#IVE DREAMED OF THIS DAY SINCE I WAS A CHILD
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
what.
#he#he's#tr#he's trendi#mumbo k jumbo#mumbo jumbo#trending#number one trending#mr mum boj umbo#number o#MUMBO K JUMBO NUMBER ONE TRENDING ON TUMBLR DOT COM#LETS FUCKING GOOOO#SINNERS REJOICE OMFG#IVE DREAMED OF THIS DAY SINCE I WAS A CHILD#I'D LIKE TO THANK MWAHAPOLLO DONOTDISTURB LOGOSBOTTM#WILD LIFE SESSION 5#TUMBLR DOT COM#LETSSS FUCKINGGG GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO#<33333#so happy rn actually#rAHHHHH#:DDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDd
12 notes
¡
View notes
Note
Hey girl hey. Hope you are still alive and life is treating you well. Just checking in.
you're so sweet for this omg. so ive graduated from high school, have this whole summer, but I can't really enjoy it since a broke girl's got to work. got my very first job and it's sooo draining, but I've got to get that bag
Sevenmas

pairing | aemond x wife!reader
word count | 9.2k words
summary | amid the haunting ruins of harrenhal, aemond's pregnant wife senses the looming threat of alys rivers, a witch whose presence fuels her nightmares and aemond's growing distance.
determined to protect her husband and unborn child, she delves into the secrets of warding magic, reclaiming her bond with aemond as she invites him back into her bed and vows to stand against the witchâs dark influence.
tags | 18+ (MDNI), smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, pregnancy, magic, fluff, soft aemond, hubby aemond
a/n | it's summer, the heat is evident, yet I've only been at work or home. I needdd to leave my house!
likes comments and reblogs are much appreciated â¨
á´á´sá´á´ĘĘÉŞsá´
My Dearest Babe,
It has been a full moon since your father and I arrived at these dreary halls of Harrenhal. It is bleak here, cold and damp, and the walls seem to hold the whispers of the dead.
I have not known a single nightâs rest since we set foot in this cursed place. My sleep grew all the more restless when your father saw fit to move me into a separate chamber.
Harrenhal weighs heavily upon him. It has changed him in ways I cannot yet understand. He walks the halls as if hunted, and I see the shadows of his unrest in his eyes.
Each night, his dreams twist into dark thingsâvisions that wrench him from sleep, leaving him gasping as though clawing his way back to wakefulness. He grows ever more volatile, as if the very stones of Harrenhal press upon his mind, threatening to drive him to madness.
One night, he woke from a nightmare so violent, I feared for him. I reached out to calm him, but he struck out, not knowing it was I. I do not hold it against himâhe was deep within whatever horror plagued him.
But he looked upon the bruise on my wrist with such anguish, fearing for my health and yours. It was then he resolved to put me in another room, to shield us both from his torments.
Yet, my sleep has only worsened since he made this change. This keep holds no comfort, only shadows and sighs, and I feel that something - someone - wicked watches us, waiting.
The sixth day of Sevenmas dawned in Harrenhal, a day to honor the Crone, she who carried the lantern of wisdom and foresight. How you longed for that guidance now, caught in the maze of cold stone walls and shadows that seemed to stretch into eternity.
The ancient keep, with its crumbling towers and halls seeped in ghosts of past horrors, gnawed at your spirit with every passing hour.
The days bled together, each as gray and listless as the last. Time itself felt suspended, and there was little to fill it but your prayers to the Seven and the slow, meticulous pull of thread and needle.
Embroidery was meant to calm the mind, but here it became another way for your thoughts to spiral into dark corners. How could you not let them when the halls echoed with whispers not your own and the air felt thick, laden with something unseen yet suffocating?
Your husband, Aemond, the prince with a fire in his blood and the shadow of the conqueror in his step, had become a stranger cloaked in duty.
Since Rhaenyra had laid siege to King's Landing, his days were consumed with strategy, flame-bright eyes scanning maps and murmuring with commanders until dawn kissed the horizon.
You would catch glimpses of him, his presence fierce and distant, a sword poised to strike. And still, there was one tether leftâhe would always return to break his fast with you, no matter the hour, as if the morning meal was a sacred pact he refused to break.
This shared ritual was a brief light in the gloom, a moment where his brow would smooth, and he would offer a small nod, as if to say, I am still here.
Yet even then, the weight of Harrenhal seemed to press upon him, creasing the corner of his eye and stealing the little warmth from his voice.
You wished for the strength of the Croneâs wisdom, to find words that could soothe whatever haunted him, whatever pulled him into those long, silent stretches where he barely met your gaze.
And so, with the sunâs first pale rays stretching over the stone battlements, you whispered a prayer to the Crone. Let me see what he cannot. Let me guard us in ways unseen.
There was another shadow cast over your time at Harrenhal, one that gnawed at your peace like a hound at a bone. Within the first week of your arrival, an attempt on Aemondâs life had been made, a sloppy affair that left more questions than answers.
Yet the mere notion of betrayal and blood sharpened Aemondâs already fierce nature into something perilously close to madness.
In his rage and paranoia, he swept through Harrenhal like a storm, burning and executing every male Strongâlords and bastards alike, sparing none.
The aftermath left the keep haunted by its own silence, populated mostly by women and children who dared not cross his path. Yet among the survivors, there was one who set your skin crawling like no other: Alys Rivers, the bastard daughter of Lionel Strong.
Her gaze, dark and knowing, seemed to pierce through you whenever it drifted your way. The keepâs old women, those who lingered in the kitchens and halls, were full of whispers, speaking in hushed tones about Alys and the tales that clung to her like a shroud.
They claimed she was a wet nurse with no babes of her own, that her cradle stayed empty because she offered her children to dark gods, drawing power from their sacrifices.
The word witch passed between toothless mouths with reverence and fear, a name that conjured images of blood and whispered spells in the dead of night.
You would catch Alys watching Aemond from the shadowed corners of the great hall, her green eyes glistening like the polished scales of a serpent.
There was something about the way she looked at him, a gaze that lingered too long, with a subtle curl to her lips that suggested she saw beyond what others did. Each time, a cold knot formed in your stomach, winding tighter with each day.
Aemond, for his part, seemed obliviousâor perhaps unwillingâto acknowledge her attention. He stalked the halls of Harrenhal like a restless dragon, his eyes always aflame with thoughts of war and vengeance.
But you, kept to the fringes and left with little to occupy your time, had learned to listen. You had overheard more than once the old wivesâ tales, how the stones of Harrenhal bore witness to strange sights in the dark of night.
The morning light struggled to filter through the narrow, soot-streaked windows of Harrenhalâs great hall, casting long, somber shadows across the cold stone floor.
You sat at the grand table, an expanse of dark oak that seemed almost too vast with just the two of you seated at its head.
The hallâs emptiness swallowed the small noises of clinking silver and the rustle of fabric, leaving only the low crackle of a distant fire to break the silence.
You glanced at Aemond, his face severe and sharp as ever, eyes narrowed and distant as he picked at the bread before him. His hair, pale as moonlight, spilled over his shoulders, catching the dim glow of morning like polished silver.
You traced the line of his jaw with your gaze, noting the tautness there, the slight twitch that spoke of restless thoughts.
In truth, you did not know this man wellâyour husband, your prince, and yet a stranger in so many ways.
It had only been moons since you first met, and within days, the marriage vows were spoken, the ink on the alliance barely dry before you found yourself bound to him in name and in fate.
Your fatherâs fleet had been your dowry, a formidable power that the Greens could not afford to spurn. You understood your role, the politics and power that tethered you to Aemond, but understanding him was another matter entirely.
His silences were as deep and dark as the Blackwater, and he carried an anger that smoldered beneath his skin, an unquenchable flame that whispered of vengeance and old wounds.
But despite the cold armor of his demeanor, Aemond had never raised his voice nor his hand to you. He moved with a kind of carefulness in your presence, a restraint that bordered on gentleness.
He treated you with a respect that was rare among men of power, where wives were often little more than pawns on a board.
And though it was likely due to the child you carried beneath your heart, it kindled a small warmth within you to think that he had not left you behind when he marched to Harrenhal.
Instead, he had commanded that you come with him, a choice that puzzled you even as it comforted you.
Harrenhal was a desolate place, steeped in old, cracked stone and a history that groaned beneath every step. You despised it, with its drafty halls and the air that always seemed to taste of ashes.
Yet sitting here, across from Aemond as the thin light etched sharp lines across his face, you felt a reluctant flicker of gratitude.
The silence between you was not companionable, but it was not cruel either. It was a space where the two of you existed, tethered by duty and an unspoken understanding.
Your gaze lifted from your untouched plate to meet his. âYou barely ate anything,â you ventured softly, the words almost swallowed by the great hallâs vastness.
Aemondâs eye flickered to you, just a moment of acknowledgment, before drifting back to the distant, unfocused point beyond the hallâs great hearth. âI have much on my mind,â he replied, his voice low and guarded, as always.
You lowered your gaze, the golden glint of your cup catching the flicker of the fire as you turned it in your hands. âToday is the day of the Crone,â you murmured, the soft words drifting into the vast emptiness of the hall.
Aemondâs eye settled on you again, this time with a sharper intensity, as if he were trying to read the thoughts that played behind your eyes. The violet of his gaze, stark and unyielding, seemed to see through flesh and bone.
You felt the heat rise to your cheeks but pushed on, lifting your head with a tentative, almost sheepish smile.
âI have been holding small celebratory suppers in my chambers for each of the Seven,â you said, the words trembling on the cusp of hope. âPerhaps you would join me tonight?â
Aemondâs expression remained inscrutable, carved from the same marble as the gods whose names you spoke. He was silent, his lips pressed into a thin line as he measured the request. You held your breath, bracing for the sting of rejection, but after a moment, he inclined his head with a slow, deliberate nod.
âI shall see if I am free to attend later, wife,â he replied, each syllable precise, as if spoken under a watchful eye.
A smile unfurled across your face, a small, fragile bloom that brightened the somber air. You nodded, your gratitude silent but deeply felt, and returned your attention to the meal before you.
The hall fell back into its familiar hush, but the silence seemed gentler, softened by the promiseâno matter how uncertainâthat he might sit with you as the evening drew near.
Throughout the day, you moved with a purpose that had been absent for some time. Excitement flickered within you, casting a rare warmth over the bleakness of Harrenhalâs cold stone walls.
You spent more time preparing yourself than you had in weeks, choosing a gown of deep violet, the color rich and regal, one you knew would match Aemondâs eye.
Your hands worked carefully as you braided your hair, fingers weaving strands with practiced precision. You wound the braids into a half-up style, securing them with thin silver pins, and threaded small pearls between the coils, their soft luster catching the waning light that seeped through the chamberâs narrow window slits.
As the sun dipped lower, you prepared the chamber for supper, eager to cast away the dreariness of Harrenhalâs stone embrace. The table, though small, was set with care.
You placed a modest arrangement of primroses at its center, their pale petals lending a touch of softness to the somber room.
Candles, thick and tapered, were placed with a meticulous eye, their wicks waiting to be lit and offer a warm glow that would banish the shadows lurking in the corners.
Tonight was meant to honor the Crone, a day of wisdom and reflection, yet you could not help but hope for something moreâa chance to share a moment, however fleeting, with the man you called husband.
The hours had been long since youâd known any touch of intimacy, any whisper of companionship. The prospect of Aemond joining you, even for a brief supper, was enough to make your heart beat with anticipation.
Time stretched on, heavy and unyielding, as you sat alone at the small table in your chambers, a solitary figure in a room filled with muted light. The food before you, once steaming and fragrant, had grown cold, the sheen of oil on the meats congealing in the chill air.
The candles you had lit earlier had burned down to stubs, their light dwindling as shadows crept up the walls.
The fire in the hearth, once crackling with warmth, had reduced itself to a bed of glowing embers, the last vestiges of heat sputtering as they surrendered to the draft that snaked through the stones.
Your heart, which had quickened with hope earlier in the day, now felt leaden with disappointment. The silence pressed in around you, each passing moment a reminder that Aemond would not come. The anticipation that had kept your spirits aloft now left a hollow ache in its absence.
Pushing your untouched plate away, you rose from the table, your movements deliberate as anger stirred in your chest. It was not the hot, reckless kind, but the slow-burning indignation that came when expectation was met with silence.
You wrapped your cloak around your shoulders and slipped into the dim corridor, determined to find him, to seek an answer rather than stew in this quiet, stinging rejection.
Harrenhalâs halls were a maze of stone and shadow, empty and vast, with only the sound of your footsteps echoing softly in the cold. The castle held a thousand whispered secrets, and tonight, it seemed eager to keep its prince among them.
You turned corners and climbed staircases, the flicker of dying torches casting your shadow long against the walls, until the familiar paths grew strange and your resolve wavered.
Finally, as you entered a lesser hall that stretched toward a wing of old chambers, you spotted movementâa maidservant carrying linens, her head bent as if afraid to be seen. Relief mixed with frustration as you quickened your step.
âExcuse me,â you called out, your voice sharper than intended.
The servant started, nearly dropping her burden before bowing her head hastily, eyes fixed to the floor. It was a common sight in Harrenhal, the way they kept their gaze averted in your presence.
Word of your husbandâs fierce reputation as Prince Regent and Kinslayer had traveled swiftly, and it seemed they feared that to slight you was to invite his wrath upon them.
With a lifted chin and a tone that brooked no disobedience, you asked, âWhere is my husband?â
Before the maid could stammer out an answer, another voice cut through the dim hallwayâa voice that chilled the blood in your veins and haunted your sleep with its whispers.
âI fear the prince is still occupied in the council chamber, my lady,â said Alys Rivers, her tone smooth and deceptively courteous, like the edge of a blade.
You turned slowly, meeting her gaze. Her eyes were dark, unreadable, but a knowing smirk pulled at her lips as she regarded you, taking in the sight of your tense shoulders, the protective way your hand drifted instinctively to your rounded stomach.
There was no warmth in her expression, only the sly amusement of a cat toying with a bird that dared to stray too far from its nest.
Your nostrils flared, and you straightened your back, eyes narrowing as you corrected her in a low, simmering murmur, âPrincess.â
Alys tilted her head, feigning surprise, though her eyes betrayed nothing but a cold mirth. âPardon me,â she said, her gaze sliding deliberately to your abdomen before flicking back up to meet yours, daring you to react.
âI am not your lady,â you hissed, âI am your princess.â
With a final, steely glare, you turned on your heel, the folds of your violet gown sweeping the floor as you made your way back through the shadowed hallways, heart pounding beneath your ribs.
The silence of Harrenhal enveloped you once more, and you did not pause until you reached the safety of your chambers, locking the door behind you and pressing your back against the cool, unyielding wood.
The echo of Alysâs smirk lingered in your mind, but you would not let her see your fear. Not tonight. Not ever.
A scream ripped from your throat, raw and primal, as the pain surged through you, tearing its way up your spine and scattering your senses. It felt as though your very body was being split apart, the agony sharper and deeper than any blade.
âKeep pushing, my princess; the babe is almost here,â urged the midwife, her voice steady but relentless.
You clenched your jaw, wanting to curse her, to scream at her to hold her tongue, but the pain stole all words from you, leaving you breathless and shaking.
It was a torment that came in relentless waves, each cresting higher than the last, only to drag you under when you thought you could surface for air. The burning, the stretchingâunbearable, blinding.
âI cannot,â you sobbed, tears mingling with the sweat that drenched your brow. âPlease⌠I can't,â you pleaded, your voice broken and desperate.
The pain surged again, stealing the air from your lungs, and then you felt itâa firm, familiar hand pressed gently to your cheek. Through the haze of pain, you turned your head, and your vision cleared just enough to see the sharp lines of Aemondâs face.
His single violet eye was intent, fierce, a rare expression of vulnerability breaking through his stoic mask. Relief, so profound it was nearly painful, swelled in your chest.
âAemond,â you gasped, his name a lifeline, an anchor in the storm.
Husbands were not meant to be present for the birth, tradition forbade it. But he was there, and you did not care for any rule or rite that would keep him away.
âJust a few more pushes, my love,â he murmured, his voice low, a thread of steel woven through the gentleness.
You nodded weakly, mustering what remained of your strength. A deep groan escaped you as you pushed once more, the room spinning around you. The midwifeâs voice rose above the roaring in your ears.
âThe babe is crowning, my lady.â
But the tone was wrong. Too familiar, too cold. Alarm jolted you to consciousness, and you struggled to prop yourself on trembling elbows. Your eyes darted to the space at the foot of the birthing bed, and dread coiled tight in your gut.
There, in the dim light of the chamber, knelt Alys Rivers. Her dark hair framed eyes as green and sharp as glass, eyes that glimmered with a knowing, malevolent gleam. A smile curled at the corners of her lips as she met your gaze.
âNo, no!â you screamed, panic twisting your voice. âGet away from me!â
With a surge of fear-driven strength, you tried to kick her away, your limbs thrashing wildly, but Aemondâs hands clamped down on you, firm and unyielding. âCalm yourself,â he commanded, his voice cool, steady as stone.
Alys turned her gaze up to him, a shadow of mock sympathy curving her lips. âYou must choose, my prince,â she intoned, each word dripping with false solemnity. âThe babe, or your wife.â
A sob wrenched from your chest as you felt your breath come in sharp, shallow gasps. âNo. No!â The pain was drowned beneath the torrent of fear that flooded you.
Desperately, you looked up at Aemond, seeking the warmth, the fierce protection that once resided in his eye. But what you found was a gaze distant and unreadable, as though he stood apart, watching from some cold, unreachable place. His jaw tightened. âSave the babe.â
Time seemed to fracture around you. His words, so final, crashed over you like a wave of ice. Your eyes widened, disbelieving, as rough handmaids or shadows, you could not tellâpressed you back, holding you firm as you struggled.
âLet me go! Let me go!â you screamed, your voice raw with betrayal and terror, limbs straining against the iron grip that pinned you.
Pain cleaved through you, and you felt the weight of the babe shift within. But your focus broke as Alys moved, no longer at the foot of the bed but gliding closer, the flicker of torchlight catching on the edge of a cruel, glinting blade.
The chamber seemed to darken around her, the faint cries of the midwives fading into an ominous silence. And all you could see were those green eyes, bearing down on you like a curse whispered in the dark.
You jolted upright, heart pounding and breath ragged, the remnants of your nightmare clinging to your skin like a shroud. A trembling hand reached up to brush the tears from your cheeks, the dampness proof of the terror that had gripped you in sleep.
Your eyes drifted down, catching the soft curve of your swollen belly under the covers, rising and falling with your shallow breaths. A shaky sigh escaped your lips, a bitter mix of relief and unease.
The babe was still safe within youâat least for now. You pressed your palm over it, as if to reassure yourself of its presence.
Beyond the thin light filtering through the shuttered window, the sky remained cloaked in the indigo of night.
The stillness told you it was not yet dawn, that liminal time when dreams and waking often blurred. But sleep would not find you again; not after that vision, nor for many nights to come, you were sure.
The memory of Aemond's cold, detached gaze as he spoke words that sealed your fate in your dream clung to you. It pierced deeper than any blade, a wound festering with fear and doubt.
Yet you forced yourself to swallow the sharp sting of betrayal, directing your thoughts toward another source of your uneaseâAlys Rivers.
The whispers, the eyes that followed, the dark air that seemed to shift when she was near. Your fears, your husbandâs torment, the sense of something wicked gnawing at Harrenhalâs bonesâit all traced back to her.
Resolve steeled your spine. You pushed back the covers and rose, the weight of your pregnancy making the motion slower, more deliberate.
Wrapping yourself in a heavy fur cloak, you reached for the candelabra on the nightstand. Its small flame sputtered in protest before catching steady, casting long shadows that danced upon the walls.
The corridors of Harrenhal, once alive with whispered conversations and the hurried footfalls of servants, now loomed around you in cold, watchful silence. The draft that crept through the ancient stones nipped at your cheeks and sent a shiver down your spine.
Clutching the fur tighter against your body, you moved forward, the warm light in your grasp flickering as it met the draft.
The silence was thick, broken only by the soft rustle of your cloak and the creak of old floorboards beneath your weight.
At last, you reached the great doors of the library, their dark wood carved with sigils long forgotten and gnarled from centuries of use. Setting the candelabra down, you pushed against one of the doors, muscles straining with the effort.
It groaned open, the sound reverberating through the stillness and sending a cold gust rushing past you. Picking up the candelabra, you stepped inside and let the heavy door drift shut behind you with a thud.
The scent of old parchment and dust surrounded you, familiar and oddly comforting. Shelves stretched high, towering sentinels filled with the stories of old and the wisdom of those long gone.
On other nights, you would have lost yourself in the tales that wove through these tomesâmyths and sagas that spoke of courage and triumph. But tonight, solace was not what you sought.
You moved through the rows with purpose, eyes scanning the spines until they found those few volumes that hinted at the arcane.
The lore of witches, their dark arts, the means by which they could twist menâs dreams and cloud their mindsâit all lay within reach, hidden among dusty pages that no one dared speak of.
You placed the candelabra down, its light casting a golden glow that flickered across the cracked leather and faded titles.
With trembling hands, you opened the first book, its binding stiff with age. The parchment crackled as you turned the pages, your eyes drinking in the inked words.
If there was any way to guard yourself, to protect Aemond from the shadows that had seeped into your lives, you would find it here. No longer would you be haunted by that witchâs knowing gaze or the dread that coiled tight in your belly.
With each turn of the page, the flickering glow of the candelabra cast dancing shapes upon the stone walls, warding off the chill that seeped through Harrenhalâs blackened stones.
The words spoke of charms and tokens, of age-old rituals whispered by the smallfolk who feared the unseen.
Marking doors with protective sigils or crosses to ward off malevolent forces. The purifying strength of salt, said to bar dark spirits and their ilk. Rowan wood, revered for its protective properties, best used when tied with crimson thread to seal its potency.
The hours crept by, measured by the slow guttering of candle wax. You read, forgetting the passage of time as the nightmareâs claws loosened their grip on your heart.
Knowledge was your weapon now, and you wielded it with the silent promise that neither you nor Aemond would fall victim to powers unknown.
The dayâs first light spilled through the high, narrow windows, a pale and hesitant glow that bled into the room and painted the bookshelves in muted gold.
It was the day of the Stranger, seldom celebrated, yet you paid it no heed. Lost in the pages, you missed the bells that tolled the hour and forgot the warmth of your usual morning meal shared with Aemond.
When at last you closed the final volume, a resolve settled in your chest, resolute and unyielding. You would need these itemsâsymbols of protectionâand that meant venturing beyond the castleâs shadowed halls and out into the market.
The fur-lined cloak wrapped snug around you, guarding against the bitter drafts that swept through the corridors as you made your way back to your chambers.
As you reached the windows, a rare sight unfolded before your eyesâsnow, soft and unrelenting, blanketing the bleak spires of Harrenhal.
Snow was a rarity in Kingâs Landing, seldom seen during your girlhood there. For a moment, untouched by fear or doubt, you felt the stir of childish wonder rise within you.
Three knights of the Kingsguard, their white cloaks pristine even in the snow, flanked you as you ventured to the market. The square bustled despite the cold, vendors calling out their wares with voices hoarse from the chill. Your list of protective items, hastily scrawled in the early hours, guided your every step.
Surprisingly, the rowan wood was easy to find, its branches bundled tightly with red thread as per custom.
Charms of polished crystal and talismans wrought from iron and bronze were procured with little effort, their sellers eager to part with them for a handful of silver stags.
The murmured blessings from the old crones at their stalls made the hair on the back of your neck prickle, but you pressed on, their eyes shadowed with both reverence and suspicion.
By the time the sun began its descent, casting a gilded glow over the snow-draped stones of Harrenhal, your arms were laden with your newfound protections. You returned to your chambers with purpose, setting to work immediately.
With meticulous care, you bound the red thread around the twigs of rowan wood and placed them above each entrance.
Salt, precious and fine, was spread across the thresholds, each grain catching the firelight like scattered stars.
With charcoal from your writing desk, you etched intricate symbolsâwards against dark magicsâonto the cold, unyielding stone walls.
But it was not just your own safety you sought to secure. For Aemond, you had combed the market for a piece both practical and protective. After much haggling, you procured a leather eyepatch, supple and black, unmarred by wear.
Returning to your chamber, you carefully stitched shards of black tourmaline into its edge, each piece glinting with a subtle, protective gleam. Your needlework was steady, each pull of the thread imbued with silent prayers.
Lost in your task, you barely noted the soft knock at your door or the maidservant who entered, setting a tray of supper on the table near the hearth.
The aroma of roasted fowl and warm bread wafted through the chamber, but your focus remained fixed.
As you worked by the fire's glow, the shadows that had haunted your waking hours seemed to lessen, replaced by the steady rhythm of thread and needle, and the quiet resolve that this time, you would be ready.
You were so absorbed in your needlework, fingers deftly stitching the dark crystals onto a supple leather patch, that the sudden clearing of a throat startled you. Your gaze snapped up, eyes wide with surprise as they met the cool, familiar face of Aemond Targaryen.
âHusband,â you said, breathless as you hastily hid the finished eye patch beneath a velvet pillow. Rising to your feet, you inclined your head, though your heart thudded with residual tension.
He stood tall and imposing in the dim glow, the silver-white of his hair catching the light like a crown. For a moment, the room felt smaller, as if the walls themselves pressed in with the weight of his presence.
âWhat brings you here?â you asked, voice touched with confusion and a hint of sharpness. Exhaustion dulled your sense of propriety, leaving the question more pointed than intended.
Aemondâs lone violet eye narrowed, an unreadable glimmer within its depths. âTo have supper with you,â he replied, as if such a thing were the most natural answer in the realm.
Your eyes flickered to the table, where two silver plates now sat, the steam rising lazily from the dishes set by the silent servant moments before.
You pressed your lips into a thin line and sighed, murmuring, âI believe my invitation was for yesterday.â
A shadow of regret crossed his face, so brief that another might have missed it, but you saw. As you moved past him to take your seat, you caught the soft murmur that slipped from his lips, âI deserved that.â
Aemond followed and took his place across from you, the creak of the chair echoing in the quiet chamber. For a moment, silence hung between you, broken only by the faint crackle of the hearthfire. His gaze settled on you, sharp and searching.
âI have not seen you at all today,â he said at last, the words carrying a hint of something that might have been longing, tempered by pride.
Your eyes dropped to your hands, fingers fiddling absently with the edge of your gown. Remorse pricked at your heartâyou had broken your shared morning ritual, the one part of the day reserved just for the two of you.
âI was very busy,â you replied softly, the excuse feeling thin on your tongue.
Aemondâs expression remained unreadable as he tilted his head slightly. âI heard. Visits to the market square,â he said.
You hesitated, holding back the details of the charms, the salt, the ancient warding sigils you had traced with trembling hands. He would only deem you foolish or worse, mad.
âI needed fresh air.â
His eye narrowed, a flicker of displeasure passing over his sharp features. âIt is too dangerous for one in your condition to wander beyond these walls,â he said, the admonishment clear, though his tone held an undercurrent of concern.
You lifted your chin, meeting his gaze with defiance. âThat is why I took three of your White Cloaks,â you retorted, the fire in your voice matching the spark in his eye.
For a heartbeat, the tension crackled between you, the weight of unsaid words pressing down like a heavy cloak. Then, Aemondâs lips quirked, almost imperceptibly, as if some silent battle had been waged and resolved within him.
âGood,â he said at last, a faint smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. âYou are no fool, wife.â
The tautness in the room eased, and though unspoken, an accord was reached.
Aemond leaned forward, and placed a carved wooden box on the table between you. âIâve brought you something,â he said, his voice a measured calm, yet there was an undercurrent of something softer. âAn apology for last night.â
Your brows knit together, skepticism clear in your eyes. âMy forgiveness cannot be bought with trinkets, husband,â you said, your tone edged with defiance. Yet even as you spoke, curiosity stirred within you.
One of his silver brows arched at your remark, and a small smile ghosted his lips. âLet us see if it is worthy,â you murmured, reluctant to give ground but unable to hide the intrigue that tugged at you.
With a careful hand, Aemond lifted the lid of the box, revealing a necklace of silver and sapphire. The deep blue stone glimmered like the sea under moonlight, capturing the roomâs faint candle glow.
Your breath stilled for a moment, eyes tracing the intricate work of the silver links, each carved to mimic dragon scales.
Your fingertips brushed over the gem, the cool surface grounding you as warmth bloomed in your chest. Unbidden, a soft smile tugged at your lips, an expression so rare that even you felt its presence.
âThank you, husband,â you whispered, your voice softened by genuine gratitude.
Aemondâs face shifted, pride flickering across his sharp features. There was something triumphant in his half-smirk that you could not allow him to savor unchallenged. You rose from your seat, skirts rustling as you moved.
âI, too, have a gift for you,â you said, your tone now light with a note of playfulness.
âOh?â he replied, one silver eyebrow lifting in surprise, though the glint in his lone violet eye revealed his interest.
âMm,â you hummed, stepping to the chaise where a small cushion lay. Your fingers slipped beneath it, retrieving the item hidden there. Turning back to him, a touch of shyness colored your expression, a rare sight that softened the lines of your face.
With both hands, you presented him with an eye patch, the black leather supple and embroidered with fine strands of broken tourmaline crystals, catching the dim light with a subtle shimmer.
Aemond took it, surprise giving way to careful scrutiny. His fingers traced the delicate work, the weight of the crystals and their arrangement thoughtful.
âBlack tourmaline,â you said quietly, watching his gaze flick between you and the patch. âIt is said to have powerful protective qualities.â
You hesitated, unwilling to speak of how it was also believed to ward against dark energies and unseen dangersâof how it might shield him from threats both known and hidden.
For a moment, silence stretched between you, thick with unspoken words. Aemondâs mouth quirked into a faint smile, rare and genuine. âThank you, wife. 'Tis a very thoughtful gift,â he said, voice low and sincere.
A moment passed, and you froze in silent shock as Aemond reached up to remove the eye patch he wore. Of course, you had seen what lay beneathâthe striking sapphire set into the hollow of his missing eyeâbut Aemond was never keen on showing it.
In Kingâs Landing, he would only take it off moments before sleep and replace it the moment he awoke.
Before he could put on the new eye patch, you placed a hand over his arm. âYou know you donât have to wear it around me, yes? I have no issue with it, and you should not either.â
Aemond stared at you for a long moment, his nostrils flaring slightly. For a heartbeat, you feared you had overstepped, but then he nodded, leaving both eye patches on the table.
A small, victorious smile touched your lips as you felt the weight of this unspoken understanding between you. âAllow me to have the maids bring us some dessert,â you said, the tension lifting.
Aemond nodded, his gaze lingering on you as you turned to the doors.
Stepping into the corridor, you quickly found a maid and requested something sweet to be brought to your chambers. When you returned, your heart faltered at the sight before you. Aemond stood at your desk, his tall frame hunched slightly as he leaned over an open bookâyour journal.
Panic surged within you, and you strode forward, slamming the book shut with a sharp motion. âWhat are you doing?â you demanded, your voice sharper than intended, eyes wide with both shock and alarm.
Aemond straightened, holding the closed journal in his hand. His expression was unreadable, though his eye bore into you with quiet intensity. âWhat is this?â he asked evenly, tilting the book slightly for emphasis.
âMy private journal,â you answered quickly, reaching for it, but he lifted it just out of your grasp, his superior height giving him the advantage. âGive it back, husband. It is mine.â
Aemondâs voice was steady but carried an undertone of something raw, almost fragile. âThen why,â he began, his eye fixed on you, ignoring your protests, âdo you write to our babe?â There was an ache in his tone, a depth of emotion he hadnât yet voiced.
The question caught you unprepared, stealing the breath from your lungs. Your fingers tightened around the fabric of your skirts, and your shoulders sagged as you avoided his penetrating gaze. âIn case,â you whispered, the words trembling as they left your lips.
âIn case of what?â he pressed, his voice low and edged with a demand for understanding.
His gaze bore into you, unrelenting, as though he could uncover your secrets by sheer will. Unable to face him, you closed your eyes and let out a shaky sigh. âIn case Iâm not there,â you admitted at last, the words barely audible, like a confession carried on the wind.
Aemondâs brows drew together, confusion shadowing his features. âWhat do you mean if youâre notââ He stopped mid-sentence, his breath catching as realization dawned. The tension in his posture shifted, his shoulders falling ever so slightly. ââŚThere.â
His sharp features softened, a rare vulnerability settling over his face. âWomen do survive the childbed,â he murmured, his voice gentler now, as though he feared the weight of his words might shatter you.
âNot every time,â you countered, your tone edged with resignation. âAnd thereâs also⌠that choice.â Your voice broke on the last word, and you felt the tears prick at the corners of your eyes.
The room fell into a heavy silence, broken only by the faint crackling of the fire. Then, with a tenderness that made your heart ache, Aemond reached out and cupped your cheek.
His touch was warm, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin as he tilted your face toward him, forcing your eyes to meet his.
âThere can be more babes,â he said softly, his words a promise etched with fierce determination, âbut there is only one you.â
His eye, a storm of violet and sapphire, held yours with such intensity that you felt as though he was laying his very soul bare. A tear escaped and traced down your cheek, but Aemond caught it with his thumb, his touch steady, grounding you in the moment.
âI would not choose otherwise,â he said firmly, the weight of his vow lingering in the air between you. âNot for all the heirs in the realm.â
Your lips trembled as you whispered, âYou swear?â
âI swear it,â he replied, his voice low and resolute. âI will not lose my wife.â
The ache in your chest eased slightly, the warmth of his words wrapping around you like a shield. You placed your hand over his, pressing it gently against your cheek.
With a soft breath, you tilted your head upward, letting your lips meet his in a gentle caress. The kiss was tender at first, a quiet exchange of affection that carried the weight of your unspoken fears and his unyielding promise.
Aemond responded eagerly, his lips pressing more firmly against yours as his hand slid from your cheek to cradle the nape of your neck.
His other hand found your waist, gripping you firmly as he pulled you closer, as if the mere thought of distance was unbearable. His tongue brushed against your lips, seeking entrance, and you granted it willingly.
As his tongue met yours, the kiss deepened, a slow, fervent dance that sent warmth coursing through your veins. A soft moan escaped your lips, and you felt his grip on your waist tighten in response, his fingers digging into the fabric of your gown.
Your hands moved up his chest, tracing the hard planes of muscle beneath his tunic, before curling into the fabric as if to anchor yourself.
The world around you faded, leaving only the press of his body against yours, the taste of him on your lips, and the heat that built between you like the fire crackling in the hearth.
When the kiss broke, it was with a reluctance that lingered in the air between you. Your breaths came in shallow pants as you gazed up at him through hooded lashes, the corners of your lips curving into a teasing smile.
âMy love,â you purred, your voice sultry and laced with affection, âyouâve left me wanting⌠again.â
Aemondâs gaze darkened, the stormy hue of his violet eye smoldering with barely restrained desire. âHave I now?â he murmured, his voice low and velvety, the faintest smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. âThen it seems I must remedy that, wife.â
You guided his hands lower, to the swell of your belly, then further down to the hem of your nightgown. âWill you show me how much you desire me?â you asked, your voice a sultry whisper. âMake me forget everything but the feel of you inside me...â
A low growl rumbled in Aemond's throat as his hands moved beneath your gown, fingers tracing the curves of your swollen belly before dipping lower to find the damp heat of your core.
âYou have no idea how often I dreamt of this,â he murmured, his breath hot against your ear. âOf burying myself deep within you, feeling your walls clench around me...â
With a swift motion, he lifted the hem of your nightgown and pulled it over your head, throwing it aside, revealing your naked form.
His gaze devoured every inch of you, from the full breasts that rose and fell with each ragged breath, to the soft, rounded hips and the glistening folds of your sex.
âTell me what you want, my queen,â he commanded, his voice husky with desire.
A shiver ran through you at Aemond's bold appraisal, your nipples hardening into tight peaks as his hungry gaze seared your skin. You reached for the fastenings of his breeches, your fingers fumbling with urgency to free his straining erection.
âI want you,â you murmured, your voice low, thick with a desire that lingered like a soft melody in the air. Your eyes never left his, the depth of your longing laid bare in the way your breath hitched.
Aemondâs violet gaze darkened, the flicker of a smirk ghosting his lips. His head tilted ever so slightly, a predatorâs grace, as though savoring your words before acting upon them.
You took a step back, your movements slow and deliberate, your footsteps light against the floor as you inched toward the bed. The flicker of the firelight cast a warm glow across the room, the shadows dancing across the carved posts of the bed.
As you reached its edge, you let yourself fall gracefully onto the soft mattress, your body sinking into the luxurious furs and silks. Propping yourself up on your elbows, you gazed at him through lowered lashes, a sly smile curving your lips.
âYou beckon me so boldly,â he murmured, his voice a low, velvet drawl, the faintest edge of amusement laced within it. âHave a care, wife, for I am not a man to resist such temptation.â
Aemond watched, transfixed, as you sank onto the bed, the mattress creaking under your weight. His cock throbbed in time with his racing heart, the tip already glistening with precum.
He shed his clothes the rest of the way, letting them fall carelessly to the floor as he stalked towards you, muscles rippling with each step. By the time he reached the bed, he was fully erect, his shaft jutting proudly from a nest of silver curls.
Lying beside you, he reached out to cup your breast, thumbing the sensitive peak before leaning in to capture your mouth in another searing kiss.
His free hand trailed over your round stomach, pausing to tease the edge of your slit before delving deeper, fingers probing your slick folds.
âYou're so wet for me already.â
You gasped into the kiss as Aemond's fingers found your entrance, your hips bucking instinctively to meet his touch. âPlease,â you whimpered, breaking away from his mouth to gaze up at him with pleading eyes. âI need you inside me. Fill me up, make me yours again.â
As if sensing your desperation, Aemond positioned himself between your thighs, the broad head of his cock nudging insistently at your opening. With a deep groan, he thrust forward, sheathing himself to the hilt in one powerful stroke.
You cried out at the sudden intrusion, your back arching off the bed as waves of pleasure-pain crashed over you. It took a moment for your body to adjust, to relax and welcome the thick length filling you so completely.
Aemond's breath hitched as he bottomed out inside you, your velvety walls gripping him like a vice. For a moment, he simply savored the exquisite sensation, reveling in the tight heat enveloping his throbbing cock.
Then, with a slow, deliberate withdrawal, he pulled almost all the way out before slamming back in, setting a relentless pace.
The bed frame creaked ominously beneath the force of his thrusts, but Aemond paid it no mind, lost in the primal rhythm of rutting his mate.
âYes, just like that,â he growled, his hips snapping forward with increasing urgency. âTake my cock, my queen.â
You wrapped your legs around Aemond's waist, heels digging into his firm behind as he pounded into you with wild abandon.
Each brutal thrust sent shockwaves of ecstasy coursing through your veins, your inner walls fluttering wildly around his pistoning shaft.
âAemond!â You wailed, your nails raking down his back as you met his ferocious pace.
The obscene slap of flesh against flesh filled the room, punctuated by my wanton cries and Aemond's guttural grunts. You could feel the pressure building within you, coiling tighter and tighter like a spring ready to snap.
Suddenly, you were hurtling over the edge, your orgasm crashing through you like a tidal wave. You screamed his name as your cunt clenched rhythmically around him, milking his cock for all it was worth.
Aemond's eye rolled back in his head as your velvet sheath spasmed around him, your climax triggering his own. With a hoarse groan, he buried himself to the hilt and came undone, his seed erupting in thick, pulsing jets.
He continued to thrust through the aftershocks, prolonging your shared bliss until he was spent, collapsing beside you with a grunt. For a long moment, the two of you lay entwined, chests heaving as you struggled to catch your breath.
The chamber was awash with the warmth of the firelight and the quiet hum of your contentment. As you lay entwined, your bodies barely a breath apart, your gaze lingered on Aemondâs face.
His sharp features, so often hardened by duty and war, were softened now, his violet eye fixed on you with a tenderness rarely seen.
Your noses brushed lightly, a quiet intimacy, as his hand rested possessively over your waist while yours splayed across his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart.
Almost as if drawn by a spell, he leaned forward, pressing a feather-light kiss to your lips, a gesture so gentle it felt like a whispered promise. When he pulled away, he settled back onto the pillow beside you, his arm still wrapped protectively around you.
You shifted, nestling closer, your head finding solace in the crook of his neck. Your hand lay over his heart, its steady rise and fall a soothing cadence that began to lull you into slumber.
His breathing slowed, each exhale a soft brush against your hair, and soon, the quiet comfort of his presence drew you into a deep, dreamless sleep.
But the peace did not last.
You jolted awake, startled by the sudden thrashing of Aemondâs body beside you. His face, so serene moments ago, was now contorted in anguish, his brow slick with sweat.
His breaths came in sharp, uneven gasps, and his hands clenched the sheets as if warding off some unseen terror.
Your heart clenched at the sight. He had spoken little of his nightmares, but you knew they haunted himâa torment born of battles fought, losses endured, and burdens carried.
Pushing yourself up, you moved with as much haste as your swollen belly would allow, the weight of your pregnancy slowing you only slightly.
Grabbing the robe draped over the chair, you wrapped it around yourself, its soft fabric barely warding off the chill of the room as you padded toward the small table where you had placed your new goods.
Your hands rummaged through the items with purpose, your fingers finally curling around a small vial. You held it up, peering at its contents even in the dim light. The faint, familiar scent already began to calm your racing heart.
Lavender oil.
You returned to the bed, the vial clutched firmly in your grasp. As you sat beside him, Aemond's thrashing began to subside, though his breaths were still ragged, and his jaw clenched tightly.
Carefully, you uncorked the vial, the soothing aroma of lavender wafting into the room. You poured a small amount onto your hands, warming the oil between your palms before leaning over him.
With gentle, deliberate movements, you began to anoint his temples, your touch light yet firm as you traced small, calming circles.
The oil left a faint sheen on his skin, its scent filling the space between you. "Aemond," you whispered softly, your voice low and steady, a tether pulling him back from the depths of his nightmare.
His breathing began to slow, the tension in his body easing under your ministrations. You moved to his wrists, massaging the oil into his pulse points, your hands steady despite the ache blooming in your lower back.
âYou are safe,â you murmured, your lips brushing against his ear. âI am here.â
You whispered a silent prayer under your breath, invoking the gods for protection and peace. Your gaze stayed fixed on him, your heart clenching as you watched his features begin to soften, the tension melting away.
You held your breath, waiting. When his form finally stilled, his breathing evening out, you let out a soft sigh of relief. The lavender and your quiet vigil had worked.
Exhaustion weighed heavily upon you, and you slid back into bed beside him, pulling the covers over the both of you. But just as you were about to lay your head against Aemondâs chest, you froze.
A chill ran down your spine, and the hairs on your arms stood on end as an inexplicable sensation swept over you.
You were being watched.
Your eyes darted to the chamber doors, which you now noticed were slightly ajar. Beyond them, barely visible in the darkness, you caught the faint glimmer of glowing green eyes.
Your heart raced, a primal fear coursing through you. The air seemed to thicken, heavy with an unseen presence.
But you steadied yourself, your breathing slowing as you reminded yourself of the protections you had set in place earlier that day.
You had taken every precaution, warding the chamber with runes and incantations, ensuring that no ill intent could cross its threshold. Alys Rivers might wield her strange gifts, but she would not claim Aemondânot without a fight.
With a courage you hadnât known you possessed, you tightened your arms around Aemondâs sleeping form, drawing strength from the warmth of his body against yours. Lifting your chin, you stared directly into the glowing eyes, refusing to show weakness.
âI wonât let you have him,â you whispered fiercely, your voice a low, steady vow. âNot without a fight, witch.â
For a moment, the air seemed to hold its breath. The green eyes lingered for a moment longer, unblinking and cold, before retreating into the darkness.
Only when the oppressive feeling lifted did you allow yourself to exhale. A trembling sigh escaped your lips as you lowered your head, nestling into Aemondâs chest. His heartbeat, steady and strong beneath your ear, became a soothing rhythm, lulling you out of your fear.
As the night enveloped you once more, you clung to him, your resolve unshaken. Whatever forces sought to disturb your peace, you would face them.
For Aemond, for your babe, for the family you were building togetherâyou would fight.
Hope You Enjoyed!
#aemond targaryen x reader#house of the dragon#aemond targaryen#aemond x reader#hotd fanfic#hotd#hotd aemond#aemond one eye#aemond x you#aemond targaryen smut
1K notes
¡
View notes
Note
Heyyyâ¤ď¸â¤ď¸â¤ď¸ . Idk if ur busy w anything but could I maybe request a cute little boy challenging zoro for the reader in a dumb competition and zoro takes it seriously (bc thats just him) or whatever else you would like . Ive binged all your work and its safe to say ur probably one of the best writers on the app. Thank youu<33
âĽďžăťă daises and posies
synopsis: a kid with the hots for you begins to challenge zoro, insulting his pride as a swordsman and capabilities as a partner until the mosshead finally snaps... leaving you as the only thing standing between all-out war
cw: fluffy fluff, comfort, zoro would totally have beef with a child, reader's a sweetheart, the kid is a little fart but lowkey kind of adorable

