#so you are doomed from the start....................... | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

soobnara · 2 days ago

Text

like clockwork / c.sb

soobin x reader

summary: in a world where love is given an expiration date, you find your forever home in an unexpected place.

word count: 10.1k

tags: soulmate!au, best friends to lovers, mostly romance + fluff, fake dating if you squint, reader is afab w/ gender neutral pronouns + fem terms (noona) used

author's note: finally got around to finishing this... it's been a long while coming and i couldn't get myself to write for various reasons and i'm so happy it's all done and out there! (also for any black mirror fans out there, yes this is loosely based on the 'hang the dj' episode but way more lighthearted and with a dash of soulmate brainrot) hope you enjoy and wishing everyone a wonderful holiday season <3

For as long as Soobin can remember, he’s been counting down the days.

To summer vacation, to the end of his shift at his part time job, to the start of a long awaited trip, to anything. But there’s something else that counts down on his behalf, something that he doesn’t particularly want to count.

That something is inlaid in a nondescript watch wrapped around his wrist. Everyone gets one once they turn 18, and as far as he’s concerned, its only purpose is to ruin relationships. The cruel hands of time assign a “best by” date to each romantic encounter, flashing on the screen from the first meeting, with each failure promising to lead the user closer and closer to their fated lover. If you ask Soobin, it’s all bullshit. How would a stupid watch know anything about fate, anyways?

It’s a typical Thursday night, and Soobin’s mindlessly scrolling through Time to Love, the government mandated dating app that all phones come with, as per usual when he can’t decide on something to watch. He has yet to meet the weekly two date quota, having only gone on one on Tuesday (important to note that he’s already forgotten his name), and he’s running out of time, and he really can’t afford to pay that 100,000 won fine this week. Well, he can’t afford to pay it at any point in time, but this week’s been especially rough on him, and he doesn’t want to shell out any more of his meager savings just because he couldn’t get a date, of all things.

The names and faces on his phone screen are a blur as his thumb swipes left aimlessly– he doesn’t really give that much of a shit who he ends up with, because at the end of the day, he’ll say “No” when the app asks him if he’d liked them and give them a terrible review saying they were incompatible, because frankly, the algorithm seems to always be wrong when it comes to his matches. Either that, or it’s because he cares so little that he doesn’t bother properly vetting his matches.

He’s resigned himself to his fate anyways; he’ll fill up his progress bar with a bunch of shitty matches until the algorithm decides it’s time for him to settle down, then when he finds his “soulmate” (if you could even call it that), he’ll just be doomed to a loveless arranged marriage set in place by a computer and die unhappy. He can’t envision happiness ever coming out of something so lifeless, so cold, so that’s just how it has to be. At least it gives him something to do instead of rewatching the same three anime series over and over again.

Whatever– he’ll just swipe right on the next person and go on yet another unmemorable date tomorrow. Lee Saerom, the profile reads. She’s exceptionally pretty, he has to admit, and she’s an artist, (and she’s older, but don’t ask him about that) so he’ll just ask her about her work and let her ramble for the allotted two hours while he smiles and nods.

He swipes right, and a bright pink heart pattern fills his screen, signifying a successful match. Obnoxious. It’s replaced with a time and a place, and he lets out a groan. Congratulations! Your date is scheduled for 6pm, at the Coffee Shop. He was supposed to meet you at 7 tomorrow for your usual Friday night updates.

Fuck. What if the date goes on longer than an hour?

He’s never been late for your weekly meetups, but he figures you’ll understand, since it’s completely out of his control.

Surely you won’t kill him, right?

Just in case, he recites a prayer to himself before he tucks in for the night.

You’re already nursing your third vodka soda of the night and Soobin is still nowhere to be found, which is unusual. He’s never been the most punctual person, but standing you up for an hour after your usual meeting time isn’t like him, either. He said he’d be late, but he didn’t specify how late… you’ll grill him later when he explains himself, and you’ll make him buy you a drink or two as compensation. With the comfort of a free drink in mind, you’re about to order your fourth round when Soobin finally stumbles in through the door of the bar, eyes scanning each booth until his gaze lands on you, and with an apologetic smile, he’s sliding into the seat across from you.

He gestures to your glass, brow curled upwards, which you know means he’s teasing you. “What number is this one, noona? You always polish these things off like they’re nothing.”

“This is number three, with number four on the way, and that’s because they are. You owe me at least two for taking so long to get here, asshole.” You let out an indignant huff as you slurp the last of the cocktail through your straw, lips jutting in a comical pout.

“Okay, okay. Next one’s on me.” Soobin relents with an endeared laugh, waving down the waitstaff and ordering a beer for himself, along with another vodka soda for you.

“Okay, now spill.”

“What? Am I supposed to have some hot gossip for you? Don’t make me guess about what drama I’ve somehow found myself in on accident.” He’s visibly confused, brows knitted together, and you roll your eyes at him.

“Obviously the only reason you would ever skip out on your dear noona was if TTL scheduled you for a date during our usual time, so spill. How bad was this one?”

His lips part in understanding, (you can practically see the figurative lightbulb flickering on) head bobbing in an exaggerated nod before pulling his phone out, hand outstretched to show you his date’s profile. “I mean, she was okay, I guess. Pretty girl, and she was older, but she spent the entirety of our time slot babbling about her latest art project and how it’s supposedly going to blow away the industry. Which is fine, I guess, because you know I hate talking on these dates, but if she said “brush technique” and “negative space” one more time I think I would’ve tried to drown myself in my caffe mocha. The app thought so too, I guess, because when we checked our expiration date, it was exactly an hour from the start time, so it’s not like I missed out on my forever soulmate or whatever.”

Each TTL date is scheduled for an arbitrary amount of time, depending on your expiration date, which is determined from the first moment you meet– sometimes it’s just a few minutes, an hour or two, and anything longer than 24 hours is given a two hour time slot maximum. There’s supposedly an extremely rare case where you aren’t given an expiration date from the get go, regardless of your progress, meaning that you’ve found your soulmate by sheer luck, but it’s almost unheard of– most people don’t find their soulmates until they’ve completely filled up their bars, something about needing ample data to calculate optimal compatibility.

You ogle at his phone screen for a bit– she really was stunning– then guffaw at the thought of Soobin nodding halfheartedly, listening to a pretty girl talk his ear off, when most men would probably kill to be in his position. “Damn, if even an older woman that pretty can’t hold your attention, and the app confirms that, you know it’s bad… So, where does that put your progress at? Weren’t you at like, 80% last week?”

Soobin’s face practically scrunches in on itself at your remark, tapping the app once more to check his updated progress bar. “I’m going to ignore that. I’m at… 88% after I reviewed Saerom and that guy from earlier in the week. Guess it wasn’t a total waste if I got 8% closer to completion. What are you at now?”

You lift your phone to open TTL, your progress bar only having inched 2% closer to completion after your date yesterday. “75% now. I think the algorithm is personally fucking me over, or something. My last few matches have been nice enough, but I cannot keep up with their energy. It’s wringing me dry. I must be the only person in the entire world who doesn’t want a golden retriever for a partner. My date yesterday just about knocked me out for good, he was that energetic.”

“Tell me about it,” Soobin commiserates. “I’ve very clearly expressed my distaste for bubbly and talkative people who probably peaked in high school, but that’s all they’re spitting out in my for you page. No offense to them, I don’t think I’ve met any straight up assholes since that one girl back in June, but it’s like the app is purposely recommending the most incompatible people to me– wait, yesterday? And I didn’t hear about this?”

You give him a pointed look, silently conveying that he also didn’t inform you of his date today until ten minutes ago. He gets the message and holds his hands up in defeat, then gestures for you to speak, dimples peeking out as he purses his lips. You sigh, rubbing your temples as you recall the most chaotic two hours of the week, maybe even your life.

“Okay, look… for the record, he was very nice to me, a perfect gentleman, but my god, could that guy talk. He was practically falling at his knees trying to impress me, which would’ve earned him a few points in my book, but his mouth was moving maybe five miles a minute at all times without a moment of rest. It was like watching a child hopped up on sugar, to be honest. He talked for forty whole minutes nonstop about pizza. Don’t even get me started on how passionate he was about his workout routine.”

Your drinks finally come around, and Soobin hands you your frosted glass, which you gratefully take a long sip out of before continuing. “And before you say anything, no, he was nothing like Kai. Also, Kai is literally like my child, and just because I babysat him all those years does not mean I want to date someone like him.”

Soobin parts his lips to respond, then scrunches his nose in distaste as you take the words right of his mouth, opting to down his drink instead. “You’re no fun.”

“But that’s why you love me, right?”

“Sure, noona, sure.”

“That’s it, asshole, you owe me another drink.”

Sunday rolls around, which means you’ve got to start scoping out this week’s dates– you hate leaving anything to the last minute, and you like to leave the end of your week as free as possible (no one is prying your precious rest time from you, not even a beautiful person with the world’s best personality).

Which means you’re mindlessly swiping through a sea of profiles, hoping you find someone that’s at least remotely interesting. You’re prepared for a long night of doom scrolling, but you stop cold in your tracks as you come across a familiar name and face, and a lump forms in your throat.

Choi Soobin.

The algorithm is really fucking with you now. It has to be. You’ve never once even considered your best friend as a potential suitor, not because he isn’t insanely attractive and charming (and funny, and easy to talk to, and…), but because he’s your best friend. You’ve known him for so long, you’ve seen him cry when he couldn’t get the Pokemon card he wanted when he was young enough to need allowance to buy it, and he’s seen you for long enough to know you threw the nastiest toddler tantrums over being denied an ice cream purchase– the point is that you know him a little too well, and you know from experience that that’s not always ideal in romance.

But you have been having terrible luck with your matches for so long, and two hours of Soobin’s undivided attention doesn’t seem so bad, and it would be a good time, at least…

You kick yourself mentally for even thinking of it. He’s your best friend, for god’s sake.

Yet your thumb continues to hover over his profile, quivering as you make the motion to swipe right on him without touching the screen. The guilt and the risk of maybe ruining your friendship forever clearly isn’t enough to stop you from considering him.

The gentle, familiar smile that he’s sporting in his profile picture pierces your heart, and you’re not sure why. Maybe you’ve always had a thing for him unconsciously, maybe you just want someone who actually gets you, maybe you’re just running out of options. Or maybe you’re just tired of chasing after something you know is futile, and you want to take a chance on something, on someone, that might actually be good for you. On someone that you know would be good to you, and for you.

And so, with bated breath, you swipe right.

[Time to Love: Y/N has liked you! Open the app for more details.]

To say Soobin is struck with disbelief would be an understatement. He’s practically gaping at his phone, and he knows you’d be laughing your ass off and making fun of him if you could see him. But it’s precisely that typical flippant attitude of yours that’s got him perplexed about this development.

He’d be lying if he said he’s never once thought of you that way– he’s always thought you were pretty and kind hearted, despite your temper, and you’ve always been there for him, through thick and thin, even when he was being kind of a dick. That definitely counts for something. But he’s never thought about crossing that boundary, because 1) he’s not allowed to pursue anyone he doesn’t match with through the app anyways, and 2) matching with you could make or break your bond forever (he’s leaning towards break, though, because like he said, the watch is bullshit). In short, he’s a fucking coward and a little too cynical for his own good.

But here it is, an opportunity for a date with you, in all its glory, and initiated by you, no less. He should be celebrating, or at least hyped up, because maybe it’ll all work out, maybe this is the solution to all his lukewarm matches over the last few months, but instead he’s downright terrified. There’s absolutely no way that you both come out of this unscathed. There’s no such thing as a perfect forever if it’s decided by a computer. There can’t possibly be a happy ending at the end of this road.

He shakes his head, as if it would clear his head of the panicked thoughts. You’re still his best friend, at the end of the day, he tells himself, and he’s sure that you’ll fight just as hard as he will to keep him in your life. So he holds onto the tiniest sliver of hope that somehow your relationship doesn’t crash and burn spectacularly, opens the app, and swipes right on you.

Congratulations! Your date is scheduled for 3pm, at the Aquarium.

A new notification pops up. Soobin’s heart stirs.

y/n noona: see you tomorrow ♥️

He feels guilty as a wave of excitement washes over him. He shouldn’t be feeling like this. You’re his best friend. His dear noona. He may as well be signing away your friendship for good. But it’d be worse if he didn’t match your enthusiasm.

soob: yup, see you tomorrow noona :]

It’s only 5 minutes past the scheduled meeting time, and already Soobin’s panicking that you’ve changed your mind and cancelled on him, writing this off as a mistake. He’s trying his very best to remain nonchalant, it’s just a date with his best friend, who he might have a sapling of a crush on, no big deal, right? Or maybe it is for the best if you cancel, then he’d have one less crippling fear to worry about.

He’s rethinking his outfit for the umpteenth time– he didn’t want to look like he was trying too hard, not in front of you because you’d probably think it was silly, but he also doesn’t want you thinking he shows up to dates looking like a slob. (For the record, he thinks he’s got a decent sense of fashion. He’s better than Kai, at least, though that isn’t saying much.) He’s internally debating if he should’ve gone with the navy polo shirt instead of the grey cardigan draped over his shoulders, or if he should’ve gone with the black slacks instead of the light wash jeans, but his jumbled thoughts dissipate as you tap on his shoulder, shit-eating grin and all.

