#an imperfect understanding of both but still

[itsnesss]

Anthony and Lawrence reader first time and getting caught by the dads

𝐢𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐞 | anthony larusso × fem!reader

summary | the request

warnings | lawrence!reader, intimacy (implicit/not overly graphic), first time, strong language, family tension and awkward situations

word count | 1.9 k

author's note | it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me, thanks ᡣ𐭩

You never imagined that your life would turn into a series of unfortunate events in a single night. What started as a special moment ended in the worst possible scenario: trapped, naked, and under the gaze of two of the most terrifying men in the Valley. But to understand how you got here, we have to go back a few hours.

Anthony Larusso had never been someone who caught your attention. To you, he had always been "Daniel Larusso's younger son," the kid who used to be a nuisance and who, years later, had changed. He was no longer the annoying child who got into trouble for fun; now, he was someone you shared jokes, movies, and, to your surprise, feelings with.

There was something about his awkwardness that you found charming. Even though you were the daughter of Johnny Lawrence, a man who preached "Strike first, strike hard, no mercy," you found something different in Anthony: sweetness, patience, and a contagious laugh that managed to disarm you.

It was an impulse. A moment when the two of you were alone in his room, the dim light casting soft shadows, and a movie playing in the background that neither of you was paying attention to. You didn't know who made the first move, but before you could stop to think, you were already kissing him. And then, the kiss turned into something more.

"Are you sure you want this?" Anthony asked, his voice a little shaky, his dark eyes filled with nerves.

You could have backed out. You could have thought about the consequences. But at that moment, there was only one possible answer.

"Yes."

The outside world disappeared in that instant. There were no pressures, no expectations, just two people learning together, discovering what it meant to give themselves to each other with clumsiness and care. Every touch was a reminder that this was new, but also that they were exactly where they wanted to be.

There were whispers filled with laughter, inevitable blushes, and mistakes that made both of you pause and try again with nervous smiles. But in the midst of it all, there was something undeniable: love in its purest, most innocent, and real form.

When it was over, Anthony was silent for a moment, his arm around your waist as you both caught your breath.

"That was…" he started to say, but then fell silent and let out a small laugh. "I have no idea what to say."

You turned to look at him, finding in his eyes the same gleam of disbelief that you felt in your chest.

"I think it was good," you whispered with a small smile.

"I think so too."

Your fingers were still intertwined with Anthony's as you both lay there, sharing a knowing look. His breathing was steady, but his heart was still pounding beneath your cheek. You couldn't help but smile.

You never imagined this would happen today. Not here, not now. And certainly not like this.

Anthony turned slightly, watching you with a mix of tenderness and wonder. His messy hair fell over his forehead, and you couldn't resist reaching up to push it back.

"Are you okay?" he asked in a whisper, his voice still trembling.

You nodded, feeling a pleasant warmth in your chest.

"Yeah… and you?"

"Yeah," he replied with a goofy smile. "I think so."

You both laughed quietly, unable to believe what had just happened. It had been clumsy, sweet, imperfect in so many ways, but absolutely special. Something that would belong only to the two of you.

Or so you thought.

Just as you were snuggled against Anthony, your heart still racing and a sense of tranquility settling in after the whirlwind of emotions, you heard the worst combination of sounds in human history.

First, the front door opening.

Second, the unmistakable voices of Daniel LaRusso and Johnny Lawrence.

"Thanks for driving me, Johnny," Daniel said. "Amanda and Carmen are out, and I didn’t want to leave Anthony alone for too long."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Johnny replied. "The kid’s probably watching his video games or whatever he does in his free time."

Silence.

Then, the sound of footsteps climbing the stairs.

And then, Anthony's bedroom door bursting open.

"WHAT THE HELL?!" Johnny shouted so loudly you thought the windows might have vibrated.

You had never moved so fast in your life. In the blink of an eye, you were desperately searching for something to cover yourself with while Anthony panicked beside you.

"Dad! I… this isn’t…!"

"Anthony?!" Daniel’s eyes were so wide they looked like they might pop out of his face. "What are you doing with her?! Oh my God! Are you two…?!"

"Oh, for the love of—" Johnny grabbed his head with both hands, his face a mix of horror and fury. "Tell me this isn’t what I think it is!"

"Dad…" you started, hoping to calm him down, but the tone of his voice told you he was in no mood to be soothed.

"Are you telling me I trained you just so you could do THIS in Larusso’s house?!"

"Why is that your problem here?!" you shouted, feeling both offended and in a situation so ridiculous that you almost wanted to laugh.

"Because it’s Larusso’s kid!" Johnny pointed at Anthony, who was still trying to wrap himself better in the sheet, looking like he wanted to disappear. "Anyone else, but not one of them!"

"Hey!" Daniel protested, snapping out of his initial shock. "As if your daughter is some kind of saint!"

"That’s not the point, LaRusso!"

"Of course, it is!"

"No, it’s not!"

Anthony buried his face in his hands and muttered, "I’m going to jump out the window…"

You sighed.

"Dad, listen, this… this wasn’t a mistake. Anthony and I… we like each other."

Johnny looked at you, his face still red with anger.

"That doesn’t make it any better!"

"You can’t stop us from seeing each other," you said, crossing your arms.

"Oh, yes, I can!"

"No, you can’t," Daniel chimed in, looking just as disturbed as Johnny. "Because that would make this even more of a problem."

Johnny glared at him.

"Are you saying I should just accept this?!"

"No!" Daniel looked at Anthony with the same level of indignation. "I’m just as disturbed as you, trust me!"

"Can we talk about this with clothes on?" Anthony asked in a barely audible voice.

Johnny and Daniel shouted at the same time, "NO!"

After half an hour of yelling, threats, and painfully awkward speeches about "responsibility," "maturity," and "impulsive decisions," you finally managed to convince your dad that this wasn’t the end of the world. Daniel, on the other hand, was still in a state of denial, muttering things like, "Amanda’s going to kill me," and "This can’t be happening. My son… my baby."

Anthony, still red with embarrassment, glanced at you after the adults finally calmed down a little.

"Well… that was horrible."

You gave him a small nudge on the arm.

"It could have been worse."

"How?"

"It could have been at my dad’s house."

He was silent for a moment before murmuring, "Yeah, you’re right. Johnny Lawrence would have killed me on the spot."

You couldn’t help but laugh.

[sweaterinsummer]

I feel as though the brilliance of academia is sometimes discounted a little too heavily, especially in the current part of the artistic world which I inhabit. I speak about physics and apply it to my technique or repertory, and thus I am accused of distilling or over-analysing my work. Is my personal practice and artistry not meant to be understandable, even by myself, even though it is my body, mind, and soul partaking in it most intimately? Well, that I do not understand. I use the vocabulary that I have, in the ever-limiting nature of language, and I am told that it is wrong. Please direct me to the correct terminology that makes you feel it how my words make me feel it. To me, universal gravitation is fucking wondrous. An object can be so large that simply existing near another object means that that other object will be pulled into it, orbit it, exist as close to it as it can without being crushed or burned or absorbed. Is that not beautiful? Is that not poetic? You take up so much space that I can't help but be drawn into you. Let me into your life. Help me understand you as closely as I can while still existing in my own miraculous right. The earth orbits the sun. Your warmth, everywhere it touches me, keeps the most microscopic parts of me alive, breathing, growing, changing. Stoichiometry is the balancing of chemical equations. A chemical compound reacts with oxygen and combusts into something different. Every time I inhale, I am irrevocably changed. It’s not always complete. It doesn’t have to be for it to still be incredibly effective. I am so full that my existence constantly alters the atmosphere for my entire life. Is that not incredible? Is the fact that my every heave of my chest changes the world too apathetic for you? Or is it again just the devastating flaw and failure of our inherently human nature to use language, irrationally uncountable expanding-and-deflating dialects of direct and indirect synonym and translation across oceans and generations and histories and lives? Is that why my ‘plus-equals-therefore’ can also mean ‘co-existence is the most incredible coincidence’ to me, but to you it can only mean that I am unreachable? Did I not just tell you that we are always reaching for each other?