"Zoro, stop!" you exclaimed, eyes wide and frantic as you helplessly tried to hold him back, your feet dragging against the ground at his sheer strength. "He didn't mean it! He's just a kid!"
"Kid, my ass!" Zoro scoffed, brows cinched in a sharp scowl as he began to draw his sword, lunging forward. "He's about to get a grown beating!"
"Says the guy that got his butt kicked by Mihawk!"
"WHY YOUâ!"
"ZORO!"
"I was there!" the young boy taunted, standing just out of Kitetsu's reach with a shit-eating smirk. "I was on the Baratie when you got your butt handed to you."
Enamored, his gaze shifted to you, hearts practically forming in his irises as he let out a dreamy sigh.
"It was the day I saw this heavenly angel for the first time..."
Confusedâand slightly uncomfortableâyou let out an awkward chuckle, still maintaining your hold on your furious boyfriend.
"Kid, weren't you, like, seven?"
"And three quarters."
Your brows flattened.
'Gods...'
"But I knew that you were my dream girl! You looked so pretty! Your hair was blowing in the wind, and your dress was a pretty blue!"
The boy's gaze slowly shifted to Zoro, expression turning sour.
"But this bozo was too busy losing to notice..."
"BOZO?!"
"Zoro!"
"I don't give a crap how old the kid is! He's pickin' a fight with me!"
While perusing the marketplace with your swordsman, you came across a fruit stall, where a rather oddly-mannered boy ran the register.
He instantly recognized youâthough you could not do the sameâand began flying off the handle with pick-up lines and and flirtations, hoping to woo you into a dinner date.
Flattered, you gave him thanks, but also politely declined.
You explained that your boyfriend didn't particularly enjoy sharing, and the mosshead introduced himself in his usual gruff way.
But the moment the boy realized Zoro was your boyfriend, things instantly went left.
He began a long-winded tirade about how Zoro was weak, and nowhere near strong enough to provide the protection an "angel" like you required.
Safe to say... that did not go over well with the swordsman.
"Since you got such a problem with me, kid, then how about we settle this right here! Steel on steel!"
"Sounds good to me!" the boy agreed, brows furrowed as he drew a wooden sword. "Try not to shatter yours this time!"
Zoro's eye twitched, a rather scary looking smile cracking across his face as he drew Enma.
"Ohhh, I am gonna put you in the ground."
"Zoro!" you hissed, snatching away the glowing, purple weapon and shoving it back in its sheath. "His weapon is a toy! You are not using haki to fight a child!"
"He started it!"
"And I'm finishing it! This whole entire thing is ridiculous!"
Stepping forward, you crouched down to the boy's level, letting out an exasperated sigh.
"As flattered as I am that you're willing to take on a billion-berry man for me, I'm afraid this isn't going to work out," you started, pointing between the both of you. "I'm not into younger guys, and as much as I hate to admit it, I kind of enjoy looking at my boyfriend's face."
A cocky grin rose to Zoro's lips, but you were quick to furrow your brow.
You hadn't forgotten what he tried to do a few second ago, and he would be dealt with next.
"So, it is with a heavy heart that I send you on your way..." you smirked, grabbing the boy's shoulders and turning him to face the spice stall. "...and toward the girl that has been staring at you all day."
A flush bloomed across his face as he met the gaze of a young girl behind the register, her large, brown eyes widening as she realized she had been caught.
"R-really?" the boy stumbled, suddenly incredibly nervous.
"Mhmm," you nodded, encouragingly. "And if you're half as romantic with her as you were with me, you'll sweep her off her feet in no time."
Glancing down at the ground, you snatched up a few wildflowers, carefully placing them in his open palm before pressing it closed.
"Just be yourself. And the rest will come naturally."
A glimmer of excitement sparkled in his eyes at the sight of the daises and posies, his mouth breaking out in an adorable, toothless grin.
"You're right! Thanks a bunch, lady!"
Quickly, he threw his arms around your neck, pulling you into a tight hug before letting go and making a beeline for the spice stall.
"Hey, girl! Did it hurt?! When you fell?!"
"Me?! What are you talking about?! Fell from where?!"
"Heaven!"
At the cheesy line, you let out a warm chuckle, unable to fight the smile rising to your lips.
'That kid's goin' places...'
"Tch. Kid's a menance," Zoro glared, crossing his arms over his chest. "Let's head to the Sunny before he comes back."
"Oh, don't think you're out of the dog house," you scoffed, grabbing his ear as you began the trek back to the ship. "I'm not over the fact that you were about to fight a nine year-old with a haki-imbued sword."
"Ow! Shit! (y/n)! That fuckin' hurts!"
"Serves you right! You're lucky I love you or I'd kick you into next week!"