“What’s with you, Soob? You look like the fate of the universe depends on you, and you only have 5 minutes to save all of humanity.” You tease, nudging your shoulder against his. Oh, if only you knew what was really weighing on him.

He has half a mind to swat your shoulder, but he’s a little too aware that the two of you are supposed to be on a date, so instead he shoves his hands into his pockets. To his surprise, you’re more dressed up than usual, (he’s used to seeing you exclusively in oversized hoodies) and– wait, you two are practically matching, from the grey cardigan, light wash jeans, all the way down to the white sneakers. The only difference is that you’ve buttoned up your cardigan so that it functions more as a blouse, but you two clearly have definitely mastered the art of accidental couple looks.

“Okay, awkward… one of us has to change.” He teases in an attempt to ease his own racing mind, dimples peeking out as he stifles a laugh. You let out an indignant huff, pushing his massive frame with no success. He doesn’t even budge.

“Not my fault that you’re trying to steal my look. I wore it better, by the way,” You retort, but truth be told, you’re reeling at the sight of him. You’ve only ever seen him in his stuffy work attire and the worn-out, faded shirts he refuses to throw out, and seeing him in a comparably softer, more preppy look is making you see him with new eyes.

You shake your head, as if doing so will reset your perspective to factory settings and make you see him as just your best friend again. (spoiler alert: it doesn’t. Soobin is still handsome and he looks very cute, and you’re still very much affected by it.) “Okay, so. First things first. Should we check our apps? To see if, like, we’re compatible, or I don’t know.” Your voice is stiff, like you’re buffering, and you don’t think you’ve ever been this awkward around Soobin, at least not since the day you met.

Soobin turns up his nose in disagreement and covers his watch screen and yours. “Nah, that’s bullshit. It’s already all decided, isn’t it? It’s been decided from the second we stepped into the aquarium. No point in checking now, we should decide for ourselves if this is something we want to pursue, instead of letting some computer dictate that. When it’s over, it’s over, and we can just go back to being friends, right?”

“Well, I think it’s probably better to know when to give this a rest, instead of constantly wondering if my best friend is set to be my long-term romantic partner, or whatever.” You had a point. But a part of Soobin didn’t feel ready to face the fact that you might not want to see him again like this. A much smaller part of him is still fearful that you two might not be able to turn back from this.

“Okay, okay, fine. We can check it–but not now. If we make it to a third date, then we can check how long we have. But you have to be honest and not touch it whatsoever.” Soobin doesn’t make any move to mention that he isn’t interested in seeing you again, but you don’t want to just assume that he’s into you, so you test the waters.

“Okay, I promise to be honest. But why the third date? Are you really that keen on seeing me?” You’re trying to be teasing, but you feel more desperate than anything.

Soobin doesn’t answer for a moment, and you think that you’ve said the wrong thing. Just as you’re about to apologize, he replies, “If we make it to a third date… then I’ll know whether we’re actually giving this a proper shot and not just for shits and giggles or as an escape from our other failed connections.”

His sincerity both surprises and flatters you, and you can’t tell if you’re supposed to be frozen in shock or hugging him, or a secret third thing, so you just stay still, absently fiddling with your fingers.

When you look up again, Soobin’s holding out his hand, and you look at him with obvious confusion. Rolling his eyes, he takes your hand in his, lips pursed into a thin line. You want to make some clever jab at him, but his hands are warm and soft and they practically swallow up your much smaller ones, and you’re filled with a wash of emotions so intense that you can’t muster up the strength to retort.

Soobin notices that you’re still visibly perplexed, and he mutters. “We’re on a date, you know. We’ve got to act the part.” It’s a half truth at best; he does want to give this date a proper chance, but selfishly, he really just wants to hold your hand for two hours. If you catch onto his white lie, you don’t show it, but he doesn’t miss the rosy hue that colors your cheeks as you nod.

He’s right, you think– it is a date, and you’re the one who swiped on him first, so the least you can do is treat him like a possible suitor and not just your best friend. He deserves that much, at least, and you need to know whether this bundle of butterflies in your stomach is a passing feeling or a dull ache you’ve forgotten about, so you let him lead you into the dimly lit array of fish tanks.

You’re noticing a lot of things about Soobin.

You notice that Soobin’s eyes practically twinkle when he gets excited. It’s never been something you’ve taken note of, but you can’t help but notice it now, every time he points out a species of fish he recognizes. It’s cute. You’re not sure if you’re supposed to find your best friend cute, but you do.

You notice how his comically long fingers slot in between yours, and you’re really starting to like how it feels, though you’d die of embarrassment if you admitted as much.

Not to mention he’s an absolutely perfect gentleman. He’s constantly asking you if you want something to eat, if you’re tired, if you’re cold, and you let him know that you’re fine each time. When you accidentally pull apart your shoelaces, he’s quick to kneel down and tie them up for you. When he stops to grab himself a bottle of juice, he offers one to you, too.

Had Soobin always been this pretty? So cute? And so sweet? How had you never taken notice of him like this all these years? (You know the answer to that, but you’re still surprised at what you’re noticing nonetheless.)

Soobin catches you staring at him while you’re both supposed to be looking at a school of clownfish, and you expect him to make some egotistical joke at your expense, but instead he gives you a warm smile, eyes crinkling into crescents, and god dammit to hell, you melt.

The two hours pass by like nothing, and unlike your past few dates, you’re dreading the end of it, and you wish that the beep signifying it’s over would never come. To your disappointment, he releases your hand as you approach the entrance, and your hand is already missing his warmth. You turn to face him; well, not really, because you can’t bear to make eye contact with him, not when you spent the better part of two hours shamelessly ogling at him.

His voice cuts in between the thoughts rattling around in your head, and he sounds so apprehensive that it worries you. “Can I ask you something? No, wait, can you promise me something?”

You know how seriously Soobin takes his promises, so you’re a little scared for what he’s going to say next, but you nod anyway.

“Promise me that if this doesn’t work out, we’ll still be friends. Please.” The last word is so quiet that you almost miss it, and when you finally muster the courage to meet his gaze, he’s giving you a pleading look so earnestly that it breaks your heart a little.

“I promise– no, I pinky promise. We’ll be friends, no matter what.”

Since he was younger, Soobin’s held the belief that pinky promises are binding, and he knows that you know this, so you hold out your pinky, hoping that this can ease whatever worries he has on his mind.

You pinky promised. Soobin knows that it’s your unspoken way of assuring him (you’ve never been the most verbally affectionate, anyways), a quiet way of letting him know that he means just as much to you as you do to him. He links pinkies with you to seal the promise, feeling just a little bit lighter as you both make your way to the subway station together, shoulders bumping all the while.

Soobin just really, really hopes that you’ll be able to keep that promise.

[How would you rate your date?]

[★★★★★]

Congratulations! Your next date is scheduled for 8pm tonight, at the Night Market.

You shouldn’t be surprised that your next date with Soobin comes so soon– you still have your weekly quotas to meet, and the app always schedules dates within 24 hours of matching or a positive rating, but truth be told, your surprise is solely because you just don’t know how to face him. You two had made that pinky promise to stay friends regardless of the circumstances, but you’d also resolved to treat him like a potential suitor while you two are seeing each other, so where does that leave you?

Well, it leaves you in front of the closet with no idea what to wear. You want to look good (for Soobin, but you’re in denial at the moment), but it’s just a night market, and you know you’ll never hear the end of it if Soobin catches on that you went through lengths just to impress him.

Speaking of the devil, your phone flickers on to reveal a text from him, and you scoff as you scan its contents.

soob: so i hear you enjoyed our date

y/n noona: ignoring that. anyways

y/n noona: what’s the deal for tonight

y/n noona: i need to know asap

soob: aw, noona, do you want to see me again that badly? i’m excited, see you later tonight ♥️

y/n noona: shut up, you clearly want to see me again too. don’t be late or i’m stealing your wallet later

y/n noona: i'm asking what’s the dress code, are we matching again :p

soob: i mean, if you insist… 🙄 i knew you wanted me

y/n noona: nvm you’re getting me in a hoodie and my raggedy sweats with the hole in the knee, fuck you

soob: no no i take it back i’m sorry

y/n noona: ok fine you get spared just this once

y/n noona: [IMG_3687.jpg]

y/n noona: final outfit check. if we’re going to be matching it will be your decision so choose wisely

soob: wait that’s not fair

soob: noona come back

soob: DON’T LEAVE ME HANGING LIKE THIS

[y/n noona has “Liked” your message]

soob: you are so mean to me

You let out a sigh of relief you didn’t know you were holding when Soobin arrives, clad in a blue flannel that’s nearly identical to yours, black tee, beige cargos, and a black shoulder bag. You’d been hoping he would follow through, and there’s a small surge of pride at how you’ll be walking around the market, hand in hand, in matching outfits, but there’s something you hadn’t been counting on.

He’s wearing his glasses.

You’ve always known that Soobin doesn’t have the best eyesight (he’s constantly squinting to see things, but so do you), but now that you’re seeing him in a new light, his usual black frames are suddenly the most attractive thing in the world, and you may as well be holding a neon sign that blares “I HEART NERDS” for him to see.

You make a painfully pathetic attempt to mask your delight by waving at him with a grin, and thankfully Soobin doesn’t notice, or if he does, he doesn’t make any show of it, and instead he simply salutes at you with two fingers and cracks a grin. As he sidles up to you, his large hand slips into yours with a little too much ease, fingers immediately interlocking with yours, and it sends your head into a frenzy all over again. As if he’s aware that your mind is going haywire, Soobin leans down towards you, and for a second you think he’s going to kiss you.

You’re frantically trying to make some motion to stop him, it’s so sudden and your cheeks are way too hot now, and he’s way too close, and your damn arms won’t budge–

“I hope you came ready to eat. I came armed with a fuck load of cash because I am going to stuff myself silly with food, and I am not getting turned away by the ‘cash only’ booths.” There’s a fire of determination in Soobin’s eyes, paired with a wide grin, and you don’t know whether to be concerned for him or for yourself, but nonetheless, you’re a little relieved that you completely misread the situation. Before you can say anything in response, though, he’s dragging you towards the sweeping lines of booths, already making a beeline for some takoyaki.

The tray full of octopus balls in Soobin’s hands is steaming and they smell absolutely mouthwatering, and, in true Soobin fashion, he gets over excited and tries to pop the entire thing in his mouth in one go. He immediately regrets it, of course, because immediately he’s whining over the fact that his tongue is now most definitely burnt and numb from the piping hot orb of batter he’d just tried to scarf down. You might be finding him insanely attractive now, but he’s still as clumsy as ever, and you can’t stifle the laughter that bubbles in your throat at the sight.

“Dumbass… you should know damn well that you shouldn’t put a whole takoyaki in your mouth like that.” You tease, snickering as he fans his tongue once he swallows.

“Shut up! I couldn’t help myself!” He lets out a childish huff, stuffing another ball into his mouth with a comically exaggerated pout, and consequently huffing and puffing at the heat that blooms in his mouth once more. The whole display is undeniably adorable, and it takes all of the willpower you have to resist the burning desire to squish his cheeks.

The tray of takoyaki is polished off in no time, and a bowl of bingsu, a cup of fish cake soup, two sticks of tanghulu, a plate of sweet rice cakes, an ice cream cone, and a million other things you lost track of follow suit into the bottomless pit that seems to be Soobin’s stomach. He wasn’t kidding when he said he came ready to eat– he’s plowing through the booths like it’s his last meal on Earth. He’s gracious enough to offer you half of his portions, at least, so it’s not like he’s leaving you to starve. (you’d kill him if he did, though.) Once he’s had his fill, his lips curl up into a mischievous grin as he jabs his thumb in the direction of a different section of the market, one filled with countless games: target shooting, beanbag toss, darts– the row of booths seems to stretch on forever.

“Oh, you’re on, Soob. Don’t think I’m going easy on you because we’re on a date.”

“Yeah? Don’t think I’m going easy on you because you’re older.”

Contrary to both of your words, Soobin is absolutely fucking terrible at the beanbag toss, despite his long arms definitely giving him an advantage, and you’re no good at shooting or throwing and aiming at anything, really, so the two of you leave each booth with empty hands, though you’re laughing as if you’ve hit the jackpot.

Even though you two fail spectacularly at every single game they have available, you’re suddenly aware of how much your cheeks hurt. From smiling. From laughing. When was the last time that happened on a date? Or ever, even?

Soobin ventures off on his own while you’re lost in thought, and he returns from his little solo adventure with yet another serving of tanghulu (the third one of the night: strawberry for him, tangerine for you this time). You’re reaching out to grab the sweet from his outstretched hand, when suddenly you jump as loud popping sounds blare overhead. There’s a beat of silence before a flurry of colorful lights blooms in the sky, and your shoulders relax once you realize it’s just fireworks.

You’re admiring the colors and shapes of the fireworks display as you crunch on your tanghulu, and you’re so enraptured you almost miss the feeling of someone’s gaze on you. Almost.

