthful days, when dark cacao cookie would strike on the darkness of evil, thunder causing the floor to shake in fear. He's used to trying to stand still but this power was something he's never been around before, so he's still getting a hang of it!

⋆｡˚♡•ᴗ• He often asks to do checks up on the hero though, he can't help but worry if it's too much for their dough, what if they crack? no matter how many times he gets the same answer that they're fine, he will always ask about their well being.

⋆｡˚♡•ᴗ• pure vanilla is always left impressed when it comes to the hero, he feels a soften pride for them. Their determination for the greater good reminds him of himself in the past a lot.

⋆˚ ౨ৎ ˙˖° That new hero got hollyberry cookies attention real fast! She heard of a few stories here and there during her own travels, a hero with crazy strength and never stepping down no matter what. How she would love to see that up close!

⋆˚ ౨ৎ ˙˖° The woah in her face when she heard of the crazy stories of the hero's wins, she gets a good laugh every time! Such a large reputation of someone who's just growing! A cookie that can gain such a title all around must be no exaggeration!!

⋆˚ ౨ৎ ˙˖° One day while making her way through what she assumed to be a left village she noticed how the grounds grumble was only getting stronger and louder the closer she got from the cause. A cookie up against a gloomy group of what seemed about 10 cookies!

⋆˚ ౨ৎ ˙˖° The cookie that was all up against the group was also protecting a mother and her children. Naturally hollyberry cookie jumped in to help, what she didn't know was that the cookie was protecting the village by taking down the group so they don't disturb them anymore. (so it wasn't an abandoned village ohhhh)

⋆˚ ౨ৎ ˙˖° She also didn't know that she just bumped into the growing big hero! All the talk she heard was flooding her mind when she saw the scene before her, she knew it! It was that new hero no doubt! She smiled widely and laughed

⋆˚ ౨ৎ ˙˖° Sparring is a must! She wants to know just how much power is up their sleeve when up against her shield! The pretty colors that are created when gem and fist collide, the powerful throw back she gets from impact always gets her festive.

⋆˚ ౨ৎ ˙˖° Poor wildberry cookie, his protests always gets watered down so he has to constantly keep an eye out. Sometimes hollyberry tells wildberry to give it try so he see what she sees but he prefers not.

⋆˚ ౨ৎ ˙˖° Talks over food and drinks is a must! She wishes to hear about the hero's travels as well, she even mentions some of the stories shes heard in the past so she can get confirmation that it's true. and when it is...

a roar of humored laughter filled the room. "that one was one of my favorites you know? I'm glad to know it's true! tell me, what did the cookie say back after the whole ordeal!" she smiled and patted the heros back.

⋆˚ ౨ৎ ˙˖° Hollyberry loves to team up with the hero and give them small humble advice since they're so looked up upon, the way she started out in the beginning too.

⋆˚ ౨ৎ ˙˖° She stills goes out too likewise the hero but she likes to write letters to them, letters of how shes been doing and how have they been doing. Sometimes she writes out a story of the hero she was told about from cookies, along with her personal thoughts on it (laughter and jokes) and asked if it's true! She just can't get enough of the bright cookie.

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢ Unlike hollyberry cookie and pure vanilla cookie, he never heard of a up coming hero. After all, he did spend many years within his kingdom isolated from any outsider.

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢ But when he finally went out and continued his life, reuniting with his old friends, he did overhear hollyberry being surprised that pure vanilla had met a mutual cookie. She laughed and lightheartedly joked about the cookies personality to pure vanilla while he softly smiled and nodded in agreement.

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢ Over the time he spent in the village (while gingerbrave could gather up his friends to his side for help) he did hear stories of a hero that often visited. Praises of admiration and hope over this cookie.

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢ One night he settling down to rest for the upcoming busy day, till he heard pleas, cookies yelling and warning others. A flood. This had never happened before usually when it rained heavily the water would just go down stream but at the exit of the kingdom. It was bordered up with fallen boulders, stopping the water.

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢ Dark cacao struggled to even get to the wall of massive rocks, the water was aggressive and flowing with complete madness. It was at dangerous levels but he needed to strike down the rocks so the flood could end, while he was barely making it there he swung his sword but before he struck he saw a cookie jump in out of nowhere. punching the middle of the wall and ending the flood.