#zorosangell#one piece#one piece x reader#roronoa#roronoa x reader#roronoa zoro#roronoa zoro x reader#zoro#zoro x reader#op
430 notes
¡
View notes
Text
timeâs blur - ialwbty au
series masterlist
pairing: luke castellan x daughter of poseidon!reader but this primarily features percy jackson & sister!reader
summary: somehow, someway, you come back.
a/n: wow it has been a while hasn't it!! 148 days to be exact!! im always thinking about these two in the corner of my mind and ive been wanting to write this au since i got an ask about it, originally i was going to do it all as a big long one shot but i just want to get something out lol. and this will give me more freedom to do wte i want with this au instead of just having one big one shot and leaving it. anyways enjoy there is actually some fluff for once but still some emotional damage and there is more to come!! also reader is 19 and percy is 15
wc: 3.5k
warning(s): hurricane dies but she has come back!! told through percy's pov. angst, hurt/comfort, signature percy jackson guilt, but some fluffy sibling moments<3

Percy doesnât end up in the infirmary at 2:29 in the morning out of instinct, foresight, or any kind of divine âchosen oneâ intervention.Â
He ends up in the infirmary at 2:29 in the morning because some Apollo kid was hooking up with an Ares kid on the beach, and they found you.Â
They found you, not Percy. He didnât even have a clue until he woke up to Chiron in his cabin.
Percy had had his fair share of rude awakenings over the years, usually because of horrific demigod prophetic dreams, but the expression on Chironâs face immediately alerted Percy that something was wrong, even through his groggy haze.Â
âChiron?â he rasps, and he sits up as he rubs the sleep out of his eyes. He has to make sure heâs not still dreaming.Â
âIâm sorry to wake you, Percy,â he says. âBut I need you to come with me.âÂ
âWhatâs wrong?â he asks. âIs everyone okay? Is camp okay? Is there an invasion?âÂ
âNothing so ghastly,â Chiron says. Though his tone is a bit lighter, it still doesnât ease Percyâs concerns. âBut it does concern you.âÂ
âGreat,â Percy mumbles, and he pulls himself out of bed. Normally he would have the foresight to change, but a part of him is still worried that Christmas has come early and Kronos has already invaded the city.Â
So he follows Chironâwith all the sneaking around heâs done since getting to camp, itâs strange to be out this late and not have to worry about being eaten aliveâclad in flannel pajama pants, a Yankeeâs tee, and Converse he didnât get the chance to fully lace up.Â
âYouâd tell me if something was wrong,â Percy says, glancing up at him. âRight?âÂ
âOf course,â he nods. âI wouldnât classify this as something going wrong. Just⌠rather shocking.âÂ
âGreat,â he repeats. âAre you going to tell me?âÂ
Chiron is silent for a moment, and Percy frowns. âNow Iâm really worried.âÂ
âI suppose itâs best to rip the bandage off,â Chiron says. He stops right outside the Big House and lets out a sigh. âAn hour ago, a girl was found on the beach. She looked as if sheâd been washed ashore.âÂ
Percyâs frown deepens. âWhat? Godsâ is she okay?âÂ
âYes,â Chiron says. âI checked her over for injuries, but she only had some minor bruises. No water in her lungs, somehow.âÂ
âThatâs crazy,â he says. âHow could someone even wash up here? Even with demigodsâ donât we have protections against that?âÂ
âAll of this makes me believe there was some⌠divine intervention,â Chiron says slowly. âEspecially with who she is.âÂ
Percy crosses his arms. âYouâre making this sound like a huge deal. Who is she?â
âPercy,â Chiron says, soft but firm, âitâs your sister. Somehow, sheâs come back to life.âÂ
And for a second, all he can do is stare.Â
âWhat?âÂ
âI could never forget her face,â he says. âOr the presence of a child of Poseidon.âÂ
Percy shakes his head. âNo, Chironâ if this is a joke, itâs not funny.â He huffs a mirthless laugh and looks down at his hands. âAnd if this is a shitty dream, then itâs really shitty.âÂ
âPerseus, this is real,â he states.Â
Heâs still shaking his head. âHow can it be real? Sheâs deadâ sheâs been dead for years.â
âI donât know,â he admits. âMr. D has already gone back to Olympus to figure it out. But if I had to guess, your father decided to meddle.â
He wants to call it a lie. Honestly, he wants to punch Chiron for getting his hopes up about something like this. But deep down, Percy knows heâs telling the truth.Â
âCan I see her?â he asks. âIsâ is she okay? Does she know who she is?â
âIn time,â Chiron says. âI cannot be sure, but it doesnât look like she remembers anything from her life.âÂ
Percy shakes his head again. It doesnât feel real. Heâs imagined what it would feel like to meet you since the moment Luke told him about you, but he knew it could never happen.Â
But now, all that stands between Percy and his sister is a few doors.Â
âI want to see her,â he says.
âOf course,â Chiron nods. âI just need to make sure it wonât mess with her further. This isnât like Thalia coming back with the fleeceâthough I have suspicions, I canât be sure how this happened. It could be a very delicate matter.âÂ
âAs long as it doesnât hurt her more.âÂ
Chiron nods again and he opens the door to the Big House. He follows him up to his office door, then stops when Chiron gestures at the couch.Â
âI just need to discuss a few more things with her.âÂ
Percy nods wordlessly and sits down, then Chiron disappears into his office.Â
A million things are running through Percyâs mind, namely guilt.Â
Shouldnât he have been the one to find you?Â
Maybe it doesnât make sense, but itâs you.Â
Youâre his sister. Heâs always had a connection to you, even when you were goneâgods, the night after he found out you existed you appeared in his dreams. Percyâs spent almost every moment since he found out about you wishing you were still here, that he could meet you, and when it finally does happenâsomehow, because he still doesnât understand what the fuck went on for this to happenâheâs not even the one to find you? Heâs just asleep like every other night?
He huffs a sigh as he hunches over, his forearms on his knees. His leg bounces up and down at a rapid pace, moving his entire body with it, but this is one time he canât lay his ADHD to rest. Heâs more surprised he isnât up pacing the entire room for the hundredth time.Â
If Percy feels like this, he canât even imagine how you must feel. To come back for seemingly no reason with no memories, after four years in Elysium.Â
Luke said youâd been killed by a monster. You were buried like any other person.Â
You were gone.
But you just⌠came back. Â
He lets out another harried sigh and falls back against the couch. Heâs exhausted, but thereâs no chance of him being able to go back to sleep. Not with you around.Â
Suddenly, the door opens, and Percy instantly darts up from his seat. You walk out with Chiron and itâs almost surreal.
You look like all the pictures, all his dreams, just olderâmore mature. He wants to cry and scream and hug you all at once.Â
Your eyes widen slightly, and you glance at Chiron for a moment before you focus back on Percy.
âUhâ sorry,â he says, wincing a bit. He doesnât know how to act around you, not when he knows you but you donât know him. âI waited for you. I thought it would be good to have someone on the other side.âÂ
âThatâs really nice,â you murmur. âI⌠I see why. Word on the street is that youâre my brother.âÂ
Percy nods way too many times. âYeah. Uhâ yeah. Weâre both children ofââÂ
He pauses, his gaze moving past you to Chiron. He has to have explained all this to you, right?Â
âPoseidon,â you finish, and you let out a slightly shaky laugh. âChiron laid out all the basics.âÂ
âThis has all got to be really confusing,â he says. âI remember how lost I was when I first got to camp, and I didnât evenâŚâÂ
âDie?â you ask wryly. He nods again. He really canât finish any sentence around youâheâs so worried of saying the wrong thing and accidentally hurting you. Percy doesnât know how any of this works.
âItâs strange,â you admit. âI⌠I lived this whole life before this, and I donât even remember any of it.â
Percyâs heart clenches painfully. He doesnât know how heâs going to explain everything to you when you start remembering.Â
When you start remembering Luke.Â
âReally?â he asks. âThereâs nothing?â
You shake your head. âI have my name, but thatâs all. AndâŚâ
Percy frowns. âWhat?â
You pause for a moment before you shake your head again. âNothing. This is justâŚâ
âWeird?âÂ
You nod with a slight laugh. âYeah. To say the least.â
âIf it makes you feel better, youâre not the first person to come back to life,â Percy says. âUh, a girl named Thalia used to be a tree before she was turned back into a human.â
You frown. âWow.â
âWe can get to all of that some other day,â Chiron thankfully interrupts. âPercy, will you take her back to your cabin?â
âYouâre sure we wonât get eaten by the harpies?â Percy asks. âAello is out for my blood.â
âI promise,â Chiron says. He glances at you, your frown noticeably deeper, and he looks back at Percy. âPerhaps we should, ah, hold off on this sort of discussion. Until tomorrow, at least.â
âOf course,â Percy says. âSorry. You must be exhausted.âÂ
âA little,â you admit. âApparently coming back to life takes it out of you.âÂ
âCome back here first thing in the morning,â Chiron says. âWe have⌠quite a bit to talk about.âÂ
âThatâs an understatement,â you murmur.Â
Percy smiles a bit, and he gestures with his head for you to follow him. You do, and Chiron goes back into his office. He nabs a bag of ambrosia squares from an empty bedside as the two of you go through the infirmary just to be safe, and when he glances back at you he sees you frowning.Â
âAre you okay?â he asks. âDoes anything hurt?âÂ
âYouâre a Yankees fan?â you say instead.Â
Percy blinks, then he realizes youâre looking at his shirt. âUhâ yeah.â He chuckles. âIâm from New York, and my mom loves them, soâŚâ he tugs at his shirt. âI know you like the Red Sox. Sorry.â
âItâs okay,â you say. âWe canât all be perfect.âÂ
Percy canât help but smile. You died and came back to life, and you remember nothing but your name and your love for the Boston Red Sox.Â
âThat means you keep up with baseball, right?âÂ
âWhen I can,â he says. âWe donât really have technology out here.âÂ
âHave the Red Sox won a world series since Iâve been gone?âÂ
âThey won last year, actually.â
Your eyes widen and you instantly grin. âReally?â
He nods. âThey beat the Cardinals.â
âThatâ thatâs huge!â you exclaim. âOh my god, they broke the curse and I didnât get to see it? This is the worst thing thatâs ever happened to me!â
âYou know you died, right?â
âAnd look how well that worked out for me.â You shake your head. âI need to go to the library or something and find some footage.â
âAs much as I would love to do that,â Percy says, âwe have a few other things we have to focus on.â
You huff and shake your head. âFine. But as soon as we figure all this out, Iâm figuring out some way to see those games.âÂ
Percy chuckles. âI donât think anyoneâll deny you that.âÂ
âGood.âÂ
Silence settles over the two of you as you walk back to the Poseidon cabin, and Percy just feels awkward.Â
He always thought about what he would say to you if he finally got to see you again, and now youâre alive somehow and right next to him and he has no idea what to do.Â
âYouâre sure youâre not hurt?â Percy finally decides on. âChiron said you just washed up on shore.âÂ
âI feel surprisingly okay,â you say. âAll I remember is waking up at the bottom of the lake. I thought I was going to drown, so I kicked my way up, and then got to shore.â You shake your head. âSomehow, I didnât drown. My clothes werenât even wet. Iâve got to be the luckiest person out there.âÂ
âYouâre a child of Poseidon,â he says. âWe can breathe underwater so we canât drown, and our clothes donât get wet unless we want them to.âÂ
âLike I said,â you incline your head, âluckiest person out there.âÂ
âI just donât get why youâre back,â Percy says. âDonât get me wrong, Iâm glad you are. I just donât understand how, or whyâ or why now.âÂ
You open your mouth to say something, but youâre not able to get any words out before a yawn interrupts it.Â
âMaybe thatâs a tomorrow problem,â you say.Â
âI think youâre right,â Percy says. He opens the door to the camp store and you follow him inside, but you frown.Â
âWhat is this?âÂ
âThe camp store,â he says. âYou donât really have anything, so I wanted to get you some things.âÂ
You just stare as he starts taking things. âYouâre just⌠stealing?âÂ
âJust a couple toiletries and some clothing,â he says. âThey wonât miss it.â He stashes it all in a Camp Halfblood tote bag and holds it out to you, and though youâre a bit hesitant, you still take it.Â
âThanks,â you say. âWe wonât get in trouble?âÂ
âI think everyone will cut you some slack for a while,â Percy says. âA guy did this for me my first day and it helpsâmakes you feel more at home.âÂ
You hum, and this time you open the door for Percy. âNice guy.âÂ
Percy swallows the sudden lump in his throat, trying to ignore the chill that trickles down his spine as he realizes the implications of his words.Â
âYeah,â Percy mutters. âHe was.âÂ
Eventually, the two of you get back to the Poseidon cabin. He opens the door for you and you slowly walk inside.Â
Again, itâs strange that youâre here. Itâs like if a piece of his history textbook suddenly came to life and started walking aroundâheâs heard so much about you, imagined what he thought would be an impossible meeting so many times, but now that itâs actually happening he doesnât know what to do.Â
And it hits even more as you walk over to a picture of yourself hanging on the wall, surrounded by a myriad of others.Â
Itâs one of many of you and Luke, him holding you close with an arm slung around your shoulder as you beam at the camera with the brightest smile imaginable. Before Luke got his scar, before you died, before he went off the deep end.Â
âI put a couple of your pictures up,â Percy rushes to explain, his throat feeling scratchy, âand a few of your old things. Asâ as a way to remember you.â
âI love it,â you say, and the tension dissolves in his shoulders when he sees your smile. It really is so much brighter in person. âIâ I canât believe I donât remember any of this.â
âWeâll figure out a way to get it back,â Percy says. âI promise.âÂ
âDonât make promises you canât keep,â you say idly as you continue to take all the pictures in. He canât imagine what it must feel like to see all these memories of a past life you have no recollection of.Â
âI donât,â he says. âWeâre gonna figure it out.â
Youâre silent for a while as you keep looking at them. Then you take one of the pictures off the wall, the one of you and Luke at a baseball game.Â
âLuke,â you murmur, as if you donât realize youâre saying it out loud. You blink, then you turn to Percy. âHis name is Luke, isnât it?â
He nods, almost in disbelief. You donât remember a damn thing about your old life but you know Lukeâs name.
How is Percy supposed to tell you what he did?Â
You laugh softly as you trail your nail over the edge. âWe mustâve been pretty close if I got him to go to a Red Sox game.â You look over at Percy. âDoes he go here too?â
After a moment, Percy shakes his head. âHeâ uh, he used to.â
âMakes sense,â you murmur, and you put the picture back on the wall. âI got the easy way out. Everyone else had to deal with the fallout.â
Percy frowns. âYou were killed by a monster. I donât think anyone considers that the easy way out.âÂ
âIt kinda was,â you say with a shrug. âIâ I donât remember much about it, but Chiron said I was in Elysium. There arenât any monsters down there, and there certainly arenât any responsibilities.â
âWell,â Percy sits down on his bed, âIâm glad youâre here. You donât know how many times Iâve imagined meeting you.âÂ
You chuckle. âI didnât know I was so popular.âÂ
âIâm serious,â he says. âPoseidon is one of the Big Three, and they made an oath not to have kids. I was the only Big Three kid in general when I got to campâwhen I found out about you, all I could think about was how badly I wanted to have a sister to talk about all of this with.âÂ
Your eyes soften, and you lean against his bed frame. âIâm sorry.âÂ
âWhat are you sorry about?âÂ
âIâ I donât know,â you say with a slight laugh. âI just feel bad that I couldnât be there for you.âÂ
âYouâre already doing a pretty good job at being a big sister,â Percy says wryly.Â
âThanks,â you say. âYouâre doing a pretty good job at being a younger brother.âÂ
Percy laughs and smiles, and you smile too. Heâs beginning to understand what Luke always said, about your presence embodying warmth. Heâs only been around you for a few minutes and he already feels better.Â
âIâve never had a brother before this,â you say. âSo there might be a couple speed bumps.âÂ
âWeâll get through them together,â Percy says. âBesides, I⌠I kind of always considered you my sister. Ever since I found out about you, even though you wereâŚâÂ
âDead?â you guess, and he winces. You chuckle a bit. âItâs still weird for me, too. Canât imagine what it must be like for all of you.âÂ
âWeird,â he says without really thinking. âReally weird. But Iâm thankful that youâre back.âÂ
You smile. âSo am I, Percy.âÂ
You let out another yawn, and you sit down on the bed across from him. âGod, what time is it?âÂ
Percy glances at the clock in the corner. â3:34.âÂ
You whistle. âI really chose a great time to come back, huh?âÂ
He chuckles, and he kicks off his shoes as gets up to turn the lights off. âI think some sleep would do us both some good.âÂ
You nod and do the same. As you lay back, one hand behind your head, you continue to look around the cabin.Â
âAre these your band posters?âÂ
He shakes his head as he sits back down. âTheyâre yours, actually, but youâve got good taste. I love Pearl Jam.âÂ
âI used to have good taste, you mean,â you say wryly.Â
âHey,â he says. âI meant what I told you. Weâre gonna get your memories back.âÂ
âHow are you so sure?âÂ
âIâve done a lot of impossible things,â Percy says. âAnd so have you, from what Iâve heard. Itâs kind of the Poseidon kid way, honestly.âÂ
âYouâll have to teach me some things, then.âÂ
âAnd when you get your memory back, youâll have to do the same,â he says.Â
You smile and nod. âDeal.âÂ
Percy smiles too, and he lays down. âYou really should try and get some sleep. Chiron wasnât joking when he said we have a lot to talk about.â He huffs a slight laugh. âWhatever the reason is for you coming back, I guarantee thereâs gonna be some people upstairs that are mad about it.âÂ
Your eyebrows rise. âUpstairs?âÂ
âOlympus,â he says. âThe gods donât really like things happening out of their control.âÂ
You hum, and for a moment thereâs nothing but silence and the sound of both your breathing. Itâs a little strange having someone else here other than Tyson, but heâs thankful for it.Â
âWhatâs gonna happen to me?â you ask. Thereâs an edge of fear in your voice, and Percy frowns.Â
âNothing.âÂ
âDonât lie.âÂ
âNothing is going to happen,â he repeats. âIâm not going to let anything happen. The gods have already messed with your life enoughâthey donât get to do it again.âÂ
Percy half-expects to hear the sound of thunder echoing across camp, but the silence continues. Maybe Zeus isnât listening in on him for once, or maybe he just expects the disrespect at this point.Â
âI really am the luckiest person,â you say. âIâve got someone like you looking out for me.âÂ
âYou were looking out for me when you were gone,â he says. âYou might not remember, but I could feel it. So Iâm just repaying the favor.âÂ
Again, silence. Itâs temporarily interrupted by the sound of sheets shifting, then you speak.Â
âIâm really glad I got to meet you, Percy,â you murmur.Â
He canât help but smile, and he tries to ignore the tears beginning to spring in his eyes. He has no idea why youâre backâno idea what this could mean. Maybe your dad did bring you back, maybe itâs a bizarre case like Thalia, maybe you play a part in something that they donât even know about yet and it's nothing but bad news.
But for once in his life, Percyâs not going to question it.Â
Youâre alive and youâre here.Â
For now, thatâs all he needs.Â
âMe too,â he whispers.
#luke castellan x reader#luke castellan fic#luke castellan angst#percy jackson and the olympians x reader#pjo x reader#x reader#daughter of poseidon#child of poseidon#sadie writes
724 notes
¡
View notes
Text
I Could Never Hate You (Part IV)