When you turn to confirm your suspicions, you’re right, it’s Soobin who’s staring at you, but he’s staring at you so intently, with such intensity, that you immediately grow flustered– he’s never looked at you like that before– and you’re immensely thankful that the flashes of light in the sky mask the rosy hue that’s surely staining your cheeks. Just when you’re about to swing your head away to focus your attention on the fireworks once more, his hand flies out to cradle your chin in his palm, keeping your gaze fixated on him.

Then he’s closing the distance, slowly but surely, fixated on you all the while to gauge your reaction, and even though you’re frozen in shock, you don’t think you would’ve moved, anyways. Your eyes flutter shut at the last minute, nerves getting the better of you, until his lips brush against yours tentatively, as if he’s hesitating, holding back.

You meet his gaze once more, and neither of you say a word, you just nod in response to the pleading look in his eyes, as if asking your permission. He breaks out into the most beautiful smile, one that you wish you could snap a mental photo of and tuck away in a safe place in your mind, and then he’s kissing you. Actually kissing you.

He kisses you with such fervor, as if he’s been wanting to do this his whole life, and you can’t help the way you practically melt in his hold, pressing yourself against his broad figure. The fireworks display is all but forgotten, the only thing on either of your minds being the way your lips meld into each other, and the way your hands clasp together.

Soobin’s in a daze when you two finally break away for a much-needed breath, and you’re sure you look like you’re in an equally hazy state. For a moment, you two are dead silent, staring at each other, with only the sound of your soft pants and the popping of fireworks in the background to fill the silence.

Soobin is the one who breaks the silence first, smiling sheepishly as he rubs the nape of his neck. “To be honest, I’ve… I’ve been wanting to do that for a while.”

Your eyes are as wide as saucers, and you can feel your jaw go slack in shock. Soobin had been wanting to kiss you. Soobin has thought about kissing you. Your best friend Soobin wanted to kiss you.

“Why didn’t you?” You reply without thinking, but really, you know very well exactly why he’s never done it. He’s your best friend, always has been, and he’d be doing much more than fucking up your friendship by kissing you before you two matched. Naturally, Soobin leaves that question unanswered, posing a question of his own instead.

“What made you match with me?”

“Well…” You don’t know what to say. You don’t want to rattle off a list of qualities that make him desirable– you’re already feeling flustered enough after he kissed you like that, and you’re not looking to inflate his stupid ego or risk being the butt of his teasing. But you want to be honest with him. You don’t want him thinking his suppressed desire has been one-sided all this time.

“I guess I’ve always wondered what it would be like to go on a date with you. We wouldn’t be bored, we would know how to keep each other happy, and understand each other, that kind of thing… and I was a little tired of seeing you go through all those people you didn’t click with, who didn’t get you, especially not the way I did. You know I’ve never liked the people you were seeing, and I was always annoyed by the idiots you dated in high school, and all your stupid matches… I always thought everyone took you for granted, and no one seemed to care about actually getting to know you. I thought I was just looking out for you, caring about you, as your best friend, but maybe I was actually just jealous.”

“Jealous? Really?” He looks so incredulous it embarrasses you that you have to clarify further.

“Yes, jealous… I especially hated what’s-her-name, Hyeji? That one student council girl who dumped you in front of the whole school.”

Soobin grimaces at the mention of her name, and you can’t help the relief you feel at his response. “Ugh, her. Led me on for months because she thought I was cute and then when we started dating she nitpicked every single thing I did, all because I wasn’t the suave drama lead of her dreams and then dumped me because she couldn’t change me. You know she threw away a whole pack of my Pokemon cards because she thought it was ‘too nerdy’?”

“See? This is what I mean. None of your romantic partners actually seem to appreciate you as you are. And so I don’t know, something came over me, and I wanted to see if I could do a good job because I know I appreciate you for who you are and now I’m confused, and I feel like I’ve ruined our friendship forever, and–”

To your relief, Soobin doesn’t laugh– instead he cuts your rambling off with a quick kiss, and it flusters you into silence. “Shh. We promised, remember?”

“I mean, we also promised each other when we were in high school that we’d settle down and raise ten dogs on a farm together.”

Soobin laughs this time. “Yeah, I remember that. But this is a pinky promise, isn’t it? It’s different.”

“You’re right… but it’s scary, you know? Coming to this realization about you, and thinking about you this way, and enjoying it, but also worrying about how we’re going to get out of this after our relationship expires... I don’t want to get too carried away and change our dynamic forever.” You’re chewing the skin off your lower lip nervously (you never did break that habit, so now your lip is bleeding), and, while Soobin’s voice is gentle, you know him well enough to detect the subtle tremor as he speaks.

“I know. But we’ll be okay. We’ll figure it out. I won’t let anything remove you from my life for good. Especially not the watch.” His voice is so low, so quiet, you’d miss it if you weren’t fixated on him, as if he’s trying to convince himself, and you squeeze his hand in what you hope is an admirable attempt at reassuring him. “The app hasn’t told us our connection’s expired yet, so I just really, really want to give this a chance. A proper chance, so I can say I did it before I get matched with my ‘real’ soulmate, or whatever. I don’t want to think about what could have been, especially not with you. I think that’d be worse for us.”

You know exactly what he means. Harboring dormant feelings for your best friend never bodes well, at least not in the movies and the books, so you may as well get this pining out of your system, and let it become a distant memory as soon as possible, if it’s not meant to be. It’s only fair, for both of your futures, and for your friendship. (and though neither of you want to admit it, the thought of not being each other’s soulmates is depressing.)

“Look, Soob… I really want to give this a chance, too. I want to see where it takes us while we’re allowed to. I want to try. It’s scary, it’s fucking terrifying, but you’re my best friend, Soob. I promise you won’t lose me because of some stupid watch. Pinky promise.” You try to keep your voice upbeat as you hold out your pinky towards him, offering a tender smile. He links his pinky with yours, and you can see his frame visibly relax once he does.

You rest your head on his shoulder, pinkies still linked, and silently hope that you’ll be able to uphold your promise to him. You’ve never been any good with breakups. Soobin knows that.

But you’ll be okay with him, right?

He’s your best friend, after all.

[How would you rate your date?]

[★★★★★]

…

Congratulations! Your next date is scheduled for 2pm tomorrow, at the Botanical Gardens.

Soobin decided on his own that he’s picking you up for the third date, and he let you know as much. After last night’s events though, this means that you’re turning your entire closet upside down trying to find the sweet spot for your look today, because your head is jumbled with far too many thoughts, all of them about Soobin. Every outfit you think up is either too dressy, or too casual, or too out there, or too bland, and you have half a mind to reschedule with your mind in the state that it is. Unfortunately for you, Soobin is already on his way, and you’re not the type of asshole to tell him to head back home and forget the whole date, so you just stare at your pile of clothes on the floor, hoping that somehow you’ll be enlightened with the perfect outfit idea and get yourself looking presentable before he comes knocking.

The universe is clearly not on your side, though, because your doorbell rings not even a minute later, and all you’ve picked out is your jeans and you’re still very much topless. You shoot a message to Soobin, thumbs flying frantically as you let him know you’re not quite ready yet– he might be your best friend in the entire world, but you’re not ready for him to see you under your clothes just yet, especially now that you’re properly seeing each other.

You’re still not sure what to wear, but you figure a beige knit sweater should be safe– you won’t look like you’re trying too hard, but you also won’t look like you’re not trying at all. When you swing the door open to finally greet Soobin, your breath quite literally gets taken away, because he trips and almost knocks you over with his lanky frame, but also, he’s breathtaking.

He’s clearly put a lot of thought into his outfit, which is very cute, and he looks absolutely stunning. A sleek black cardigan with white striped accents on the sleeve, a white dress shirt that clearly looks freshly pressed– hell, he’s even wearing a tie– and those godforsaken glasses that have you in a chokehold somehow. You don’t even bother hiding your delight– he’s so beautiful, and you know he needs a little validation after he probably spent hours putting his look together.

He catches you staring wordlessly, and he flushes with embarrassment.“What? Too much? I knew I should have skipped on the tie–” He grumbles, making a move to loosen it, but he’s stopped by your hand over his.

“No. You look great, Soob. Seriously.” You’re not used to being verbally affectionate, especially not with him, but when he looks that sad, like a kicked puppy, you know better than to tease him when he’s unsure of himself. Despite that, you’re still shy as you reassure him. “You look beautiful.”

The way he brightens when he hears your words is almost cartoonish, and this time, you can’t hold back your laughter, which earns a pout from him, which in turn only fuels your laughter further. You appease him by lacing your fingers with his (he’s apparently a lot easier to please than you remember, but maybe that’s your imagination), and he responds by placing a kiss to the back of your hand. The gesture is tender and sweet, and you think about what it’d be like to have Soobin do that to you every day.

“Well, shall we?” He bows exaggeratedly with his free arm, giving you a blinding smile.

You mirror his smile, and playfully curtsy in return. “We shall.”

When you two arrive at the botanical gardens, it’s jam-packed with people (a worker explains that their tulips are in full bloom, so everyone’s vying for their social media moment), and Soobin is visibly startled, though he recovers quickly as he turns to you.

“You okay? There’s so many people... I think this is twice, maybe even thrice as many people as there were at the night market.” You don’t do well with crowds, the crowd at the night market was probably the most you could handle, but you know that you don’t have a choice– you have to follow through with the date as scheduled, or risk a fine that neither of you can afford, so you just nod, your grip on his hand tightening.

Soobin somehow finds a slightly less crowded area of the tulip fields for you two to stroll in after doing a quick sweep (thank god for his height, and that he uses it to his advantage), but you still feel tense as you walk hand in hand. There’s still a decent amount of people, with more spilling in excitedly, phone cameras in hand, and you have a bad feeling the crowd will only grow in size as the day drags on. You just hope you’re as convincing an actress as you think you are, and that Soobin won’t notice as he reads the identification cards for each flower.

You’re caught off guard when he gently pushes you down onto a nearby bench, and crouches in front of you, clasping your other hand in his so that both of them are occupied. The concerned expression on his face tells you that you’re nowhere near an Oscar for your performance, and that he’s most definitely caught on to your discomfort. Normally you’d be embarrassed at the display– you hate making a scene in public, but your anxiety is getting the better of you, and it’s nice to know that he still knows you as well as you thought.

“Noona… look. I know you don’t like crowds, especially excitable and hectic ones like these. If you really, really feel like this is too much for you, we can cancel the date and go home. I want you to have a good time, and I know it’s hard for you when there’s so many people.”

You’re chewing at your lower lip again, and Soobin lets go of one of your hands to thumb at your lip to stop you before you tear it open with your teeth. “But Soob, we came all this way. And you dressed so nicely for me, for this date, and I spent all this time wanting to look good for you, and spend time with you…” You trail off when your breath catches in your throat, your chin trembling as your eyes well up. “It’d be such a waste to cancel after all our time and effort.”

Once again Soobin’s thumb is gently swiping over your cheeks when the tears finally spill over, hushing you with the soft sincerity that he’s prone to when he’s not teasing you.

“Hey, hey… we can reschedule for another day, can’t we? We don’t have to do this, noona. There’s always next time. It won’t be a waste, I promise.” You feel so apologetic you could die. Soobin’s being so patient and sweet and understanding with you and here you are, kicking up a fuss. The least you could do is power through and follow through with your scheduled date, and you’d hate to miss out on this time with him that you’ve been looking forward to. You were excited for this date, and you want him to know that.

“I think I’d feel worse if we cancelled after we went through all this trouble, and especially if it was all because of me… just give me a moment to calm myself down.” Soobin nods in response, cradling your cheek in his palm, and you sigh appreciatively at the tender gesture. He doesn’t say anything as you wipe away the remnants of your tears and blow your nose– he just holds your hand, letting you gather yourself, and you think for a moment that this must be the benefit of falling for your best friend.

Once the tears have finally subsided, and you’ve had a moment to calm your nerves, you meet Soobin’s eyes, which are searching yours, as if scanning for any lingering signs of discomfort. When he can’t find any, and you give him a reassuring look and a grateful smile, he seizes the opportunity to steal a peck from your lips, grinning cheekily with his tongue between his teeth when he pulls away.

“H-hey! What was that for?!” Your shock and surprise is real, but your indignance certainly isn’t, if your rosy cheeks are any indication. Your discomfort is forgotten, at least temporarily, so you’re glad for that.

“Oh… just because. You liked it, though.” He’s so smug, that stupid asshole, but he’s right, so you pull him in for another quick kiss before you try to make a run for it. Unfortunately for your escape plan, you’ve forgotten that your hand is still very much interlocked with his, and he’s significantly stronger than you, so he easily pulls you back into his embrace. You can’t say you mind, though– he’s warm and he smells good, like jasmine and sandalwood and the faint scent of vanilla, and if you weren’t already so flustered you’d bury your face in his broad chest.

“Feeling better now?” The words fall from Soobin’s lips with a teasing lilt, but you know it’s his way of genuinely checking in on you, so you answer sincerely.

“Much better. Though I’d still like to avoid the crowds and find somewhere else to have our date… if you don’t mind? The tulips are pretty, and as much as I would like to admire them too, there’s just so many people fighting for a good photo…”

“Of course, I get it. I saw a sign pointing to a field of azaleas over there that is probably getting a lot less foot traffic than the tulips, so we could head over there?” He gestures in the opposite direction of the tulip field, and you’re more than happy to oblige, letting him tug you along.