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢ This old man is left with a strong first impression by this hero, no wonder there was all kinds of talk, that was nothing hes ever seen. At least naturally, the cookie had no weapon and didn't use any kind of magic, that was all fist.

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢ Dark cacao cookie leaves soft spoken compliments to the hero, but questioned of their intentions. What was in their heart truly, what were their morals, praises doesn't always speak the truth of a cookie.

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢ Though that's what he thought during the first appearance n all, now he knows that the hero has no ill-hearted ends to them. He enjoys the comfort of their flowering words, the roots speak volumes and the petals are beautiful, or in easier words they're just a very solace cookie.

"you have a strong will with no welcome to falter, do you not fear to hesitate?" he looked at the cookie with the same stoic face he always has on, they looked back and smiled, as if he asked a foolish question.

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢ He looks at the upcoming hero with a light of hope, for them to never let their guard down, to never let any poisoned words affect them. He's pleased to know that they'll be fighting on the right side together.

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢ dark cacao cookie had put faith in this new hero (whether he knows it or not) that they'll carry the weight on their shoulders with nothing distracting them, no evil to creep its way up to their heart, and turn it black. No, he knows that'll never happen.

ִ ࣪𖤐 Ohohoho of course shes heard of this upcoming hero! what can she say? Once word goes around about a cookie it's only fair that the divine radiance would be one of the holders in this word.

ִ ࣪𖤐 Just like hollyberry cookie she was interested in this impending hero, how could she not after all of what she's heard? Powers unlike any other, she wished to meet this popularized hero.

ִ ࣪𖤐 With the help of hollyberry cookie, she did! Nothing big of an impression, the two heroes met she wanted to know everything! It was a rather "friendly possessive command" that she gave to the hero.

ִ ࣪𖤐 Due to how they met this also meant she couldn't see their powers in action and since the hero didn't feel like showing at the moment was appropriate, she was a little salty and doubtful.

ִ ࣪𖤐 But the wait was worth it, to see such a puny cookie take so many hits and throw so many insane counterattacks, their strength being unraveled right in front of her eyes. That cookie never backed down, and neither did golden cheese cookies support.

ִ ࣪𖤐 Talk about the favoritism treatment! Nobody knows exactly how the hero got to golden cheese cookies soft spot hell some didn't even know she can put her pride down for a favorite but they did and now here she is speaking greatly of them.

ִ ࣪𖤐 Spoils the hero with cheese and looks to them as if they're some kind of descendant or student under her wing. She too takes pride in them, she gives off the rich aunt that loves her nephews/nieces way more than her own sister.

ִ ࣪𖤐 Loves to mess about and joke with the hero, teasing about their abilities and sometimes joke that they should be by her side. Of course she knows its not going to happen but she insists that they'll live a life of luxury and safety once darkness falls.

ִ ࣪𖤐 Just like all the others she felt nostalgia being around them, that could be one of the reasons shes grown to like them. Such a promising symbol of peace hope, for all cookies to see that there's still hope.

"hoho now don't get ahead of yourself hero, don't think you'll reach limits further than me!" she laughs with a confident smile.

ִ ࣪𖤐 From a hero to another, she has their back, she doesn't say it aloud but the hero knows that she's always open to come and talk to with any trouble.

quick important note on white lily cookies portion, i never really got around to her story when her update came out, I was busy and the only reason I went in game was for the grind. So due to lack of knowledge I'll get straight to what she would think of the hero. deep apologies! </3

⋆˚✿˖° The heros abilities and powers were just, astonishing. She was deeply amazed and left curious, she wanted to know more, not in a high urgent "I wanna know now" kinda way. In a "please tell me as much as you like in detail" kinda way.

⋆˚✿˖° She's such a sweetheart, listening so intently to the stories and the heros personal thoughts. She told her own stories and from then on white lily cookie somewhat looked up on them.

⋆˚✿˖° She supported them to the best she could, after battles (if she was there anyways) she'd always try to make hero feel comfortable. She's more of an older friend type than the infamous ancient hero by their side.