Pairing -> ninthmember!reader x Lee Minho WC -> ~4,000 words Includes -> hurt/comfort, pretty heavy angst, anxiety and anxiety attack, some panicking, friendship issues (but finally some communication!!!!) Summary -> Your anxiety has been getting worse all day. Typically, Hyunjin would be the first person you would go to, but unfortunately, the two of you are not on great terms. What are you supposed to do when your best friend is avoiding you at all costs? Author's Note -> Yayy!! I have finally finished this fic. It was originally only supposed to be one part, but I'm so happy with the story it has turned into. I'm sorry it took so long, college has been kicking my ass. But thank you guys for all the support! Let me know what you think :)
⥠Masterlist // Previous âĄ
Walking off stage, you fear that air will never come. It's been building up for hours at this point, and it's not a huge surprise that the peak of your anxiety has finally hit. Despite it being your biggest dream since you were a child, the concerts have never been as great as youâd hoped they would be. You loved getting to see the fans and mess around on stage with the rest of the members, but you were never quite able to shake the stage fright or the uncomfortable feeling brought on by thousands of eyes watching you. The concerts did slowly get better. They have felt more natural and exciting for you lately, but it seems as if you've taken a step back today. Or maybe it would be better classified as a trip or a fall. You arenât quite sure why the concerts havenât made you as nervous as they used to when you first debuted. Perhaps you were desensitized to all the screams and fansâ stares, or maybe it was the fact that Hyunjin was always by your side to reassure you. But now what? After everything that happened, Hyunjin doesnât seem exactly eager to help you through it.
You were very worried to go on the stage, as things were already not going well today. You were hopeful when you first woke up, surrounded by warmth and comfort in Minho's arms. It felt as if anything was possible, and you were eager to fix up all the problems that had been created over the past few days. But it wasnât as easy as it sounds. The day has gone downhill from the moment you crawled out of bed. Now it's finally the end of the day, all that's left to do is change and leave the venue, but it seems like even that task is going to be quite difficult.
You were the first to rush off stage as soon as everyone started to say their goodbyes. You managed a wave and a quick goodbye before you left, too distracted by your emotions to even tell if the boys were far behind. You hoped the fans wouldn't notice anything out of the blue, but you had made it fairly well throughout the concert, and the boys had some of their best acting faces on. So hopefully the fans would spare you this one moment. You knew you didn't have long before you would break, and you hate crying in front of the fans. Even if you could simply play it off as being overwhelmed with gratitude for them, it didn't feel right. So you left, as quickly as you could.
Your anxiety was building all throughout the day, and the consequences had exploded while on stage. All you needed to do was dance and sing your little heart out, but instead, all you could feel was your heart racing and the weight of the microphone clenched tightly in your sweaty hands. Over time, it just got worse and worse, and your chest got tighter and tighter. The sweating was definitely not only from the dancing. You couldnât give your best to the fans like you normally do, and even thatâs enough to send your anxiety through the roof. What if they notice? What will they think?
Entering the backrooms behind the stage is humbling as you notice multiple staff members watching you. You take a shaky breath still trying to calm down enough to make it somewhere more private. Your first instinct is to head straight to the bathroom, but your subconscious stops you as you remember what Hyunjin always used to tell you. It used to be a habit of yours to go to the bathroom and lock the door when you started to panic, wanting to handle it all by yourself. But once Hyunjin started helping you through your anxiety, he always told you not to, so that he or the other members were able to reach you more easily. Not to mention, being on the outside of a locked door when the person inside is upset is not usually a good situation to be in. Which is understandable, but itâs hard to think clearly when you can barely breathe.
You push through the hesitation, heading to the bathroom anyway. You know Hyunjin is a good person and would definitely comfort you if you asked him, even when heâs angry. However, you had no plans to actually approach him about that, and itâs doubtful that he would even notice your suffering in the first place if his avoidance while on stage is anything to go by. So, the bathroom it is.
Hyunjin has reassured you many times that you arenât a burden to him, so it wasnât hard to reach out to him over the years when you needed help. But that also means that you didnât let many of the other members see this side of you. So what now? Now that your only support system has been torn apart by some silly fight you donât even fully understand.
With every step, you rush forward faster and faster, hoping to get alone before the tears in your eyes fully cloud your vision. Just a few more steps until the solitude of the bathroom is all yours.
Well, it was until you feel a sweaty hand grip your wrist lightly. You turn to yell at the owner of the hand, but your awareness fades as tears start to fall, and the lump that had settled in your throat has officially stolen all talking ability. With the possibility of escape being torn from your grasp, you can no longer fight the emotions bubbling up.
You feel the person tuck you under their arm and lead you somewhere else. You realize itâs Hyunjin as the remaining scent of his cologne that hadnât been sweated off hits your nose. Itâs comforting, bringing you back to many of your favorite memories and all the times he has been there in the past. Your brain tries to fight the situation, wanting to resist and pull away from him, but itâs either this or in a smelly bathroom all by yourself. As much as you hate to say it, Hyunjin may just be the right choice in this scenario. He leads you into a room and sits you down on a soft cushion. This room is much quieter, and all of the sounds, smells, and movement that had been overwhelming you are gone. Itâs a relief to your senses, but you barely register the change, too overwhelmed with your lack of oxygen.
âYouâre okay, youâre safe,â Hyunjin whispers to you in a soft manner as he kneels on the ground in front of you, âeverythingâs gonna be okay, y/n-ah.â Your eyes are squeezed shut, and you focus purely on Hyunjinâs voice, trying to take back control over your emotions. He used to do a lot more for you, but over time, youâve learned how to handle them better on your own. So now, his presence is more there for reassurance and grounding while you try to regain your breath and work through your emotions. In this industry, you arenât always able to leave a room or steal a friend away for help; sometimes you have to get through it yourself.
In the quiet of the room, a cautious knock rings out from the door of the dressing room Hyunjin had brought you to. While the noise goes completely over your head, Hyunjin was prepared for it to come eventually. He sighs as Minho peeks his head inside the door, just as he expected. Due to your newly formed relationship, it wasnât surprising that he had come to check up on you. Lately, you two were completely up each otherâs butts.
Itâs just the honeymoon stage, he tries to remind himself.
âCome on in,â Hyunjin whispers gently and motions for Minho to enter. As much as Hyunjin had been shipping the two of you, he hadnât expected anything to actually happen. It was more of a joke to get a reaction out of you and Minho. However, he soon realized his mistake when your complaints increased tenfold and the rest of the band started pushing harder. It was only a matter of time until one of you came to your senses and realized the feelings you had hidden deep down. He wanted to be happy about it, he really did, but when it actually came down to it, he was too scared to lose you. Youâre not only his bandmate, but also his best friend. Someone he would do anything for; someone who has been with him through everything and hopefully will continue to be for the rest of your life. And that right there is exactly what he is afraid to lose.
What if Minho doesnât want you two to be friends anymore?
What if you donât have enough time for him?
What if you donât need him anymore?
It may seem irrational to some people, but oftentimes fear isnât something you can reason with, and there is nothing you can do about it. There were so many worst-case scenarios running through his head that he had simply blown up. If you had asked him two weeks ago, he wouldâve said that he would never ever speak to you in that way. But it happened. You had rushed in, and immediately, all you had to talk about was Minho. Just like usual. And it scared him, so he lashed out.
Yeah, like thatâll solve the issue, he had thought to himself shortly after the encounter. He knew he was in the wrong. He never should have said any of that. He didnât mean it, and he regretted it deeply. But what is there to do now? How can he fix it?
It seems as if talking it out is mostly off-limits. Youâve both been avoiding each other to the max, and itâs not often that you guys get a moment alone to talk. Not only would you need somewhere to talk, but you would also need to be receptive to what Hyunjin has to say. And that seems very unlikely. If talking it out isnât an option, what else can he do to fix it? He canât just sit around anymore; this problem is certainly not going to solve itself. Maybe he could start with his actions and show you just how much he cares. Then you can realize that he is starting to come around to the whole new relationship, and it seems that now is the perfect chance to start mending the relationship.
Minho walks in and settles nervously next to you on the small couch. He raises his hands, but doesnât touch you, unsure of how exactly to act in this situation. What is his role? Hyunjin sees his hesitation and gently removes one of his hands that was holding yours. Minho gets the idea and takes your clammy palm in his, gently caressing the top of your hand with his thumb.
You focus on the new sensation, and your shoulders sag a little bit as you become a little more aware of whatâs going on. Your sobs gradually start to calm down a little as you sit in the quiet room.
âHey, y/n, can you open your eyes for me?â Hyunjin directs, hoping to make you more aware of your surroundings and help you to focus on whatâs around you, as sometimes that can help calm you down.
You follow Hyunjinâs instructions, knowing itâs for the better. It takes a second for your eyes to adjust, but when they do, youâre met with the sight of Hyunjin kneeling in front of you with one of your hands in his. His eyes are full of concern and kindness, and his familiar gaze is nearly enough to calm you right back down. You feel the couch shift slightly next to you and glance over to find Minho sitting beside you. The sight is less familiar, yet it fills your heart with gratefulness and love. No matter what happens, you know that you have your people behind you.
âHey there, kitten,â he says softly. You can practically hear the nerves in his voice. As the second-oldest member in the group, he is often dealing with issues and dishing out advice, but itâs obvious that this is outside his usual pay grade.
I guess I get special treatment as his girlfriend, you think with a small huff. Itâs so hard to be upset around Minho. Well, at least nowadays, previously, he was the cause of your tears. But things have changed⌠drastically, it appears.
âAre you laughing?â Minho comments in disbelief, a smile growing on his face.
âJust a little, I canât help it!â You defend against his comment, âYou just look so uncomfortable.â
âHey, give him a break, heâs new to this whole emotions thing,â Hyunjin adds with a teasing grin on his face, relieved that you are feeling better so fast. He knows this isnât the end. Youâll get through the attacks, but your anxiety doesnât just go away, especially on bad days. But that doesnât define you, nor would you let it take away from the good moments.
Minho sends him a glare, and Hyunjin takes that as his sign to leave. It never ends well when you start to tease Minho. It very quickly turns to tissues and threats. A situation he would not like to be in more than once in two days.
Hyunjin gives your hand one final squeeze and stands with an exaggerated groan. âWell, Iâll leave you two lovebirds alone,â he says with a playful look of disgust on his face.
Your eyes follow Hyunjin as he makes his exit, confusion starting to cloud your mind as you begin to fully realize the situation.
You turn to Minho quickly, hoping to find answers, âDo you think that means weâre friends again?â Minhoâs eyes soften at your words. He knows just how bad this fight has been hurting you, and he wishes with everything in him that he could take your pain away. However, that just wasnât possible. All you want is your best friend back, and that is something he simply cannot fix.
âI think those are questions youâre gonna have to ask him, sweetheart,â he replies gently, reaching out to wipe the remaining tears from your face. You lean into his side, as your stomach flutters with butterflies. It's a refreshing reminder that even if you're struggling or the day starts going downhill, you always have your people behind you; youâre glad to find that Hyunjin is still one of them.
"Let's go back to the hotel, yeah?" Minho proposes, "I think we've been through enough today." You nod your head sluggishly, agreeing immensely with what he's suggested. All the crying has tired you out, and all you can think of is crawling into a warm bed, right into your boyfriend's arms.
︾âżŕ¨ďż˝ďż˝ďż˝ŕ§âżď¸ľ
You pad softly down the hotel hallway as the morning sun starts to flood through the window. After the rough night you had, you passed out right after you took a shower. Surprisingly, you actually had a very good night of sleep. Despite the redness from the tears you had shed, your eyes had slipped open quite easily this morning. Maybe the reassurance that Hyunjin still cared was enough to ease you into an actual night of rest.
Somehow, you still havenât gotten the opportunity to properly talk with him, and it may be something he actually deserves this time. It was kind of him to help you, despite the tension and fighting still present in your relationship. After a quick glance at Minho, you had left the room, hoping to clear the air and make your way to Hyunjin and Felixâs hotel room. You knew it was unlikely for Hyunjin to be awake at this time, the sun just barely risen, but maybe Felix was awake. Then, you could wait for Hyunjin to wake up and catch him before everyone has to head to the venue to start preparing for the concert.
You stop in front of the heavy, wooden door and let out a sigh. This is it. You were going to end this fight once and for all. You just want your best friend back.
Upon knocking, youâre met with a sight you had never expected. Instead of Felix, youâre met with the endearing sight of your best friend. Hyunjin stands there in his pajamas, looking at you with wide eyes. His arms and fingers are covered in what appears to be charcoal, and thereâs even a bit smudged on his face.
You let out a small giggle at the sight, intrigued as to what he was up to. His eyes light up at your laugh, âY/n, what are you doing here? Why are you awake right now?â
âAll I can think about is our argument,â you state, not quite answering his question. You push past him, entering his hotel room. Immediately, you notice Felix, lying in one of the beds, scrolling on his phone. He glances up, making eye contact with you, and a smile spreads on his face.
âFinally! Itâs about time you guys made up. He wonât stop sulking,â he exclaims as he starts to pull himself out of bed. âHopefully, you breaking into our room will go a bit better this time, yeah?â
You roll your eyes playfully, remembering the vicious scene from a couple of days prior. Felix walks past you and makes his exit, obviously giving the two of you time to talk things out. When Felix leaves, Hyunjin makes his way further back in the room and takes a seat at the desk next to you. This draws your attention, and you notice the set of supplies strewn across the desk. There are pens, chalks, and charcoals surrounding a sketchbook left open. Itâs a sketch of flowers, unsurprising as itâs one of Hyunjinâs most common choices for art. However, this one is even darker than some of his others. You know his art can sometimes feel a bit heavy, but the flowers in this one even appear to be wilted.
Oh, Hyunjin. You think as your heart aches a bit. Itâs obvious heâs a bit upset about something, and you think you might just know what the problem is.
âWhat are you doing up, sleepyhead?â You ask him, deciding to start simple. âDonât you usually prefer to sleep in?â
âYeah, but I couldnât really sleep that well,â he states with a sigh. Itâs then that you notice the same redness in his eyes that resides in yours. He must have been upset after he left.
âI see. I like your drawing,â you comment, and Hyunjin immediately flushes.
âThank you,â he says quietly before turning in his chair and carefully shutting the sketchbook. You hadnât meant for him to hide it away, but it seems that you were never meant to see it in the first place. You donât stop him or ask to see more, wanting to keep his art a comfort for him. Instead, you decide to bite the bullet. Small talk would never solve anything. Deep communication was the key, and both of you knew that.
âWhyâd you do that?â You ask, your eyes slowly starting to water as the memories come back. âWhy would you say those things to me?â At the blunt question, Hyunjin startles a bit, turning back to you. You can tell as he begins to debate what exactly to say in his head, trying to figure out the best way to articulate his thoughts.
âI was afraid to lose you,â he decides to go with. The simple phrase makes you freeze. You werenât sure what you had expected, but it certainly wasnât this. He was afraid? What the hell was he talking about with losing you?
âHyunjin, why would you lose me? Iâm right here,â you say gently, trying to reassure the man despite not knowing exactly what the situation was.
âAll you would talk about is Minho. Sure, it wasnât exactly loving words, but still. It was always about you and him. I just miss when it was you and me. I know heâs important to you, but youâre my best friend, y/n-ah. I have no idea what I would even do without you. Who would I laugh with? Who would I confide in? Youâre everything to me, and I just sort of freaked out when it seemed like I might lose you for good. But I just pushed you away even more. Iâm so sorry.â He rushes out, his voice starting a bit raised and eventually lowering to a near whisper. Despite his ramblings, his explanation does make a lot of sense. You know Hyunjin, and you know he certainly does not believe the things he said about you. Which definitely doesnât make it acceptable, but at least you know that it was a defense mechanism rather than genuine hatred.
âOh. I thought you were really upset with me. I couldnât figure out why you would say those things to me,â you tell him, knowing that itâs important for him to hear how you were feeling, too.
âI know, and I regretted it the moment those words left my mouth. I would do anything to take it back. I promise I support you and Minho. I think Iâm finally coming around to the idea. I was just nervous that he wouldnât want us to be friends anymore.â
âHyunjin, he has known both of us for such a long time. He would never ask us to do that. He knows how much you mean to me.â
âI know, but I guess I just panicked.â
You sigh at his words. You totally understand how he feels. There have been so many moments where you have accidentally said something you shouldnât have or behaved rudely as a result of panicking. You step closer to Hyunjin and pull him up to give you a hug. He wraps his arms around you as you rub his back lightly. You feel his tears slightly wet your shirt, but you donât say anything about it, not wanting to ruin the tender moment.
âItâs okay, Jinnie, I forgive you.â At these words, he hugs you a bit tighter, glad that your friendship is finally okay again.
︾âżŕ¨âĄŕ§âżď¸ľ
After both of you had calmed down, the two of you began to reminisce on some of your guysâ best memories over the years. He had even brought up some of the most embarrassing stories of Minho, making you crack up. Gosh, you had missed him so much.
At the reminder of your boyfriend, you excuse yourself, but not before reminding Hyunjin to call Felix back to the room. You felt bad for making the poor man find somewhere else to hang out, but to be fair, you hadnât asked him to leave. He was just too kind for his own good.
You return to your hotel room, only to find Minho still sleeping and very soundly at that. You smile adoringly at him before crawling back into bed with him.
âDid you guys figure everything out?â He asks drowsily, and you startle a bit at his voice. You were positive that he was still asleep, but heâs always been good at tricking you. You were impressed that he had even managed to figure out where you had gone.
âYes, I got my best friend back,â you say with a small smile, genuinely relieved that you and Hyunjin had managed to get past this hurdle.
âIâm happy for you, honey,â Minho says sweetly before pulling you closer and placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. Falling back to sleep with your boyfriend, you realize that you have never been happier.
Taglist: @armystay89 @thisisnotjacinta @silentreadersthings @seungminsapuppy @linos-kitten @hafrenstay @redstayrosie @bear8585 @yongbokkiesworld  @everglowdaisies @0325tiny @linoalwaysknows @chuuyaobsessed @delulustardust @3rachasninja @sit-thou-now-and-think
#skz#stray kids#lee know x reader#lee minho x reader#lee know#lee minho#hwang hyunjin#lee felix#hurt/comfort#hyunjin#slvt4felix#stray kids x reader#skz x reader#stray kids angst#stray kids imagine#stray kids ninth member#skz ninth member#stray kids 9th member#skz 9th member#stray kids fluff#skz fluff
224 notes
¡
View notes
Text
Sweet Dreams
Rhysand x fem!reader
content; stressed and clingy Rhys (i honestly dont know why i like writing about a stressed clingy rhys for), fluff
notes; okay ik this doesnât completely match up with Rhysâ backstory but its okayâşď¸
âââââââââââââââââ
Ink covers his tanned hands as they grip onto the desk, a result of days and days worth of paperwork. He was writing back to all the courts, gathering plans and information on Hybern.
However, it seems he doesn't have a responsibility of taking care of himself. The pile of uneaten food on the floor directly below his window, his sunken eyes and haunted look is all proof of that fact.
As his childhood friend, you were especially worried for him. He isn't himself. granted, he witnessed and been through much more, but looked like he had lost it.
âIf you wanted to see me, you should have just asked.â Rhys sighs, attempting to straighten the mess that is his desk.
âAnd would you have let me? See you, that is.â You respond, crossing your arms at him. You had made her way in here after claiming his window was âbroken.â
âI've been busy.â He offers.
âRight.â You nods, her gaze distant, understanding his pressure and mounds of work to get through.
âYou know, I think your window is broken. Food always seems to be falling from it.â You says, your brows raising. âYou want to explain this to me?â
âNo.â
âRhys.â
âNoâ He corrects coldly. He then watches her straighten, and feels a twinge of guilt. He takes a few deep breaths, closing his eyes and slowly opening them again.
"Rhys..â you try again, hoping to get anything more than one word from him.
âThat will be all, Y/Nâ
âRhys, wait-â
âThat will be all â
âLet me help you fix the window. Please. It doesn't have to stay broken.â You says. something in your expression tells Rhys your not just talking about the window, anymore.
âI'm afraid it's beyond repair.â he replies, barely above a whisper.
âoh Rhysâ you say, walking over to him and running a hand through his hair. ânothing cannot be fixedâ
He allows himself to close his eyes after you run your hand through his messy hair, and he practically melts into your touch. Heâd miss this. Heâd miss you. He hadnât seen you all week.
âHow can you be sure?â He counters, and itâs almost a challenge.
âbecause that âwindowâ is not broken, it just needs a hand, and thats what Iâm here for.â
He canât find the strength to fight you on it any longer. Heâs tired, both mentally and physically. He can feel the bags under his eyes weighing him down.
He leans into you for comfort, placing his head on your chest and wrapping his arms around you. It was a move he hasnât done since he was a young child, and the memory of his childhood days was almost enough to make him cry.
All he could manage was a weak âIâve missed you.â
âive missed you too Rhysâ you said, your voice almost breaking. after everything youâve seen him go through, you couldnât understand why this hit so hard, but you didnât want to pry.
Rhys holds you tighter, his grip desperate and needy. Your familiar warmth was almost enough to make him gasp. Heâd missed you so much, being cooped up in his office all day just left him with his own thoughts, and he almost drowned in them.
He needed you, here, now.
âshh, im hereâ you cooed, running fingers through his hair.
The simple, yet affectionate gesture was enough to make Rhys eyes water. He wanted to speak, wanted to say anything to express how he was feeling, but he was afraid that if he even opened his mouth- heâd burst into tears.
So he stayed like that, his arms around your middle and his head pressed against you, listening to your heartbeat. The steady rhythm was like a metronome, and he found himself getting calmer with each thump. This side of him was one he was embarrassed to show, one even you and only seen on few occasions.
you pressed a kiss to the top of his head and allowed him to stay comfortably resting on you, not wanting to disturb he one moment of peace he has had in days.
Rhys felt warmth bloom in his chest as you kissed the top of his head. It was something you used to do all the time when you were kids, and the action itself was enough to bring a few tears to Rhysâ eyes.
âThank you for checking on me,â He mumbled out the words into your shirt. âIâve been really out of it, lately.â
âi know, i know. come on you need some restâ you said before taking him by the hand and leading him to his bedroom.
Rhys, while a bit surprised, lets you lead him over to his bed without protest. You could see the exhaustion in his weary eyes, he needed sleep, and he didnât even realize it.
When you reach the edge of the bed, he stops, and seems to hesitate before laying down. Heâs still holding your hand, and makes no move to let go.
you stand, unsure weather you should pull away from his grip or not. âill go grab you some water, get some sleepâ you say, deciding leaving him to rest was your best option.
Rhysâ hand gripped yours tighter in reaction, and you could see a hint of panic in his expression. âDonât go.â He muttered.
He really did look like a lost little kid at the moment. His hair was messy, his eyes were tired, and his clothes disheveled.
You smiled slightly at him and gave a small nod and you lay on the edge of the bed, slightly propped up against the headboard, unsure what to do.
Almost as if he were magnetized, Rhys quickly moves over to you, and lays down on the bed next to you. He doesnât let go of your hand, instead he intertwines his fingers with yours.
He canât bring himself to move his gaze away from you, he looks at you with the eyes of a man starved; who finally found some water. He just needed you now.
You gently ran his free had down the side of his face giving him a sweet smile.
Rhys leaned into the soft touch of your hand against the side of his face. He couldnât help but close his eyes for a second, savoring the feeling of your fingers on his skin. Every little touch sent his heart racing.
He opened his eyes after a moment, and gave you a weak smile. âYou always used to do that.â He muttered out the words just loud enough for you to hear, âWhenever I couldnât sleep.â
âi knowâ you gave him a soft smile and kept your reassuring movements going.
Rhys was practically purring at the feeling of your fingers against his skin. The combination of it and his exhaustion was making his eyelids feel incredibly heavy.
He moved himself closer, until his head was rested against your chest. He could hear the rhythmic thump of your heartbeat through your shirt, and it almost made him yawn.
You were shocked at how close he got to you. a part of you relaxed knowing that you always wanted to be more than friends but scared to tell him and thought maybe, he now felt the same, but you brushed the thought aside knowing he needed his friend now, not a girl pinning over him.
He shifted on the bed, until he was resting mostly on top of you. He wrapped his arms around your midsection, his grip desperate and almost needy.
He was silently begging you to stay with him, even if he didnât realize it. He buried his head against your chest, and let out a shaky breath.
âget some sleep Rhysâ you sighed, smoothing your hands down his back.
Rhys could feel the steady rise and fall of your chest as your hands move up and down his back, the sensation was hypnotizing.
He couldnât keep his eyes open any longer, and he found himself drifting off to sleep. He mumbled something, but it was inaudible with his face buried into your shirt.
As he drifted off, you whispered, so quite you could hardly hear yourself, âi love you Rhysâ hoping he was asleep.
But he wasnât asleep, and heâd heard.
He felt his heart flutter in his chest, and a warm feeling began to bloom in his chest. You loved him. You loved him?
He didnât speak, and he didnât move. He pretended that he was asleep. He wanted to hear more.
âi love you Rhys, i always haveâ you whispered, thinking out loud as you ran your hands through his hair, thinking this is the closest you will every get to being more than a best friend to him.
The words echoed in Rhysâ head, over and over again. You loved him. You always had.
He couldâve laughed, he certainly wanted to. Had he really been that dense?
He could feel your fingers running through his messy hair, and it was enough of a distraction to keep him from exploding with emotions right there.
âsweet dreams Rhysâ
ââââââââââââââ
#acotar#acotar x reader#acotar x you#fem!reader#rhysand#rhysand oneshot#rhysand x reader#a court of thorns and roses#fluff#rhys acotar#rhys x reader#rhysand fluff#acotar fluff
261 notes
¡
View notes
Text
Astro Observations: Lunar Return Chart VI



Hi people, it's been a while since the last time I posted. I thought of doing another LRC Observations since it has been the end of one of mine, and this is still a thing in astro that doesn't get enough recognition. So here we are! Hoping you'll like it.
All pictures were found on Pinterest
Other posts you could like:
ŕŞââ´ Lunar Return Chart III
ŕŞââ´ Lunar Return Chart IV
ŕŞââ´ Lunar Return Chart V
READINGS BOOKING OPEN
email adress: [email protected]
Soft To You presentation and Q&A ᥣđŠ rules ᥣđŠ private readings reviews
astrology menu ᥣđŠÂ tarot menu ᥣđŠ special astrology & tarot readings
support the creator: paypal ⥠buy me a coffee (tip) ⥠tipeee



â°â⤠Get your own Solar Return Chart, from 15⏠to 50⏠â๨ŕ§ËâĄË ࣪
âËâšâĄ Mercury 12H will make you be terrible at communicating this month.
âËâšâĄ Sun 11H is a big indicator to spend a lot of times with friends, but also to spend a lot of time online.
âËâšâĄ 12H Ruler conjunct DSC means you'll probably dream of your FS or love one.
âËâšâĄ If the 12H Ruler conjunct DSC also conjuncts Moon it means you'll have vivid dreams about your FS or love one.
âËâšâĄ Jupiter conjunct Moon 6H can mean you'll be in a good mood mostly this month, you'll feel probably optimistic.
âËâšâĄ Mars 7H is a sign you'll be mad at your partner this month. There could be a lot of anger.
âËâšâĄ Mars conjunct Groom is very similar, you could be mad at your FS, if you met them already.
âËâšâĄ Mars 7H is usually also a sign you'll want to rush things with someone this month.
âËâšâĄ Jupiter 7H or conjunct DSC usually means you'll be feeling content about your romance life this month, or you'll feel very in love with your partner. If not one one those, then you'll probably feel like you are popular when it comes to romance. Or just content with your situation. Moreover this could alsoooo be a sign of meeting a potential partner.
âËâšâĄ Venus 9H is a sign of taking interest in a new thing that is more creative.
Example: the month I had this placement I took interest in a lot of creative tools such as crochet & embroidery.
âËâšâĄ Uranus 5H could mean you could discover new hobbies this month, but this could be quite sudden, or you could felt like you may have manifested it. It could also be a sign of playing more video games this month.
Example: the month I had this placement I discovered a lot of video games in thrift shops that I used to play as a child. I kept thinking about how bad I wish I could play that again, and a few days later, find those in a shop for literally nothing. Happened 3 times the month I had this!

â°â⤠Get your own Lunar Return Chart, from 15⏠to 50⏠â๨ŕ§ËâĄË ࣪
âËâšâĄ 5H Ruler in 9H can be a sign of going on vacations in foreign lands, yet it could also means discovering new hobbies, and hobbies that someone older than you could also share with you.
âËâšâĄ 7H Ruler in 8H means you'll discover things about your lover, partner, or person you are interested in.
âËâšâĄ Sun 8H means you could be better at manifesting this month, you could also find out things in general this month. Even without searching for it. You could also have a bigger intuition this month.
âËâšâĄ 10H Ruler in 9H can mean you'll take a break from work or public attention this month.
âËâšâĄ Jupiter 6H is a sign you'll feel less tired this month, but you could also just work well this month, or have a lot of opportunities, clients, etc.
âËâšâĄ Moon 6H is a sign you could feel a little more emotional this month, and you could also want to work on it, or you could just feel emotional, nostalgic, everyday. But if it has good aspects then it will just be you being sensitive.
âËâšâĄ Moon 10H means you'll be very into your career, job in general. You'll feel the need to put yourself more into it. Though it means you could also be highly into finding a good job.
âËâšâĄ Moon conjunct Chiron is a usual placement that explains stress and anxiety, and the house will be the reason for that anxiety.
âËâšâĄ Moon conjunct Chiron 10H means you'll feel stressed and anxious about your career. It could be about your current job or if you are searching for one you could be stressed about that.
âËâšâĄ 10H Ruler conjunct Jupiter could be a sign of getting a job opportunity. But if Uranus is also there, then it could be very sudden.
âËâšâĄ 10H and 6H Rulers conjunct each other is another sign of having a job.
Thank you for reading!
support the creator: paypal ⥠buy me a coffee (tip) ⥠tipeee
back to index ; ask ; request ; rules
#astrology#astro#advanced astrology#astrology observations#astro community#love astrology#astro observations#astro notes#astrology chart#astrology notes#astrology community#astrology blog#astro placements#lunar return observation#lunar return chart#astrology lunar return#lunar return
250 notes
¡
View notes
Text
Just One Date
Summary: You're a Military Doctor attached to the 212, and you've come to consider Commander Cody as a friend. Turns out, that he sees you a little bit more.
Pairing: Commander Cody x F!Reader
Word Count: 1333
Warnings: Cody makes suggestive jokes, and gets whacked with pillows and has a hand slapped over his mouth for it.
Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni
A/N: HAPPY 2224 Day! I came up with this idea at 5:30 this morning when I originally woke up and when I remembered what today was. There might, possibly, be a sequel where the date actually happens. It depends on people's reactions to this one.
Youâve been a civilian employee to the GAR since you were old enough to enlist. The military wasnât exactly your âdreamâ career, but it got you away from your incredibly toxic family, and it paid you to go to medical school.
And, really, at the time the odds of there actually being a war was slim to non-existent.
Jokes on you, the war started 6 months after you graduated and you found yourself bouncing from military base to military base, before finally getting assigned to The Negotiator, under General Obi-Wan Kenobi and Commander Cody.
The Commander is everything youâve ever wanted in a Senior Officer, respectful and professional when the situation calls for it, but more than happy to share jokes with you when youâre not working.
The General, however, is a walking migraine.
At this point, youâre beginning to think that your job would be easier if you were assigned to literally any other battalion.
âGeneral Kenobi,â You say as you pinch the bridge of your nose, âDid you, perhaps, skip your basic first aid lessons as a child?â
Helix, working on Commander Cody at the bed behind you, doesnât bother to muffle his laughter, but you tune him out with the ease of long practice, instead pinning your General with an accusing glare.
âWell,â General Kenobi rubs his chin thoughtfully, âI was a very busy padawan-â
âSo, perhaps, you skipped the basic first aid classes that say when you get stabbed, do not remove the stabbing implement?â You interrupt.
âWell, I wouldnât say that I skipped the lessons-â He demures.
âAnd your reasoning for ignoring Commander Codyâs very reasonable order to not remove the knife from your thigh?â You ask.
â...uhâŚI was in shock?â
You smile. Itâs a nice smile, and youâre pleased to see General Kenobi slump on the hospital bed, âWell, since you ignored your Commanderâs very reasonable, and correct, order. Youâre going to spend the next three days in a bacta tank.â
âI donât think youâre allowed to use bacta tanks as a punishment.â General Kenobi says thoughtfully.
âI donât think youâre in any position to argue with me.â You counter with a roll of your eyes. âRelax, General. Itâs not a punishment. Youâre more injured than you look. And maybe you can get some sleep if I drug you enough.â
General Kenobi sputters, âCommander! Are you hearing this?â
âHm? What? Iâm not listening.â Cody says with a sly smirk.
âWell, there you have it. The Commanderâs on my side.â You say brightly, as you spin to grab a syringe of the sedative that was especially formulated for Jedi. âGood night, General.â
âThis is mutiny,â General Kenobi says with a frown.
âYes, yes. I know.â You inject the liquid into his IV, âWeâll see you in a couple of days.â The older man slowly drifts off to sleep, and you pass the General over to the men who can get him into a bacta tank easier than you.
And then you spin on your heel and move over to Commander Cody, whoâs laying on his hospital bed very peacefully, a small grin playing on his lips. âWhatâs wrong with you?â You ask, as you grab his file and scan it.
âWell, I was blown up, meshâla.â Commander Cody says blandly.
âWell, that was silly of you. Why would you do something like that?â
âI woke up this morning and thought, âhow can I make my medics pull their hair out today?â and decided that getting blown up was the best way to go about it.â
You smother your laugh and glance at him, âOne of these days Helix is actually going to kill you.â
âBut youâll protect me wonât you?â
âOf course.â You wink at him, âEveryone knows Iâm the scary one.â You scan his record for a moment, and then favor him with a smile, âAside from some bumps and bruises, you look totally fine.â
He grins at you, âSo you like how I look, do you?â
You sigh, âCommander, that joke got old within a week of working with any of you.â
Cody just laughs and sits up, âCome on, Doc. I wonât tell. We both know that Iâm the most handsome.â
âOne of these days,â You counter as you set your hands on your hips, âIâm going to buy a box of chocolates and address it to âthe most handsome man in the 212â just to see who wins.â
âAww, meshâla, you donât have to buy me chocolates.â
âOoh, someoneâs cocky.â
âYou have no idea.â He flashes a boyish grin, âI could show you, if you like.â
You squint at him, âWhat?â
âJust how cocky I am.â Cody clarifies with a sly grin.
Your jaw drops and your face burns, before you grab the thin pillow and smack him with it, âBehave!â
Cody laughs, as he fends off the pillow, âWhat? I just repeated what you said. Itâs not my fault that your brain lives in the gutter.â
âRude. Rude!â You huff, âI changed my mind, Iâm not going to protect you from Helix. RIP Commander Cody. I knew you well.â
âCâmon meshâla,â He teases, âHaving a dirty mind is a boon. Well, I think. Especially if itâs dirty about me.â Cody reaches out and lightly grips your hips, tugging you closer.
You scowl at him, though itâs really more of a pout, âYou know, there are almost 2 million men identical to you-â
âYeah, yeah. But you donât have dirty thoughts about them.â Cody replies confidently.
âYouâre so sure of that?â
âYup.â
You shake your head, âCome on, Commander. Youâre hardly a mind-reader.â
âI donât have to be. I see how you look at me.â He says with a smirk.
âAnd how do I look at you?â You ask sarcastically.
Codyâs smirk grows into an amused grin, âLike you wanna drag me into a supply closet and ri-â You slam your hands over his mouth.
âOkay! Thank you!â You yelp, your face burning. âWhy do people think youâre the mature one?â You bemoan.
âBecause I play the part well,â He says smugly, his voice muffled by your hand.Â
âCan I remove my hand or are you still going to try and embarrass me?â You ask.
âI like it when you get all embarrassed, itâs cute.â Cody replies before he pulls your hands away from his mouth, and then presses them to the bed next to him without releasing them.
âHm, you seem to have forgotten to release my hands.â You say dryly.
âI didnât forget. I did it on purpose.â He says, his dark eyes scanning your face.
âAnd why would you do that?â
âGo on a date with me.â Cody says.
You blink at him, startled. âI beg your pardon?â
âOne date,â He clarifies, âThatâs all Iâm asking for.â
âCommander-â
âCody.â He interrupts, his gaze serious, âOne night. Let me show you how good we could be together.â
You avert your gaze for a second, and you know that he can feel your heart racing with how heâs holding your hands still. âCommander, weâre not going to be returning to Coruscant for several months-â
âCody, and I donât care. I can woo you even on the Negotiator. Give me a chance.â
âAnd if we donât go well together at the end of the night? What then?â
âWeâre going to be great,â Cody counters, âBut, if,â He rolls his eyes, âFor some reason, we donât work out, then nothing will change.â
âCom-â
He tugs your wrists so that you topple against him, âCody. My name isnât that hard, is it?â
â...Cody.â You finally say with a sigh, though thereâs a small smile playing on your lips, âI suppose, since youâre so eager, I can agree to a single night.â
âThere's going to be more than one.â Cody says confidently.Â
You hum thoughtfully, âProve it.â
He grins at you boyishly, âI can do that. I already have the whole thing planned.â
â...How?â You ask, exasperated.
âIâm very good at what I do.â He replies smugly.
#star wars#tcw#commander cody x reader#cody x reader#star wars fanfiction#x reader fanfiction#f!reader fic#cody day 2224
430 notes
¡
View notes
Note
hello! can i request jason grace or leo valdez x child of hypnos reader ? (gn) đŤśđťđŤśđť
ask and thou shall receive ŕźâ§âË.