Thankfully Soobin’s guess is correct, because there’s only a handful of people at the azalea field when you two arrive, and the tension in your shoulders finally lets up. The dainty red and pink flowers have their own quaint charm, and they’re vibrant and eye-catching. You crouch down to get a closer look, taking hold of a delicate petal in between the pads of your fingers to admire them.

“Did you know red and pink azaleas represent love and romance? Roses aren’t the only flower of love like everyone seems to think.” Soobin’s deep voice rings in your ear and you startle a little, partially because he’s way closer to you than you expected (it’s going to be a while before you get used to maintaining close proximity with him) and partially because you had no idea Soobin was just casually carrying the knowledge of flower meanings in that pretty head of his.

“They’re so pretty… they’d make a much more unique gift than roses for special occasions, too. Not that there’s anything wrong with roses, but they’re kind of done to death, don’t you think?”

Instead of answering, Soobin looks both ways, then plucks a flower, and you hiss in disapproval at him. “Hey–! What are you doing? The sign says that we can’t pick the flowers!” Luckily, none of the staff has taken notice of his mischievous little act, but even if they did, you can’t help but wonder if they’d even care, when he could charm his way into anything.

Soobin tucks the flower behind your ear, seemingly ignoring your disapproval as he hums a tune under his breath. “A gift for our special occasion, and a little commemoration of our budding romance, or something. And look, noona, you’re so pretty. Just like a flower.” He punctuates his statement with the sound of his phone camera flashing, followed by four more, until you’re blushing profusely with embarrassment.

“Soobin, that’s enough–” Your cheeks are beet red– you can feel it from the sheer amount of blood running into them– and though you really like that Soobin’s taking pictures of you for him to keep, you’re extremely camera shy, and he knows that, which is probably why he’s so insistent.

“Actually, the issue is that I didn’t take enough. Now smile for the camera!” You have to practically wrestle your way away from the camera, but not before he snaps a few more of you smiling bashfully at him. He catches up to you with ease (damn those long legs of his), arms secure around your frame as you squeal, though you’re secretly pleased that you’re in his hold.

The time once again ticks by like nothing as you walk side by side, admiring the blooms around you and snapping photos of each other (“For wallpaper usage purposes,” Soobin says, and you blush again), and before you know it, your watches are beeping to signify that your two hours are up. Soobin sobers up almost immediately, expression unreadable, and though he doesn’t say anything as he takes your hand, you know what’s on his mind, because the same thing is on yours.

There’s a palpable tension hanging in the air once the two of you reach the entrance of the gardens– it’s the third date, after all, and you promised you’d find out your expiration date if you made it this far. You’re relieved that your watches haven’t blared just yet, signifying the end of your connection, but you’re still struck with the nervousness of finding out how long you’ll last. You think you’ll never get over it if you only get a few months– or worse, a few days with him– after all this secret pining and yearning.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d think Soobin was somehow eerily calm about the whole thing. But you do know better, and you know that he’s just trying to put on a brave face for you, and for himself. The two of you open Time to Love in silence, hands still interlocked, swiping to the ‘Love Countdown’ tab with your free hands, and brace yourselves. Soobin gives you a reassuring nod, and you respond back with what you hope is an equally reassuring smile, and that your expression doesn’t betray the fear bubbling deep within you.

Soobin takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. “Okay, on the count of three,”

“One…” “Two…”

“Three!”

When both of you tap the in-app tab, there isn’t an array of numbers indicating an expiration date with a ticking countdown, as you expected and had grown accustomed to on your previous dates– in fact, there isn’t a single number on the screen– and instead there’s an infinity sign.

You two don’t have an expiration date.

You and Soobin look at each other, then at your watches, then at each other again.

“Wait, we don’t have an expiration date–”

Then the realization dawns on both of you, and it hits you like a truck.

“Wait, we’re soulmates?!”

Both of you are sporting the same bewildered expression, and you both go to check your progress bars, just to be sure– they’re full, just as you’d expect after being matched with your soulmate. So that’s why your watch alarms haven’t gone off. You two were the one in a million. Once the shock finally wears off, it’s replaced with pure, unbridled joy, and when Soobin sweeps you off your feet to gather you in his arms, there’s an emotion bubbling in you that’s equal parts unfamiliar and yet welcome.

You’d thought all this time, all these years, that there was no way you should feel this way about your best friend, of all people. That you shouldn’t fuck this up, because Soobin has always been there for you, and you’ve always been there for him. As his friend. As your friend.

But here is the universe, telling you that you’re fated to love him, and that he’s fated to love you in return.

And love him you do. You love Soobin. And when you look at him, and see the way he’s looking at you, with fondness practically dripping from his gaze, you know he loves you too.

Maybe the watch really is bullshit. Maybe it is statistically impossible to decide someone’s life partner based on an algorithm.

But maybe it’s onto something, because it seems silly to have ever thought of being with anyone except Soobin. You never would’ve thought to look for your forever right next to you, and yet, here he is, in the flesh. Was it a coincidence that he made it onto your recommended matches that fateful night? Was it a coincidence that he felt the same way you did?

Soobin’s lips capture yours in a searing kiss, and you melt in his heat, kissing him back with a fierce fervor, as if desperately communicating the depth of the feelings you’ve let build up silently after all these years. You decide that there’s no such thing as coincidences– he’s always known what’s best for you, and you’ve always wanted what’s best for him. You just didn’t know that the answer to both of those things was each other.

“I love you, noona.” He whispers with a bashful, dimpled smile, and your heart swells.

“I love you too, Soob.”

Soobin has always been counting down to something.

To the end of another grueling workday, the next League of Legends patch update, to anything, so he always has something to look forward to. But he’s never looked forward to this.

The love countdown has always been something he despised and dreaded– he’s always wanted to be the master of his own fate, without the shackles of the app tying him down with each new connection. He’d always thought that his soulmate would be some poorly matched individual who he’d have a mediocre life with, but all that seems to be proven wrong as he looks at you.

He hates being wrong. But when he sees the way you smile, the way you regard him with the utmost love and affection in your gaze, the way you hold his hand as if you’ll lose him if you let go– he thinks he’s willing to concede defeat, at least this time.

Maybe that stupid watch does know a thing or two about love. Maybe it doesn’t. Maybe this is all just pure coincidence. But despite it all, Soobin is thankful that this is where he ends up. That both of you had been counting down all this time to each other.

Because if there's anyone he can count on in this world, it's you.

#soobin x y/n #soobin x reader #soobin x you #soobin fanfic #soobin fluff #soobin fic #txt fic #choi soobin #tomorrow x together #txt fluff #txt imagines #soobin imagines

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novaursa · 19 hours ago

Text

Legacy (of snow)

- Summary: Tywin was the man who saved you from Robert's wrath. He was also the man who doomed you.

- Paring: targ!reader/Tywin Lannister

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous part: the pyre

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @oxymakestheworldgoround @luniaxi @alkadri-layal @butterflygxril

The chill of Winterfell's courtyard lingered in your memory like the sharp bite of frost. It was a day long past, but the echoes of it returned to you now with a clarity that pierced your heart. You had been a young woman, yet already burdened with secrets and responsibilities far beyond your age. Hidden in the North under the protection of House Stark, you had learned to navigate a world of whispered truths and silent threats. But that day, the quiet peace of Winterfell had been shattered by the sound of boys fighting.

“Give it back!” Jon’s voice rang out, high-pitched and angry. He stood in the snow, fists clenched, his dark curls tumbling over his pale face. Opposite him was Robb Stark, his half-brother, taller and broader but no less stubborn.

“It’s mine!” Robb shouted, holding a wooden practice sword high above his head. “You can’t just take it because you want it!”

“You weren’t even using it!” Jon retorted, his grey eyes flashing with indignation.

You had been passing by the armory, bundled in a heavy fur cloak, when their raised voices caught your attention. You paused, watching for a moment, unsure whether to intervene. But then, Robb gave Jon a hard shove, sending him sprawling into the snow.

That was enough.

“Robb!” you snapped, your voice sharp as the winter wind. Both boys froze, turning to look at you with wide eyes. “What are you doing?”

“He started it!” Robb said defensively, lowering the practice sword but still clutching it tightly.

“I didn’t!” Jon shot back, scrambling to his feet. His face was red, more from embarrassment than the cold. “He said I couldn’t use it because I’m not a Stark!”

The words hit you like a blow to the chest. You glanced between them, your gaze softening as it landed on Jon. “That’s enough, both of you,” you said firmly, stepping between them. “Robb, give Jon the sword.”

“But—”

“Now,” you said, your tone brooking no argument.

With a huff, Robb thrust the wooden sword into Jon’s hands before stomping off toward the great hall, muttering under his breath. Jon watched him go, his small hands gripping the sword tightly, his shoulders hunched as though bracing for another blow.

“Are you all right?” you asked, crouching down so you were at his level. You reached out to brush the snow from his cloak, your fingers lingering for a moment on his arm.

Jon nodded, though his jaw was set, his pride clearly wounded. “I don’t care what he says,” he muttered. “I’m just as good as him. Better, even.”

You smiled faintly, tilting his chin up so he’d look at you. “You are good, Jon. And you don’t need to prove it to anyone. Least of all Robb.”

He studied you for a moment, his eyes searching yours. “You really think so?” he asked softly, his voice tinged with doubt.

“I know so,” you said firmly. “You’re strong, Jon. Stronger than you realize.”

Before he could reply, a stern voice cut through the air. “What’s going on here?”

You turned to see Catelyn Stark approaching, her skirts sweeping across the snow. Her blue eyes narrowed as they landed on you, then flicked to Jon, her expression cooling further. “Another argument?” she asked, her tone laced with disapproval.

“It was nothing,” you said quickly, rising to your feet. “Just boys being boys.”

Catelyn’s lips thinned as she looked at Jon. “He seems to have a habit of causing trouble.”

Jon bristled, clutching the wooden sword tighter, but you stepped closer to him, shielding him from her gaze. “It wasn’t his fault,” you said firmly. “Robb started it.”

Catelyn’s eyes snapped to you, her disapproval shifting into something sharper. “And of course, you would take his side,” she said coldly. “You always do.”

“Because he’s treated unfairly,” you shot back, your voice rising despite yourself. “He’s just a boy, Catelyn. He doesn’t deserve to be punished for things beyond his control.”

Her eyes narrowed further, her voice dropping to a hiss. “And why do you care so much? He’s not your son. He’s not even your blood.”

You stiffened, her words cutting deeper than you cared to admit. “Because someone has to,” you said quietly. “Someone has to care about him. He was given to me to be raised, not having the same blood doesn't make him less mine.”

Catelyn’s face hardened, her hands clenching at her sides. “I’ve often wondered why Eddard insists on keeping you here,” she said, her voice cold and measured. “You’re a Targaryen—a daughter of the man who tried to burn this kingdom to ash. The man who killed his father and brother. What purpose do you serve here, beyond stirring up trouble?”

You felt Jon’s small hand grip yours tightly, grounding you as your anger flared. “Eddard keeps me here because he’s a man of honor,” you said, your voice steady despite the storm raging within you. “And because he knows that holding me here ensures peace. I’ve done nothing to deserve your scorn, Lady Stark. But Jon has done even less.”

Catelyn opened her mouth to reply, but before she could, Eddard’s voice rang out from the steps of the great hall. “What’s going on here?”

All three of you turned to see Eddard descending the steps, his expression stern but curious. Catelyn hesitated, her lips pressing into a thin line again, before she turned away without a word, retreating into the hall.

You let out a soft breath, your shoulders relaxing slightly as Eddard approached. He looked between you and Jon, his brow furrowing. “Are you all right?” he asked, his voice gentle.

Jon nodded quickly, but you could see the tension still lingering in his small frame. “We’re fine,” you said, offering Eddard a faint smile. “Just a disagreement.”

Eddard studied you for a moment, then nodded. “Come inside. It’s too cold to be out here.”

You placed a reassuring hand on Jon’s shoulder, guiding him toward the hall. As you walked, you glanced down at him, your voice soft. “Remember what I said, Jon. You’re stronger than you realize.”

He looked up at you, his expression thoughtful, and nodded. “I’ll remember.”

And even now, all these years later, you hoped he still did.

The chill of the night air clung to Castle Black, the walls of the ancient fortress illuminated by the flickering light of torches. The sounds of uneasy murmurs and the occasional clatter of equipment drifted through the courtyard, where Viserion rested, her massive form coiled in a serpentine curve. Smoke curled lazily from her nostrils as her golden eyes scanned the surroundings, her presence a constant reminder of the fire that now loomed over the Wall.

You sat inside the Lord Commander’s chambers, the small space lit by a single lantern hanging from the ceiling. The atmosphere was heavy with unspoken questions. Jon Snow sat beside you, his posture slouched, his hands resting heavily on his knees. His grey eyes, so familiar and yet so changed, stared into the fire crackling in the hearth.

He was alive. That truth still felt unreal, even as you looked at him, your hand resting on his arm as though to reassure yourself that he wouldn’t vanish. But there was no denying the difference in him. His face was pale, his expression haunted, and his gaze carried the weight of what lay beyond death.