⋆˚✿˖° She does worry for their well being, she knows first hand its not exactly the safest path to take. And she was in a group! yet here's the solo hero taking everything on their own.

⋆˚✿˖° Because of this she admires their bravery and love for the greater good deeply. She has high hopes for this hero with no doubt that anything can seem to bring them down.

"I'll be right here if you need me, hero." she smiled with a tinted blush on her cheeks.

Sorry it took a whole day to respond, I tried to squeeze this in with the time I had, I hope you enjoyed it!! <333

#cookie run x reader #cookie run kingdom x reader #pure vanilla cookie x reader #hollyberry cookie x reader #dark cacao cookie x reader #golden cheese cookie x reader #white lily cookie x reader #headcanon #headcanons

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junemermaid · 3 months ago

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nobody asked but I've spent the last week thinking about this so here are my current headcanons for the lotus trio's sexual histories/inclinations (relevant to a fic I'm working on—the waveform may collapse differently later, you know how it goes). many acknowledgments to @neekerbreeker for the joint brainstorming and most of the best lines!! 💕

li lianhua:

perfect kinsey 3. does not discriminate re: sex or gender. up for most things once and twice if he likes it. recovering from a mild case of youthful fuckboy and has relaxed into that mendacious, easygoing charisma that charms people for the one night they mostly spend with him. easy on the eyes and not above using it.

however, the hardmode part is actually divining his desires. very into (h)edging as foreplay. like a cat, may need to be beckoned by feigning indifference. will change his mind halfway through negotiations and spook at being stared at for too long (this is not a no, he just likes the byroads. hope you're into a slow build over the evening).

on that note: has fucked, does fuck, will fuck, and the other way around. no fuss over his presumed masculinity. a fairly hassle-free lover once you're past the intricate pre-sex rituals. comes with his own mobile fuck pad and will be gone the next day. will make you (dubious) breakfast and let you pet his very sweet dog. you will never see him again. has successfully avoided any feelings for a bed partner for the last ten years.

fang duobing:

hmmmm probably a kinsey 5 or so. predominantly into guys but the right girl can get it. has kissed people but is actually waiting for the right partner. the jianghu's best-read virgin. has studied the ancient chinese fuck scrolls, the taoist lore, the full length of whatever courting etiquette applies. eager to put it into practice, but only with someone he likes.

his enthusiasm for theory mid-date may need to be gently restrained. will wine and dine you properly if given the least chance. will take instruction but you may need to wrestle him for it. dives into new challenges. service top tendencies. will bewitch you with his giant doe eyes when you least expect it.

all the flair and poetry of an educated young master, but innocent and maybe oblivious to innuendo. a bit of a bleeding heart in affairs of the heart. handle with care - and then with vigour. after all, mama did not raise xiaobao to be a cad or a quitter.

di feisheng:

does the scale go this high up? will see a naked woman and look away brusquely until she can find her clothes. sex is mostly diversion and stress relief to him, no feelings apply. (his sublimated homoerotic longing for li xiangyi definitely does not apply.)

fucks mostly strangers and never the same man twice. will tell you what he wants right out of the gate. the discerning partner may notice this is as much a performance as li lianhua's ducking and weaving. the patriarchal inclinations of the jianghu have slotted him, swordmaster and sect leader, into a mould he now lets himself fall into. some swoonier admirers never see the man under the facade. sends them out dishevelled and well fucked (as he's supposed to) and that is that.

in actuality, less of an unyielding stone-faced top than his reputation/infamy suggests. full of big deep feelings that have never found an outlet. trust issues the length of the yangtze. yearns to be known with all the ferocity of li lianhua trying to avoid the same. if you can survive giving him a sincere compliment he'll need three to five ancient chinese business days to think about it while brooding on a high place. duality of man.

#mysterious lotus casebook #li lianhua #fang duobing #di feisheng #liansanjiao #though this is mostly about them as individuals; not ship specific #june rambles #my meta #I mean this is basically a shitpost #but it amused me #june does mlc

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writingoddess1125 · 11 months ago

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Among the Red Lights

Zoro x FemReader

SADDNESS + ANGST

⚠️ Warnings: ⚠️ Angst, Sex Workers

Support me on Ko-Fi

Main Masterlist <<<

Amidst the vibrant chaos of the red light district, Zoro's sharp eyes scanned around for a bar not wanting to stray far from the group either- especially with Usopp so close to watch him.