jason grace dating hcs! ŮŠ(ËăË*) áśť đ đ°
pairing: jason grace x child of hypnos!reader warning(s): none!! js fluff :) a/n: i love children of hypnos, u stay sleepy ! also me writing this running off five hours of sleep ( the most ive gotten this week ) yikes..

mr gets up willingly at six am nd his sleepy lover âĄ
there are times where u literally have to beg jason to go back to bed cause omfg what r u doing. its six am. no u r not going to go run. no the early bird doesnt get the worm. go. back. to. sleep.
hey nd most times it works cause the thought of holding u close and a sweet sweet dream is enough to get him back in bed
but other times noooo he goes running đ
what is bro running from? sleep???
omg but then literally knocks tf out by like nine
one of the times when you had a sleepover planned together
you were running a little late cause ur cabin's ac wasnt working nd everybody was tweaking out
so you had to stay behind and help fix it
by the time you finished and ran over to cabin one , jason was already passed out nd lightly snoring đ
mind you it was like 9:15 pm
its ok tho u were tired asf too , who knew fixing the ac could be so hard ??
he apologized sm in the morning tho
but u were like its okay el oh el
he cant help it bro he needs his sleep almost as much as he needs you
its better that he falls asleep early than stay up super late tho
cause like when he was helping plan out the new cabins, it was impossible to convince him to go to sleep
he wouldnt stop working nd u were like đ fool đ go to sleep đ
nd he was like no thank youuuuu âĄ
so you used your powers on him cause he hadNT SLEPT IN DAYS
u were both mad at each other in the morning and things were painfully tense
but you sat down nd talked it out like mature ppl âĄ
he srsly hates fighting, he already does it with monsters nd shit so much, he doesnt want to do it w you :(
he apologized for being ignorant and promised he would be better about taking care of himself instead of burying himself in work
you apologized for using your powers on him without saying anything first, and promised you wouldn't do it again ( unless its necessary ) :))
to this day, youve still kept your promises âĄ
jason is SUCH a sucker for when you touch his hair
the most relaxing thing everrrrr
i will die on this hill ppl dont play w me
his hair would be soft asf bro
best believe he uses a good conditioner !!
he lets u play w his hair nd do wtv u want with it cause like ~relaxing~
so best believe you have a 0.5 of him with all his hair tied up and looking like a palm tree
0.5s of jason would literally be flawless asf but scary
cause ur like omg by bf is so cute- god DAMN somebody get this man contacts
he looks amazing but THEM EYES
terrifying. staring into ur soul.
theyre cute tho âĄâĄ
you OBVI have matching pjs
i cannot decide if jason would go to sleep w just pj pants nd no shirt or if would have light blue and white striped pants, a button up shirt, slippers, a cap with a little fuzzy ball at the end, nd a candlestick
jason grace is a SPECTRUM OKAY
but he buys u so many plushies ugh
you own so many jellycats im so jealous
he helps u name them nd their literally ur children like
u have matching build-a-bears !!!
the voice memos are messages u made for each other :(
his to u is a quick ramble about how much he loves u but gets cut off cause he only had 20 seconds âĄâĄ
nd u get matching outfits for them!!
urs is named 'sleepy' and his is named 'sparky' âĄ
i feel like jason gets some real bad nightmares
like yea every demigod does but he gets his more frequently nd their more graphic bcs of what he's seen and gone through :(
most of the time they arent even messages from his dad, theyre just really bad flashbacks of horrible times in his life
but ever since you started spending ur nights together, theyve toned down so much
now he even gets dreams abt your future together sometimes :((
he really wants to tell you about those dreams cause they feel so real but hes scared that youll think its weird or get uncomfortable
little does he know you get those exact same dreams âĄ
and on the same nights as he does...
CAUSE UR MEETING IN UR DREAMSSSSSSS
nd thats how ur dad shows his love to you !
zeus doesnt gaf. wtv we dont like him anyway
i mean sometimes hes like erm gtfo my cabin đ¤¨
but doesn't actually do anything
u literally dont care for anybody's thoughts tho cause you bagged a baddie as sleepy as you âĄ

an two: ik i didnt talk abt sleepovers together but like ive got a jason fic called sleepover (thats also gn!) if u wanted to read that :DD but i hoped u enjoyed and have a good day/night!! GO STREAM THE TORTURED POETS DEPARTMENT.
peace from manhattan,
percy jackson âĄ
#percy jackson#pjo#heroes of olympus#pjo x reader#heroes of olympus x reader#hoo x reader#jason grace#jason grace x reader#percy jackson x reader#by bells âĄâ ࣪.#whos the cute boy with the wide blue eyes? ŕ¨ŕ§ â§âË â
339 notes
¡
View notes
Text


Meta: A Tale of Three Daenerysâ
An element of authenticity George R. R. Martin adds to the ASOIAF universe is the repetition of names. The same names appear repeatedly within specific cultures and the spread and popularity of certain names is used to illustrate how one culture has influenced another. Just look at the wide popularity of Targaryen names throughout Westeros, especially Alysanne.
With Daenerys Targaryen, GRRM has created two other characters with her name, so far: Daenerys, daughter of Aegon IV and Naerys, and Daenerys, daughter of Alysanne and Jaehaerys I. Both of these characters seem to be used to lay the groundwork for elements of the canon era Daenerysâ story and character arc.
Daenerys, the Retconned Princess
In The World of Ice and Fire, Jaehaerys I and Alysanne do not have a daughter named Daenerys. In fact, in the main series, Daenerys of Dorne is referred to as the first. But with the release of Fire and Blood Vol 1, Martin restructured the birth order of Jaehaerys and Alysanneâs children, which included not just reshuffling, but also removing and adding children. One of those additions was Princess Daenerys, who took the place of Alyssa as the second born child and oldest daughter of the family.
So the question is, why did Martin retcon TWOIAF just to add a new Daenerys? Part of the reason is likely to flesh out the reign of Jaehaerys and Alysanne with more information and loss. But why name her Daenerys and not Rhaenys after their grandmother or any other name? There is a wealth of Targaryen names Martin could have given this new child, but he chose Daenerys, the name of one of his main five characters in the core series. He likely made that choice to give additional foreshadowing for the canon era character.
At first glance, the two Daenerysâ donât have much in common with Jaehaerys and Alysanneâs daughter being born into a stable family and kingdom as their oldest living child who grew into a confident girl but died young, while our Dany was born an orphan and an exile, and grew up constantly afraid, gaining confidence and strength in her teens. In that way, they are narrative foils. But where the foreshadowing comes in is with how Alysanne views her daughter.
Based on a combination of moments in Fire and Blood, there is a possibility that Alysanne had the gift of foresight, like other Targaryens in the series. For some unexplained reason, Alysanne is very insistent on Daenerys becoming queen after her father. This is strange because equal primogeniture is not the norm in their culture. Visenya did not become queen regnant, her younger brother Aegon became king. Rhaena did not become queen regnant, her two younger brothers and uncle became kings, though Aegon the Uncrowned was only a claimant. Whatâs more, Alysanne never pushes for Rhaenaâs rights over Jaehaerysâ. But she does push for Daenerysâ rights over her sonâs. Why? Because she knows Daenerys will be a great queen:
[Princess Daenerys] so enchanted Alysanne that for a time Her Grace even began to eschew council sessions, preferring to spend her days playing with her daughter and reading her the stories that her own mother had once read to her. âShe is so clever, she will be reading to me before long,â she told the king. âShe is going to be a great queen, I know it.â â Fire and Blood
This is a rare issue where Alysanne is certain about something, but turns out to be wrong, since her daughter dies before having the opportunity to become queen regnant. It is very possible that Alysanneâs certainty over her daughterâs future and Martinâs purpose for retconning this child into existence was to foreshadow Danyâs eventual position as Queen of Westeros. Often with prophetic visions, they can be misunderstood by the person experiencing them as seen with Daeron the Drunken and Daemon II Blackfyre in the Dunk and Egg novellas. While both of their dreams came true, they happened very differently than what they initially believed. So the great queen named Daenerys who Alysanne might have seen wasnât her daughter but her distant descendant.
Daenerys of Dorne
The Princess Daenerys who married Maron Martell was initially mentioned in passing in a Dunk and Egg novella, The Sworn Sword, but wasnât named in the text until A Dance With Dragons where her connection to both the series era Dany and Martell family was emphasized. She is cited by Davos as the person Dany was named after and is the source of the Targaryen blood that gives Quentyn the belief that he can tame one of the dragons. She is also the reason the Water Gardens were built and through that palace was able to impact every generation of Dornish children after her.
Unlike the previous Daenerys, there are quite a few parallels between Daenerys of Dorne and the canon era Dany. They were both the products of extremely unhappy and abusive marriages. They each had significant age gaps between them and their siblings, with their older brother having reached adulthood and had a child or children of his own by the time of their birth. Their brothers married them to men outside of their culture. While Dany was exchanged for the promise of an army to take back Westeros, Princess Daenerysâs marriage was part of a treaty that united Dorne with the rest of Westeros. Both women marry for duty despite loving other men. Each of them are particularly protective and caring toward children. They also look beyond the social status of individuals and see that everyone is equally worthy of protection and a quality life.
While Dany pushes for freedom and justice in Slaverâs Bay, Princess Daenerys used her position in Dorne to benefit children regardless of class:
âBeautiful and peaceful,â the prince said. âCool breezes, sparkling water, and the laughter of children. The Water Gardens are my favorite place in this world, ser. One of my ancestors had them built to please his Targaryen bride and free her from the dust and heat of Sunspear. Daenerys was her name. She was sister to King Daeron the Good, and it was her marriage that made Dorne part of the Seven Kingdoms. The whole realm knew that the girl loved Daeronâs bastard brother Daemon Blackfyre, and was loved by him in turn, but the king was wise enough to see that the good of thousands must come before the desires of two, even if those two were dear to him. It was Daenerys who filled the gardens with laughing children. Her own children at the start, but later the sons and daughters of lords and landed knights were brought in to be companions to the boys and girls of princely blood. And one summerâs day when it was scorching hot, she took pity on the children of her grooms and cooks and serving men and invited them to use the pools and fountains too, a tradition that has endured till this day."
ââ
"I told the story to Ser Balon, but not all of it. As the children splashed in the pools, Daenerys watched from amongst the orange trees, and a realization came to her. She could not tell the highborn from the low. Naked, they were only children. All innocent, all vulnerable, all deserving of long life, love, protection. âThere is your realm,â she told her son and heir, 'remember them, in everything you do.â My own mother said those same words to me when I was old enough to leave the pools. It is an easy thing for a prince to call the spears, but in the end the children pay the price. For their sake, the wise prince will wage no war without good cause, nor any war he cannot hope to win.â ADWD
It might seem like a simple thing to allow a large amount of commoner children to partake in privileges alongside highborn and royal children, but this is hugely significant since it allows children of higher stations to form positive relationships with children of lower classes. The rest of Westeros does this at a far smaller degree, but usually at the convenience of the highborn. This act essentially put all of the children who stay at the Water Gardens on equal footing, even temporarily so they can all see that at their core, they are all made the same. This allows the royalty and nobility to empathize with commoners which will impact the choices that will impact everyone. Princess Daenerysâ impact on the ruling family kept Dorne mostly out of the War of the Five Kings, meaning that while the common people of nearly every region have been slaughtered and abused in the conflict, only one Dornishman has died so far, Oberyn Martell, a prince in full control of his actions rather than thousands of commoners ordered onto the battlefield.
Even though Dany is still a queen at war in the series, there are similarities between her motivation and choices. As noted above, both Daenerysâ have a weakness for children. Princess Daenerys fills the Water Gardens with âlaughing childrenâ. Dany wishes to do the same:
I want to make my kingdom beautiful, to fill it with fat men and pretty maids and laughing children. â ACOK
But more than that dream, when it comes to children Dany shows she is willing to take direct action to protect and avenge them. When the slavers of Meereen murder slave children and taunt Dany by mounting their bodies on milepost, Dany made sure to see them herself: "I will see every one, and count them, and look upon their faces. And I will remember.â (ASOS) Then she avenged them by killing the exact number of slavers in the same way the children were killed. Even when she doubts whether she did the right thing, she insists it was done for the children. Then, when Drogon kills a child, Hazzea, Dany tries to chain all of her dragons so that never happens again, though she only manages to capture two of the three. Despite the fact that she considers the dragons to be her own children, it only takes the death of one child to push her to imprison them, showing just how much she prioritizes the lives of these people. Even when it comes to the children of the slavers, Dany refuses to harm them regardless of what crimes the adult slaver commit:
Dany had grown fond of her young charges. Some were shy and some were bold, some sweet and some sullen, but all were innocent. â ADWD
Where the strongest parallel comes into play is with the way both Daenerysâ realize that there is no fundamental difference between people of different social classes since they are the same when brought down to their bare essentials:
On another island two lovers kissed in the shade of tall green trees, with no more shame than Dothraki at a wedding. Without clothing, [Dany] could not tell if they were slave or free. â ASOS
--
As the children splashed in the pools, Daenerys watched from amongst the orange trees, and a realization came to her. She could not tell the highborn from the low. Naked, they were only children. All innocent, all vulnerable, all deserving of long life, love, protection. â ADWD
The only thing that separates the highborn from the low or the free and the enslaved are societal restrictions. Since there are no natural physical differences between people of different ranks in society, that means they are all deserving of freedom and good lives. While Princess Daenerys acted upon this realization to effect change through the inclusion of all children from different walks of life into the Water Gardens, Dany fights for the freedom of slaves and allows freedmen places of power in her government and gives them a voice at court alongside people who were born free. Here are just a few of the many examples of Dany attempting to establish equality for the freedmen:
Reznak would have summoned another tokar next, but Dany insisted that he call upon a freedman. Thereafter she alternated between the former masters and the former slaves. â ADWD
--
Rylona Rhee had played the harp as sweetly as the Maiden. When she had been a slave in Yunkai, she had played for every highborn family in the city. In Meereen she had become a leader amongst the Yunkish freedmen, their voice in Danyâs councils. â ADWD
--
âThe freedmen work too cheaply, Magnificence,â Reznak said. âSome call themselves journeymen, or even masters, titles that belong by rights only to the craftsmen of the guilds. The masons and the bricklayers do respectfully petition Your Worship to uphold their ancient rights and customs.â
âThe freedmen work cheaply because they are hungry,â Dany pointed out. âIf I forbid them to carve stone or lay bricks, the chandlers, the weavers, and the goldsmiths will soon be at my gates asking that they be excluded from those trades as well.â She considered a moment. âLet it be written that henceforth only guild members shall be permitted to name themselves journeymen or masters ⌠provided the guilds open their rolls to any freedman who can demonstrate the requisite skills.â â ADWD
Princess Daenerys also helped to cement a permanent peace between House Targaryen and House Martell with her marriage uniting Westeros. That combined with the tradition of creating a closer bond between people of different classes and the continued caution on thinking of the people while making decisions that will affect them, she continues her legacy of peace. Our Dany also keeps the people who choose to follow her at the forefront of her thoughts with every decision she makes. She too wishes for peace and takes action to achieve that, even at her own detriment.
âPeace is my desire. You say that you can help me end the nightly slaughter in my streets. I say do it. Put an end to this shadow war, my lord. That is your quest. Give me ninety days and ninety nights without a murder, and I will know that you are worthy of a throne. Can you do that?â - Daenerys IV ADWD
--
She thought of Doreah, of Quaro, of Eroeh ⌠of a little girl she had never met, whose name had been Hazzea. Better a few should die in the pit than thousands at the gates. This is the price of peace, I pay it willingly. If I look back, I am lost. - Daenerys VIII ADWD
--
Like all good queens she put her people firstâelse she would never have wed Hizdahr zo Loraqâbut the girl in her still yearned for poetry, passion, and laughter. â ADWD
Conclusion
While the three Daenerysâ donât have anything close to similar lives, each of the Daenerysâ of the past seem to intentionally have call backs or call forwards to the series era Dany. Both of them seem to foreshadow Danyâs current and future storylines with pushes for social progress and her future as the reigning Queen of Westeros. So far, Martin has included only three characters with this name, but with the positive change Dany is bringing to Essos and will bring to Westeros when she helps save the world from the Others, it would only be natural for the name to grow in popularity.
#daenerys targaryen#daenerys targaryen (daughter of jaehaerys)#daenerys targaryen (daughter of aegon iv)#canondany#gotdaenerystargaryen#targnation#targaryensource#asoiaf#asoiafedit#gotedit#hotdedit#gameofthronesdaily#iheargot#usergif#litedit#tvgifs#dailyflicks#house targaryen
438 notes
¡
View notes
Note
If you are up to it and havenât already done it. Could you pretty please write head cannons of the kid, heart, and straw hat pirates as parents. My favorite one is killer.
â
THEM AS PARENTS! headcanons â
ââ featuring. sanji. zoro. kid. killer.
ââ cw. gn!reader. no pronouns used. no mentions of pregnancy. whole cake island and wano spoilers. me rambling again. not proofread.
ââ notepad. usually my limit is 3 but i added one more bcuz i felt inspired. itâs been awhile since ive written so i feel out of practice and these feel all over the place im so sorry. but i will say, i love you girl dad zoro and killer. i could talk about them forever
â
VINSMOKE SANJI â
ââ unlike everyone else, sanji HAS thought about settling down and having kids. he thinks about it at least twenty times a day. every time he looks at you, heâs always thinking about your future together
ââ so when your twin boy and girl show up in your lives, he couldnât be happier. heâs never been happier. life is finally coming together the both of you
ââ he loves your twins with all of his heart, but he would be lying if he said he didnât want any more children. heâs already dreamed of having a big family that he can share all of his love and care with. and because he already had at least four baby names picked out
ââ given his own upbringing that he never ever plans to tell your children about, sanji takes his fatherly role very seriously. he does everything in his power to be better than his own father
ââ never will he allow any of his children to take his surname. he would prefer if they took yours or even adopted a new one altogether
ââ never will there be any middle child syndrome or favoritism between your kids. he loves each of them equally and does pretty well at spreading out his time with each of them, making all of them feel loved and cared for
ââ every night he gives everyone a long tearful good night before sending them all their separate ways like heâs never going to see them againâŚ.theyâre just down the hall
ââ he is a very emotional father. no matter what your children do, milestone or not, he will sob. first words and steps, sobbing. finally being able to dress themselves, sobbing. nearly setting the kitchen on fire attempting to make him a birthday cake, he sobbed all day and tried to eat the inedible cake despite you telling him NOT to
ââ he was sick for a few weeks after that. how the cake was both overcooked and undercooked at the same time, neither of you could ever figure it out
ââ his favorite family activity is cooking together. he loves cooking for each of you, but thereâs something about teaching your little ones all of his favorite recipes, or even learning how to make a whole new dish altogether, that warms his heart. plus seeing them all get along and work together as a team brings joyful tears to his eyes
ââ but he can definitely be the indulgent parent. all his kids have to do is flash him the puppy eyes and a pout and heâs a goner, leaving you to play the authoritative parent and say no
ââ he is also the affectionate, embarrassing, and petty dad, always smothering the little ones in hugs no matter how old they get
ââ they could be in their late teens and heâll still hug them the same as he did when they were small. or heâll embarrass them in front of their friends by yelling how much he loves them and expects them to say âi love youâ back OR heâs not going to let them go anywhere
â
RORONOA ZORO â
ââ girl dad
ââ the thought of being a dad never crossed his mind. he was focused on his goal at hand, becoming the greatest swordsman. he wasnât exactly sure having a kid would fit in that
ââ but he was going to have to figure it out because resting in his arms was an infant girl with the most precious cheeks
ââ you donât have to worry much about your daughter, even in infancy your daughter adopted your husbandâs calm and quiet nature. she even adopted his napping habits
ââ if heâs asleep out on the deck in the sun, sheâs asleep out on the deck, either in his chest or in his lap. and no one dares to wake them, especially not after that time when usopp and sanji were arguing too loud, causing your daughter to stir in her sleep, alerting zoro immediately. in a matter of seconds, he held your baby in one hand and his unsheathed sword in the other
ââ nap time is a VERY serious thing
ââ though your daughterâs favorite place to rest is on his back. no matter how awake she may seem, the minute he wraps her in the baby wrap, sheâs suddenly very sleepy
ââ if youâre looking for your daughter and you donât immediately see her, donât panic. nine times out of ten, sheâs on zoroâs back napping
ââ she is always present during his training sessions in a little swing franky made and surprised you both with that way he can train and keep an eye on her at the same time. maybe thatâs why your little girl ended up showing so much interest in swords as she grew up
ââ like father, like daughter. your daughter began her road to being a swordsman with zoro as her teacher. he learns from his own past failures, in guiding her to be an even better swordsman than him
ââ not only giving her the skills she needs to wield a blade, but also skills she will need to grow as a person
ââ when he is sure he has trained her well enough for them to spar, he will do so without mercy. she may lose a number of times, but to never give up is a skill he instilled in her since the beginning of her training
ââ and when she finally does best her father, he cannot hide just how proud he is. heâs in all dad mode
â
EUSTASS KID â
ââ kid never pictured being in a stable relationship, let alone settling down and having children. he didnât have much experience with children
ââ in reality, being a father scared him. it was uncharted waters. he didnât know the first thing about being a good dad. he knew kids were a lot of work, and he didnât know if he could handle it
ââ more importantly, he was worried he was going to let both you and your child down. and he couldnât live with that
ââ but here he was now struggling his way through the baby and toddler stages. but through his mistakes and errors, as opposed to getting angry and giving up, like he usually does, heâs gaining patience and trying his best. thatâs all anyone could ever ask for
ââ he becomes a natural over time. no longer needing you to intervene to keep your son from crying up a storm. if itâs taking a little longer than usual to put your son to sleep, and you offer to help, he will decline. his stubbornness and pride wonât allow him to accept your help
ââ if thereâs one thing kid hates more than anything, itâs anyone thinking he canât take care of his son
ââ itâs not uncommon to see the captain of the kid pirates to be seen around the victoria punk your son strapped to his chest
ââ itâs hard to take him seriously when heâs barking out orders to the crew and your excitable little one is reaching up to pinch and pull at his fatherâs cheeks and nose
ââ kid claims to not be a dad who cries, but he definitely does cry, oftentimes more than you do
ââ your sonâs first word is definitely a swear word. kid thinks itâs hilarious seeing your son scream fuck
ââ as your son ages, the more he becomes just like his father. and with age comes the attitude, which does not mesh well with kidâs attitude
ââ never in a million years would you think you would find kid losing a loud argument to your fussy toddler son about nothing
ââ and it does not change. it continues to get worse as your son begins to form his own opinions. your son and kid clash even more, leading you to be the mediator between their arguments
ââ or at points when they stop talking altogether, you have to relay messages to the other because they refuse to be in the same room with each other
ââ kid wants to start your son off young when it comes to training him, wanting the little one to be hell just like him. if your son expresses interest in learning how to fight, kid is overjoyed but does not plan to take it easy on him just because theyâre blood
ââ if your son has no interest in fighting and wants to lead a peaceful life, kid will be disappointed and it will take some time for it to get out of his system. but he ultimately will support his sonâs decisions
ââ kid has a habit of ruffling your sonâs hair or knocking heads as his way of showing affection. thatâs just how it has always been since he was born. but the day your son decides to leave the ship to start the new chapter of his life is the first time they share a real hug
â
KILLER â
ââ killer is prime girl dad material. king of girl dads, if you will. heâs a natural. well, he becomes a natural after he gets over his fear of holding your daughter
ââ he has led a complicated life up to this point. it is not something he regrets, but it is something that he worries could affect his family
ââ these calloused hands have killed, been stained with the blood of dozens, he had lost count. these were not the hands that should hold such a pure soul
ââ the first time he actually held her was in the middle of the night when she woke up crying in the middle of the night. he pondered on waking you but decided against it seeing you sound asleep. it has been a while since you had gotten a good sleep. you deserved your rest
ââ he had watched you countless times lull your little one back to sleep. he remembered how you did it, trying his best to keep his shaky hands still, reaching into your littleâs crib, gently taking her into his arms
ââ who knew saying âplease donât cryâ in a sweet low voice would be enough to calm her ??
ââ quite a sight you awoke to, seeing your husband passed out in a chair with your daughter still asleep in his arms
ââ it became part of his routine, every time she woke up in the middle of the night, he was going to take care of it. when she was old enough to sleep in the bed with the two of you, you better believe she took her place in the middle and kept it well into her late childhood, early teens
ââ they are attached at the hip. wherever she is, he is and vice versa, no matter the situation
ââ like the one time the kid called for an emergency meeting and killer could not find you in time so he just took your daughter with him
ââ everyone was on their best behavior because you had already warned them that if her first word was a swear word you would murder each of them and spread their body parts across the grand line for the sea king to feast upon
ââ âŚ.they were not going to take the chances
ââ just your luck, your daughter inherited killerâs luscious hair. no matter what you do to it, no matter how hard you attempt to gel it down, it shoots right back up
ââ but killerâs got it. he does her hair most days because she prefers it that way they end up matching
ââ there are two things about killer that he is still very sensitive about. his appearance and his laugh, both things he tries to hide from your daughter. though it is easier to hide his appearance than his laugh
ââ after everything happened in wano, he was ashamed. he couldnât bear letting her see him like this. he wanted her to remember him the way he used to look. he wasnât ready to show her, he wasnât sure if heâd ever be ready.
ââ until he was ready, he allows her to place her hands on his mask and put together what she thinks he looks like.
ââ currently, she envisions him to be a snake monster under his mask
Š MANGEKYUOU â do not copy, repost, or translate my works.
#â â MY LOVE MINE ALL MINE.#one piece#sanji#vinsmoke sanji#sanji x reader#roronoa zoro#zoro#zoro x reader#eustass kid#kid#kid x reader#massacre soldier killer#killer#killer x reader#killer op x reader#killer op#one piece x reader#one piece oneshots#one piece scenarios#one piece imagines#one piece headcanons
641 notes
¡
View notes
Text
Utmost Merit, Part V
Character: Henry Cavill as Sherlock in Enola Holmes
Summary:Â Sherlock presents the Reader with a most unconventional proposal.
Content:Â Absolutely 18+ for very very very filthy language, smut with minimal plot, purposely unprotected sex, breeding kink, spouses-to-lovers, pregnancy, and some period-typical gender roles, but nothing unkind or insidious.
Notes:Â What if I told you I'm back?
Previous Chapters: Part IÂ Part IIÂ Part III Part IV
The first week of your married life is like a dream.
The day after your wedding, Sherlock whisks you off to his family estate, a rambling manor house set back within acres and acres of woodland paths and open fields, even more beautiful than he promised. His brother and sisterâs absence and his generous afternoons and evenings off for the staff give ample opportunity for you to indulge in one anotherâŚall over the house.
He takes you in the library, pressed up against the shelves; bends you over the billiards table; and, with a wolfish grin, kneels and turns his lips and tongue to profane purposes as you perch upon the edge of his desk, clutching him closer by his hair and crying out in exaltation.
At first, this heedless freedom of passion is enough to distract you from the feelings which only grow the more time you spend with your husband, from your hours on the train and in the carriageâthe conversation flowing and gentle touches exchangedâto boisterous picnics ending in you laughing your way across the lawn naked, with your ravenous lover in hot pursuit.
In these tender and impassioned moments, you find you can forget yourself: your fear and your longing fade as he pins your wrists above your head and ruts into you like an animal, growling sacrilegious curses into your ear, or when he gently, maddeningly slowly drags the head of his cock across the delicate bud at the apex of your thighs, cooing, âSuch an impatient creature you are, Mrs. Holmes. Iâll have your pleasure from you first, then I will give you my cockâŚâ
But these interludes of relief, when you can almost pretend that he returns your love in full measure, are more and more fleeting. As soon as your head rests upon his chest and your eyes flutter closed, drowsy in the warmth of his arms, you must shake yourself awake again, lest some sleepy murmur of affection escape you. When he tosses and turns in his sleep, you long to comfort him with promises of eternal devotion, your heart a safe harbor for all his worries and fears, but you can only try to comfort yourself with the knowledge that at least you get to bask in the light of him for all your days, even if the shadows cast by that light mar your joy.
A fortnight since the wedding and near a month after you first gave yourselves to one another fully, those shadows have prevailed. For the third morning in a row, you have awoken melancholy and quiet, slipping out to walk the grounds before he wakes. Your heart is most compromised in the morning, seeing Sherlock at his most vulnerable: fluttering eyelids, half-parted lips, his colossal form stretched out and laid bare to your besotted eyes and fervent hands. If you woke him with a kissâor anything moreâyou knew you might not leave bed for hours.Â
But you cannot risk it today. If he so much as opened his eyes, your first words would be âI love youâ, and the spell would be broken, the arrangement betrayed, the trust between two equals thrown into an even greater imbalance. You are protecting him, you reason as you quietly dress, from a revelation that would only cause you both greater pain. The fresh air, you hope, will do you good and clear your head, and perhaps you will contrive as you walk some means by which you can fall out of love with the man who, you suspect more and more each day, has already given you his child.
Hours later, having traced course of a babbling brook back and forth a half dozen times and circled the tallest tree of the estate over and over again, your spirit and body grow wearyâand your stomach unsettledâand you know you must return home. As you approach the house, you can see Sherlock through the wide window in the parlor, fully dressed and pacing back and forth, raking his hands through his hair. He catches your eye through the glass and, to your dismay turns away, whether in anger or embarrassment you cannot tell. Your heart plummets. You know you must go in to him, and when you arrive in the parlor, he faces you and acknowledges you with a slight bow, as if you were virtual strangers again.
âWas your walk pleasant?â
âYes, thank you.â
For the first time since his proposal, a tense, wary silence grows between you. His manner is as sober as your own, and you uneasily hover in the doorway, unsure as to whether he welcomes your presence or would rather you go right back out again.
âWill you come and sit with me?â he asks at last, and you gingerly join him on the settee below the window. Not quite meeting your gaze, he continues, âRosamund, these past few days, I have sensed a distance, such as has not been since we were strangers. Even when weâŚwhen I hold you most nearlyâŚa veil has fallen between us.â
âI cannot deny it,â you murmur, steeling yourself for the conversation you have been dreading.
âDo you know the cause?â he asks.
He knows. He must know. And now he would have you name it.
âI knowâŚI have realized that our feelings for one anotherâŚdiffer.â
He nods slowly, murmurs, âI have deduced the same,â and turns his face away from you, taking a slow, deep breath. The moment seems to stretch for hours, each second heavier than the last.
âWell. We are more fortunate than most,â he says at last in a measured tone, a pained smile barely flickering across his lips as he glances back at you, only to look away again immediately. âIn that our minds, our tastes, and our purposes in life are so aligned. It would have been too much to ask of providence that our hearts be likewise matched, do you not think so?â
âIndeed,â you manage, feeling tears pool in your eyes. You know he does not mean to hurt you, in bringing this matter to lightâentirely the opposite. You promised one another perfect honesty, but you began to think suffering in silence and doubt was far better than this excruciating surety: he had recognized your love, but did not requite it.
âIf you are yet amenable to our shared purpose, I myself am wholly undeterred. Every word I have said to you is true: my respect for you, for the exemplary wife and someday mother you show yourself to be, takes precedence over all. But given the circumstances, we might perhaps continue with a moreâŚrestrained approach. If you prefer to cease our relations for the moment and wait until such a time as you may have surety of your condition, I will resume my lodgings at Baker Street in anticipation of a verdict. We may then renegotiate our terms, one way or another. But you must know that no matter what, you will never be without my protection and devotion. And my utmost fidelity.â
âOh, oh, no, Sherlock, how could I askâ?â
âAnd, if one day you find you love anotherââ
âLove another?! I could not love another, I love only yâ!â
ââI will turn my eyes away and bear it without hesitation or complaint. But I can no longer pretend! I love you. I will love you till my dying breath and whatever remains of me beyond this life will still seek your service, your comfort, your good. I cast myself upon your mercy, Rosamund!â
Sherlock Holmes, his eyes brimming with tears, falls upon his knees before you, taking your hands in his.
âWill you forgive me that I cannot pretend any longer? Will you still have me? Will you still allow me to be a husband to you, to care for you and build a life for you and for ourâŚ?â
His voice trails off into a stifled cry, and you throw your arms around him, covering his face with kisses as your own tears flow.
âSherlock! Please, oh please donât cry, my love!â The torrent of adoration you have stemmed for so long pours fourth from you as though a dam had burst. âMy dearest friend, my very heartâŚwe have mistaken one another! I thought you did not love me!â
Sherlockâs demeanor shifts in a heartbeat, as if he has been struck by lightning.
âYou love me?â
âI have loved you since long before I knew it! And every minute we share delivers me a new reason to love you more, every day better than the last, every word I speak to you a profession of my love! I could not pretend eitherâŚfor no other reason could I tear myself from your side. Forgive me my coldness! I thought it for the bestââ
âNo, no, there is nothing to forgive,â he insists, rising and drawing you up to stand, completely enveloped in his arms, pressing fervent kisses to your cheeks and forehead and lips. ââI have most of all deceived myself in swearing I was no romantic! What a fool to think I could resist the call of a soulâs companion? My perfect angel, my salvation! I will spend a lifetime making up for a monthâs lack of telling you of my love.â
âI shall never grow tired of it,â you promise him, each breath a sigh of relief, a prayer of thanks, a new dawn of hope.
âThere is no man alive who knows my joy, nothing on earth that can surpass it!â
âNothing?â you reply very quietly, unable to be measured or careful nowâŚit was far, far too late for that. âThen you do not wish to hear of another happiness?â For the second time in a single morning, the whole earthâs axis shifts as Sherlockâs eyes widen. You quickly continue, âIt is early yet. Too early. But yet IâŚI feel it, in my heart, as surely as I feel I love you.â
Sherlock Holmes bows his head and weeps in earnest, burying his face in your hair as he holds you tightly and whispers over and over again, âMy love, my wifeâŚâ
If you enjoyed, please do peruse my Masterlist!
And if anyone who read this story once upon a time when I first wrote it is still out there, and would like to be tagged in future updates, please let me know! đđĽ°
#sherlock holmes x reader#sherlock holmes x ofc#enola holmes fanfic#sherlock holmes x you#henry!sherlock#henry cavill sherlock holmes#henry cavill sherlock
140 notes
¡
View notes
Text
I'M A RUIN â Soldier Boy/Ben (Part VIII)
Series summary: After the events of the Seven Tower, you present Grace Mallory a new secret project you're working on already to develop a cure to Compound V. The only problem? You need Soldier Boy for that.
Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x female reader.
Word count: 5.1k.
Warnings for series: set after S3 (spoilers), some OOC!Ben, some depressed!Ben, angst, hurt/comfort, eventual smut, slow-burn, language, PTSD, reader has Compound V (she's no Vought supe tho), Soldier Boy being an usual asshole, reader is a fucking liar.
Warnings on this chapter: irresponsable parent, one suicide thought, nudity, implied bisexual reader, misoginist thoughts, Homelander (!!!!), SMUT, hate/rough sex, unprotected sex, fingering, multiple orgasms, hair pulling, dirty talking, some degrading, slight choking, bitchy reader.
Notes: i might wrote more than intended here lmao but the smut is here finally you sinners, give this reader a trophy for the strongest bitch ever to resist soldier boy, well deserved!! hope you like it lol, and thanks for reading as always!!
this fic tags: @k-slla @syrma-sensei @mostlymarvelgirl @cheynovak @drasticemotions @soldirboy @deans-spinster-witch @girlsforpjm @artemys-ackles
â if you like my writing, support me with a ko-fi !
get yourself in the taglist!
Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII
GEN MASTERLIST! â SERIES MASTERLIST!