Outside, the voices of his brothers and the Wildlings rose and fell. Edd Tollett and Tormund Giantsbane had been among the first to approach Viserion in the courtyard, their reactions a mixture of awe and wariness. The Wildlings had grown used to stories of dragons, but seeing one in the flesh had shaken even the bravest among them.

Tormund’s voice echoed faintly through the walls, his disbelief evident even from here. “A bloody dragon. Right here. Just sitting there like it owns the place.”

“Maybe it does,” Edd had replied earlier, his tone dry but tinged with unease. “Would you argue with it?”

You couldn’t help but smile faintly at the memory, but the humor quickly faded as your gaze returned to Jon. The firelight danced across his face, but he remained silent, his breathing steady yet shallow.

“Jon,” you said softly, breaking the silence. Your voice was tentative, as though afraid to disturb him. “How are you feeling?”

He didn’t respond immediately, his eyes still fixed on the flames. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and rough. “I don’t know.”

You squeezed his arm gently, your heart aching for him. “It’s all right not to know,” you said. “You’ve been through… more than anyone should ever have to endure.”

He glanced at you then, his gaze searching yours. “I shouldn’t be here,” he said quietly, the words heavy with guilt and confusion. “I died. I should’ve stayed dead.”

The admission made your chest tighten, but you refused to let the sorrow overwhelm you. “You’re here because you’re needed,” you said firmly. “Because your fight isn’t over. The Wall still stands because of you, Jon. The Wildlings, your brothers, the North… they still need you.”

He looked away again, his jaw tightening. “Do they? Most of my brothers wanted me dead. And now… I don’t even know what I am anymore.”

You leaned closer, your hand moving to his shoulder as you forced him to meet your gaze. “You’re still you,” you said, your voice steady. “You’re Jon Snow. You’re the boy I raised, the man who became Lord Commander, the one who’s always fought for what’s right. That hasn’t changed.”

Jon’s lips pressed into a thin line, but his eyes softened, and for a moment, you saw a flicker of the boy you had once known.

A loud rumble from the courtyard broke the quiet, followed by startled shouts. You both turned toward the sound, and Jon let out a faint, humorless chuckle. “Your dragon’s scaring everyone.”

You managed a small smile. “They’ll get used to her. Eventually.”

Jon shook his head, a faint smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I doubt Tormund will. He keeps calling her ‘the winged lizard.’”

The levity was short-lived, but it eased the anxiety in the room for a moment. You watched as Jon’s expression grew serious again, his gaze returning to the fire.

“Do you believe it?” he asked suddenly, his voice quiet but filled with an edge of vulnerability. “What she said? About the Lord of Light?”

You knew he was referring to Melisandre, her ominous words and cryptic explanations lingering like a shadow over everything that had happened. You hesitated, choosing your words carefully.

“I don’t know what I believe,” you admitted. “But I believe in you, Jon. Whatever brought you back—whether it was her god or something else—it doesn’t change who you are. You’re here, and that’s what matters.”

He nodded slowly, though his uncertainty remained. “I just… I don’t know if I can do this again. Leading them. Fighting. Dying. It’s too much.”

You leaned closer, your voice soft but firm. “You’re not alone, Jon. You never were. And you never will be, as long as I’m here.”

He looked at you then, his eyes shining with unshed tears. “You’ve always been there,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Even when I didn’t deserve it.”

Tears pricked at your own eyes, but you smiled faintly, brushing a strand of hair from his face. “You’ve always deserved it, Jon. You’re my son, in every way that matters. And I’ll always fight for you.”

The weight of your words settled between you, and for the first time since his return, Jon’s shoulders seemed to relax. The burden he carried was still immense, but he was no longer carrying it alone.

Outside, Viserion let out another low rumble, her eyes scanning the walls of Castle Black. The men below continued to adjust to her presence, their fear mingling with awe as the reality of her existence settled in.

But inside, in the quiet warmth of the Lord Commander’s chambers, a different kind of miracle had occurred. Jon Snow, back from the dead, was not just alive—he was beginning to live again.

The air within Dragonstone’s Great Hall was charged, the massive stone table shaped like Westeros sitting between Tywin Lannister and his gathered advisors. The week’s failures hung heavily over the room, souring even Tywin’s formidable patience. Reports and theories had been debated endlessly, but the outcome remained the same: the young dragon residing in Dragonmont refused to be subdued or captured. Every attempt had ended in injury, chaos, or retreat, and the creature showed no signs of leaving its lair.

Tywin’s stren gaze swept over his assembled men, each one avoiding his piercing green eyes. The weight of his presence alone was enough to stifle any rash suggestions.

“The dragon has claimed Dragonmont as its territory,” Tywin said, his voice cold and precise. “It has shown no intent to leave, nor has it ventured beyond its lair in the past days. We cannot afford further losses to subdue a creature that has no interest in threatening us.”

A low murmur rippled through the room, the men exchanging uneasy glances. Varys, standing at Tywin’s right, nodded thoughtfully. “A wise decision, my lord. The beast is young and untrained, but it remains a dragon. To provoke it further may result in consequences we are ill-prepared to handle.”

Tywin’s jaw tightened, his frustration kept carefully hidden behind his impassive expression. “We will leave it be—for now. When my wife returns, she will decide what is to be done with it.”

One of the soldiers, his face pale with nervousness, hesitated before speaking. “And if it attacks again, my lord? What then?”

Tywin’s gaze snapped to him, silencing any further objections. “If it attacks, we will deal with it. Until then, no one is to approach the lair without my direct command. Is that understood?”

A chorus of murmured agreement filled the hall, and Tywin dismissed the men with a curt wave of his hand. Chairs scraped against the stone floor, boots echoing as the advisors and soldiers filed out, leaving the room to its usual silence.

Varys lingered for a moment, his hands folded neatly in front of him. “A prudent choice, Lord Tywin,” he said, his tone calm but calculating. “Dragons are… particular creatures. Best not to tempt their ire without necessity.”

Tywin inclined his head slightly but said nothing more. Satisfied, Varys offered a small bow and followed the others out of the hall, leaving only Tywin and Jaime Lannister behind.

Jaime leaned casually against one of the high-backed chairs. He watched his father in silence for a moment, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

“Well,” Jaime said finally, breaking the quiet. “That’s a first.”

Tywin didn’t look up, his attention focused on the parchments spread across the table. “What are you referring to, Jaime?”

“You,” Jaime replied, his tone light and teasing. “Giving up on something. I don’t think I’ve ever seen it happen before.”

Tywin’s gaze snapped to him, sharp as a blade. “I am not ‘giving up.’ I am delaying action until the appropriate time.”

Jaime raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. “Of course. And it has nothing to do with the fact that you’re waiting for her to come back.”

Tywin’s expression remained impassive, but Jaime caught the faintest flicker of something in his eyes. “Your stepmother’s presence would not change the situation.”

Jaime straightened, his smirk turning into a grin. “You mean her comfort, Father. Don’t pretend you don’t miss her.”

Tywin’s jaw tightened, though he refused to rise to the bait. “You’re wasting my time, Jaime.”

“I don’t think so,” Jaime said, clearly enjoying himself. “I’ve been watching you these past days, and I have to say, it’s quite entertaining. You’ve barely scolded anyone, you spend half your time staring at letters you don’t even read, and now you’re letting a dragon live in your mountain because—what? You think she’d be upset if you killed it?”

Tywin’s gaze turned icy, though he still didn’t respond. Jaime took a step closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “Admit it, Father. You miss her. You’re human, after all.”

Tywin’s lips thinned, and for a moment, Jaime thought he might have pushed too far. But then his father straightened, fixing him with a look that was both annoyed and resigned.

“She is my wife,” Tywin said, his voice calm but firm. “Her presence is valuable—for more reasons than you can comprehend.”

Jaime chuckled, unbothered by the veiled insult. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Tywin’s gaze darkened, and Jaime wisely held up his hand in mock surrender. “All right, all right. I’ll leave you to brood in peace. But for what it’s worth, I hope she comes back soon. You’re far more tolerable when she’s around.”

With that, Jaime turned and strode out of the hall, leaving Tywin alone. For a moment, the room was silent once more, the only sound the faint crackle of the fire in the hearth.

Tywin exhaled slowly, his gaze drifting to the empty chair beside him—the one where his wife always sat during their discussions. He didn’t miss you, he told himself. He simply recognized the void your absence had left. That was the truth. Or so he told himself as he returned to the endless tasks at hand.

Jaime Lannister left the Great Hall, Tywin’s stony expression still fresh in his mind. His boots echoed against the cold stone floors of Dragonstone as he made his way through the winding halls. The castle had a peculiar stillness to it, even with the distant hum of waves crashing against the volcanic cliffs. Jaime knew it wasn’t just the castle—Tywin’s brooding presence seemed to weigh on everyone.

As he rounded the corner toward the living quarters, he heard the soft sound of a child’s laughter mixed with the hum of a woman’s voice. Intrigued, Jaime pushed open the door to a cozy chamber where he found Damon, his three-year-old half-brother, surrounded by a handful of servants. Damon was seated on a plush rug, a collection of carved wooden animals scattered before him. His silver-gold hair shone in the dim light, and his eyes sparkled with delight as he directed a servant pretending to be a fearsome dragon.

Nearby, another servant held little Maelor, who was barely six moons old. The wetnurse rocked him gently, cooing as the baby squirmed in her arms, his tiny fists batting at the air. The room was warm and inviting, a stark contrast to the cold tension elsewhere in the castle.

Jaime leaned against the doorframe, his golden hand resting casually on his hip as he watched the scene unfold. Damon caught sight of him first, his laughter fading as his gaze shifted to the imposing figure in the doorway.

“Ser Jaime!” Damon exclaimed, his voice high and bright with excitement. He clambered to his feet, stumbling slightly in his haste to reach him. The servants immediately stiffened, bowing their heads slightly at Jaime’s presence.

Jaime knelt to meet Damon at his level, offering the boy a rare smile. “What are you up to, little lord? Conquering the Seven Kingdoms already?”

Damon giggled, holding up a wooden lion and dragon. “I’m the dragon,” he declared proudly, his tiny fingers waving the carved creature in Jaime’s face. “And the lion is scared!”

Jaime chuckled, plucking the lion from Damon’s hand and holding it up. “Scared, is he? Well, I think this lion has a few tricks up his sleeve.” He playfully swooped the lion toward the dragon, making exaggerated roaring noises that sent Damon into another fit of laughter.

“Be careful, Ser Jaime,” one of the servants murmured nervously. “He’s rather fond of winning.”

Jaime smirked, handing the wooden lion back to Damon. “Well, we can’t have that, can we?”

Damon beamed, clutching both figures tightly as he scampered back to his spot on the rug. Jaime straightened, his gaze drifting to Maelor. The baby let out a soft coo, his bright violet eyes—so like his mother’s—blinking curiously at the new arrival.

“He’s grown,” Jaime said, his tone lighter as he approached the wetnurse. “Already looks ready to take on the world.”

The wetnurse smiled faintly, adjusting Maelor in her arms. “He’s a strong one, my lord. Just like his brother.”

Jaime glanced back at Damon, who was now engrossed in directing a servant to stage an elaborate battle between the lion and dragon. “They’ll need to be,” he murmured, more to himself than anyone else.

The wetnurse nodded, her expression softening. “Their mother will see to that.”

Jaime looked back at Maelor, his golden hand resting on the back of a nearby chair. “And their father,” he added, though there was a faint edge of amusement in his tone. “Tywin Lannister isn’t exactly one to raise weaklings.”

The wetnurse hesitated before replying, her voice cautious. “Lord Tywin has been… attentive. He ensures the boys want for nothing.”

Jaime raised an eyebrow, smirking slightly. “Attentive? That’s one way to put it. I’d wager my golden hand he’s already planning their futures down to the last detail.”

Before the wetnurse could respond, Damon bounded back over, clutching his wooden dragon. “Ser Jaime, do you have a sword?” he asked eagerly, his eyes wide with curiosity.

Jaime knelt again, ruffling the boy’s hair with his healthy hand. “I do,” he said, gesturing to the sword at his hip. “But it’s not a toy, Damon. You’ll have to wait a few more years before you’re ready to wield one.”

Damon pouted, his bottom lip jutting out. “But I want to fight dragons! Like you!”

Jaime laughed, the sound warm and genuine. “Dragons, huh? I think you’ve got that backward, little lord. Dragons don’t fight dragons—they fly together.”

Damon considered this, his pout fading as his imagination took over. “Can I fly with Mother when she comes back?” he asked, his voice filled with hope.

Jaime hesitated, glancing toward Maelor and then back to Damon. “Maybe one day,” he said softly. “When you’re big enough.”

Damon’s face lit up, and he ran back to his toys, the idea of flying with his mother clearly occupying his thoughts. Jaime watched him for a moment, his smirk fading into something softer.

“They’ll have their own battles to fight,” he said quietly, addressing no one in particular. “But they’ll be strong enough.”

As the servants murmured their agreement and returned to their tasks, Jaime’s gaze lingered on his half-brothers. For all his teasing, for all the chaos surrounding their family, he couldn’t help but feel a flicker of protectiveness for the two boys who bore the blood of a lion and the fire of a dragon. They would need it.