The swordsman who wasn't amused at him and the crew needing to travel through the district of this particular village, however he didn't complain nor judge. Simply annoyed at it all- Mainly Sanji damn near drooling the whole time.

Glancing around, seeing if anything caught his eye he stopped mid step..

There sitting on the balcony of a Oiran was a women, he could see the red of the lanters bathing her form and how the moon haloed around her delicately painted face, he couldn't help but stare in awe. While a time in this district wasn't what he wanted, he could appreciate her. That was till more light hit her face and details began to be shown- his eyes narrowing as he stepped closer to the building.

Discerned the figure that stirred both recognition and warmth in his chest. There, dressed in the exquisite garments of a Oiran, was (Y/N) – an old acquaintance from a time when dreams were still untainted by the harsh realities of life. Remembering training with her in his youth and finding her skills as elegant and graceful as a dance.

As he approached, memories of shared laughter and innocence flooded Zoro's mind, contrasting sharply with the sight before him. Usopp went to stop him, till he saw his gaze up at the women on the brothel balcony.

"(Y/N)," he called out, his voice cutting through the lively ambiance, as if a spell was being broken at his words.

Her eyes painted in kohl and red met his, revealing a mix of surprise and a tirdness that hadn't been there before, having not heard her own true name in many years.

"Roronoa-san," (Y/N) acknowledged eyes widening at him being there, her voice carrying the weight of unspoken stories. The elegant attire adorned her, yet failed to conceal her form underneath with some Beri they were ment to be easy to peel off like paper- something that made Zoro's heart feel heavy and uneasy.

A heavy silence hung between them before Zoro mustered the courage to speak, his concern evident. "Is that really you? What happened to you?"

She sighed, a bittersweet smile playing on her lips. "Yes, it's me. Life took unexpected turns, and this is where I've ended up. It's not what I envisioned either." She admitted, looking down at herself from her seat on the balcony.

Zoro's gaze remained intense as his mind raced, "You don't have to live like this. Come down, we can find a different path – a better one."

(Y/N)'s eyes, a mix of gratitude and kindness, met his. "My choices led me here, Zoro. I appreciate your care, but.. it is far too late for me, my path I walk on my own even if it's different from what we once dreamed."

"Then we can buy your freedom" He argued, anger starting to build in his chest.

"My price is too much for any one man to Buy-" She continued but Zoro glared up at her, an anger he thought he had once grown out of coming out of him.

"What can they possibly have that makes you sell yourself!- staying in this hell hole and letting all those use you! You were a great swordswoman! Not some some-!" He yelled up at her, Waving around at the brothels that surrounded him.

"Prostitute?" She finished, watching the way he winced at her words.

(Y/N) smiling down at her robes sadly, messing with the fabric of her dress for a moment. "My child Zoro.. They have my child"

Silence filled the air after that, Zoro looking to the side as the weight of her words settled on his frame.

"Your?-.. Child?"

She nodded softly at his confirming words, taking a heavy breath.

"He was sick... Sick with a illness no one could afford.. So I did everything I could to afford it. So now, this is now I pay my debt. This is but a small price, for his life"

Zoro stared at the ground he stood on. His head bowed in shame at his anger towards her-

"I understand..." Zoro said softly, looking away from her in saddness. (Y/N) giving a sad smile, before reaching around her neck to pull something from her necklace.

"Here-"

Plucking one of the last remaining fragments from a life she once desired. She tossed it down to him, his hands quick to catch it- Staring down at the small gold pendant, he recognized it well. It was the symbol of the Dojo they had grown up in, it was gifted to each of them on their 12th birthdays.

"Bring it with you Zoro... So a small peice of me may explore and experience the adventures I dreamed of with you"

The swordman nodded at her, clutching the pendant close to his chest as he stared up at her form basking in the moonlight.