Part VIII: Tamed
2009
"Baby, how was your audition today?" your mother asked once you entered the kitchen.
Your suit was long gone along with the great smile you put on before leaving early that day. But she was different. She was all honey and candy, putting on the happiest face ever. And you knew it wasn't because of you.
"I'm not doing that shit," you spit harshly. This was your way of delivering the news now.
Her eyes widened as she closed the distance between both. You looked down to your feet, not wanting to see her disgusting face. You felt her hands on your shoulders and your body tensed under her touch.
"Why?! This is your dream, honey! You have to do it!"
You quickly pulled away from her.
"No! Mom, you did this to me!" your voice came out loud and shouting. "I just wanted to be normal! But you always influenced me to do this and go after Vought, I don't fucking want that! Those supes are fucking assholes and everything around them is a damn lie!"
She was startled, you could tell that from the way her eyes widened and her mouth fell open as she placed her hand on top of her heart, pretending to be hurted. It was the first time you talked back to her like that.
Since you were a child, you did everything she asked you to. You never complained, never stood up for yourself. You didn't have a choice, nor an opinion that mattered. Your mother picked everything for you. Your clothes, your behavior, your food, your studies, your dreams... Today, you decided it was over. She was over controlling your life.
Your mother scoffed, a sly smile on her lips as she tried to touch your arm softly. Giving a step back, you shook your head saying 'no'. She sighed.
"Honey, this isn't you. And Vought, this is your dream. The Seven are your dream. Now, why don't you go back and-"
"I said no."
You cut off her stupid words with a straight voice. Her smile dropped in a second and you saw her eyes darkening.
"Y/N, this is not what your father wanted for you. We didn't raise you like this," she hissed through her teeth.Â
"Don't talk about dad. You don't care about him, you never did. Fuck, you don't care about me!" you raised your voice, fighting the tears in your eyes and the knot on your throat.
You were so sick of being weak. She raised you to be like it. Soft, fragile, compassionate, cute, playing the dumb rich girl with no brain and forcing you to not show your intelligence to others... It was all a façade. It was easier for her to manipulate you if you pretended to be stupid. Since her pregnancy, all you were for her was a cashback. Your father already had an heir, and what could be better if that heir was also part of The Seven, the most powerful supes of the planet. Of course, Vought shares would be higher than ever and your mother would be even more disgustingly rich. And you would be giving everything away for free. It wasn't fair for your selfish mother to suck your life away like this. But in the end, she didn't care.
"I'm not staying here. I'm leaving," you continued, crossing your arms on your chest. "I want my part of dad's inheritance, and I'm gonna be a fucking doctor and show off my brain after decades of hiding it, I've had enough of you stopping me."
"No, no, baby, you can't do this to meâ"
"If you don't, I'll sue you and expose you, Vought and Homelander on a fucking trial."
She scoffed. You could see the tears forming on her eyes, but you weren't sure if they were because of you leaving or because you were threatening her money.
"You won't do that. They'll kill you."
"I don't care, I already tried to kill myself. They'd be doing me a favor."
At your confession, her jaw clenched and she tightened her fists.
"Fucking brat. Someday, when you regret running away from me, don't come back. You're just a disappointment for me, ever since you were a stupid child. Everything you are is useless and worthless, and I regret ever putting you in my womb."
Your brows furrowed when she spilled those harsh words, and you fought the urge of hitting her until she passed out.
"Don't think I ever told you, but yeah, you weren't a natural conceive. Yeah, we used his sperm and everything. The point is- I didn't want fucking kids, but your dad, ugh god, he did. And I gave you to him. All I get to say is, I was better without you. Probably if I should've waited just a little, my child wouldn't be a fucking ungrateful piece of shit standing right here," she gave you a grin. A sick one, as her fingers ran through your hair like she used to when you were a little girl.
You wanted to knock her off and run. But you just stood there, biting the inside of your cheek and tasting your own blood as she finally revealed herself to you, her daughter. It was clear you meant nothing to her. And you just wished your dad would be alive. He wouldn't force you into that stupid audition anyway.
"I pity you," she mocked. "But if that's what you wanna do, then leave. And don't you dare to come back."

A loud knock on his door woke him up from a deep slumber. Ben rubbed his eyes, groaning at the stupid sound of your voice calling him from the other side over and over. This was becoming a fucking routine he was starting to hate.
"Fucking shit," he mumbled, removing the blankets off his bare body when the door finally opened and you walked inside, stopping by his side of the bed.
"C'mon, Soldier Boy, get your ass up. You didn't wash the dishes last night."
Ben rolled on the bed and looked at the clock in the nightstand. He grunted. "It's fucking 6 A.M."
"Yes, and I have shit to do before I leave grocery shopping," you said, looking around his room. There were clothes everywhere you knew needed a good wash, an open bag with weed on top of the desk, joints and cigarettes, and a bunch of toilet paper littered on the floor you didn't want to know about. "One of them is watching you to make sure you clean the cave you live in."
Ben groaned, cursing under his breath, but stood up from the mattress with a wide grin. He noticed you always did your best to keep your eyes upon his face. Even if it wasn't the first time you had to see him like this, he enjoyed the way your body and face reacted to his naked form. So he got used to sleeping with no clothes on, knowing you'd always come to get him for breakfast. He could get used to it. Except for the part where he had to clean shit. That's why you were there. It was your fucking task to clean everything. Women's duties. But he had to endure the fucking times.
He got to complain to you every single day, every morning, and it was becoming already part of his routine too. But you somehow forced him to clean shit up and then he had to wait for his food, for his weed, lube and more clothes and shit you brought every time you were out. At some point, he thought he could be used to you feeding him up, but he still had a mission and it didn't matter how many times he had been sneaking into every room in your place, checking inside your office, how many times he had been searching through your bedroom on the drawers and smelling your lingerie, he still found nothing. He was pretty sure there was something else he wasn't really seeing yet. And Homelander on the TV along with those fuckers Victoria and Dakota Bob wasn't making his personal mission any easier, nor having no clue of where this kid Ryan was.
"Put some pants on," you said, interrupting his daydream.
"Whatever," Ben rolled his eyes and walked past you, taking a pair of pants from the carpeted floor.
"God, you're so fucking stoned," you mumbled watching as he dressed himself. "Get this mess cleaned after the dishes, I don't want to greet this shithole every morning."
"And what's in it for me, doll?" he asked, passing by your side and getting inside the bathroom.
He never bothered to shut the door closed while taking a piss, and this was, also, something you got used to seeing and hearing. When he finished, he came back with a smirk, stopping his tracks right in front of you.
"Nothing. There's nothing for you, stop acting like a dog begging for a bone."
"Yeah, well I'd like your pretty bones better.â
He gave you a wink and walked out the bedroom. God, he was so damn annoying. You followed him quickly and climbed down the stairs just to make sure he would start washing the dirty dishes from the last dinner you had.
âMake sure to scrub them correctly,â you said as you looked at how he turned on the sink.
Ben grunted in frustration, looking at you from the corner of his eye. It was always the fucking same with you, giving him directions he already knew the whole time.
âFuck, woman, youâre so fucking annoying. Iâm no damn pussy, I can do this without your ass here.â
The way he answered made you grin, getting closer to him until your arm was pressed against his own. âYeah, I know youâre not stupid. Iâm just making sure Iâm taming you well.â
Benâs eyes widened a little, clearly surprised by your boldness but not too much. Because the one who should be taming who, was him towards you. His macho self wouldnât let a woman treat him like that. It didnât matter he was hitting on you since the moment he met you in the facility, like doctor and patient. Ben was pretty sure that, besides his own personal payback, you would fall for him eventually. And once you do, because he was pretty sure itâd happen sooner or later, he would give you the best fuck ever. He turned his gaze to you as you looked at him with innocent eyes.
âIâd shut my mouth if I were you, sweetheart,â Ben warned in a low voice, taking in your figure standing so close to him that your warmth could be felt all along his body. âI donât wanna screw you yet.â
âI take that as a challenge.â

The sun was almost setting down as you drove back home. It took you more than expected to complete the second shopping trip of the week and you were getting tired and spent. Sleep was becoming a privilege at this point. The past nights you had confined yourself to the lab down the bunker, and just now, you felt the cure was ready. Almost ready. The most important component was missing and you were still considering things you might regret later.
The low sound of the radio accompanied your thoughts as you traveled on the road, and the ways youâd like to tell Soldier Boy about all the mess you were getting into under Graceâs supervision, who had just called two fucking times in days. But part of you was afraid Ben wouldnât understand the importance of a cure. He was a supe, and without his powers, he was fucking nothing. Just like Homelander. Even if he had made it clear that he hated his own son, you doubted to trust him and you felt the same hateful feeling towards you coming from him. At this point, you knew you were just putting up a stupid act.
And you started wondering if it shouldâve been easier if you just let him between your legs and take what he wanted. He was a simple man; he saw a fuckable female, he wanted her. Surely you also knew when a man, woman, or anyone was attractive, but you just didnât want that. You didnât want him to feel like he won this battle. It was too fucking much, and you stopped sleeping around with strangers a couple of years back. The problem was, Ben wasnât a stranger anymore, not to you.
Suddenly, a figure landed a few feet away from you on the highway. You hit the brake of your car as fast as your reflexes allowed you to, seeing red, blue and white. Once your car stopped completely, you met with the last person youâd ever wanted to see. Homelander smiled widely as you locked eyes with him through the windshield. He surrounded the car until he came by your side, standing outside your door. You turned on the flashing lights of the car and turned the engine off, it wasn't like you could escape anyway.
âNice to see you around, doc,â he greeted.
âWhy are you following me?â
âI told you before; I have eyes on you.â
You rolled your eyes, grabbing tightly the wheel between your hands. âI don't know what you want me to do.â
âDonât be stupid. That cure wonât see the light, Iâm making sure of that,â Homelander leaned on your open window and your head moved away slightly as he studied the insides of your car. âYouâre welcome by the way.â
âFor what? For trying to kill me? For taking my fatherâs money for your stupid circus? For touching me?â you hissed.
He chuckled, straightening himself again. âFor taking you out, silly.â
A long sigh escaped your lips. âSo this is your plan in the end.â
âIt always has been. I know every move you make, the stores you go each week, I even know where youâre living right now and how you work your ass off that stupid experiment of yours,â his words made you visibly tense and he noticed, like every little reaction coming from you. âHowâs the old man doing by the way?â he asked, as if it was just another chat between friends.
âYou make me sick.â
âOh, no. I want you healthy,â Homelander placed a hand on your wrist. âPlease eat well and rest enough. Donât burn yourself out, honey, it's useless.â
You started shaking your head, confusion fogging your mind at the way he talked like he had something prepared for you. âYouâre fucked, Homelander,â you whispered.
You were trying to convince yourself more than him, scared of what he would do to you, forcing you into this twisted mouse and cat game. He just smiled widely at your words, laughing under his breath.
âOnce I have you under my mercy,â you continued, holding his gaze. âYouâre gonna be fucking nothing. I promise you that.â
His hand wrapped around your neck and for a moment you thought he would kill you right there. âI canât wait to see you try and fail miserably, Iâll enjoy that show. Might become my favorite.â
Homelander let go of his grip roughly, allowing you to breathe again.
âFuck you,â you spat back.
He chuckled, straightening himself and walking away from your car, giving you a last glance. âNot yet, doctor. Not yet.â
Once back in the spot where he landed, he flew away and you were left alone on the road. No cars, nor people walking could be seen, but it was better that way. Forcing your hands to stop shaking, you turned the engine on again and started to drive back home. Taking your phone out, you made a call, waiting for the other line to answer. You had to act fast and track that motherfucker down, not caring if you were already regretting what youâd do next.