[lotus-pear]

whatever happens, please don’t break

[astro-b-o-y-d]

If I say Ford should be allowed to exist as an imperfect victim of abuse without being shamed for falling for that abuse while also being allowed to be viewed as an ass at points, will the fandom flay me alive on both sides?

[slipperywhenwet0o0]

I was watching hotd edits and reading atla fanfics and my brain just exploded

They are variants of each other, their suffering mirrors each other’s

Their awful marriages they were forced into

A royal or high standing family that has some connection to fire, a power or tool they lack

Their one eyed sons who were so kind as children and later grew to be harsh( zuko and todoroki both were able to learn to be kind again and to not lash out or shut down every time they’re upset, Aemond sadly did not learn that)

The absurd amount of blame they get for the way some of their children turned out ( yes they hold some blame, but I’m always hearing about what they did wrong and not hearing nearly enough about what the fathers did wrong, to me those men are primarily to blame; viserys targaryen, ozai and enji todoroki i wish all of you suffered more(ESPECIALLY ENDEAVOR HE DID NOT DESERVES TO JUST LIVE PEACEFULLY HE SHOULD HAVE DIED) Especially because they too were victims and were often doing the best they knew how to do for themselves and their kids even if it wasn’t enough or backfired massively (alicent)

Oh my tragic girllssss

[brynn-lear]

I never got too deep into enstars but there are days where I miss Mama 😔

[desireangel]

Bad Things | Aemond Targaryen

Summary: Aemond is plagued with doubts and seeks refuge in the one place where he is at peace with himself; between his beloved wife's legs.

Pairing: Aemond x fem!reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: MDNI, 18+ only!! this is so in Aemond's thoughts, self doubt, lack of remorse, smut, oral (f receiving), talk of sex, slight breeding kink, Aemond is lost in his head and obsessed with eating his wife out, Aemond may be prince regent of Westeros but he is king of eating pussy, unedited, hmm kinda just porn really - let me know to add anything if need be!

Author's Note: Came home drunk (typos??? potentially. unnecessary droning on??? potentially.) after a couple cocktails and had the urge to erm write. About oral sex specifically, of course. Anywayssss, enjoy (I hope!) - xoxo kisses!!! <3

Masterlist!

Sometimes Aemond let his mind wander to all that could have been and all that could come to be had he only made his decisions differently. He seldom felt regret - never felt as if he would change the things that have led him towards the path of greatness he was on. But what ifs and the memory of failures are as stubborn as a newborn plague and Aemond was just as vulnerable to illness as those whom he revered and those whom he detested. 

It was warm under the light of the setting sun, a kiss on his skin as Aemond rested against the balcony at the window and watched over what he longed to have for himself. If things had been different, at any time and any place, where would he be now?

The thought of living his life without his injury had come to sicken him but it lingered at the back of his mind. Had certain moments taken a different turn, would he still feel the need to drive people to respect him through fear and prove himself worthy at every chance he could find? Aemond swallowed at the thought. And he stood there, looking to the skies as if the clouds could free him from the suffocation of the feelings that had haunted him since the night he lost his eye. 

Feelings of failure, feelings of defeat, feelings of fear and feelings of humiliation. 

Even after meeting you, and understanding that loving you meant different things - things he wasn’t familiar with, things he wasn’t sure he was capable of becoming familiar with - the lingering thought of what if was all consuming.

Aemond could hear you coming seconds before you were beside him. He was thankful you stood by his side, silently and wordlessly as your eyes dragged across his face, analysing what you could of his thoughts from his perfected emotionless expression. Quiet moments like this, where Aemond got lost in his mind grew fewer at each move he made within this war.

But here you both were, silently in each other’s company. Aemond was a passionate lover. But he was also at times a cold and imperfect partner. And some of those times where he retreated into himself, although he had rarely lost control of himself in front of you, left him vexed at your presence.  

Because to Aemond, you were perfect. Frustrating at times but that was often the fault of his own lack of patience and tolerance. You were, at the end of the day, too perfect. He saw your compassion, your empathy, your kindness. And he saw your strength, your wit, your fearsome loyalty.

And here Aemond was, unable to even regret many of the times he acted without any of those perfect things. After the fate that Lucerys had met, Aemond found he could not find it in himself to feel remorse for much else. 

You let your fingers graze along the leather sleeve on his arm, your light touch burning into his skin through the fabric. He closed his eye and kept it closed for minutes of silence that felt like hours before he spoke lowly.

“I have done bad things.”

You sucked in a breath. “Would you be here today if you had not done those things?”

“No, you do not understand me. I cannot bring myself to care for some of the vile things that I have done. That I have caused. I should care, should I not?” 

Releasing a long sigh, you shifted on your feet. Aemond knew that you were different to him. You didn’t agree with many of his actions and decisions but you knew there was nothing you could do except to be there when he needed you. It had taken time to realise you couldn’t change the way he thought, the way he felt, the way he reacted to things - you weren’t sure if you truly, deeply wanted to take on that burden. 

As Aemond grew more honest with you, you had come to realise that when it came down to it he was not a completely good man. But he was good to you and while Aemond saw your strength, you knew you were weak when it came to him. Loyalty and love for your husband burned painfully in your chest no matter his imperfections and you never bothered to try to justify it. 

“Perhaps if I had acted differently, somewhere,” Aemond’s words were rushed, a switch from his normally slow drawl. He would curse himself tomorrow for his moment of weakness but he couldn’t ignore the pit in his stomach. “Then I would not be the way that I am now.”

You stared at him for a moment. His expression was of ice and had you not known him the way that you do, then you would never have noticed the confliction in his eyes. “There is no use-”

“I know there is no use in thinking about what may have been, I know,” Aemond spat. 

“Alright,” you paused. “But you will never know what could have changed. You made your decisions, you were the author of your own fate, Aemond. ‘Tis the way things go - we must face it. What difference would it make if things could have been different? You cannot undo what you have already done.”

Aemond’s jaw ticked and he moved so that his arm hung at your waist. You briefly glanced back inside at the servant who prepared your nightly cup of tea at your bedside. Aemond seldom made a show of your relationship when you weren’t entirely alone. Nevertheless, you didn’t let your mind linger on that fact. 

He gazed down at you, his ocean-strong eye never failing to make your breath hitch and goosebumps to rise on your skin. You were relieved that he seemed to agree with your words. Aemond’s shoulders had lost much of the tension they held and the start of the sweet smile that was shared only with you played on his lips. 

He had to try hard to believe what you had told him. Because here you were, no matter what he did and no matter his lack of conviction, at his side and wrapped around his finger. You were the calming breeze that cooled his heat, you were the shade that gave him relief from the scorching sun and you were the water that flushed the burn from his skin. Aemond was not one to be an emotional man but he knew that he had love for you and your endless, boundless support. And he dreamed of how he would share with you the world that will one day be at his feet. 

“I shall share your bed tonight, my love.” Aemond’s words were as they always have been; smooth with honey but laced with venomous promises. You bit back a smile as he pulled you inside, addicted to whatever venom dripped from his words, from his eye, from him.  “And that shall serve as all the reminder that I need to be sure I have not been so misguided that I have lost my way to no return.” 

When he pressed his nose into the crook of your neck, dragging it along your soft skin, he inhaled deeply. Aemond thought for a moment of how perfect it would be if he could bottle your scent and keep it with him forever. A reminder of the woman for whom he wished he could become a good, honest man. 

Your body felt so familiar to him that it made his mind turn quiet and Aemond could only think of having you closer, closer, closer. And it was never close enough, no matter how hard he squeezed at the flesh of your hips to pull you in, no matter how your breath tickled his skin and  how your eyelashes fluttered against his hair as he dragged his lips over your shoulder and along the side of your neck. 