"I refuse to forget you.. I'll come back one day to rescue. So we can explore this world together"

Zoro declaired as he backed away, Usopp who had witnessed it all leading the swordsman away from (Y/N) who looked up to the moon the last bit of freedom in her life as tears rolled down her painted cheeks.

"Mourn me instead.. For I truly died long ago and there is nothing left to rescue except my legacy"

#x reader #one piece #one peice x reader #one peice live action #ronoroa zoro #zoro x reader #one piece zoro #roronoa zoro #zoro #one piece angst #zoro angst #depressing shit #zoro roronoa x reader

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lesbians4armand · 1 month ago

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Electra Heart is an Armand album - a thesis

Some of you may remember my preacher's daughter thesis of a very similar nature. Well, I'm back on my bullshit :) Somewhat for @misslovelace who I think will appreciate this

(under a cut as it will be long)

Bubblegum Bitch

Not a song I have ever particularly associated with Armand, If I am honest, so not the strongest of starts, but the more I think, the more it comes together. It's a very Amadeo song, really.

"Got a figure like a pinup, got a figure like a doll, don't care if you think I'm dumb, I don't care at all"

So much of Armand's self worth is so directly tied to his outward appearance and perceived beauty, that he is so used to playing into it, he simply doesn't care as much any more, he stopped caring even when he was mortal.

"I'm the girl you'd die for"

More than you'd know it. Many have.

"I'll chew you up and I'll spit you out, cause that's what young love is all about"

Knowing his beauty and effect on other men, Amadeo played into it, intentionally seeking out men who desired his youth and beauty as a distraction, only to cast them off. Of course this ends badly for him in the books as it eventually leads to his murder.

Primadonna

This song I don't have a lyric breakdown for as I don't think it fits Armand lyric-for-lyric, but more as a whole, his deep desire to be loved, to be adored, to be given everything, then his misery hidden not so far from the surface beneath. And you know he'd do anything for what he wants, even if it ruins him.

Lies

The first of the darker songs of the album, and immediately a deeply Armand song. I find myself debating what period of his life it fits the best, and I keep coming back to book-loumand's relationship.

"You're never gonna love me, so what's the use?"

Armand wants so much to be loved, to be desired more that superficially. Everyone wants him for what they can take, nobody wants him for what he is. When he meets Louis, he thinks maybe he will be, and in a way he is, they do love each other, but still not as Armand wants. louis is cold, distant, yearning for Lestat, who also brushed him off. What's the use in playing this game?

"Why don't we just pretend? Lies, don't wanna know"

Veering back into show loumand, why don't they just pretend? Armand lies and manipulates so they can pretend that they are happy together and that Armand did not kill Louis daughter and push Lois to attempted suicide.

"Can't let you go, can't let you go"

What is says there, the only thing Armand dreads more than not being loved is being entirely alone. He can't let Louis go even through all of this, as he cannot be alone, he can't.

"I just want it to be perfect, to believe it's all been worth the fight"

Again, if Armand crafts it to his perfections, maybe he will convince himself he is alright as he is, that is is worth everything he is done and that was done to him.

Homewrecker

Again, not one I have much lyrical breakdown on I'm afraid, however it does give me a strong vibe of both Armand's last mortal years in Venice as Amadeo, and also his relationship with Lestat. This one I just have to mentally transmit into your mind. Do you get it?

Starring Role

Okayyy I have a lot for this one. One of the loumand songs of all time, to me. Lets go.

"You're hard to hug, tough to talk to, and I never fall asleep / when you're in my bed, all you give me is a heartbeat"

I am not a loumand bed death truther, however I am a loumand zero emotional intimacy truther. There were whips and chains of all sorts on their walls, but in bed they sit so far apart, barely speaking.

"I've turned into a statue, and it makes me feel depressed/ cause the only time you open up is when we get undressed"

Much the same as my previous comment, but the statue lyric reminds me so much of Armand as Rashid, so still and silent in the corner of the room during s1.

"You don't love me, big fucking deal / I'll never tell you how I feel / You don't love me, not a big deal, I'll never tell you how I feel"

Again and again, lack of emotional intimacy, lack of any communication, lack of real desire.