âSo, whatâs your story?â
His question surprised you more than you could tell. After dinner nights like this were becoming a really weird habit of him talking shit about this stupid century, how things were better back then and how people got dumber with time. But you never thought Soldier Boy would insist on your past, not since the first night you ate together at the same table. You finished your glass of whisky, not sure if answering his question or not.
You shrugged. âIâm not that interesting.â
Ben drank his own liquor down before asking again. âLet me rephrase that: why do you hate Vought so much?â
âWho says I hate them?â
He studied your face for a moment. The look in your eyes told nothing, but your heart rate and your breathing was always enough for him to know you were fucking lying about it. Ben had started to think of many other things you were hiding from him. But even with all that stupid mask covering you, he wanted to have you. Countless times he tried, he wasnât going anywhere now. Nobody could resist him, you were just another game to play and he was kind of enjoying it.
âAll of you. You scream inside that you want to fuck them up,â he answered. âBelieve me, I want nothing more than that.â
âDidnât you have your own payback some months ago?â
âYes, but you already know that from my file. Iâm asking about you now.â
His intense green eyes and the grit on his words caused you to think exactly what to say. You couldnât hide it anymore, not everything at least.
âMy mom. Vought experimented on her when she was pregnant, thatâs why I have powers,â you said, dry and straight to the point.
âHow?â
You breathed out, closing your eyes for a moment, not believing he would force you to remember the memories you had been fighting to erase.
âShe was paid a huge amount of money. And she hoped her daughter would join Vought someday; she was so wrong about that,â you gave a bittersweet chuckle. âOn my eighth birthday, I finally discovered my powers. There was this huge party and a lot of my parentâs rich friends and their kids, whom I didnât know because I had no friends, were there. And then, I just remember I got overwhelmed by all these people and the attention. I always hated that. And then, my mother couldnât find me when it was cake time. I was in my room but she couldnât see me there. Turned out I was invisible⌠It was the first and the only time I could make my clothes and my shoes disappear with me.â
Ben listened attentively, much to your surprise, as he spoke once again, locking his eyes with yours. âSo your powers come from your inner wish of disappearing from your motherâs sight.â
You hummed and nodded your head. âI think thatâs a great way of putting it, but yes.â
âWell, I'll take it back. They fucked your life too, sweetheart.â
âYeah, and theyâre still after you anyway.â
He scoffed. âThose fucking cocksuckers. Also, where the fuck is Grace anyway? All the CIA bullshit?â he asked, quickly changing the topic abruptly, his eyes narrowing as he demanded an answer.
âNo news from her apparently, nor any agents.â
âBullshit, your last call with her was a couple of days ago and you said nothing.â
âWhy are you so invested in her? You like her?â you mocked, noticing how his resemblance switched from calm to visibly annoyed. There was no fucking way youâd tell him where she was right now.
âYâknow what Iâd like? A fucking reasonable answer from you, thatâd be perfect,â he snarled, and you knew he was back being stubborn and childish asking the same fucking shit all the time.
âI donât know, but when I do Iâll tell you,â you responded after remaining silent under his angry stare.
âYouâve been saying the same shit over and overââ
âOkay, so tell me what you want. You want Homelander. Good, and then what?â
He held your stare, you noticed he was trying to keep himself down. âThe kid.â
âRyan?â
âYes, the fucking brat.â
His hard eyes were not lying and you argued back on it.
âYou canât do that, there has to be another way.â
âFucking tell me where it is. âCause I see nothing!â he shouted, his voice booming all over the room. âThat fucking pussy and his fucking team, they all had him right there. And in a second, Butcher just backed up! I couldâve done it already and we wouldnât be here, playing dollhouse.â
Spilling the truth was no option right now. He was stupidly pissed right now. But you knew it was cruel to hunt a kid down just because his father had put him into the spotlight thanks to his powers. Ben, on the other hand, was blinded by his hatred towards Homelander, and you knew he was a man of his word. He was more than able to kill Homelander and the boy for a deal, one that was broken because of a weak moment coming from Butcher. Even for your morally gray head, killing Ryan was not an option. At least not now. You hated Homelander, but you probably understood Butcher more than youâd like to admit. Soon, you would think about a plan; where to put the kid after injecting the anti V.
âLet me give you a lead when I can,â you said.
âTell me why should I trust you.â
âItâs your choice, honestly. Probably you shouldnât, but I may give you something sooner or later.â
Without waiting for his response, you took the empty dishes to the sink, and Ben followed you with his eyes, taking in the softness of your exposed skin through the short summer dress. He liked the way the fabric hugged your curves and how it fell over your legs, inviting him to have a taste. Ben noticed you putting on shorts and dresses more often the last few days, and he was thankful for the hot weather to be able to see you like this. The past nights, he had jerked off with you in mind, wondering when heâd be the man to put you in place. Perhaps he just needed to try again.
He got on his feet as you talked, but none of the things coming out of your mouth were important as he put his weight behind your body, his hands roaming over your arms before you got to start washing the dirty plates.
âDo you not get tired of trying?â you breathed out.
You felt his rough hands caressing your arms, before moving down your waist, pressing your ass against the bulge growing on his pants. He smiled to himself once he heard the loud gasp coming from your mouth.
âJust tell me you havenât thought about it,â he whispered, placing his lips down your neck, nipping softly at your sensitive skin, as he massaged your flesh, going to the curve of your ass.
âAnd when you get this, what?â you asked, turning around to meet his dark eyes. He was practically devouring you with his stare. Youâd be lying if you didnât find him hot, looking at you like that, as if you were the last and only meal that could end his greedy hunger.
He smiled, and whispered cockily against your lips. âYou can always ask me for a second round.â
Fuck it.
You captured his lips in an impatient kiss, nibbling at his bottom lip with urgency as you tasted the whisky from his mouth, your breaths mixing and panting as he lifted you up without further effort. Ben walked towards the countertop in the middle of your kitchen, placing you on the surface as he spread your legs. You welcomed him closer, feeling his hands traveling freely under the thin fabric of your dress, feeling the softness of your legs, your inner thighs, until he rubbed over your panties. You let out a moan against his mouth when his fingers found your folds and you held tightly against the corner of the countertop.
âYouâre dripping, sweetheart,â he growled, breaking the kiss.
âItâs been a while, ohfuck!â
A shiver ran down your spine as he stretched your pussy with one thick finger, his lips trailed down your neck to your collarbone, sucking and nipping on your skin. Your walls fluttered as he pumped in and out, and your hips set a move on its own. He hissed against your skin as he worked you open and ready for his hard cock, growing excitedly in his pants. A second finger slipped in and you clenched.
Ben smirked and you felt the burning feeling of his beard as he kissed your shoulder. You wondered how heâd feel between your legs, bruising your inner thighs with his big hands and the burning of his facial hair. The frantic fucking from his fingers pushed you to the edge, moaning and panting for air as his thumb played with your clit. You gripped on his forearms, looking for something to hold on tight as you reached that sweet high.
âFuck, you did so well,â he praised, pulling his fingers out of your pussy, leaving you empty. He brought his wet fingers to your lips and you complied, opening your mouth. You licked his fingers, locking your eyes with his. âWonder what twirls your pretty mouth has for me,â Ben pushed his fingers further, making you gag for a bit. âIâve been thinking of hundreds of ways of finally holding your tongue with my cock.â
His other hand wrapped your neck, as he forced you to suck his fingers harder, hitting your gag reflex over and over. He discovered he loved hearing your breathy sounds and the dirty look in your eyes while you sucked his digits. When he pulled out his fingers from your mouth, you took in a deep breath, but the grip on your neck grew tighter as he pressed his forehead against yours.
âYouâll have to go down on me first if you want my mouth,â you whispered against his lips.
Ben could hear your heart racing, and he was sure you got all dizzy and bothered just by his hand. âOh, is that so?â he rasped.
You rolled your eyes, growing impatient. âWhy donât you shut up and fuck me hard?â
And there it was. Theyâd always beg for him in the end. He smiled down at you, loosening the grip around your throat. âWith pleasure.â
His hands wasted no time in getting rid of your dress, discarding your panties and your bra ripping them in half. You moaned when his palms groped on your tits, playing with your nipples and squeezing them harshly. God, you were getting wet again just by the feeling of his mouth biting on your soft buds. Quickly, you reached for his pants, touching his hard cock over the fabric. Ben growled, feeling the softness of your palm stroking him gently. Good choice not wearing anything underneath. Your other hand tugged at his shirt until it was discarded over the floor, his pants following after.
He got you off the countertop so your feet were on the ground, and turned you swiftly, laying you down on your chest on the cold surface. He massaged the sides of your hips, running down his palms over your ass with a hiss.
âNow this is quite a view.â
You moaned as his fingers played with your entrance. âFuck, Ben, just do it already.â
âShit, doll, I love when you beg.â
He stroked his cock with your juices before aligning with your pussy, slowly sliding in your wet heat. He stretched you out inch by inch, and you became a whimpering mess. After a moment of staying still balls deep in your wet core, he snapped his hips against your ass, setting a brutal pace. Loud moans and screams escaped your throat. You couldnât hold it back anymore. You knew your fingers stopped being enough each time you needed sweet release, and probably you would regret him fucking you later, but right now you didnât care. His fingers inside your cunt, the way he would handle your body like a feather just for his disposition and to get off with, and now his cock filling you up was becoming too much. But you loved it.
Soldier Boy felt too good inside you, fucking your brains over and over. His hands bruising your hips, groping the flesh of your ass and breasts, as he pounded into you, everything was like heaven and you were sure youâd be spent once it was over. His dark, lusty eyes memorized every inch of your body and the way your pussy engulfed his dick with each thrust. The kitchen was filled with your whimpers and his animalistic growls, mixed with the sound of his skin hitting against your own. He hit on that sweet spot repeatedly, making your walls clench around his cock.
âJesus, youâre coming pretty quickly today,â Ben teased under his breath, his fingers tangling in your hair pulling your back against his muscular chest. âWait for me, doll,â he whispered in your ear, satisfied on how fucked out and desperate you were underneath.
âDo it fast, you asshole! Fuck!â
Your pussy fluttered and clenched on his cock as he hit your spot again. With a loud moan, you finally reached the climax you longed for so long, and took his deep, rough thrusts as he fucked you through bliss. His name escaped your throat countless times, coming down from your high. Ben growled, your orgasm and the spasms of your cunt triggered his own, and he finally released himself inside your tight pussy.
And how good it felt to finally have you there, begging and crying for his cock. It was so much better than his own imagination, and he took in great pleasure on fucking the brat out of you. He continued bucking his hips until his white seed started leaking down your thighs, and finally stopped. The only sound in the room being your tired breaths.
âOh, shit,â you gasped, feeling his grip on your scalp softening.
He sucked on your neck one last time with a cocky grin on his lips. âI told you Iâd be a great fuck, sweetheart.â
âI wish you could shut up for once,â you answered back, looking at him from your side, and feeling his cock softening inside you. âI might have my methods.â
He bucked his hips one more time. A whimper escaped past your lips as he pulled you back against his chest in a swift motion, his fingers traced your neckline. âSo do I, doll.â
Next Part >>>
#soldier boy x reader#soldier boy x you#soldier boy x female reader#soldier boy imagines#soldier boy x y/n#soldier boy fanfiction#the boys soldier boy#the boys amazon prime#the boys tv#jensen ackles fanfiction#soldier boy/ben#jensen ackles the boys
172 notes
¡
View notes
Note
Hi, I saw you were taking requests ? I just read your vastaya!Jayce fic and it was really really good and since you're open to requests, I wondered, why not try ? If it's alright ?
I just had that thought that... I don't think Jayce ever saw Viktor crying. Crying is often a byproduct of sadness or frustration but also sometimes joy. Or sometimes, it's a "everything is just too much and I need to purge it" and I think Viktor would really benefit from a good cry. I don't know, I just have this really vivid image of Jayce whipping away Viktor's tears with his thumb, or kissing the corner of his eyes and comfort him ?
thanks a lot if you have the time or inspiration to give it a shot but otherwise it's more than fine ! I hope you have a good day !
thank you so much omg! i had a ton of fun writing it if you couldnât tell lol!
when i read this request i immediately thought you want my dead. reminding me of this, i view viktor as so restrained and someone who bottles up his feelings bc who the hell can he go to? i hope what ive written expresses that and i appreciate you and everyoneâs patience for my writing :) i hope you enjoy!
wc; 4.1k
Viktor was a loner. Singed was the first to insinuate the label on a poor child and since then Viktor had accepted that fact.
Iâll never be noticed or remembered. Iâll always be a loner.
Had he been noticed by one of the founding fathers of Piltover? Yes. Was he still looked past in every situation? Yes. Despite being on the taller side he never felt like anyoneâs focus, sometimes he felt that way about Heimerdingerâ the very man who gave him the wonderful opportunity to be his assistant.
Then Jayce came into his life. This young (one year younger than him) naive, boy who was toying with something much bigger than him had been on the verge of banishment had it not been for his mother to get involved and lessen his sentence to expulsion had been the one to completely turn his entire life around.
He had never been included in anything his whole life. Hearing the words âour Hextech dreamâ was something completely otherworldly to Viktor. Itâs like Jayce had reached into his chest and grabbed ahold of his heart and took it for his very own to keep, and Viktor was happy to do so even in his state of shock.
Their relationship then formed at a rapid pace, they were allowed a lab together and worked side by side and for once Viktor actually felt like he belonged. Being a Zaunite in Piltover was, well, unheard of for the most part, let alone the fact that he was disabled.
And thatâs where we are. Viktor has come to a conclusion the more he looks around Piltover and at the very many citizens who happened to be disabled in one way or another. Youâd think Viktor and these people were one in the same but you forget one thingâ
Viktor is still a Zaunite. Which means he doesnât get as well of a treatment for his ailments like the rest of the Pilties (he heard the term once when someone from the undercity mistook him for one).
You see, Viktorâs leg had been bothering him, more so than usual and at first it started with his cane. No longer could he take a few steps without it or get up without having to use it as leverage. The thing was practically glued to his hand and it wasnât working well anymore. Old and rusty the thing was and Viktor had half a mind to make his own because Gods knows no one would make one for him.
Then one day, Jayce came strutting in, decked out in his usual fancy get up. A double breasted button up with his house colors accented on the shoulders and waist. He has a few things in his hand, measuring tape, a metal rod, and a permanent marker. Viktor turns his full body towards Jayce.
âWhatâs this?â
Jayce smiles and Viktorâs heart flutters momentarily. âCan you stand up for a moment?â They look at each other for a moment, Jayce with a big fat smile plastered across his face and Viktor who stares back at him with a perplexed brow.
âOkayâŚâ He draws out the word and grabs his old cane beside him so he can lift himself off the chair. He uses all his strength, leaning the entirety of his body weight on the cane and Jayce is suddenly rushing in front of him and setting down all his supplies on the table.
âIâm such an ass, hereââ His huge hand wraps around Viktorâs entire arm. For some this would be comfortingâ big strong man helping you, lifting you and taking care of everything. âLet me help.â But for Viktor this was torture. Since when did he ever make it seem like he couldnât do a simple thing like get up from a chair? How dare Jayce even think of such a thing. They both know what Viktor is capable of, they both are aware of his resilience and independence. What an insult to his character. He smacks Jayceâs eager hand away and stands up on his two legs with shaky effort.
âIâm not some helpless cripple, Jayce.â He spits with venom and itâs not directed towards someone he would call a best friend but no matterâ Viktor directed his own frustration with himself on Jayce. His hand grips the handle of his cane tightly and he grits his teeth, his jaw protrudes with irritation and shame. He looks away from the man in front of him because he knows if he were to face him heâd be met with the saddest pair of puppy eyes heâd ever seen. He shuts his eyes in an attempt to rid of the image but a hand on his shoulder deters him.
God dammit.
An antagonizing gaze, a scolding, Viktor can see it now. Jayce giving up on him because he was too difficult, too weak, too incapable of doing anything himself. The staccato tapping on his food filled the room's deafening silence. The air felt heavy and Viktorâs cheeks slowly warmed up with shame. He finally begins to lift his head to look up at his partner before him.
Jayce looks at him with waxy eyes, thereâs a sadness in them and an understanding. But what could he understand about Viktorâs terror, what claws at his spine and the chronic aching of his leg. The feeling of his body decaying, cracking and breaking slowly like a growing tumor of torment.
Viktor tears his eyes away and bites his tongue.
âIâm up now. What are we doing?â
âRight.â Jayceâs voice is tight but thereâs an underline of softness. He pauses, afraid to move but slowly goes for the measuring tape he set on their desk and the other can see him out of his peripheral come closer and take a deep breath. âI..uh, can I get some measurements from you?â
Huh?
Viktorâs head snaps to stare up at Jayce. âWhat? For what?â
Jayce just takes a step closer. âIâll show you when itâs ready. Please?â
Thereâs a twist in his stomach and it makes his insides feel like theyâre being sucked into a black hole and that makes him dizzy. What exactly was Jayce planning here? He goes to eye the other supplies to piece his thoughts together to come up with what he could possibly be doing but before he could Jayce was already blocking his view.
âIt seriously wonât take more than a minute.â
His leg is starting to hurt now and he just wants to sit down and get back to work. He reluctantly slacks his shoulders and motions for Jayce to do what he came in here to. Jayce seems to practically hop with excitement and the clinking sound of the tape measure echos in the room.
Skin on skin wasnât something Viktor was very familiar with and he didnât make it much of a habit to be touchy with anyone. Jayce had proved to be quite the opposite and it seemed like all he could do was touch. A hand on the back, the shoulder, hell, he even laid his own hand over Viktorâs once during a frustrating day of experimenting what else the hex crystals were capable of doing. Viktor did not like physical touch.
Yet with Jayce it was a losing battle and he could never admit that at times he actually enjoyed the warmth of his hand and the comfort of someone at least being there with him.
This was not one of those times, however. Viktorâstill ashamed with himself for snapping at Jayceâ couldnât handle the proximity of their bodies. Jayce is much too close and his knuckles brush over his ribs as he closely measures his friend's height, then the length of the floor to his shoulder, then from the floor to his armpit. He mumbles to himself and scribbles down the numbers he collected.
Just as quickly as Jayce invaded Viktorâs personal space, he was moving away from him and curtly saying thank you before making his way out of the lab with a haste Viktor had never seen.
He really fucked up.
It had been a couple of days. Viktor had been so consumed by his contrite thoughts that he completely disappeared from the lab. Taking to staying in his room and only leaving at late hours into the night when he knew no one would be around in the halls or streets to notice him. He was good at slipping away, at being alone. It was for the best, really. Heâs out of the way, thereâs no chance of him getting frustrated towards himself and directing it towards anyone who didnât deserve to get the sharp end of his abhorrent views of himself.
He missed the lab, though. He missed Jayce if he was being honest with himself but that was a lot harder to face and so he would simply forget the thought even popped up and put it on the back burner of his mind. But that burner grew hotter and slowly began to simmer before turning into a boil and bubbled over him all at once how much he truly had fucked up.
âI owe him an apology at least.â He decides tomorrow morning heâll go back and properly say his sorryâs.
Just as he was getting ready to settle into bed, there was a knock on his apartment door. He looks at the clock.
11:45PM
There was only one person who knows where he lives and knows heâd still be up. Viktor gathers up his courage with each step towards the front door.
Of course itâs Jayce behind the door, he didnât even have to question it nor look through the peephole. He slowly opens the door and peeks around the corner of it.
âJayce?â He says like heâs shocked. Jayce is standing there, looking handsome as ever but he didnât seem like his usual self. His hair was a bit messy and his five o,clock shadow had grown into a scruff. His eyes were droopy and held evidence of a long sleepless nightâ or several nights, really. His face seems to lighten when Viktor answers the door, almost like he wasnât expecting him to even give him the time of day.
âWhat are you doing here so late?â
âI needed to see you,â He says it frantically and Viktor flinches at the intensity of his tone. It doesnât go i noticed and Jayce takes a step back in a silent apology. âI wanted to give you somethingâŚIâve been working on it for a bit now.â
He doesnât know what it is. He doesnât have the faintest clue, but with him a little further away he feels safe enough to open the door wider and get a good look at the man in front of his doorstep.
Plain white T-shirt, a pair of pajama pants withâŚis that his family crest on the sides? The get up was in high contrast compared to what he had on his feetâ his fancy, brown leather work shoes. Viktor stifles a laugh expertly and glances back up to Jayce who he now notices is holding something behind his back.
He sighs and admits defeat, perhaps moving his apology to tonight would be better. He couldnât even begin to think of going to sleep with the fictional scenario heâd play and replay over and over again until the sun finally came back up. He had to own up to his own stupidity and immaturity. Viktor widens the door open and steps to the side to let Jayce in. They smirk awkwardly at each other and the younger walks in just as awkwardly. He side steps, his back facing away from Viktor to deter him from seeing the it behind him.
He rolls his eyes but finds himself smiling and feeling the warmth of his beating heart increase. It makes him feel sick and he takes a wobbly step forward, leaning his hand against the wall. Heâd forgotten his cane in his bedroom. Jayce stands there unsure to reach out and ask him for help and that terrible knot in his throat grows at the base of his neck and creeps up until itâs in the underside of his jaw.
âBefore you show me what youâve made. IâŚneeded to tell you something.â His hand on the wall turns into a fist and he presses it hard as if to ground himself. He fights the urge to look away from Jayce because good lord he looks scared and Viktor knows he thinks heâs done something wrong.
âItâs nothing youâve done.â He starts off when Jayce doesnât respond. His shoulders fall just an inch and he sees the immediate relief wash over his friend before he continues. Viktor canât fight it, he looks down at his feet. âI wasnât myself a few days ago. IâŚI wasnât feeling well and it brought up some unwanted thoughts and I couldnât control myself. I snapped at you.â
Silence. He still canât look at Jayce because that knot in his throat has turned into glass and it shreds down his throat with each difficult swallow and he knows the tears come after that. âYou were just trying to help me and I did need helpâ I wanted the help but I was too embarrassed to take it from you and I directed my own frustration onto you. Iâm sorry for that.â
Once more, silence. The air is thick and Viktor wonders if Jayce can feel it. Can feel the struggle to breathe and that terrible churning in his stomach just as heâs feeling now. Heâs too scared to look up and to be met with a ridiculing glare and an unforgiving tone. But he hears the wood floor squeak under Jayceâs weight, and he hears it again, and once more.
His head is hung low, his fist is tight and he can feel the nails almost break the skin of his palms. Viktorâs eyes squeeze shut and he braces himself for Jayce to walk right past him and slam the door behind him.
âHey,â His voice is sweet and warm and itâs much closer, so close that it startles Viktor and draws a gasp from him. His eyes are glassy, still fighting back a few tears but he opens them to look up to see Jayce just inches away from him. A smile grows across his lips, his eyes like a warm drop of honey bear into Viktorâs and thereâs a soft, apologetic look across his features.
âYou donât have to apologize. It was out of turn for me to assume you needed helpââ
âNo!â Viktor exclaims, he opens a palm out as he feverishly speaks, âItâs me whoâs wrong! I spoke out of turn and let my anger out on you when you were just trying to help. I didnât mean to.â
âI know youâre capable of doing things yourself, V.â The nickname makes his stomach flip, Jayce doesnât use it often and it catches him by surprise every time. âI just saw the pain in your face and I wanted to help.â
âI know! And thatâs why Iâm apologizing, because I smacked you away and..and I was cruel.â He drops his hand and lets it smack against the side of his thigh. Viktor releases a drawn out sigh and lets his shoulders slump. Jayce looks down at him solemnly.
âIt wasnât cruel. But I accept your apologyâ even though I donât think you did anything wrong.â
âWell, I hurt you, didnât I?â
Jayce chuckles. âMaybe a little bit, but Iâm fine.â
They stand silently again, Viktor finally letting his hand rest spread out on the wall. His leg was beginning to hurt now and sitting all his weight on one hip was beginning to pinch a nerve. He looks back to Jayce whoâs still standing there with his hands behind his back.
âHave a seat and show me what you made already.â
Jayceâs expression changes into one of worry and Viktor swears he can see a bead of sweat on his forehead.
âR-right! Uh, letâs have a seat.â He lets Viktor lead the way. He had never been in Viktorâs apartment very much, he mostly strictly stood at the threshold and spoke to his partner there before leaving. Never had he taken a step inside and taken in the homely atmosphere Viktor had curated. It was so very Viktor, with the likes of books and endless shelves of academic publications printed out and bound in thick leather. Or the many notes strewn about with at least one pen or pencil resting on any surface. He noticed a small toy boat on display in his living room and he has the urge to ask him about it, or the drawing of what seemed to be a mechanical golem resting on his coffee table in front of his worn loveseat.
Before he can even ask, Viktor is reaching down and crumpling it and tosses it into a bin. They sit side by side on the small couch and Jayce feels his cheeks blush when Viktor indicates for him to show off already.
âOkay, uh, could youâŚlook away for a moment?â
Viktor raises an eyebrow and purses his lips. âIâm sorry?â
âI want it to be a surpriseâŚjust indulge meâŚplease?â Jayce attempts to bat his eyelashes and Viktor laughs at the clumsy way he canât seem to find the momentum to bat them quickly. He obliges and places his hands over his eyes, he shuts his lids for good measure.
âNo peeking, got it?â Jayce almost giggles.
âI would do no such thing.â He would.
Jayce brings the gift out from behind him, heâs shocked that he was able to hide it this long, he was sure Viktor would figure it out by now but heâs pleased to know his lab partner is oblivious to the fact that he had spent a week perfecting what he hoped Viktor would appreciate.
Thereâs cool metal on the palms Jayce told Viktor to face upward in his lap and it shocks him before heâs slowly wrapping his fingers around the material. He slowly opens his eyes, aware too much of Jayceâs intense gaze, thereâs concern and hope and fear in his eyes and Viktor finally looks down at whatâs been placed in his lap.
His eyes run across cool, steel metal with accents of red, white trimming of metal brings the piece together and his hand finds the first handle of what is a brand new cane sitting across his legs.
The handle is red and it looks to be the perfect length and width to fit into his hand. There are indents shaped just for his fingers and itâs made with cushioned leather. Viktor stares in awe of the expert work of the shape. His eyes follow up the cane to the top handle, it's curved and made with the same leather. On the tip of it is a circle framed with metal and what looks to be Jayceâs family crest. His eyes glide back down it, finding the same sigil on the side of the cane.
Heâs speechless. Utterly incapable of saying a single word, let alone form a sentence. Jayce had taken the time and effort to actually make this for him. He thought his chronic pain hadnât been so obviousâ at least it wasnât to literally everyone else who knew him or were acquainted with him. He never had been perceived so closely, so intimately and it aches in his heart the realization that Jayce had clearly seen Viktor this whole time.
He was no longer alone and Jayce had seen the inner workings of his pain. Perhaps he shouldnât be surprised, they were together every single day and they were coming up on five years of working together.
Viktorâs ribs were a broken cage and released his emotions freely. The dam that held back his tears broke and out came a flood. His vision immediately becomes blurry and his hands tremble with the cane rattling gently in them.
âIâŚWhatâŚWhy did you do this?â His voice is shaky and he bites his tongue to stop himself from speaking. He sounds so pathetic and small. âThis is for me?â
Jayce gently reaches his hand over and places an index finger on the top handle.
âThis is for support under your armpit and thisââ He points to the next handle. âIs for your hand to grasp onto. I saw the way you had been leaning lately and I could see the pain it was causing for youâŚI wanted to try and make something to help with thatâŚâ
Heâs too sweet. Much too sweet to be in the presence of Viktorâ someone who couldnât fathom why he deserved such a thoughtful and well crafted piece of metalwork. He spent his free time on this, he worked on this by hand, by himself, for a week. He thinks back to the strange measurements Jayce had asked of him. How he tried to be slick and looking back he was because Viktor was too busy with his maintenance on the Hexgates to really consider why the hell Jayce needed to know how long and wide Viktorâs hand was or how he liked to hold his cane and how heavily he leaned onto it for support.
Viktor still couldnât find the words. He barely even notices heâs crying until he sees a tear land on the metal and heâs immediately turning away from Jayce and swiping the rivers running down his face. He knows he looks pathetic like this and he never once wanted anyone to see him cry, let alone Jayce of all people.
âThank youâŚtruly,â He says with a shaky breath, his voice cracking around the lump in his esophagus. He covers his mouth, still turned away from Jayce.
âYou didnât have toâŚâ
Warmth spreads across Viktorâs hand, he feels Jayceâs calloused fingers against his skin and it doesnât help the flow of falling tears. His eyes screw shut but itâs not enough to hold them back and he barely registers another hand reaching out and Jayceâs thumb swiping across his cheek gently.