If there were no roof atop your heads, you would have thought that it rained flames onto the both of you and to relieve the burn of it, you melted into Aemond, pressing yourself further into him and squirming for more as he grabbed at your nightclothes to toss them to the floor. 

You tugged hopelessly at the buckles on his tunic, whining. “Get it off, Aemond.”

Aemond didn’t need to be told a second time because hardly a moment later he was as naked as you were, pushing you until the back of your legs hit the edge of your bed and you fell onto it gently. A strained groan fell from his lips as he let you pull him down with you, holding his face in your hands as he held himself above you with an arm beside your head. You gently removed the leather that covered his glimmering sapphire, sighing contently. 

Admiring Aemond as he was, bare and honest and beautiful had become your favourite way to see him. Without the need to hide any part of himself from you. 

Smirking, he let his lips graze yours softly. It was a stark contrast to the way Aemond’s other hand was roughly grabbing at whatever flesh he could hold, squeezing you and sending shockwaves straight through to your core. 

You could barely get the words out of you. “Kiss me–Gods, kiss me.”

And he did kiss you, his lips desperately clashing against yours with a new kind of vigour. Aemond rarely kissed you with such force, such rage and such raw, unfettered need. But as his teeth knocked against yours, catching your lip in between and drawing blood, he entertained the thought that maybe he did regret something. All of the kisses he never had the chance to give you. 

The air between you was charged with something sharp and electric, a primal energy that clouded your head and had you gasping Aemond’s name at the way he brushed his knuckle against your core. Normally, he would have taken his time with you. But despite the fact that you had the entire night ahead of you, Aemond was rushed and impatient. 

“Always so ready for me,” he murmured, taking in a sharp breath as his fingers rubbed through your slick folds, pulling a soft whine from you. Aemond’s cock twitched at the perfect sound and he ground his hips against the plush of your thigh. He dragged the pads of his fingers teasingly up from the slit of your hole to the hood of your clit, drawing teasing circles so softly you could have been convinced his touch was a figment of your fantasies. 

“Aemond, please-”

He shushed you softly. “Patience, my sweet.”

Aemonds lips, wet on your jaw, travelled down the expanse of your neck and over your collarbones. He nibbled at you, amused at the way you arched and squirmed, replacing his fingers with his cock and sliding it against your clit. When his lips met your nipple he sucked harshly with a flick of his tongue, giving your right breast hardly enough attention before turning to the other. 

It sent shivers down your spine and you were sure Aemond felt you shudder against him when his lips travelled lower, leaving a wet trail down your skin until he was finally just below your naval. Aemond turned his head, his teeth pinching the flesh of your thigh harshly, just above where your thigh curved into your pelvis. You squealed. 

“Hm,” He chuckled darkly, smiling up at you and shaking his head with a deep tsk when your legs instinctively moved to shut. His hands groped at your thighs and pushed them up so that you were folded yet entirely spread in front of him. “I will fuck you with my tongue first. And my fingers. Then I will fuck you with my cock and fill you with my seed, only after I have made you quiver and shake from the pleasure of my mouth on your perfect cunt.”

Aemond’s eye dropped to your sopping cunt and his words coiled in his throat, coming out as a muffled moan. You gasped as he lewdly spat, his head falling downwards in an instant, wave after wave of pleasure stealing the oxygen from your lungs as he sucked on your pussy, tongue weaving across your clit and back down. 

All of the loud doubts that plagued his mind turned into whispers of incoherence the moment his mouth met the velvety skin of your womanhood, Aemond’s favourite place to lose himself when his thoughts became unbearable. The tangy, sweet taste of your arousal pulled a deep growl from his chest and when your hips jerked against his face, he wrapped a strong arm over your hips to hold you in place. 

As Aemond’s tongue dipped into you, his lips latched on the expanse of your cunt, you let out a cry, your hand falling to his hair and pulling hard. Your body was hot with desire, thighs squeezing your husband’s head as he greedily feasted on the most intimate parts of you. He pulled away for one quick second to catch his breath before burying himself in you once again, the obscene smacking sounds of how he relentlessly sucked and lapped at your slit. 

For such vulgar noises, they had become increasingly beautiful. 

“I dream of staying here forever,” Aemond’s words were muffled, difficult to hear over your own whimpers and the movement of his lips on your folds had you bucking to follow his mouth. He hid his grin in your wetness. “I can do no wrong with the taste of you on my tongue.”

The pleasure that Aemond always submerged you was almost becoming overwhelming and you lost the ability to form sentences, muttering and mumbling in response. He could decipher his name, falling for your flushed lips so many times, and his eye flickered up to watch how your body climbed to the highest point of satisfaction where such a sinful act became heavenly. 

You were always beautiful, Aemond thought. But you were at your most beautiful when you came undone for him, lost in the throes of bliss and grasping at him as if you could not live for another second without his touch. He carried you through your orgasm, unrelenting as he greedily devoured every part of your pussy, looking up at you with his darkened eye and shining sapphire, strands of his hair that had come loose sticking to the wetness on his jaw. Aemond relished in the strangled, melodic sounds that you made for him. 

When you jerked away from him with a squeal, so sensitive when the tip of his tongue flicked against your clit that your hips bucked suddenly, Aemond pulled away while chuckling and placing featherlight kisses along your shaking thighs. He watched how your cunt continued to clench around nothing as you came down from your orgasm, the messy mixture of his spit and your arousal glistening under the light from the lamps. 

You let yourself relax into the bedsheets and moved to close your legs, tugging Aemond to meet you for a kiss and giggling when he stopped to quickly wipe your slick from his face. But before your knees could come together, he caught them, settling himself in between and you could feel the steady heat from his hardened cock grazing across the outside of your slit. 

“I think my pretty wife believes she is going to have a restful night,” Aemond teased against your lips, sliding a hand down between your bodies and spreading your folds once again to make way for his fingers. You shuddered against him with a mewl. “You are mistaken, my love, if you believe I will not have you full of my seed by the time I am done making love to you. I am a man of my word, am I not?”

[sensualnoiree]

rising sign observations

Aries Rising Aries Ascendants’ path involves balancing their warrior spirit with mindfulness, learning to approach life’s battles with wisdom and compassion.

Taurus Rising Taurus Rising is learning to open up to change without losing their centeredness, finding beauty in both stillness and transformation.

Gemini Rising Their path encourages the integration of mind and spirit, balancing intellectual pursuits with emotional depth and intuition.

Cancer Rising Cancer Rising’s journey is to balance caregiving with self-care, understanding that their inner peace benefits everyone they care for.

Leo Rising Their spiritual growth involves recognizing their own worth without the need for external admiration, allowing their light to shine genuinely.

Virgo Rising Virgo Rising’s path involves accepting life’s imperfections and finding grace in service to others, understanding that growth is a process, not a destination.

Libra Rising Libra Ascendants are learning to find inner peace within themselves, embracing the fact that true balance starts from within and radiates outward.

Scorpio Rising Scorpio Rising’s journey involves finding the courage to let go and trust in the unknown, knowing that true strength lies in vulnerability and self-awareness.

Sagittarius Rising Their spiritual task involves grounding their expansive nature, recognizing that true growth includes a balance of exploration and commitment.

Capricorn Rising Capricorn Ascendants are learning to honor their inner needs alongside outer goals, embracing vulnerability as an integral part of their journey to true strength.

Aquarius Rising Aquarius Rising’s journey is about balancing intellectual detachment with heartfelt connection, finding harmony between individuality and unity.