"It almost feels like a joke to play a part, when you are not a starring role in someone else's heart"

From what I have said, you may be surprised by this, but I do believe Louis and Armand loved each other, I do. I think they'll love each other again, this is part of the tragedy, the horror. The love was there. What I don't believe, is that Armand was the love of Louis' life, and he knew that. He was not the "starring role," so to say, as he wanted to be. He may have wanted Louis more than anyone in the world, but Louis didn't feel the same, though he did love Armand, it was not enough for him, it felt like a joke, a cruelty. This is of course what causes Armand betrayal in Paris. Tragedy after tragedy.

"Sometimes I ignore you, so I feel in control / Cause really I adore you, and I can't leave you alone"

Armand patterns of neglect and abuse to find power he wishes for as he feels it is the only way to have any power combined with his consistent ned to never be alone are a horrifying combination. This lyric describes perfectly to me Armand's treatment of Louis after his attempt in 1973, his neglect so Louis stayed weak and under his command because he would not let him leave him, in any way.

"You're like my dad, you'd get on well, I send my best regards from hell"

This is interesting, as I do not believe that Louis actually is like Marius in any way despite the "Maitre" power play the pair had happening. It is at its core, a badly communicated and deeply fucked up projection from Armand to be a victim again, to want Louis to be like Marius so that he feels loved again in the way he sees love, but also to explain why he does what he does to Louis. They would not get on well, but Armand wants them to. It's all projection.

"I wait for you to open up, to give yourself to me / But nothing's ever gonna give, I'll never set you free"

He waits and waits to be the one that Louis wants, truly wants not just out of spite, but realises it won't happen and resolves to simply bearing, and making sure Louis can't leave him anyway, trapping them both in this prison. He'll never set them free, he's thrown the key away. Until Daniel finds it, of course.

The State of Dreaming

I see TSoD as a very TDV-era Armand song, post-Lestat and pre-Louis. Of course, "my life is a play" is a very obvious lyric, but the entire vibe of the song as a dark dreamlike state of performance you cannot escape is so fitting for Armand's years in a theatre cult coven.

Power & Control

Lesmand. I don't have any more to say here. It's lesmand.

Living Dead

This one is too obvious I fear but I'll mention it anyway. He is. Literally.

Teen Idle

Ah, where to start. Every troubled teen's anthem, a very Armand (particularly bookmand) song.

"I wanna be a bottle blonde, I don't know why but I feel conned / I wnna be an idle teen, I wish I hadn't been so clean"

The blondeness here is metaphorical I think, metaphorical for a sort of beauty that is intention, wanted, enhanced, something that you create, not something cursed to you. Armand feels conned by his beauty, something desired and coveted making many things worse for him, more difficult, causing so much pain.

He wants to be an idle teen, to to have been perhaps. Not as he was, as Amadeo was, so... busy, with so much, so many. Or maybe he wished he had been more so, less clean, less quick, messier. Maybe that would have spared him pain too.

"I wanna stay inside all day, I want the world to go away"

Easy thing to say as a vampire, especially an eternally teenage one.

"I want blood, guts and chocolate cake, I want to be a real fake"

He wants indulgent things, vampiric and human, anything he can get.

"Instead of being sixteen and burning up a bible"

Armand's religious backstory, what more can I say. His loss of faith and difficulties with it are laid so clear here.

"The pretty lies, the ugly truth"

What more is there to Armand?

"The day has come where I have died, only to find I've come alive"

A teenager, forever. Dead, perfect.

"I wanna be a virgin pure, a 21st Century whore / I want back my virginity, so I can feel infinity"

I've been sitting here for minutes thinking of what I can say about this but its all in the lyrics. You already know.

"I wanna drink until I ache, I wanna make a big mistake, I want blood guts and angel cake"

Drinking until he aches has a double meaning to me, both his desire for blood as a vampire and for alcohol as mortal. The big mistake is either seducing Lord Harlech, or wishing to be a vampire in the first place. Then of course, another desire for blood, this time with angel cake. He was always describes as an angel, not quite human any way anyone looked.

"Adolescence didn't make sense, a little loss of innocence, the ugly years of being a fool, ain't youth meant to be beautiful?"