The biting wind of the Wall whipped through Castle Black’s courtyard, ruffling cloaks and sending loose snow swirling through the air. The gathered men of the Night’s Watch stood somber and uncertain as Jon Snow addressed them. His dark cloak billowed behind him, and his pale face was illuminated by the flickering torches. Beside him stood Edd Tollett, Tormund Giantsbane, Davos Seaworth, and you. Ghost stood by Jon’s side, his red eyes focused at something ahead. Melisandre lingered in the shadows, her crimson robes blending into the background as her unyielding gaze remained fixed on Jon.

Jon’s voice carried over the gathered crowd, strong and steady despite the storm of emotions behind it. “You all know what has happened,” he began, his gaze sweeping over the men who had once called him their Lord Commander. “I was killed by the very men I swore to lead. Betrayed by those I trusted.”

The men shifted uncomfortably, a murmur rippling through the crowd. Some looked ashamed, others defiant, but none dared speak.

“My watch is ended,” Jon continued, his tone firm. “I gave my life for the Night’s Watch, but now my duty lies elsewhere. The Wall still stands, and the Wildlings are safe here. But winter is coming, and so is something far worse than we’ve ever faced.”

He paused, his jaw tightening before he added, “I’m going home. I’m going to Winterfell.”

The words sent a wave of shock through the gathered men. Even Edd looked surprised, though he quickly masked it with a determined expression.

“You’re leaving?” one of the brothers asked hesitantly, his voice tinged with disbelief.

“I have to,” Jon replied, his voice unwavering. “My family needs me. Sansa… she’s in danger, and I won’t sit idly by while she suffers.”

Davos stepped forward, his gruff voice breaking the silence. “If you’re going to Winterfell, you won’t be going alone, lad. You’ll need help, and I’ll be right there with you.”

Tormund grinned, his teeth flashing in the torchlight. “Aye, me too. I owe you that much, crow. And besides, I like a good fight.”

Jon offered them both a faint smile, gratitude flickering in his eyes. “Thank you. I’ll need all the help I can get.”

Davos cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “Well then, we’d best get moving. Winterfell won’t take itself back.”

Tormund laughed, clapping Jon on the shoulder. “Let’s hope the Boltons don’t run too fast. I’d hate to miss the fun.”

Jon turned back to the gathered men of the Watch. “Edd, you’re in charge here now. Keep the Wall standing and keep everyone safe.”

Edd nodded solemnly. “I’ll do my best. Try not to get yourself killed again.”

Jon managed a faint smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. Nearby, Viserion loomed like a mythical specter, her massive form coiled as she rested, the occasional puff of smoke escaping her nostrils.

You stood beside Jon, the both of you slightly apart from the others. His dark cloak was wrapped tightly around him, and his eyes held a mix of resolve and sadness. Despite the strength he exuded, you could see the boy you had raised, the boy who had looked to you for comfort and guidance, now burdened with a man’s responsibilities.

Jon broke the silence first. “I wish you could come with me,” he said softly, his voice barely audible above the hum of the courtyard.

You smiled faintly, reaching out to adjust the edge of his cloak, just as you had done countless times when he was younger. “And I wish I could, Jon. But you know I can’t.”

He nodded, his expression tightening. “I know. Damon and Maelor need you. And Tywin would probably march an army north if you stayed too long.”

A small laugh escaped you, though it was tinged with melancholy. “He probably would. And you’re right, my boys need me. But so does the North—and Sansa. She’s been through so much, Jon. More than she ever should have.”

Jon’s jaw clenched, and he looked away briefly, his eyes flickering toward the distant gate. “I failed her,” he said quietly. “I wasn’t there when she needed me.”

You placed a hand on his arm, grounding him. “You didn’t fail her. None of us could have predicted what would happen. But now you’re here, and you’re going to bring her home.”

His gaze softened as he looked at you, the weight of your words settling in. “I’ll try. For her. For all of us.”

“And you’ll succeed,” you said firmly, your voice filled with the kind of certainty only a mother could muster. “Because you’re Jon Snow. You’ve always been stronger than you think.”

Jon let out a soft breath, the corners of his mouth twitching upward. “You’ve always said that.”

“Because it’s true,” you replied with a small smile. “And because you’ve always needed reminding.”

He shook his head slightly, a faint chuckle escaping him. “You sound like I’m still that boy in Winterfell, trying to keep up with Robb.”

“To me, you’ll always be that boy,” you teased lightly, though your voice carried a deep warmth. “Even if you are now a man leading men into battle.”

Jon rolled his eyes, his pale cheeks flushing slightly. “You don’t have to embarrass me in front of everyone.”

You laughed, patting his shoulder. “It’s my right as your mother, Jon.”

The affectionate term lingered between you, and for a moment, Jon’s usual stoicism faltered. His eyes shimmered with unspoken emotion, and he reached out to briefly clasp your hand. “Thank you,” he said, his voice rough. “For everything. I wouldn’t be here without you.”

Tears pricked at your eyes, but you blinked them away, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “And I wouldn’t be here without you. You’ve always been my strength, Jon. Remember that.”

A sharp growl from Ghost and the distant calls of Tormund interrupted the moment, reminding you both of the duties that awaited. You stepped back, composing yourself as you turned toward Viserion. The great dragon stirred, her head lifting as her golden eyes locked onto you. Smoke curled from her nostrils as she rose, her massive wings stretching out before folding neatly against her sides.

You approached her saddle, glancing back at Jon one last time. “Take care of yourself,” you said, your voice firm but gentle. “And take care of Sansa. She’s going to need you more than ever.”

“I will,” Jon promised, his gaze steady. “And you take care of yourself, too. And Damon. And Maelor.”

You smiled, your heart swelling with pride and sorrow all at once. “Always.”

With practiced ease, you mounted Viserion’s saddle, the leather creaking as you settled into place. The dragon shifted beneath you, her powerful body vibrating with energy as she prepared to take flight.

Jon stepped back, his dark cloak billowing around him. “Safe travels,” he called, his voice carrying over the wind.

You nodded, gripping the reins. “And safe battles.”

Viserion let out a deafening roar, her wings unfurling as she launched herself into the air. The force of her takeoff sent snow swirling through the courtyard, and the men below shielded their faces as the dragon ascended into the sky. You glanced down, catching a final glimpse of Jon standing tall, Ghost at his side, as he watched you go.

As Viserion soared toward the horizon, her massive wings slicing through the cold northern air, you couldn’t help but glance back at Castle Black one last time. Below, Jon and his companions were preparing to leave, their path leading them toward Winterfell and the unknown battles ahead.

Your heart ached, but you held your head high. You had raised him for this moment. And now, he would make you proud.

#game of thrones #asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #fire and blood #house targaryen #house lannister #house of the dragon #hotd #got #got/asoiaf #asoiaf x reader #got tywin #tywin lannister #tywin x reader #tywin x you #tywin x y/n #legacy #x reader

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rootspiral · 2 days ago

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Agatha All Along deep dive: episode 9 part 5

(Wandavision entries: [1][2][3])

(AAA entries: ep1 [1][2][3][4] ep2 [1][2][3][4] ep3 [1][2][3] ep4 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][+1] ep5 [1][2][3][4][5] ep6 [1][2][3] ep7 [1][2][3][4][5][6] ep8 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9] ep9 [1][2][3][4][5])

question for you: it that only a reflection from set lights, or did agatha have tears in her eyes?

because, well, this is agatha. she's putting on a show, so you know that she's not as confident as she wants to appear. I imagine that suddenly turning into a ghost is not an easy adjustment. super interesting from a nerdy scholary prospective, but psychologically?? idk

billy, as usual, has to beg her to PLEASE BE SERIOUS FR

I toOK A calCULateD RiSK

whatever you say you big loser

then she demonstrates being a ghost by trying to slap billy. it's scientific and not ridiculous at all

at long last, and very, very late in the game she explains the nature of the Road to billy - and notice how she's still not able to be completely honest, despite all the previous moments they shared. the song means the world to her, but she's not ready to admit that yet.

the Road was very very very much real, and all the deaths that happened do count

I'll die on the hill that billy is a good person at heart. the tower, the potential for tragedy and destruction, is just that, a potential that the people in his life - the kaplans, eddie, the coven and yes, even agatha - are helping keep unfulfilled.

agatha shakes her head, gently, carefully. and we can see there has been some growth here: the first time billy supposedly killed someone she went on a whole speech about how Killing Makes You a Survivor Actually, a speech that was more about her than him. she's at least considering his feelings now

and btw agatha's "death" not being final like the others' doesn't cheapen the message at all. these are shows about dealing with / accepting mortality, and that is a journey agatha has just started. she (somehow, crying and screaming and flying by the seat of her pants) cheated death and will get herself a new body, and that's just one step forward and two steps back on her way to learn to finally stop running.

remember when nicky was upset about killing witches and agatha avoided the subject by singing a song to him, because she didn't know how to relieve a child of the guilt that was hers and only hers? she is trying now. she sees how this is devastating billy and she (badly) tries to absolve him. she is the one who lured the coven into a trap, who didn't disclose the nature of the Road, who very much killed alice.

and mark my words: she knows who sharon is, she absolutely remembers her name. I think she feels the most guilty about killing sharon, because with alice it was kind of an accident, but she went out of her way to doom this poor little lady, and she's been distancing herself from her with callous jokes since the beginning.

look at her face. this is Empathy. I've talked a lot about how for agatha it's easier to feel empathy for people with similar stories and backgrounds to hers. she felt it for wanda and ran from it. billy has the added quality of being perfect son material (I'll get to that in a minute) and right now? she knows what he's going through. she was once a girl born with the power to kill people, a power she didn't know how to stop, and it ruined her life and doomed everyone who crossed her path.

and she's still trying to have her cake and eat it too! consoling billy while still keeping her "whatever I don't care anyway" fake vibes. I'd say that she's matured a little, sure! from toddler to at least first grader. she even dares to roll her eyes when mentioning jen, this actual piece of ghostly turd.

please please please let jen come back in a marvel property that doesn't suck / hopefully written by jac and her team. please please please let us see what she does next

"should I go check on how agatha and billy are doing? nope screw them bye bye losers omw to rebuild my empire!" *nyoooooom*

(I don't know what I'd like to see more, jen becoming a force for good right away or still on the road to recovery, clashing heads with agatha.)

agatha takes a deep breath (can ghosts actually breathe tho) and gives billy a speech reminiscent of what she told nicky all those years ago. if you want to survive, get used to this feeling. we are supposed to read this interaction with the added context of her relationship with her own son (hence the callback). so why does agatha gives billy the nicky treatment now?

I think billy is all that agatha hoped and wanted nicky to be - a partner in crime who can keep up with her intelligence and sense of humor, a powerful witch she can pass her knowledge to, and a son who will love her and stick by her side no matter what. billy is the whole package, from the very beginning she couldn't see him as just the carrier of the very power she needed to bring nicky back; another hunger took over, the hunger to claim him and raise him as her own.

which brings us to the crucial question: why does agatha want a son? why did she have nicky in the first place? the answer, in true agatha fashion, is selfish, flawed, tragic, human. she wanted to fix her own childhood. she wanted to raise a version of herself who had all the love and support of a mother. and so she made sure that nicky had what she never had, including books and lessons to learn magic from. she tried to make him immune to life's heartbreaks - get used to this feeling, like she never could (because she never managed to make her own heart impervious, she only hid it away and tried to ignore it.) she essentially imagined her child as a a mini-me who committed all the same atrocities with no guilt or remorse and the added bonus of a mother cheerleading them on. another cheat sheet, a way to fix herself without actually working on her issues.

except nicky wasn't exactly what she had expected. he didn't like killing witches. instead of a talent for magic, he showed a talent for music and, credit where credit's due, agatha encouraged and nurtured it. when nicky died, agatha was on her way to accept that he was his own wonferful person and that being a parent is an exercise in selflessness. despite all her mistakes, she did one fundamental thing right: she loved nicky so freaking much, and was genuinely loved in return. who knows what could have happened if they were allowed to continue on that path.

billy is also very much his own person (not to mention almost and adult) so he simply won't let agatha project her issues all over him. (agatha is like, "challenge accepted.")

her love for billy is not in question, but now she has to be selfless and admit he doesn't exactly need mentoring in serial killing. what did billy need from the Road after all? it wasn't power. it was a sense of identity, a community, help in finding himself and his brother. agatha knows this perfectly, she's just *gestures in her general direction* like that.

go to episode 9 part 6

#agatha all along #agatha deep dive #agatha harkness #billy maximoff #nicholas scratch #jennifer kale #character analysis

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moonfirecookies · 19 hours ago

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This is why i love the Beasts. Don’t get me wrong, they really did some really messed up stuff (While we do not know what Eternal Sugar Cookie or Silent Salt Cookie did just yet, but we can speculate), and destroyed so many lives after their corruption. But it’s what happened before the corruption that makes them so special in my eyes.

These cookies were baked with the biggest responsibility of their lives. The witches just gave it to them and expected them to figure it out.

As a result, they slowly were consumed by their responsibilities and the expectations of everyone around them. They only had themselves to go to. It’s just sad they had to turn out the way they did for the Witches to actually do something about it. We don’t know what the relationship between the Witches and Beasts were like before their fall, and it might forever be a mystery, but if they did try to go to the Witches for help, and they never came? That makes this a whole lot worse in my mind.