Pisces Rising Pisces Ascendants’ path involves grounding their sensitivity, learning that they can be both compassionate and self-protective, allowing their gifts to flourish without self-sacrifice.

follow for more astro insights like this and head on over to @quenysefields or my etsy --> sensualnoiree to grab my new astrology guidebook on reading your own natal chart :)

[acid-ixx]

— masterlist !

finally migrated to another writing app that actually works well for tumblr. i was looking through my drafts, and editing some parts out for chapter 5 pt 2, and found i wrote this. which kind of sums up perfectly how i portray the mc's complex relationship with jason basically being how both of them are mirror relations to each other, parallels, platonic soulmates. i'm not saying he's explicitly the favorite, but rather, like how i portrayed damian's complicated relationship with the reader, jason and all the other members have my unique takes on how they fare with the reader; hope you all can understand this ramble hahaha...

as i've stated in one of my future chapters:

"you're bruce's little pearl, dick's baby bird, tim's perfect muse, damian's blood sibling— and it's all titles that picture you in a light you feel you couldn't quite fit in, glowing sheerly, too brightly with expectations—

but unlike everything else, you were jason's angel, a fallen one; with plucked wings and a shattered halo that gleamed too dimly to be noticed. imperfect, but your mother, too, is now an angel in the afterlife. and you find that, just by a little, you'd rather be seen broken than perfect, if it meant you'd share your mother's image, just by a little.

because i'm still bitter over losing my shortfic i was supposed to post, i suppose i'll spoil you all instead with this one scene for part 2 of chapter 5.

again, i apologize for the long delays, but i'd rather i deliver with something decent than a half-assed fic 😭 i hope my fanfics still excite my readers, despite how long they have to wait/hype it up. do comment on how you guys think the direction of this entire fic will go, and if you all are enjoying it despite the amount of angst the reader has to suffer through.

[minimujina]

wanderer in his season of healing makes me so happy. i love that he is safe enough to become softer again, that he is regaining some of his previously “weak” attributes and finding peace with them. he is becoming measured and introspective, and thinking before he speaks, perhaps a result of both his healing and his melancholy; i think it’s beautiful that he is finally able to safely feel his sadness and process the things that have happened. he is simultaneously finding peace and feeling all the difficult emotions he previously consumed with anger. it is painful, but right.

his sense of humor is still intact, certainly rough around the edges as you’d expect, though much less biting than before. it’s easy to tell that most anything aggressive he says is a front, a front that he is no longer concerned with presenting as absolute truth. perhaps the front is his sense of humor, and his affection is all thinly veiled behind jabs and sour grumbles—he is not willing to divulge the intimate details of that, however, preferring to leave it up to interpretation.

i just think of him and his healing and i feel like if he were to fall in love, it would be such a sweet and gentle and quiet sort of thing, just like his newfound peace. he ponders over many things, brooding by himself as much as he can, though he occasionally allows space for others to brood with him. that, i think, is something unique he may grow in. there are people who cannot tolerate strong emotions in themselves and certainly not in others—but he is the kind of person who can. he is the kind of person you could sit with and exist in your sadness and just be sad, and that’s okay. he’s not offering words of comfort or anything, but he doesn’t need to. anything he’d say would be useless anyways, he knows what it’s like and knows that a presence is enough and existing in your emotions safely is enough. he can appreciate someone who is straightforward about feeling unwell, who doesn’t seek pity, who is alright with sitting in the mud. he will gladly sit with you, then, as long as you don’t expect him to get all mushy about things.

he would do well falling in love quietly, not having to beat around the bush. naturally, pieces would fall into place, and he’d find himself yearning to be in the presence of another in a way he’d never before experienced. he had never really wanted to be around anyone, had never sought out anyone’s presence. but once he has been treated gently, has fallen softly into the arms of a likened soul who has the patience and understanding to touch his rough edges without recoiling, he finds his third space being with this new safe person.

and despite his reluctance to be anything but mysterious and nonchalant, i believe wanderer in his healing season would become quite the romantic. not in the sappy sense, but in the quiet love sense i’ve been talking about. firm and protective, subtle and gentle, almost gentlemanlike if it weren’t for his falsely rotten attitude he enjoyed projecting. romantic in a princely way, in a reverently respectful way, in a grotesquely wholesome way.

only the most chaste touches and kisses; he’s still getting used to affection, and would abhor pda. in private he’s much more open to being touched, because he is safe. if he is not safe, he is deeply conditioned to be conscious of his vulnerabilities, and it’s something that will take a lot of time to override, if even at all. but it’s a massive and beautiful step that he is even willing to receive affection at all, that he would want it from a partner in any amount.

hates eye contact, likes playing with hands. likes tracing veins and creases in skin and freckles and scars; he finds them fascinating, as he has nothing of the sort on his artificial body. one of his unique ways he shows affection is what could be called “studying” you. he likes to brood (with you there; perhaps it could be called parallel brooding) and take your arm and trace all the splotches, imperfections, veins, tendons he can find. he likes to touch more than he likes to be touched i think. perhaps he becomes amusingly selfish in this way. perhaps he is more averse to receiving than giving the affection because his disgust towards himself still lingers. perhaps he still has harmful core beliefs to unlearn.

i think he is full of a love that is strong and quiet, a love that he gives so sparingly, and only in pieces, never all at once. unless, that is, someone comes along and manages to drag it all out like a magnet—his carefully crafted exterior is in pieces, just like that! but oh, once someone is in possession of his love, he begins to know them so intimately, more intimately than he lets on. he so deeply knows who he loves and he knows how to give and to take action and so he does it, silently, for he is adept at perceiving the needs of his loved ones. reading body language and facial expressions is second nature to him at this point; nothing can get past him.

he studies you wordlessly with the expression of a cat who loves and reveres its human, except it’s the kind of cat who believes it owns the human, not the other way around. you’re his responsibility that he has taken on like an extension of himself because he loves you, and you have loved him, and now he hardly wants you out of his sight. his journey of rediscovery and learning self acceptance has been mentally and emotionally arduous, but ever since you came in and made loving him seem so easy, he’s felt much more at peace, and has had the capacity to reflect and process with much more freedom to sincerely feel.

stupid fictional character i hate him i hate him so much he is not real and i hate him

[lotuswish]

˗ˏˋ what loving you feels like to them (pt. 3 - heartslabyul) ♡ .ᐟ

synopsis: have you ever wondered what falling in love feels like for each twisted wonderland boy? this series explores love from their perspective-how their personalities, experiences, and desires shape what loving you means to them.

featured character(s): riddle rosehearts, trey clover, cater diamond, ace trappola, deuce spade.

content warning(s): none.

a/n: what loving you feels like to them might occasionally use the same words, but those words mean something a little different for each of them. it might sound familiar, but it's still their own!

(pt. 1 - scarabia) (pt. 2 - savanaclaw) (pt. 3 - you are here) (pt. 4 - ignihyde) (pt. 5 - pomefiore) (pt. 6 - octavinelle) (pt. 7 - diasomnia)

riddle rosehearts

loving you feels like uncharted territory for riddle rosehearts—an unfamiliar but undeniable pull that challenges everything he thought he knew about himself and the world. it’s unsettling at first, like stepping out of a perfectly ordered garden into a wild, untamed forest. riddle has spent his life living by rules, adhering to structure, and keeping emotions tightly controlled. but loving you doesn’t follow the rules. it doesn’t fit neatly into the framework he’s built for himself. and yet, it feels right in a way that nothing else ever has.

loving you feels like freedom, though he’s reluctant to admit it. for so long, he’s been bound by expectations—those of his mother, his peers, and even his own rigid standards. but when he’s with you, he begins to realize there’s more to life than perfection and discipline. you show him the beauty in imperfection, the joy in spontaneity, and the strength in being vulnerable. it’s both petrifying and exciting to let his walls down, to trust you with the parts of himself he’s always kept hidden.