âViktor,â He speaks gently, saying his name with relief and a sweetness that made Viktorâs teeth ache. Hearing his name come out so gently is too overwhelming and he shakes his head. âHey, Whatâs wrong? Did I do something?â
Yes. Yes! You saw me and for the first time Iâm feeling like Iâm someone important!
His mouth parts to speak and itâs dry, his tongue sticks to the roof of his mouth as he attempts to form a sentence.
âNoâŚnoâŚyou did a wonderful thing, I'm justâŚIâm embarrassed.â Jayce wipes away another tear that escaped and ran down to his lip. He captures it and rubs it away on the edge of his lips and they both a shock in the touch of his fingertips. They say nothing about it.
âWhy?â Jayce asks simply.
âCryingâŚâ
âYouâve seen me cry. How is this any different?â
Viktorâs glassy eyes look up into Jayceâs and this time heâs able to hold his gaze.
âIâm not meant to be comforted.â He says it so plainly like itâs a fact and Jayce feels his heart throb in pain. How his partner could ever think such a thing about himself he has no idea but heâll do anything to change his mind.
âYou are,â He lets his hand cup Viktorâs cheek and he watches the way his lashes flutter closed and he leans into the touch. âDonât ever say that. You deserveâŚeverything, Viktor.â
They sit like that for a while, Viktor unsure of what to say next and instead basks in the comfort of Jayceâs touch and Jayce who watches the tears slowly dry and leave streaks on his cheeks. It isnât until he pulls his hand away does Viktor look back down at the cane in his lap. He turns it in his hands gently and runs his finger over the family sigil.
âThe Talis hammerâŚa bit egotistical, donât you think?â He huffs a laugh and Jayce is equally amused, his cheeks grow red and he slides his hand across the side of his neck as he lets out a breathy laugh.
âYeah, well, habit I guessâŚâ He leans in a little close. âYou really do like it, though?â
Viktor, now smiling down at the cane, nods. âYeah, I do. Looking at it might make me cry again.â
âWell, let me take care of that then.â Jayceâs thumb runs across one of Viktorâs cheeks affectionately and for a second they forget theyâre just friends and revel in the comfort of one another.
#anon#requests#pepper writes#jayvik#jayce talis#arcane#viktor arcane#arcane fanfic#jayce x viktor#jayvik fanfic#jayce league of legends#viktor league of legends#viktor fanfic#jayce talis fanfic
41 notes
¡
View notes
Text
Okay! The Gilear plush has arrived. This is my best attempt at all of his lines. Two have been unintelligible to me, and several are pretty long and fast which made it hard to follow.
My search history is.. hospitals near me, foot stuck in object, head stuck in object
You're low, he's low, It's Gilear's day baby!*
A guy on the street kicked me in the nuts as hard he could
I don't like "lunchlad"
Help me to understand what I have done to deserve this
My horoscope says "today is a good day to die motherfucker"
I ate a quick cup of yogurt on the way over here to bolster my spirits after I changed, I'm ever so sorry
What do you mean "When" life gives you lemons
I went to apply for the guidance counselor position but I was usurped by a drug dealing werewolf named Jawbone
In my haste to put the armor on I buckled the leg plate and think I clipped the tip of my penis against one of the leg plates and Everytime I move it feels like it might fall off so I ASSURE you demon I have no pride to speak of!
In highschool I was voted "Most Likely To Get Pushed Out Of A Tree"
My car was repossessed by the ride share app that I was working for
It's actually a good thing that no one came to my birthday party because the bounce house flooded and was swept out to sea
I just discovered that *all* of my emails have been going to everyone's spam
Unfortunately I have been banned from that hot air balloon service not because of anything that happened to me in particular but the guys who run it just sort of know my whole deal
Mmm this yogurt tastes like *potatoes*
I asked the woman at Home Depot why my plants kept dying and she said it seemed like they were reaching away from the sun
I've found out recently that one of my shoes is so filled with mildew because a pipe in my bedroom is leaking and I've developed a fungal infection in my foot which I didn't know was possible for elves to get
I don't think that I've ever "Peaked" in that we started neutral and have been going downhill ever since
I am currently trapped in a storm drain. The bottom half of me is above the ground, the other is below
Another Own Goal for Gilear Faeth, yes
Everyone knows you eat 7 spiders in your sleep every year, but I have a bunch coming into me the backway
My sandcastle I'm afraid was destroyed, as I was about to finish it, the tide came in and with it a man holding a bazooka who shot me and killed me
I know you're not going to believe this but Ive just been kicked by a snake
I found out the hard way that people can legally reject status as an emergency contact
The title of my autobiography is going to be Gilear Faeth: Please Stop
On my way here I was carrying a large bowl of Italian wedding soup which shattered on the ground in front of me and several of the small pasta balls rolled through the cracks and alerted vermin to my presence. I've since learned after a trip to the hospital I am deathly allergic to the sting of millipedes which is a way of me saying I need someone to come down to the hospital and pay for this. There is a doctor holding a gun to my head and now that I think about it this clinic is in the back of a storage unit and I think have gone to the wrong place
he said and I quote "he'd stomp my goon ass" if I ever got on his bus again
Gorthalax it was very nice to meet you, you've made a cuckold of me
We're the throw up boys!*
I've been informed that the brownies I consumed were laced with cannabis and rat poison
I am completely unprepared for the perils ahead and am deeply frightened, I'll go get the coffee
A gorilla monster punched me so hard in the back of the head I died
Today I have been hit by 3 scooters
Everytime you squeeze my hand it breaks several small bones
My imaginary friend as a child ghosted me because he said I was too depressing
Do you want me to go back? I warn you, it will break me
Can I interest you in an herbal soda? You must understand I am an intern at a ponzi scheme*
When I go to sleep at night I dream of a world where I might be able to walk through a field without stepping on a rake or gopher hole
If anyone needs me... I will be surprised.
If it wasn't for bad luck, Id have no luck is both true and what was written upon the billboard I crashed through
I wonder if any of these will feature in Junior year đ
*Thanks to @cappa-cappa for telling me the lines I wasn't able to make out!!
#d20#dimension 20#naddpod#bahumia#brian murphy#emily axford#brennan lee mulligan#gilear faeth#siobhan thompson#lou wilson#ally beardsley#dropout#spire#fantasy high#fantasy high freshman year#fantasy high sophomore year#fantasy high junior year
320 notes
¡
View notes
Text
trust i seek, and i find in you | the finale
part 1 (x) part 2 (x) part 3 (x) alternative ending (x)
ă ⌠seong gi-hun / reader ⌠ă
a/n: theres two endings to this story cuz i couldnt make my mind up!!! if ur not happy w this ending, check the other <333 i hope you guys enjoy, ive had so much fun writing this series UGH
Rain poured dense and persistent from the angry sky above, thick clouds akin to raging plumes of smoke miles overheard. The dirt and gravel surrounding you resolved into slick mud under your dress shoes. Droplets of water gathered at the crown of your skull before cascading down the lines of your face, deepend with grief. Fat tears had long since begun to fall from your water lines and race down your cheeks, only hidden by the onslaught of heavy rain, a mirage that only bought you seconds before you would inevitably fall into Gi-hunâs arms blubbering like an inconsolable child.Â
The game laid out before you both had already started but neither of you could bring yourselves to move. Just two players standing in static, unwilling. Gi-hun was, as always, as easy to read as a book. Every emotion that coursed through him was plain as day before you. His anger, his fear, his desolation all settled into the wrinkles of his frown, those puppy-dog like eyes downcast and swallowing you whole. You hated seeing him like that- broken.Â
How could this be happening.Â
Just the night before, in both of your monkey suits with full bellies and reeling from loss, he had said that he knew a way out of this. That since it was just the mere two of you left, he knew exactly how to make sure youâd both go home at the next game. He was confident, with a pipe dream in his eyes and a sense of bright urgency so determined that you couldnât help but believe him too. You think you would have believed anything that passed his lips. Needed to believe that there was a light at the end of this dark, dark tunnel. He said that just like the first time youâd been chewed up and spat out by the games, you could both hold another vote to end the games and send you both packing. You could start your lives together having found something worth more than the weight of the gold the game makers had dangled just out of your grasp since day one.
Go on, and live for the ones who couldnât.Â
You sucked in every word he said. Leaned on it, depended on it, clung to it equally as desperate as you clung to his chest and buried your face in the scent of him. He said he would find you after you were both dropped off no matter what it took. Heâd find you, and it would be the last time you were without each other.Â
Clause three, Heâd said, a dejection in his sorrowful voice. A majority vote will end the games.
It sounded too good to be true. And yet, you began to imagine it. You and Gi-hun. Life together outside the games, a life you wished you could have found years and years ago. Early mornings spent tangled together in bed sharing one lousy comforter. A dingy roof that always seemed to leak, floors that were always just a little too cold for comfort. Lights would flicker, your neighbors would be less than friendly. But you would be together. Youâd patch the holes in the ceiling of whatever ramshackle shithole youâd both scrounged up the money for. Heâd stand by the drafty windows and watch the world come to life in the early hours of the day, painted in the beautiful morning sun while you pretend to stay asleep just to drink in a few extra moments of his peace.
Eating dry ramen on a table made from a cardboard box. Sharing a bottle of Soju because you could only afford one.Â
Youâd work long hours day by day to afford what little you had, but then at the end of every shift your sore feet would wander you right back home and into his arms and it would all be worth it. Sore, tired, hungry. Loved.
It was a lovely mirage. It was everything you never knew you needed. You never needed money, or fancy things. All you needed was someone to push through life with you. Someone like Gi-hun, with his boyish smile and his dark curly hair and his gentle touches with even gentler words. Someone like him who made you feel as if the world wasnât something to shy away from. Someone like him, whose eyes lit up whenever you were at his side. Someone worth going through the everythings with.
Even then, in the heavy absence of the other players who hadnât gotten to make it as far as you had, he made you feel like in that moment everything was okay. There werenât guards just outside waiting for the call to shoot you down. There werenât mysterious figures and masked men watching every move and over joyously pitting you against one another.Â
There was only him.Â
Gi-hun had pulled you so close to his chest that you could feel the heat of him. You listened to the rhythmic beat of his heart and the hum of his soft breaths. You longed for the next chapter- the life outside of this that he swore up and down was within reach.Â
Yes, you would both be painstakingly poor, but youâd also be richer than you could ever have imagined.Â
There, together, money had become just a mere word.
When you were both escorted to the last game, you couldnât help the way your nerves seized your heart up in the cage of your chest. Something felt wrong. Off. Difficult to wretch down as every step brought you closer and closer to the giant doors you remembered from the first game you played here. And even though Gi-hun squeezed your hand in his own, you couldn't bring yourself to return the sweet gesture he offered you.Â
Sure enough, when the doors pulled open, it was that same field. The little girl statue stood looming in the distance. This time, however, something new caught your eyes. A white pattern on the ground- the unmistakable outline of Squid Game. It took your breath away.
A fight to the death.Â
Gi-hun was quick to announce that heâd be drawing from clause 3 to end the games before they had even begun. He said it with confidence, without a single stutter or falter in his voice. Over the days, youâd noticed how much of a backbone heâd grown. You feel the opposite had happened to you, your soul crushing with the weight of the dead and your nerves threatening to choke you up at any given point. If not for Gi-hun youâd surely have crumbled into dust by now. He eyed the square guard as he spoke, demanding for the voting to commence. Once it did, you would both get to go home.Â
âPlayer 456 wishes to stop the game,â He said into his walkie-talkie.
This would all just be a terrible memory behind you. You were ready to leave everything but him behind.Â
So imagine the surprise when his request was denied.Â
Imagine the dread, the pure and sheer defeat and rotten hopelessness that settled over your faces and into your guts like a pound of lead as the masked man spoke.Â
âYour request was denied. The vote may not be held during the finale of the Games.â
Gi-hun, initially was at a loss for words, gaping at the guard with disdain and hatred in his eyes. If looks could kill, that masked man would have dropped dead right before him. You wished he would.Â
You sputtered from where you stood, your head spinning faster than you could get a grip on. Those sweet and peaceful days youâd imagined with him shattered into nothing in an instant, the fragments running circles in your heads and taunting you. No mornings with him. No dinners. No drinks. No drafty window, no little shitty home that was rundown but still just perfect because it was yours.Â
This couldnât be happening.
âWe wonât fight!â Gi-hun announced with grit teeth. His hands balled into tight fists at his sides. âWeâll just stay right here for as long as it takes!â
Without missing a beat, the masked man raised his hand. It was then you noticed he had some sort of remote, and with a single click, there was a great buzzer that sounded in the distance. Flashing lights gripped both of your attentions- the clock from the first game. In bold, striking letters, you saw the numbers flashing before your eyes. Your heart sank into your belly.Â
5:00
Your mind could barely register the guards chatter behind you.
âIf a player does not win before the countdown, both players will be eliminated.â
That was the moment the rain had first begun. Heavy droplets tapped away before it began to fall in raging streams.Â
While you were busy spinning on your heel and pleading with the masked man to have a single shred of decency, of fucking humanity, Gi-hunâs eyes never left you. Memorizing you. Taking down every last detail before he would lose you. You swatted the guards chest and begged with desperate eyes and trembling hands. It didnât even phase the man, who merely stood there unbothered. Only when your gaze singled with Gi-hunâs and you could see the way vain was written in those beautiful irises did you finally let your shoulders fall in defeated anguish.Â
It was over.Â
It was all over.
The timer began to count down.
There was no escaping this. You were both going to die here.Â
Die, because there wasnât a chance in hell you would even so much as raise your hand to that man. Nothing could force it from you- not even the always present threat of death hanging over your head closing in on you like walls. You couldnât do it. Not to him.Â
God, not to him.Â
Judging by the way his eyes found yours, far away and crestfallen, you knew he was in the same boat. A sinking, drowning boat rocking in the sea of blood.Â
But hey, at least you were in the boat. At least you got to be there together. Bearing the suffering and loss wrapped within the gift that was getting the blessing to know, and to love, Gi-hun.
An agonizing fate laid before the two of you, but youâd both accepted defeat before the game had even had a chance to begin. Your lives were laid down and bared, ready to go, only if together. The thought of him dying here struck you worse than your own untimely demise. He had a daughter he longed to see, a mother he wanted to take care of. You had nothing back home. No family. Not even a damn cat. And he was still willing to throw it all away for you.Â
A part of you wishes you had brought the knife provided to you at your final supper. You could have plunged it into your neck by now, bled out and died content knowing that Gi-hun would get to continue life anew without the incessant burden of money. He could visit his daughter in America, he could go anywhere he pleased. He could pay for his mothers surgery and see out his days in the utmost comfort. He could leave this all behind.
Your friends wouldnât have met their demise in vain.
But, you hadnât brought it.
And neither had he.Â
After your meals, when youâd both realized that there was a high chance the final game being a fight to the death, you left those knives abandoned at the table. A pre-refusal to fight. You didnât give a damn about winning anymore. The prize had become nonexistent. Gone- fucking useless. Nothing more but fucking numbers- nothing compared to the sheer weight of his life. Youâd gone through so much, swore up and down that itâd be you at that finish line and youâd go home with your head held high and proud for all to see. To prove to the fuckers back home that you were not the worthless, mooching brat theyâd all made you out to be.Â
The brat you'd turned yourself into.
Now, you would have given anything to go home with empty pockets and Gi-hun at your side. You truly had thought you would, too.Â
All washed down the drain in the blink of an eye.Â
You were a damn fool to ever think you could get out together. Of course this would be the end. Of fucking course. Either a final fight between found lovers, a spectacularly brutal scene indeed, or a quiet doom that would reach you within 4 minutes.Â
So, you chose to wait. To let death come and find you wherever you may be.Â
And it was an easy choice, especially so as he stood there watching you with those eyes. Because compared to him⌠Nothing else mattered. Absolutely nothing.
He called your name over the now deafening beat of rain.Â
âI canât-...â Heâs struggling to speak, his lower lip quivers. It rips you to shreds. âI canât hurt you.â
A response dies in your throat, caught by the lump youâre struggling to swallow down. You force it out regardless. âI know.â
His eyes fall. The weight of your fallen friends is unimaginably heavy on your shoulders. Theyâd all died, some so that you could be where you are now. And for what. To watch you throw in the towel from beyond the beyonds all because you found yourself in love with your competitor. To watch you throw it all away at the finish line because you loved him more than yourself. Â
The clock ticks down. This is how you both die. When it reaches zero, shortly now, it would tick away at its last second and you would both be put down like miserable dogs. Really, the only comfort you could draw into yourself was thinking how you would find him in the afterlife. Drawn to him so intensely that you wouldn't be able to stay away even if you wanted to. Even if you tried.Â
But that wasn't for another three minutes and thirty seconds. Until then, you wanted- no, needed to be near him. If this was truly the end, if you were to die, it would surely have to be in his arms. Your eternal resting place.Â
He opens his mouth to speak, probably something so heart wrenchingly horrible that it would shatter you to pieces, but you stop him with a shaky, sad invitation.
âCould I have a second dance.â
Initially Gi-hun is stunned into silence. But then, that shocked expression melts away into a smile dripping in melancholy. Downturned eyes. He tries to be happy for you but you can see it. The beautiful upturn to his lips that doesnât quite reach his beautiful eyes. He reaches his hand out and beckons you.Â
You all but throw yourself at him.Â
Gi-hun grasps your hand gently, you move to him like a moth to flame. His fingers are soaked, yours are too, droplets racing down your wrist as he raises your knuckles to his lips and plants a chaste kiss right over bruises. So sweet, if not for the loaded gun mere feet away itching to toss led through your skin. Sweet if not for the whimpered cry that tears itself from your chapped lips when he brings his other hand up to graze the pads of his fingers down the curves of your face. Over your cheek bones, brushing sopping wet hair from your eyes. Your heart hurts- it aches. You feel like youâre being held up by strings, knees threatening to buckle at any moment now.Â
Everything was all too much. It was too heartbreaking. Too bittersweet. Too intimate to display in front of whatever bastards were watching out of view. But yet, you sink into him like youâve done it a hundred times before. Itâs instinctual. You wrap your arm around his neck and squeeze his hand with the other. His eyes soften all over again and you feel tears stream down your cheeks.Â
That hand gently tracing over your battered and bruised expression finds its way down to your shoulder, then takes its resting place on your hip. No words were needed this time. Youâd remembered the dance down to the minute detail. Back, forward. If you werenât in the final moments of your life, youâd be proud of yourself for being such a quick learner. Left, right.
Or at least praising Gi-hun for being such an excellent teacher.Â
You move with him and let him guide you all over again. You feel the most subtle of tugs and then youâre turning with him, the mud beneath your shoes dragging as you go. He sways to a melody in his head, and this time, you can feel it as well. The gentle rhythm of push and pull. It entranced you. Everything faded into the endless sea of nothingness except for him. No games, no extravagant piggy bank overflowing with the spoils of blood money. Not even the square-faced guardâs looming presence just barely close enough to catch the corners of your eyes.
Just Gi-hun.Â
It was almost like being there again- that night. You remembered the terror of watching over your friends while they slept, shaking in your shoes carefully to observe every last movement your field of vision allowed you to soak in. Bated breaths, a racing heart despite the silence. You remembered wondering if you would even survive that night after witnessing the sheer brutality of the evening before. You had wondered how ever survived anything at all.Â
Gi-hun had pulled you from that haze of terror so effortlessly you didnât even realize heâd done it until you were giggling and chatting away. There was something about him that you could never understand, something so unique that you couldnât process yourself. His uncanny ability to make everything around you just⌠Vanish. And then youâd be at peace again, even for just that short while. Unafraid. Like death wasnât waiting for you around every turn.Â
Youâd have given anything to go back to that now. Youâd appreciate it more, let him spin you round and round until you were dizzy and drunk in his presence. Listen to him hum a tune that you couldnât place and talk you to sleep with that tender voice. He was so full of life that it spilled over his cup and ran into yours.Â
So full of life, yet so willing to throw it away if it meant you could carry on. Even now, at the end of the line he fought to climb, to make it to the top and to bring home riches for his family, to change the course of his life and finally do good for those whoâd helped him along during his troubles, he wouldnât finish it. Because that meant finishing you.Â
And you did the same. Survived to the brink of winning only to discover that there was nothing worth more than this. More than him.Â
How could this be the end?Â
Haven't you given enough? Havenât you both suffered enough?Â
Were your lives just some long, cruel pranks played by a God with an abhorrent sense of humor? To throw you into the lion's den, to knock you down peg by peg until you believed the only way out was to kill or be killed, to dangle a prize dripping in blood just out of your reach.Â
Even worse, to put this perfect man right in your path. An unmoving, unwavering road block that you couldnât bear to hurdle over. Youâd rather die.
And so, you would.
Gi-hun can see the way you start to choke back cries. Your steps are growing sloppy, your fingers are twisting in his shirt.Â
âLook at me.â Rain and tears blur your vision, but you do. He sighs a breath of content. âAh, there you are.â
He did it again- dragged you from the spiraling pits of your racing thoughts.Â
The clock reads 1:00 in taunting LEDs. Time is running out- itâs almost up. Only one more minute with him.Â
âGi-hun,â You sniffle. âI canât-â
He doesnât let you speak, swiftly cuts off your incoherent cries by outstretching his arm and gently pushing you at the end of his reach. Before you know it, before you can register that your body is seemingly moving all on its own, youâre spinning. The world is a blur of grey and brown, and then youâre pulled right back into his arms.
He lets you shrink into him. Your chest stutters as you fail to hold back your sobs.Â
He rests a hand on the back of your head, and lets you weep. Once the tears fall, really fall, they donât stop. They faucet from your eyes and disappear into his sopping wet clothes in body wracking, chest heaving cries that almost seem to echo. Every noise you make seems to bounce right back into your ears and then you realize that Gi-hunâs crying too. He holds you so tight to him, so fervently that it almost forces the air from your lungs. Gripping onto you like if he lets up youâll be gone by the time he could even open his eyes.Â
You feel it to be true too, your hands gripping tight fists into the fabric of his shirt. Youâd seen countless lives crumble to nothing at the drop of a dime- an entire life born, built and then erased in the blink of an eye. How were you ever supposed to let go of him?
By the time heâs just started to settle, youâre still shaking in your shoes, stuck in place and gripping him like a lifeline. He has to damn near pry you back just to get another good look at your face. Even though youâre sure that youâre red faced, snot nosed, and bleary eyed, he breathes out the softest sigh and the corners of his lipâs turn up to form a sullen smile. He tries to comfort you, wipe away at your tears, but between the rain and your incessant crying there isnât much to be done. Youâre babbling like an idiot, racing out anything you can think of. Desperate to fit it all in before itâs over.
Thank you for everything. You are perfect.
You are everything to me.
âI wanna go home,â You wail. âI want us to go home.â
Go-hun holds your face in his hands preciously. He pets his thumbs down your cheeks. Try as he might to comfort you, the timer settles on itâs final 20 seconds. 20 seconds to live. He shakes and presses his lips to your hair and breathes you in for what could be the last time. It hurts- you canât breathe, you canât think anymore. There isnât enough time. Itâs slipping through your fingers and you canât catch it.Â
You just want more time.Â
âI love you.âÂ
Heâs the first to say it. Thereâs tears rolling down his face but he still smiles for you. I love you too leaves your lips before you even have a chance to process it yourself.Â
Thereâs an ear piercing buzz that cries over the sound of the thundering rain.Â
0:00
No more time.
Gi-hun doesn't let you see anything. He shoves your face into his chest and buries you, surrounds you with himself as if itâll stop the bullets from ripping through his wiry frame and slicing through you. Footsteps sound from somewhere you canât place. Your lives are over. Youâre going to die. The dirt shifts under the weight of them, stopping merely a foot away. You donât get to see whatâs going on- he refuses to let you face it. But the way his body tenses, his fingers grip into your skin, his breath pauses, tells you all that you need to know. Itâs over.Â
The guard's voice makes your stomach roll.Â
âPlayer 456, you are eliminated.â
Your eyes shoot up to his. Heâs soft. Knowing.
âYou did it.â He cooâs.Â
Your heart falls into your belly when you look down at your feet, planted right in the center of the white circle.Â
Heâd danced you right into being the winner.Â
âNo.â Is all you can think to say. Youâre reeling, your mind canât process it. Â
Everything stops. Time. The rain. Everything.Â
He touches the side of your face gingerly. Just like he had when your life was escaping you in fleeing droves. Just like when heâd brought you back and held you and pet your hair and told you it was alright, he was there.Â
He was there. He was everything you needed.
Everything you had.Â
âNo.â You grab onto his suit, searching him for something, anything. âI canât do this without you.â
Heâs crying. Heavy tears and his lower lip trembling. âYouâre going to be okay.â
âStep aside.â The guard says, and the tip of his gun is pressed to Gi-huns back. âOr youâll be shot, too.â
So let it then. Let the bullet find you too. Let you go with him.
âNo, no, please, I have nothing.â Youâre hands are frantically grasping him, pulling and grabbing and gripping anything it could get. Trying to pull him into yourself, to take him away, to keep him with you. Because you canât leave this fucking place without him.Â
Because there is no life without him.Â
The doors of the building rattle open and thereâs another guard taking quick steps towards you both. You already know why.Â
Gi-hun holds your face, tries to capture your frenzy, tries to see the you in you one last time and take the image of you with him to the next life.Â
âPlease,â Youâre sobbing and holding him, white knuckling the fabric of his suit.Â
Donât take him from me. Donât take him from me.
Thereâs hands on your shoulders trying to wrench you away from him but you donât let up. Your voice is leaving you in cries, your eyes desperately taking in every bit of Gi-hun.Â
Donât take him from me.
Your fingers are pried from him. The soles of your shoes drag lines into the dirt. He watches you, melancholy. The look of a man whoâd accepted his life over yours. You beg them to stop. To call a vote.
To take your life over his.Â
There is no life without him.
The gun fires. Gi-hun drops to his knees and crumbles onto the ground. There is nothing else.
The guards have to drag you away kicking and screaming. And god, you do.Â
You thrash and you fight and you cry his name out and beg him to come back to you. But heâs just fucking laying there and red is running in the streams of the rain and you canât stop the guard from hoisting you over their shoulder despite the way you punch at their shoulders and arm. Theyâre taking you from him, theyâre taking you away from the only thing that mattered.Â
You scream his name until your voice is nothing but a pitiful squeak. The doors are shutting. You see yourself there lying there beside him. You see yourself dead and gone wrapped in him. The ghost of yourself, left behind with the loss of him.Â
Empty, empty, empty.Â
There is no life without him. The man whoâd rewrote your life and taught you that there was sunlight over every valley, love in every corner. The man who chose humanity over greed every single time until you chose to became better for him, just for the chance that heâd keep you around. The man who deserved it all.Â
It should have been you.Â
You cry his name one last time.
It's all going. It's all slipping away and you can't fight for it back and you can't wrap your head around the fact that he isn't coming home, he isn't finding you, he isn't anything anymore. Not warming your bed or your home and holding you during the storms.
He was going to be gone for the rest of your fucking life. And you, you, you you in your misery would have to live and drag your sorry soul day by meagre day until there was nothing left to run on. There would be nothing without him. You would go home the same angry, bitter, callous wretched mess you were when you'd arrived a week ago.
This time drowning in the waters of loss and guilt.
The guard all but throws you onto the floor and you shatter before them in tears and wails. The doors are almost closed- you'll never see him again. This was the end.
A winner of riches. A loser in everything else. So much to have lost for such a pointless, pointless gain.
You wished you had died with him. You wished you had died right there at his side, tucked into his arms. Now you're going to miss him for the rest of your life. Chase him in the colors of the sky, hear him in the whispering breezes, always just barely out of touch. You'd see him in the pouring rain and feel the ghost of his arms wrapped around you your fitful sleep.
The echoes of your cries would haunt every hallway, every room of that building long after they'd peeled you from the floor and sent you back to wherever the fuck you came from. All alone.
A hefty bank account. Nothing worthy to spend it on.
Your bed would never feel full enough again. Your heart would never mend. You would never stop longing for him. Searching for him, searching for the parts of yourself lying deceased and melting away in blood and rain beside him.
You should have died there with him.
You did die there with him.
The rain stops just as the doors slam shut.
39 notes
¡
View notes