Imagine you are born and given the biggest responsibility you can’t even fathom, and as you slowly start to break from the stress and try to call your creators for help, they do nothing. Only to finally do something after you snap. Then seem to just replace you with five new cookies with half of your power.

Shadow Milk, who had all the knowledge in Earthbread, possibly just forced upon him and left with the overwhelming truth (speculation)

Mystic Flour, who had to see the worst of cookies that only wanted more and more (to the point she was overwhelmed by their wishes) , until she got to the point where all cookies are selfish and greedy, and must embrace her belief of Apathy to get rid of their suffering

Burning Spice, who has to see history constantly repeat itself… over, and over, and over again until he couldn’t take it anymore, of course there’s the more in depth stuff above me but still.

And while we know nothing about Eternal Sugar and Silent Salt, I can always speculate.

Eternal Sugar could have tried all she can to make all cookies happy, but in the end couldn’t, not even her own friends, so she becomes tired and sad, her actions being seen as a form of Sloth

Silent Salt is more complicated considering his original virtue is Solidarity. Maybe he couldn’t unify cookies, or desperately tried to at the very end, until he went silent.

TLDR: like the post and reblog above, they were doomed to fail. With their individual issues, to their immortality, to the responsibilities given to them, to even the lack of support from anyone but themselves.

A Thought About Burning Spice Cookie

I was kind of just going about my business today when I had a sort of... revelation, I guess? About Burning Spice. Looking back, I'm not really sure why it took me so long to think of this, but I like to live by the ideal "the best time was then, the second best time is now", so here we go.

Burning Spice was once the Herald of Change (or History, in the original Korean text). He was said to have fought for and defended fledgling civilizations in the distant past, protecting people and helping them in dark times. His throne decor even says he used to let people into his palace and allow them to engage in honest discussion with him about their problems, after which he'd get up and go out and do something about those problems. He sounded like a pretty swell guy... until he got bored with everything and went insane, of course. But here's the thing.

I think I understand why he ended up this way.

To put it as vaguely as possible, I do stuff in real life that may or may not have something to do with history as a subject. And I will gladly tell you all point-blank: history is fucking horrible. History is bleak. History is dark and cruel. The more you dive into it, the more it appears to you as a joke without a punchline. History is a drama, a tragedy, and a big fucking farce all at the same time.

Of course Burning Spice got tired of it. I get tired of it sometimes. Because sometimes, all history ever seems to be is a bunch of delinquents writing "I'm a bad kid" on the chalkboard repeatedly forever and ever. Just a bunch of bad people hurting each other for reasons that'll only come across as stupid long after they've all died at each other's hands. I'm sure Burning Spice started to think "what's even the point of building anything if someone is just going to come tear it down?" And it's hard to not think that when that's what ALWAYS happens. That's what history is a lot of the time. Brutal competition. A war of all against all.

The cure to the cynicism and melancholy history can and will inflict on you, at least in my opinion, is... to stop dwelling on it, honestly. At the end of the day, you have to remember that the past is gone. What's done is done. Things happen and sometimes, you can't do anything about it. You can't go back and save Lincoln from being assassinated. You can't go back and stop the Holocaust. You can't go back and save the world from all those wars and famines and disease epidemics. History both changes constantly and is unchanging at the same time. You have to make peace with what you cannot change - the past - and move forward, because time won't wait for you. We have to remember these things, these dark times; we all have a duty to do so, for the sake of those that came before us and those that will come after. But we also have to remember to live for the sake of those around us here and now. It is the present that shapes the world the most. It is in the present that we find true happiness. Not in the yellowed pages of old textbooks about the past and not in the pie-in-the-sky fever dreams we have about the future.

I think that's what fucked Burning Spice over. He forgot to live in the present. He was so focused on bringing about change, so absorbed in giving everything he had to everyone else, so invested in preserving the past and paving the way for the future, that he started losing sight of what was already there in front of him. His friends. His people. Too much time spent on the bigger picture and not enough spent on the tiny details that don't seem important at first glance, but when you look closer, you realize are what made the whole, entire picture important in the first place. He, like many do, like I do, began to see how cyclical and futile history can really be. He just saw people looking for reasons to hurt one another and destroy anything good they'd built together. Civilizations that were once grand and prosperous falling to anarchy. Clans with close ties turning against one another. Friend groups fracturing. All this hard work, undone, over and over again. And for what? What did they do any of this for? What did HE do any of this for?

I think his descent into villainy was slow, but sure. A little piece of his soul crumbling to dust with every person he felt like he failed because whatever great change he enacted was undone and everyone else suffered for it. And no one was really there to help steer him back onto the right path. Not his friends, not his family, not his people at large. Whether this was because they didn't know he was hurting like this (he seems like the type to keep things close to the chest anyway), they didn't know how to help or comfort him, or they didn't care, ultimately does not matter; regardless, it boils down to Burning Spice never being reminded to find solace in those around him right now, instead of constantly fretting over those before or after.

Maybe if he did remember, if he paid more attention to what IS and not what WAS or what WILL BE, he could've been saved. If he'd let Shadow Milk tell him more about his books and the little puppets he liked to craft. If he listened to Eternal Sugar play her harp more. If he sat and played a few more rounds of Go with Mystic Flour. If he had a friendly sparring match or two extra with Silent Salt. If he ate and drank and danced with his fellow spices like he probably used to like doing. If he stopped thinking he always had to be this larger-than-life figure who lorded over and protected society, and just let himself breathe and be a normal, happy person. It wouldn't make the ultimate folly of history sting any less, but he could have at least made peace with it and continued onward in spite of it.

But he didn't. He succumbed to history's poison, like so many have and so many will. And in an ironic twist of fate, which you will also often find throughout history, the tide of change swallowed him whole and drowned him. He let the failures of yesterday color his perception of today, and tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that. More and more people came across to him as bad actors until the whole world was just a devil's stage play, and it was being performed at his expense. Hard work and self-sacrifice lost its flavor. He tried to keep going, tried to keep pushing himself. Maybe he knew what was happening to him on some level and fought desperately to save himself. Put duct tape over the cracks in a dam, because that's probably all it amounted to, because the wisdom he needed didn't exist within him at that time and he didn't/couldn't find it anywhere else. Pushed forward even when he couldn't see where he was going anymore. Until every muscle in his body hurt. Until he'd lived long enough to see everything he ever lived and worked for be taken apart for scrap, for a vendetta, for shits and giggles.

Until he started looking at those bandits and warlords and terrorists he used to help put away and thinking... "hey. Maybe they're seeing something I'm not. If nothing else at all, they sure look like they're having fun. Way more than I am right now." Until he gave in to despair and grew bitter, and thought "well, if nothing I do really matters, if destroying it all is what makes people happy, then maybe I should give it a shot."

And then he became a bandit, a warlord, a terrorist. He turned into all those people he hated and continues to hate today. He cut out the middle-man and just ended lives before they could begin. Razed civilizations to the ground because that was what was going to happen anyway, whether it be by his hand or someone else's. What does it even matter? What does anything matter? This is all history is. Pain and suffering. He's only doing what's natural. He's solving problems before they can even occur, really. He's doing everyone a REAL favor. Destruction truly is the only way.

The best way to make the world a better place is to make the lives of those around you better first. Even just helping the one person makes a difference in its own way. Think less about making history by winning a war or toppling a regime and more about making history in an old person's life by helping them up when they fall down. Or making history in a dog's life by volunteering at an animal shelter. Or making history in your friends' lives by having a fun day with them that they'll remember and cherish even on their deathbeds. Change doesn't have to be grand. It doesn't need to be an all-consuming tide that rises above the tallest buildings. It can just be gentle waves and seafoam, washing over the sand and kissing one's feet. That's enough, more often than not. More than one might realize.

Maybe if somebody made sure Burning Spice kept this in mind, he wouldn't have turned into a Beast in the end.

TL;DR: History is shit. Him losing it makes perfect sense. I probably would have, too. Somebody should've been there to keep him grounded. Everyone failed him and he failed himself. Remember to live in the present. YO SOCRATES, IT'S A FUCKING COOKIE

#beast cookies #burning spice cookie #beast yeast #mystic flour cookie #eternal sugar cookie #shadow milk cookie #silent salt cookie #cookie run kingdom #I’m sorry if you get a notification on this op’s #hopefully I got my opinion out right I can’t tell if it’s just regurgitated info or not

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loverangels · 2 days ago

Text

studying

pairings: tasm!peter x fem!reader

synopsis: you've been studying too hard and peter claims he knows a way how to help you relax....

The table is a war zone of textbooks, flashcards, and crumpled-up papers. Your laptop hums faintly, its screen covered in tabs upon tabs of lecture slides, practice quizzes, and YouTube tutorials that are supposed to help you understand this mess. But all it’s doing is making your head spin. Highlighter clenched between your teeth, you scribble furiously in the margins of your notes, the weight of finals week crushing you like a boulder.

You don’t even notice Peter standing in the doorway, watching you with his usual mix of amusement and fondness. His hoodie sleeves are pushed up to his elbows, and his hair is delightfully messy from whatever project he abandoned to come check on you. “Lovey,” he calls softly, but you don’t answer, too lost in your spiral of academic doom.

Peter takes it as his cue to come closer, his footsteps barely making a sound. Suddenly, you feel warm hands on your shoulders, and before you can protest, his lips are brushing against the side of your neck. “Hey, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice so soft it’s almost a purr. “How’s my favorite genius doing?”

You groan, tilting your head away from him to focus on your notes. “Peter, I don’t have time for this. Finals are next week, and I’m going to fail if I don’t—”

“You’re not gonna fail,” he interrupts, trailing another kiss just under your ear. His hands squeeze your shoulders gently, working out a knot you didn’t even know was there. “You’re way too smart for that.”

“Peter,” you scold, finally twisting to glare at him. “I mean it! I’ve got, like, five chapters to get through tonight alone, and if you keep distracting me, I’m seriously—seriously—going to fail!”

Peter just grins, entirely unbothered by your threats. “Sweetheart,” he coos, leaning down so his lips are practically brushing your ear, “my smart girl could ace these finals with her eyes closed.”

You groan, letting your head fall into your hands. “I’m not your smart girl right now. I’m your stressed-out, on-the-verge-of-a-breakdown girl.”

He crouches down beside you, resting his chin on your shoulder as he peers at your color-coded chaos. “You’re overthinking, lovey. You always do. You’ve been studying for weeks. You’ve got this, I promise.”

You sigh, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. “It’s not overthinking, it’s being prepared. I just—ugh, I don’t know. I’m stressing, okay?”

Peter’s silent for a beat, but you don’t trust the look on his face for one second. That mischievous little smirk is forming, the one that makes your stomach flip in equal parts dread and anticipation. “I think,” he starts, his voice dropping to a playful drawl, “I know a way to help you relax.”

You whirl on him, narrowing your eyes. “Peter Benjamin Parker, don’t you—”

But it’s too late. In one swift motion, he pulls you out of your chair and into his arms, peppering kisses across your face and neck as you squirm. “Pete!” you yelp, laughing despite yourself. “Stop it! I’m serious!”

“I’m serious too!” he counters, grinning against your skin. “Serious about making sure my girl doesn’t burn herself out. I’ll even quiz you later, but right now? You’re taking a break.”

You try to scold him again, but he’s got that stupidly endearing look in his eyes, the one that makes it impossible to stay mad at him. And when he finally sets you down, his hair even messier than before and his smirk utterly smug, you realize he’s right. Maybe finals aren’t so impossible after all. Especially with Peter Parker by your side, distracting you in the best way possible.

#fem!reader #peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker imagine #peter parker fluff #spiderman x reader #spiderman imagine #spiderman fluff #spiderman x you #tasm peter parker #tasm!peter x reader #tasm!peter x you #tasm!peter imagine #tasm!peter fluff #tasm!peter parker #tasm spiderman #tasm fluff #marvel imagine

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olderthannetfic · 2 days ago

Note

oh MAN, im genuinely at the edge of a mental breakdown whenever the femslash numbers discourse resurfaces, like at this point it just elevates my blood pressure, i dig my nails into my thigh, and i go to one of my trusty fandom friends to complain about other people's complaints. i ship pretty much across the board without preference for gender combo, altho by virtue of my favourite character archetype niches being occupied by men, i end up with comparatively mostly m/m and m/f with only the occasional f/f. almost all of these end up being rarepairs with at least one supporting or minor character that are eclipsed by whatever juggernaut ship the fandom prefers but never compels me. im used to looking into a ship tag and come up with less than 100 works, most of the times it's less than 50. does this annoy me on the odd occasion, be it because i think X/Y is so much more cooler than uh, A/B that the fandom is obsessed with? sure, but i see no reason to rain on people's parade - i just mute tags and mentions and seethe in silence or private DMs. i write for my unpopular rarepairs, i reblog stuff posted in tags and cheer in my own tags, i chat with people who are also into it, and get overjoyed whenever there's a new fic in the AO3 tag (or elsewhere) that I can read. to me, the femslash situation feels very similar - you like the ship between two blorbos, there's enough fan made stuff for them to fit in the shell of a hazelnut, and 80% of the fandom will swoon over the two people who you personally couldn't give two fucks about even if someone paid you. and shoutout to the people who DO make the fan stuff, the art, the fic, the meta, the discord servers, who request and put up prompts in fic exchanges to inspire others... but by god, if the whiners aren't the ones who dominate the conversation, which i wouldn't mind as much if they'd do ANYTHING besides whine. no, they will scream and shout about how the "yaoi empire" needs to be taken down (how about you just move to FFN? Wattpad?), but then it's either obnoxious nitpicky fucks who haven't posted a single fic in their entire miserable life, or it's m/m shippers who are Not Like The Other Fujoshis and got, uh, i dont fuckin know, 30 works for hockey RPF and 10 for two guys from The Terror who canonically interacted like two times under their belt while they mostly blog about the guys from Interview with the Vampire. they want God, everyone's mother and all the slash shippers on Hedy Lamarr's world wide web to prioritise femslash but don't practise as they fucking preach, tear the work of the people who DO indulgently write about gay women, and think they're oppressed because no one will write exactly what they want. the code for AO3 is for free - unionise along with your fellow femslash enthusiasts, beat the drums really loud, open those google docs, and get some shit started! granted, you're unpleasant cunts and will probably go "actually, no boys allowed in here! get your boy cooties away from this forever!!!! if you like men fucking, go back to ao3!" which will inevitably drive people who like f/f as well as m/m away, so you might be doomed to fail but in the words of that adorable little kitten poster: hang in there!