at first, loving you feels like a struggle—a battle between his need for control and the overwhelming feelings you bring out in him. he overthinks, questions himself, and tries to rationalize emotions that defy logic. but over time, he begins to see that love isn’t something to be mastered or contained; it’s something to be experienced. you teach him that it’s okay to let go, to make mistakes, and to be human. and in doing so, you give him a kind of peace he didn’t know he was missing.

loving you also feels like growth. you challenge him, not by opposing him outright, but by simply being yourself—kind, patient, and unafraid to push back when needed. you help him see the world beyond the rules he’s lived by for so long, showing him that kindness and understanding are just as important as discipline and structure. with you, he feels like he’s becoming the person he was always meant to be—not the perfect son or the flawless student, but riddle, someone who can love and be loved in return.

for riddle, it goes beyond breaking free from his past or discovering joy in the present; it’s the chance to create a future where he can fully embrace his true self, with you by his side. you are his first taste of a world without restrictions, a world filled with warmth, understanding, and connection. loving you feels like learning how to live, truly live, and it’s a lesson he’ll cherish forever.

trey clover

loving you feels like the calm after a summer rain to trey clover—refreshing, soothing, and full of a quiet kind of peace that feels like it was always meant to be. for someone who’s always been the dependable one, the quiet supporter in the background, love feels like finding someone who sees him for more than his reliability. with you, it’s not about what he can give or do for others; it’s about being appreciated for who he is, without the weight of expectations. it’s a gentle, comforting feeling, like coming home after a long day and knowing he’s exactly where he belongs.

to trey, loving you feels natural, like something that was meant to be. he’s not one for dramatic declarations or grand gestures, but his love for you is woven into every little thing he does—remembering how you like your tea, baking your favorite treats when he notices you’ve had a hard day, or simply listening when you need to talk. it’s the small, everyday moments that make up the fabric of his love, each one a reflection of the deep care he feels for you.

at the same time, loving you feels like balance. trey is used to being the caretaker, the one who looks out for others, but with you, it’s different. you remind him that it’s okay to lean on someone else, to let himself be cared for too. your presence in his life is a gentle reminder that he doesn’t always have to be the responsible one, that he can let his guard down and simply be himself. that kind of mutual support is something he’s never experienced before, and it makes his love for you all the more profound.

loving you also feels like discovery. trey is grounded and practical, but you bring out a lighter, more adventurous side of him, encouraging him to step out of his comfort zone and try new things. whether it’s exploring a hobby he never considered or sharing in your own passions, you make him feel like life is full of possibilities he hadn’t thought to explore. it’s not a drastic change, but a gentle shift, like sunlight filtering through the trees, casting everything in a new light.

for trey, loving you feels like the slow, steady rise of dough—something patient, deliberate, and fulfilling. it’s about embracing the small moments, treasuring the quiet joys, and allowing the connection to deepen naturally over time. with you, he feels like he’s found a partner who understands the beauty in simplicity, someone who makes his life sweeter just by being in it. loving you isn’t a whirlwind or a spark—it’s a constant flame, warm and enduring.

cater diamond

loving you feels like contradiction to cater diamond—thrilling and unnerving, freeing and suffocating, all at once. for someone who’s built his life around facades, hiding his true feelings behind smiles and filters, love feels raw and vulnerable in a way he’s never let himself experience before. it’s like standing in front of an open window, the breeze exposing everything he’s tried so hard to keep hidden. it’s exciting, but it’s also a little terrifying, because loving you means letting you see the parts of him he’s not sure are good enough.

to cater, loving you feels like being seen for the first time. he’s used to being everyone’s friend, the guy who’s always fun to be around, but you don’t just see the version of him he presents to the world—you see the cater who gets tired, who feels lonely even in a crowd, who wonders if he’ll ever truly belong. and instead of turning away, you stay. you remind him that he doesn’t have to perform to earn your love, that he’s enough just as he is. it’s a kind of acceptance he’s never dared to hope for, and it makes him love you all the more fiercely.

loving you also feels like a risk, like holding something precious in hands that don’t quite feel steady. cater is so used to keeping people at arm’s length, afraid of the pain that comes when they leave, but with you, he can’t help but pull you closer. it’s scary, how much he cares, because the more he lets you in, the more he fears losing you. but even that fear is worth it, because the time he spends with you makes him feel more alive than he ever thought possible.

at the same time, loving you feels like joy. it’s the kind of happiness that comes from the little things—a shared laugh, a stolen glance, the way you say his name like it’s something special. you bring light to the corners of his heart he didn’t even know were dark, and for someone who’s always chasing fun and excitement, you’re the first person who makes him want to slow down and savor every moment. with you, love isn’t a distraction or a game; it’s real, and it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

for cater, loving you feels like taking off the mask he’s worn for so long and finally breathing freely. it’s messy and imperfect, but it’s also beautiful and real, and he wouldn’t trade it for anything. you are his anchor in a world that often feels fleeting, the one thing that makes him believe in something lasting. loving you is the most frightening and wonderful thing he’s ever known, and it’s a risk he’ll gladly take every single day.

ace trappola

loving you feels like a challenge to ace trappola—one he didn’t realize he wanted to win until he was in the middle of it. love wasn’t something he thought about seriously; to him, it always seemed like one of those cheesy fairytale things other people made a fuss about. but with you, it feels real, and that terrifies him as much as it thrills him. loving you feels like standing on the edge of a cliff, staring down into the unknown, yet grinning because he knows he’ll jump anyway.

to ace, loving you feels like being thrown off balance. he’s so used to keeping things lighthearted, dodging vulnerability with jokes and playful teasing, but you manage to see past all of that. you call him out when he’s being difficult, and instead of pushing you away, it makes him want to try harder. you don’t let him get away with his usual antics, and that’s part of what makes him love you—you’re not afraid to challenge him, to hold your ground, and that earns his respect in a way nothing else can.

loving you also feels like growth. ace is confident, but he’s not used to thinking about someone else’s feelings as much as his own. being with you teaches him to slow down, to consider your perspective, and to realize that love isn’t about winning or being right—it’s about compromise, patience, and effort. it’s not always easy for him, but he finds himself wanting to be better, not because he feels like he has to, but because you make him want to be someone worthy of your love.

at the same time, loving you feels like fun. ace has always had a knack for turning even the most mundane moments into something exciting, and with you, every day feels like an adventure. he loves the way you can banter with him, match his energy, and keep him on his toes. your relationship is full of laughter and lighthearted moments, but beneath it all is a deep connection that he doesn’t take lightly. with you, he feels like he can be himself—flaws, quirks, and all—and that kind of acceptance means more to him than he’ll ever admit out loud.

for ace, loving you feels like drawing a wild card in a hand he thought he’d already figured out, completely changing the game in the best way. it’s a mix of excitement, vulnerability, and the occasional frustration, but it’s also the most rewarding thing he’s ever experienced. you’re his equal, his partner, and his favorite person to annoy in the best possible way. loving you is unpredictable, exhilarating, and a little scary—but to him, it’s absolutely worth it.

deuce spade

loving you feels like redemption to deuce spade—raw, humbling, and deeply transformative. for someone who has spent so much of his life trying to leave his troubled past behind, love feels like proof that he’s on the right path. he feels something deeper than just affection for you—it’s how you make him see himself differently, like he’s capable of more than he ever thought. with you, he feels like he’s becoming the person he’s always wanted to be, someone strong, kind, and worthy of the life he’s trying to build.

to deuce, loving you feels like hope. he’s always been determined to prove himself, but with you, it’s not about proving anything. you don’t judge him for the mistakes he’s made or the parts of himself he’s still working on. instead, you see the potential in him, the good that he’s trying so hard to nurture, and that belief means more to him than he can put into words. you remind him that he’s more than his past, that he’s capable of being someone who deserves love and happiness.

loving you also feels like responsibility, but not in a burdensome way. deuce is fiercely protective by nature, and with you, that instinct is amplified tenfold. he wants to be your support, your rock, the one you can depend on no matter what. it’s not just about protecting you physically—it’s about being there for you emotionally, about making sure you always feel safe, valued, and cared for. it’s a role he takes seriously, and one he’s proud to fulfill.

at the same time, loving you feels like peace. deuce’s life has always been full of energy and turbulence, but with you, he finds a kind of calm he didn’t know he needed. you’re his anchor, the steady presence that keeps him grounded when his emotions threaten to get the better of him. with you, he doesn’t have to constantly push himself to be better—he can just be, and that’s enough. it’s a rare and precious feeling, one he holds onto with everything he has.

for deuce, loving you feels like a second chance. it’s the opportunity to rewrite his story, to be the kind of person who can give and receive love wholeheartedly. it’s not always easy—he’s still learning how to navigate his feelings and express them—but the thought of losing you is what drives him to keep trying. loving you is his greatest motivator and his greatest reward, and he knows he’s lucky to have you in his life. you’re not just his love—you’re his future, his hope, and his reason to keep striving for something better.

congrats on making it to the end! if you enjoyed this, likes, comments, follows, and reblogs are always appreciated—they help motivate me to keep creating and sharing!