This just sums up Amadeo. It does.

Valley of the Dolls

This is where I move heavy into HC material, especially the hc that Armand suffers from some form of dissociative disorder, making Armand, Amadeo and Arun/Andrei distinct alters. The lyrics "living with identities that do not belong to me," and "pick a personality for free, when you feel like nobody" fit this extraordinarily well.

Hypocrates

I see this song as a very good explanation of my interpretation of Armand and Marius's relationship. Very good.

"You're the lonely, one and only, body in the world / Who can make me, who can break me down into a young girl"

Marius is, in many ways, the only one who holds any power over Armand on a personal level, for so many reasons, but this just brings up the part where Armand describes himself as being afraid of Marius. He still makes him feel like a mortal boy in his service again.

"I know you only want to own me, and that's the kind of love you show me / You tell me one thing and do another, keep all your secrets undercover"

This just sums it up to me. He does just want to own him, that is the only love being shown.

Fear and Loathing

"I lived a lot of different lives / Been different people many times"

Armand is consistently whoever those around him want him to be, he has never truly been his own person. Every new person, every lover he asks the same thing he asks Louis "who am I?", he creates a new life in his death.

"I lived my life in bitterness / And filled my heart with emptiness"

Armand learned, especially from the Children of Darkness, to not find pleasure or goodness in anything, especially not himself. He does not value himself or others, he is nihilistic quite constantly.

"Not everyone is out to screw you over / Maybe, yeah, just maybe, they just want to get to know you"

One thing I believe is intrinsic to Armand and his relationships with others is his fundamental lack of trust in them. He does not trust that they won't hurt him, they won't leave him, s he hurts them or himself before they can, makes them leave before they can choose to, before they can grow bored or fed up with him. He doesn't trust that anyone has good intentions, that ever actually love him.

"Got different people inside my head / I wonder which one that they like best"

Again, see Valley of the Dolls. I do see Arun, Amadeo and Armand as separate identities fighting to be the "real" one in a bid to keep safe if he can make others like them the most.

"And when the time comes along and the lights run out / I know a light will burn on when they blow me out"

There is one thing that Armand does very well, and it is endure. This is about him enduring. He will always burn on.

"Don't wanna be completely faithless, completely faithless"

Faith and religion are so SO important to Armand as a character, his belief in a higher power either blessing him or cursing him, but he cannot function without. He wants so much to hold some faith in what has happened to him, what continues to happen, that it is supposed to be in some way. It's a guide for him, if nothing else.

(Okay here I am going to skip How To Be A Heartbreaker as I do think it is the one song that does not fit, though at the same time Ithink amadeo would have loved it so shout out)

Radioactive

"My heart is nuclear / Love is all that I fear"

Would Armand know love if he saw it, if he experienced it? Or would he think it another trick, a play to gain something as it has always been to him. He fears love as much as he craves it as I doubt he even understands it. But his heart, his love is a powerful thing, a dangerous thing.

Sex Yeah

"Nothing is provocative anymore, even for kids"

'No one though children innocent of sensuous pleasures' :/

"All my life I've tried to hide what history has given me"

The ideas of history are really really interesting in this sound wrt Armand because of how much of his history is informed by sexuality. It's at every turn, every fight, every moment of his past and it is his legacy in many ways, take the painting. But what if he could fight that, could hide it, be something more, reclaim his personhood without forfeiting his sexuality. Maybe he has the time to, and has seen the culture change in so many ways.

Buy The Stars

I have very similar feelings to Hypocrates with this song, and I think it's similar in meaning when thinking of Armand too. Essentially I see this song as a representation of love as possession, a sort of love Armand had with Marius, and how owning and giving is not loving or knowing someone.

E.V.O.L

Devil's Minion song. So DM. "It only takes two lonely people to fuck love up and make it evil / It only takes a drop of evil to fuck up two beautiful people"

#iwtv #amc iwtv #armand #electra heart #music #meta #interview with the vampire #tvc #this isnt my best work tbh i wrote this mostly while super tired and a little tipsy #maybe not as good as my preachers daughter one BUT I WANT IT OUT THERE

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