[deadsnakey]

𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐘!𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐎 𝐱 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐱 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐎𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐄

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐fluff ೀ Headcanons. . .ᐟ 0.6k wordsᥫ᭡┈─★

༚༅༚˳✿˳.༚༅༚

𝜗℘　It genuinely doesn't matter to them what your insecurity is, even if its something that looks fine to them or never seen, they'll still protest against it because they think you're perfect and a literal goddess dude.

𝜗℘　It's been a few months since you guys have been dating and it's been great, except it's a little difficult sometimes to hide an insecurity of yours, rather its more noticeable to others or not.

𝜗℘　When they find out, which i feel like they find out around the same time because they're both really observing. Theo because he’s an introvert and very intelligent and Mattheo because he really cares about you so he notices the smallest things most times.

𝜗℘　Anyways, when they do find out or have a big suspicion, they find a good time to ask you about it and their gentle and genuinely thoughtful about it and try their best to be gentle with their words.

𝜗℘　They really don't want to trigger you or anything.

𝜗℘　Even if you're good at lying, they'll be able to see right through you. Just tell 'em the truth girlie, there's no point in lying when they've already found out. I think it'll hurt them a little bit if you're so persistent because do you not trust them or sum?

𝜗℘　But if you do open up after a few tries, they'll give you the most comfort and be very understanding. Mattheo will have you between his legs with his arms wrapped around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder listening closely.

𝜗℘　Theo is beside you guys, petting your hair and giving you kisses every now and then, nodding along to what you're saying so you know he's listening and you have both of their full attention.

𝜗℘　Once you're done, they'd tell you how much they love and care about you, they cherish you and shower you with nothing but love. 

𝜗℘　They love all of your flaws and imperfections.

𝜗℘　“Hey, it's okay to feel this way. But, just know, we’re here for you, okay? I know it may be hard for you but please try your best to remember that we’ll be here for you, always. This is a safe place, Okay, sweet girl?” 

𝜗℘　“Even if you think it's not a big deal or you're overreacting, you're not. You're feelings are valid. We're going to try our best to..make you feel like you're beautiful and worthy of love, because you are, Tesoro. we love you.”

𝜗℘　Maybe theres tears, maybe there arent. Theo will wipe your tears with his thumbs if you do end up crying, kiss your eyes gently.

𝜗℘　If youre not crying, then theyd cuddle you for a little while before mattheo runs you a nice bat. Bubbles, your favorite scented candies lit on the sink with a bathbomb on the side for you in case you want to use it. 

𝜗℘　Theyll have everything out for you, theyll even wear the hello kitty matching pajamas you three have together if it makes you happy. (Theo’s keroppi, Mattheo is badz maru, and youre whoever u wanna be.)

𝜗℘　they'll order food of your choice, watch whatever you want and they'll squish you in the middle since you need the comfort tonight. (since mattheo prob sleeps in the middle; he's touch starved man, its bad. really cuddly while sleeping too.)

the request right here!

[blueblossomrose]

OMG pediatrician Riddle 😍 I never thought of this idea but it's just so cute and wonderful 😭 can we have more hcs about this?

Of course 🥺

This post is part of the Twisted Parents Series.

Content: Post-canon, fem!afab!mc, fluffy, MC is mentioned as also being in the medicine area.

Comments and reblogs are very welcome ♡

Riddle's controlling mother expected him to become a doctor. He was resigned to that pre-overblot, and post-overblot, when he started thinking more for himself, he thought about being a lawyer.

Something related to laws seemed perfect for him indeed, until in a conversation with MC, he realized how calm he was around children.

He and MC were still in the early stages of their dating, and the day before MC had asked him for help with a social project she was participating in. This project involved children.

MC noticed how good Riddle was with children. This was a surprise even to him, personally.

After that it didn't take long for Riddle to realize that he liked being around children.

Like, they were so genuine and sweet. Yes, they could be quite demanding and stressful at times, but nothing a serious conversation and a lot of patience couldn't solve.

Riddle soon realized that he could easily convince children by speaking softly into a conversation they could understand (sometimes offering them some candy can also help).

He feels calmer around children. Those excited smiles, those hysterical little screams of joy, the sound of little feet and shoes hitting the floor, the words coming out fast, jumbled or wrong. It's all so imperfect, but so honest at the same time...

He doesn't feel like he needs to be 100% perfect around them. And this is pure gold for him.

He already knew the basics of medicine because of his parents, and after taking care of the children, he became curious about the profession.

He took a course to see if he really liked it, and when he discovered this new passion, he dedicated himself completely.

He is an excellent pediatrician, as if they could expect nothing less from him.

The children love him as much as he loves them. They all want to see the Dr. Rosehearts.

He is kind and calm, very professional. Both children and parents feel at ease in his office.

He's the kind of doctor who gives them candy if they behave after the appointment.

Even for those parents who are visibly controlling? He secretly gives the child the candy.

This is reflected in his own relationship with his children.

He is a very calm dad. Calmer than you might imagine. He tries with all his might to avoid screaming.

Sometimes a scream or two ends up escaping, but it's very difficult for him to shout.

His daughter is afraid of injections, and most of the time he is the one who gives them. When she was a child it was especially difficult, he even cried with her.

He usually works with a specific age range of 9 to 17 years old before he had children, so it was all very new to him. He began working more with babies/toddlers after the birth of his children and excelled in that area as well, as expected from him.

[doctorho]

Constellations

hiii guys!! i got this ask about the idea of Viktor with a reader who has some visible moles and Viktor gets...curious. About the possibility of there being more of them. so then i wrote this. 2k(ish) words, gender neutral reader, no warnings. alcohol mentioned but only in like a "there's a party and viktor has a cocktail" type of way, no heavy drinking involved. i like writing the fancy academy parties, what can i say. here you go!!

Viktor is nothing if not curious. And – well. Observant. It comes with the territory of navigating life in Piltover as a Zaunite, and doubly so as a disabled Zaunite that was now a semi-public figure deeply involved in the businesses and inner workings of Piltover. 

Being observant was useful, both when working on uncovering the still-veiled mysteries of the universe and when keeping track of social exchanges at formal events. It was as much a carefully wielded tool as it was a well-honed survival skill, developed over the years as someone on the sidelines. 

And being curious – well. That was just a deep-rooted facet of Viktor's existence. The day he'd stop wanting to look at the world just a bit more closely, to understand it a bit more deeply, to turn over one more problem, that would be the day that he'd stop breathing. That was just how he was. 

It's what landed him a place at the Academy in the first place, and it's what kept him going. 

It's also what's landed him in the current mess that he was in. 

(It was, truth be told, what landed him in most of the messes he found himself in. Well, that, or his rather exploratory problem solving habits, but what was a little trial and error without some error? Besides, if you were going to fail at something, it was best to fail fast and hard, as efficiently as possible, for the best results). 

This, however? This was different. This was a mess he hadn't anticipated. 

See, he's - he's at the lab most days. He doesn’t exactly seek out social gatherings, unless presented with a very intriguing premise. He's not anti-social, per se, but he simply stays out of other people's business when he can, he focuses on his work, and that's that. But then – then. 

Then you off-handedly mention that even though most of the people of Piltover seemed to think of moles and freckles as flaws, as imperfections, you were trying to think of yours as the unique markings that they were, but it was difficult to ignore the external pressure to always be on the lookout for another flaw to feel self-conscious over. And then you're turning your arm in the air slowly, examining in the late afternoon light in front of the window at the lab, and Viktor's noticed the moles scattered over your skin before, of course, he's noticed them the same way he's noticed the swirls of ice crystals forming in the windows and the specs of dust glittering in a sunbeam on the floor – the moles are exactly what you say they are, he thinks, unique markings, something that made a person more interesting to look at. And he'd known that the people of Piltover had some...questionable opinions on beauty standards, on imperfections, but… 

Viktor didn't agree with them. 

“Would you consider the stars in the night sky as imperfections?” he asks, lowering the soldering iron he'd been holding, scraping down excess solder residue onto the pad under the heating station, and slowly turning to look at you with a carefully raised eyebrow when you don't immediately respond. 

“That's not really the same thing, is it.” You answer eventually, leaning back on your chair. 

“Isn't it?” 

“I don't illuminate anything, for one.”

“Details,” he counters, with a wave of his hand, then reaches into one of the drawers on his desk to retrieve pliers. “Besides, the sky is often pictured with inverted colors for convenience. With the stars as dark dots.”  

“Really?”

He hums in answer, leaning back over his project, holding his newly formed connection up to his eye level, inspecting it. 

“Huh,” you answer, lifting your arm over to the fading sunlight again. “Yeah, you could probably make a few constellations out of these.” 

And Viktor makes the mistake of looking over, because – while he truly had meant his analogy innocently, as just a supporting honest notion, the golden sunlight is hitting you now and that makes you as luminous as any collection of stars, and he has to force himself to look away before he gets caught staring. He exhales slowly and turns over the piece he was working on, for no particular reason – he already knew the connections were perfect – “Yes,” he agrees, “you probably could.”

He would have no professional explanation for staring, so he turns over the part he was holding one more time. 

This does not mean he won't steal a glance at opportune moments, when you're too busy to notice. Because he is intrigued now, and it's bad enough that he already thought you were beautiful, and worse than that, interesting to look at, and really, that was it. He was doomed. Done for. Utterly, irrevocably hooked, and what else was he supposed to do? Not be curious about this new aspect presented to him? Yeah, not likely. If he'd do that, he wouldn't be Viktor. 

He knew he'd wanted to get closer to you before, to touch you, he'd just…ignored it for convenience, shelved it under figure out later - too complicated for now.

The feeling seemed to have grown in hibernation. 

The metaphor stays in his mind, whirring in the background as he tries to go on with his day. But he keeps noticing it, noticing you, getting stuck watching the little specks on your skin disappear up your sleeves and into the collar of your overshirt, and he is itching to know what kind of constellations he could trace out of them. 

And then– then, the days just keep piling up on top of each other and Viktor keeps stealing glances and having annoyingly, frustratingly vague dreams about removed shirts and whispered sighs and too-light touches, and he keeps showing up to the lab pretending everything was normal and fine and totally under perfect control, all business as usual over on his side. Did the new shipment arrive already?

And then the Academic Year's Open Ceremony comes around, and Viktor did not account for the non-Academy-issued outfit that you would be wearing, even though he probably should have expected it. But foresight was not one of his talents, so when he'd agreed to go, he had not thought about the low lights and deep-cut necklines and what the champagne buzz in his head would do to his self-control. To the rational thinking that was usually his lifeline. To his imagination.

Now that was all he could think about. 

There was a champagne flute in one of his hands, and the other was gripping the handle of his cane slightly too hard. It would make his joints ache soon, but that would be a problem for future him. Perhaps even a nice little distraction from the torture of watching you in your glamorous getup, smiling and talking with someone, while he was merely pretending to be listening to the conversation he was in. 

Viktor nods at what he thinks are the correct moments (or at least, close enough), but his eyes remain glued to where you were standing. 

He hadn't seen you in clothes that revealing before, and he was taking this as a free research opportunity. His eyes trace over your skin, mapping the new-to-him pattern of moles and freckles, and something greedy at the bottom of his stomach wants to trace them with his fingers, too. And he knows that's inappropriate, especially while someone was lecturing him about the future of the Academy, but honestly, he didn't care. His train of thought was currently only about one heartbeat long, and the thing purring at the bottom of his stomach was getting louder, hungrier, needier, it was crawling up his spine, up the back of his neck, making him feel breathless, and he has to close his eyes just to re-calibrate his brain and breathe. 

He could not fathom how the Piltovians could see such marks as imperfections. They were like art, and Viktor would much rather spend his time looking at something interesting than something over-polished any day.

With the patterns he can see on your skin, he has theories about what must be on the parts he can't see, and he likes it. Not so much that he wouldn't like to make sure of his theories one way or the other – he was flexible, and open to being proved wrong, more than willing to gather more information on this. He takes a sip of his drink and his fingers flex over the handle of his cane and he exhales a tense sigh, and forces himself to look at his supposed conversation partner for a moment again as you lean your head back in a sparkling laugh. 

Torture. It was torture, pure and simple. Honey-thick and sweet as molasses, but torture all the same. 

Your skin glistens in the low golden lights of the party, and Viktor stares. You cleaned up nicely, and nothing about your outfit was inappropriate in itself, but his imagination was more than enough to change that. And he is aching to somehow warp the situation so that it was just you and him and just enough of the golden light to see by. The champagne could stay, and the music, but the band was on thin ice - they would have to be in a different room and preferably on the other side of a locked door. Viktor didn't appreciate interruptions, even in his imagination. He didn't like most of the people attending the party on a good day, and he definitely didn't like them now.

He takes a breath, fixes his posture, and takes another breath. Reminds himself of the reality he was in; the role he was playing. Five-year-plan. Yes. The Academy was getting a research grant from the Council. How nice.

The longer the night stretches on, the more his restraint stretches with it, and it was starting to wear thin. The reasoning he'd done with himself earlier about why he should stay away was starting to feel fickle – convenience? Had that really been his best selling point? What had he been thinking? 

It was itching at the back of his mind, the wrongness of forcing himself to pretend he didn't want to get closer, didn't want to go up and compliment you, to see you smile, to steal the privilege of your company for as long as he could, hopefully for the rest of the night. And currently, he was having a hard time convincing himself that the simplicity and convenience of keeping things how they had been before was worth it.

The sun had set hours ago, and the tall windows were starting to let in starlight, and when he finally gets a moment alone with you, it's while you're looking up at the sky, leaning over at a slightly awkward angle to be able to see as much of the sky as possible. 

He looks at you there for a moment, and takes a slow, deep breath. And then he walks to your side. 

If he was going to fail at this, he was going to fail fast and hard. Efficiently. And hopefully with minimal damage.

"Personally," he says calmly, "I prefer the view out there."

You turn to look at him, and he pretends to be totally casual and cool and collected and not nervous at all.

You look out the window again, and then, hum in agreement. "Unfortunately, I prefer the temperature in here." You answer with a small sigh and a half shrug, and now, Viktor turns to look at you.

Because now, now this was a problem that he had a solution for. 

He hmms in answer, and does a little double check in his head; yes, the upper levels of the building should be empty. The working staff was all here and the students were home. Should be vacant.

Viktor smiles a little. “How fortunate, then,” he says quietly, conspiratorially, “that we have an observatory tower.” 

For a single second, you look surprised. And then you blink, and a smile spreads over your lips. 

He raises an eyebrow. 

“I assume you have the keys?” 

Viktor shrugs nonchalantly. 

You grin and grab his hand, already moving towards the exit. “What are we waiting for, then?”

[endearing-dalliance]

She-Ra PoP vs Arcane S2

Physically disabled character considered inferior by his society, abandoned instead of being helped

Technological genius who benefits from having a partner

Uses technology to improve his health and quality of life

Becomes fundamentally altered by a force outside his control (with Christian and cult references)

And now here's where She-Ra and Arcane's messages diverge: Hordak is consistently supported and loved by his partner throughout his journey. She doesn't let up when he tries to hide his pain from her.

She does NOT tell him that he is wrong to try to "fix" himself and actively helps him do so. She recognizes the validity of how he choses to deal with his condition, which was caused by genetic "imperfections" during the cloning process. But she impresses upon him that he does not deserve the physical pain or mental torment of being a "failure".

Her message was that his imperfections do not limit him or define him. They are a part of life, part of the world, and a part of him, and he is not a failure for having them.

Meanwhile in Arcane, Jayce criticizes Viktor for "wanting to cure what he thought were weaknesses" and specifically mentions his leg and disease. The two things that brought him chronic pain, progressively deteriorating quality of life, and one would ultimately kill him. Also, Viktor never actually expressed that he was ashamed of them. We as the audience are left to assume that's how he feels, because why wouldn't he? What else would a disabled person feel? Not that he is perfectly aware that Piltover's oppression and exploitation of his people likely directly contributed to both those issues. Not that he values himself for his intellect and contributions to Hextech even though society constantly prioritized Jayce. Nope, obviously he feels so bad about it that he tries to turn all of humanity into robots. On top of that, Christian Linke has explicitly said the Hexcore corrupted him and Sky was a manifestation of it manipulating him. So even if he did feel that way before, he's still not at fault for what's been going on.

And I think a key part of this is the mindset of the team who created this show. Was this simply a poorly executed but positive sentiment, or a symptom of ableist bias from a team of 3 able-bodied people? We can harp on Jayce all we want, but ultimately someone designed him this way, and THIS is what I take issue with. Christian also says in the art book explicitly that Viktor fixing his leg and spine make him lose part of his humanity. If this is the logic behind Jayce's monologue, it is NOT positivity. It is a direct shaming of a disabled person's right to choose how they take care of themselves, said by a character who has already violated Viktor's autonomy and wishes, written by a team that equates self-improvement with inferior humanity.

Amanda Overton has repeatedly mentioned she was inspired by She-Ra, which is pretty obvious here. Unfortunately, this isn't the unequivocally positive message she thinks it is, and she missed all the nuance of Entrapta and Hordak's conversations about it. A huge component of why it works in She-Ra is because Entrapta's wisdom comes from her understanding of her own "failures" and "imperfections" due to her autism, and Hordak reciprocates support throughout the show. One of the key members of her development team is an autistic person who provided a realistic view of what an autistic person can be like.

This is two people who understand each other's pain uplifting each other, NOT Entrapta being Hordak's miraculous savior at the 11th hour. Having Jayce need a leg brace for like 5 minutes does not give him ability to understand Viktor's lifelong struggles that were also killing him.

For future seasons, I hope they bring on staff who actually have any idea what they are fucking talking about.

[aventurineswife]

Hear me out, what if HSR men with a reader who's some kinda mimic based monster who's pretending to be human. They're not bad or anything but just suck super bad at hiding the fact they're not human. My only request is Sunday be in the lineup, but anyone else you think would be fun is fairgame :)

To Live is to Pretend

Summary: During the Charmony Festival, Sunday encounters a mysterious individual—you—who is a mimic-based monster pretending to be human. Despite your awkwardness and strange behavior, Sunday sees through your facade and becomes intrigued by your desire to understand humanity. As the two of you spend time together, Sunday acknowledges your efforts and the shared desire for joy, even in imperfection. Ultimately, he finds something human in you, despite your differences.

Tags: Sunday x Reader, Mimic Monster!Reader, Emotional Exploration, Humanity, Fluff.

The glow of the Charmony Festival filled the streets of Penacony with music and laughter, as delicate as the wings of the butterflies flitting through the air. Among the throngs of joyous attendees stood Sunday, his piercing eyes scanning the crowd. His presence exuded a calm authority, every step deliberate, his voice a melody when he spoke. He lived for this—a moment where humanity could forget its struggles, even for a while. But he wasn’t here to simply bask in the celebration. His mind never truly rested.

And you...you were part of his latest dilemma.

Sunday’s sharp eyes had seen many things in his life, yet he could hardly make sense of you. Your smile was too wide at times, your laughter half a second too delayed. The way you moved—a little too fluid, a little too precise—made even the most distracted observer notice something...off. And your hunger. That was a beast of its own. It wasn't human hunger. It was a gnawing, endless craving for sustenance that wasn’t food. Something primal. You hid it, but not well.

Yet you were kind, earnest, and oddly endearing in your awkwardness. Sunday couldn't decide whether you were utterly harmless or an enigma with secrets darker than you let on. He had invited you here today to learn the truth.

“Doesn’t it feel alive?” you asked, looking up at the floating lanterns dotting the evening sky. Your voice wavered slightly, as though calibrating itself to match the tones around you.

Sunday tilted his head. “Alive? How do you mean?”

“They’re like...tiny creatures, glowing, free. Like they’re whispering to the stars.” you explained, your fingers twitching nervously as though rehearsing what a human would do. It was clear you were trying to fit in, but every gesture felt off, as if an artist had painted you from memory rather than reality.

Sunday’s eyes lingered on your face, the halo behind him casting soft light. “You see the beauty of it all, even in ways others don’t.” There was no accusation in his tone, only curiosity. “You’re not quite like anyone else, are you?”

Your movements stilled entirely, an unnatural freeze in the midst of your nervous shifting. “W-What do you mean?” The way your voice crackled betrayed your panic.

“I mean exactly what I said,” Sunday replied, taking a step closer. He loomed, but his presence wasn’t threatening—it was grounding, as though even the world’s chaos would fall silent before him. “You’re different, but difference isn’t a crime. Though I wonder, what is it you truly want?”

Your shoulders slumped, the pretense you’d worked so hard to maintain unraveling before him. “I-I’m not trying to hurt anyone,” you said quickly, stumbling over the words. “I just...I wanted to see what it’s like. To live. To feel.”

Sunday’s expression softened, though his eyes remained sharp. “And this...you mean this festival? Or this world?”

You hesitated. “Both. Humans. I think you call it ‘being human.’ I...I thought I’d try it out.” You chuckled, the sound awkward and hollow. “I’m...not great at it, huh?”

“No,” Sunday said, though the word wasn’t cruel. “But that’s not a failing—it’s an effort. Tell me, do you find joy in pretending?”

The question was so gentle that it made your chest ache. “I don’t know if it’s pretending,” you admitted, your voice quieter now. “It’s...wanting. I want to understand. To belong. But it’s hard.”

Sunday studied you for a long moment, his gaze weighing far more than it should. Then he smiled. “Perhaps you’re closer to human than you think.”

Your head tilted instinctively, mimicry of curiosity despite the genuine confusion you felt. “What do you mean?”

“You desire, you strive, and you falter. You want joy but fear pain. It’s the same for them all,” Sunday said, gesturing to the crowds. “Perhaps the only difference is that you know you’re not one of them. Most don’t even see that much.”

As the festival carried on, Sunday remained by your side, the only one who seemed unfazed by your oddities. For the first time, you felt as though someone truly saw you. Not your disguise, not the gaps in your humanity—just you.

And for reasons you didn’t quite understand, you hoped he’d stay.