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knnichs · 3 days ago

Text

STEM MEETS HUMSS

your teachers have planned a collaboration between the three strands for the christmas event on the 18th. you've gotten quite close with a certain top student in stem–and it seems that you have caught his attention too.

c. tighnari x gn!reader

t. strangers to friends, no romance YET, reader has a crush on tighnari, filipino school culture, cursing, innacurate depictions of senior highschool, not proofread we die like ... like .. sweats um. wc: 3.1k

taglist. @pneumosia @gladiolus-nyx @snobwaffles thanks for brainrotting abt this with me chat && @thestarswhisper @tragedy-of-commons @azuresaqua @writingandmusing @usagiarchives @hanniejji -> join the taglist here!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY KING!!! author notes at the end, as always :D

“And as for the letter delivery event,” Albedo opens a file on his laptop to present on the tv screen–the draft proposal of your class for this holiday. “How do you plan to do that?”

You doodle mindlessly on your paper, faking the scribbles made from the ballpoint pen as ‘taking notes.’ Honestly, if the senior high faculty didn’t decide on making a semester end project, you wouldn’t even have to stress about this. At least it was a collaboration between subjects so it meant there was less work to do, although you do have to worry about the different rubrics.

You sigh, quite deeply at that.

“It’s actually pretty self explanatory. They order through an online form, write a letter and choose a bundle of gifts, and we deliver it to the recipient. Whether the sender wants it to be an anonymous thing is up to them,” Navia, your section's representative, answers. The bell rings right on time, cutting Albedo off right before he was about to say something.

It was already 4:30, you’d have to commute back home so–you’ll be back by what, 5:30? Considering the rush hour too… Oh god, absolutely nothing could make you like the rush hour. The train is always packed, the buses feel like you’re sardines packed in a can–a very hot, sweaty, and humid can, and you’ll be stuck with the bass of the music just blasting in your ear every few seconds.

“Okay, before you all leave–ensure that each strand representative assigns you all a role. As for Stem, everything is already.. well, almost, set.” Albedo starts packing up his things, unplugging his laptop and taking his pen. “I still have to assign someone to lead the graphics later, but Kinich will handle the research team, please note that down.”

“Is this only for our donation drive, or for… everything?” Kinich asks, crossing his arms.

“Only for our donation drive and for the actual seminar itself before the party. Ah, well actually–you reminded me of something.” The blonde nods, gesturing for Navia and Chiori to come forward to the table. You groan, slumping down on your desk–face all squashed up on the wood. You check your watch; 4:35, when will this end? “Okay, this is the last one, I swear.” Navia smiles. “Then you can all go home, it’s quick, I promise you.”

“There are two different things we will work on: The first would be each strand’s event–like the donation drive, the delivery service, and the raffle. The second would be the seminar itself, this is the one we will all work together on.” She continues, “We agreed on having Humss and Stem lead the presentation itself. ABM will host the program, is everyone okay with that?”

“That’s it, you’re free to leave.” Chiori nods, “Turn off the lights and the AC. Thank you, everyone, and goodluck.”

This is going to be a hellish three weeks.

A part of you silently hoped that Navia would assign you to the presentation. Not only is research something you despise, it strains your eyes to stay glued to a monitor for 20 hours. Well, you’ll still technically be doing the same thing if you’re editing the presentation–but that’s besides the point. Graphics means less thinking, more doing (and going on pinterest to ‘look for inspiration’) (which is also short for doom scrolling)

Your phone flashes on, a notification snapping you out of your silent prayer. Navia had messaged your group chat accompanied with quite a long series of mentions. Yes, she tagged you almost 20 times already, and she’s still going.

4:59 PM | YOU : ??????? yes?? Navia : DO U REMEMBER THAT HALLWAY CRUSH U KEPT TALKING ABOUT

Ah yes, your infamous hallway crush. The one your friends had labelled as boy number 10 with how much you fell in love with the most random group of people. You knew three things max about him. One, he helped you fix up the classroom when you were assigned as the class cleaner along with three other people. Said three ditched you and went home early, you were lucky enough to still be there even a few minutes after because if it weren't for that–you probably would have never met this guy at all. He helped you clean up the random bits of paper on the floor, and your dumbass forgot to ask for his name. Two, a few days later you see him go inside the stem classroom. You were too shy to actually ask for his name–even if you did have a few acquaintances in their class, you’re scared that news might reach him and that he would start avoiding you. And finally…

– HUMSS, except we’re the patient

5:00 PM | Navia : IM LITERALLY ASSIGNING YOU TO THE GRAPHICS TEAM RN. HES LEADING THE PRESENTATION Mualani : girl u didnt even mention his name yet Navia : wait dont they know already ???? YOU : NO? 5:01 PM | Mualani : OH BOY. his name is tighnari btw one of the top students in stem Mualani : u hit jackpot with this or something cause like. WOW. top student thats insane Mualani : wonder how hes going to deal with your stupid ahh 😭 YOU : this is literally slander. not you speaking as if you didnt get a 5/25 on the math test earlier YOU : also, the block button looks so good rn 5:02 PM | Mualani : WHAT Mualani : DONT YOU DARE Mualani : YOU MEAN TO SAY THE TIME WE SPENT TOGETHER MEANT NOTHING TO YOU???? Navia : WAIT SHUT UP IM ADDING U TO THE GC

You shortly get added to an almost 20 person group chat titled PRESENTATION, no creativity whatsoever, you grade the originality a 2 out of 5. Only one text has been sent – and Navia was not lying when she said your hallway crush was leading the graphics team. After a bit of research (visiting his profile,) you come to realize that yeah, she was right, and you are doomed.

– HUMSS, EXCEPT WE’RE THE PATIENT

5:05 PM | Navia : trust me when i say that i got your back on this Navia : navia for best wingman when YOU : ill literally do your reviewer for the exams if u help set me up YOU : arent you close with albedo PLEASE TELL HIM TO DO SOMETHING YOU : without mentioning my name. ofc 5:06 PM | Navia : 👍 Navia : LIKE I SAID, I GOT UR BACK YOU : ILY

Two weeks have passed since the original planning for the event. Your plate has been so full you didn’t even realize there have been an additional three new projects you need to work on–and they were all due next week. Thanks to the absolutely soul crushing curriculum your school decided to follow, you are now going to school at 6 a.m, going home at 5 p.m (if you’re lucky enough,) and have even more things to worry about at home. You don’t even get to sleep until 12.

“Is this a sign to drop out?” You grumble, laying your head down on the desk.

“If you are–I am definitely joining you.” Mualani draped her jacket over your shoulders, giving you a pat on the back as a way to comfort you. “How’re things with you and guy number 10?”

Oh, right. You haven’t mustered up any courage at all to start talking with him. Everytime you get the chance to approach him, you cowardly run away internally screaming you weren’t ready for commitment just yet. You were just going to talk to him–not start a relationship immediately!

“I mean, it’s… nothing special happened. I haven’t gotten to talk to him.” Brushing off some of the hair that was on your face, you look at Mualani’s grim expression. She faked a sniffle–kneeling on the ground on some dramatic act. Reaching a hand out to the board and her left arm on her heart.

“Oh, gods! You’re going to die alone at this rate!” The girl cries out, and you cringe at her–she stands straight up again, brushing off some of the dirt that got on her skirt. “On a serious note though, when do you plan on actually trying to befriend him? This is your chance, just take it.”

“It’s not like my life depends on this situation. It’s just a crush, it’ll pass.”

“Woow–” Mualani drags off, quite sarcastically. “Look at you all grown up! Did your frontal lobe develop overnight or something?”

“Shut up!”

A blank canva screen is all you’re greeted with once you got home. Nothing has really popped in your head–no amount of doom scrolling on pinterest was able to help your… predicament. You technically volunteered for this–the presentation. You’ve thought about tugging your hair off your head out of frustration again, but you already did that earlier the first time you opened the canva file. How you wish it could just put the elements on the screen by itself already, you’re too exhausted to really deal with this.

Your phone buzzes as it lights up, a notification on the graphics team pops up on your homescreen, and you click on it to open the group chat.

– PRESENTATION

6:14 PM | Tighnari : Good evening! We will have a meeting at 6:30 PM. It’ll last around an hour or so, it’ll be a quick discussion with everyone so we can all settle on a common theme for the flow of events. Tighnari : [google meet link] Tighnari : If you cannot attend, react to this message so I can relay what happened here.

About 10 people reacted with a sobbing emoji. You debated if you even wanted to join yourself, but you eventually just set your phone back down and opened the link, waiting for it to open.

“Oh, you’re quite early.” A voice comes out of your laptop's speakers. You almost jump out of your seat, hovering your mouse to the tab of the meeting only to realize it was boy number 10 talking to you. “We’re starting in like, 10 minutes from now. Did you have a question?”

Wow, the timing. What a coincidence.

You turn your mic on, “No, I just joined so I wouldn’t be late.”

“I see.”

Mualani’s words from earlier echoed in your head. She’s right, this project is an excuse for you to get the chance to talk to him. This is bad. You can’t think of anything to continue the conversation–

“You’re the one who was left behind in the classroom, right?”

“What?”

Someone dig a hole and bury you in it now. He remembers? You remember you were close to tears that time! That might just be the most humiliating thing you’ve ever experienced and you were upset over everything that day–you were late to class because you woke up quite late, your food was already burning while you ironed your clothes, you ended up burning a part of your uniform because you didn’t get rid of the plug, you left your lunch on the table because you were in a rush–it was truly the most hectic day you��ve ever experienced.

“I mean–yeah, the cleaners thing? Thanks for… helping me out, by the way.” You replied.

He hummed, a hint of amusement in his voice. Does he find this funny?

“I can only guess that you weren’t having the best day. I just had some extra time and noticed your classmates had left you behind, it’s no problem.”

You fall silent, unsure of how to continue this.

“I forgot to ask for your name,” wait, that just sounds odd. “for the–uh, presentation. Since we’re working together, right?” you mumbled.

“Tighnari, what about you?”

“[Name].”

“I’ll keep that in mind, then. Since we’re working together.” He chuckled. It didn’t take too long until a few other people started joining the meeting.

It was already way past midnight and you were still working on the stupid presentation. It didn’t help that you felt like you were really the only one working on this–save for Navia. Mualani hasn’t touched the file at least once and only really gave criticism on the placement of the random elements. There’s really no way you can actually drink alcohol, so you choose to drown your sorrows away with yet another cup of coffee, and the damned presentation.

You go on the last blank slide with a dark blue color for the background and some random low quality star in hopes to make it the least bit interesting. You click on the text button and start typing away, wondering what setting you clicked on to mess up the arrangements and text positioning that you had already fixed. Shortly realizing it was in fact–not a setting, but another person in the presentation.

So you get a new block of text and type out: “can u like, not mess this up. im tired, thx”

The green cursor would stay still for a few seconds before disappearing and coming out with another block of text: “its ugly. im fixing it”

What a response. You glance at the top right of your screen and recognize the profile picture–Tighnari, who knew you’d be such a bitch?

You’re too tired to deal with this. It was already 3 a.m, you’ve had your fourth cup of coffee, and you’d rather jump than have to deal with any kind of attitude. You still have to get up at 6 tomorrow–no, later. You’d have a total of THREE hours of sleep! That’s a new record.

You delete all the previous text you had and start ranting on your side of the slide.

“who asked. like literally”

“well im just fixing it. unlike you, i dont want to present something like…” The text pauses, the line blinks for a few seconds and continues. “...something as creative as this, on the actual seminar”

“who do u think u are anyway??? thags quiet rude.”

“thats* and quite.* seems like you should get your rest for the day, its 3 anyway. ill take over, no worries.”

Oh, the nerve of this guy! First he comes stomping into your part of the presentation–you’ve already done everything in your style, it’ll be weird if the design somehow clashes midway the seminar just because this entitled guy decided to “fix” things.

“clearly this is MY slide. why are u here anyway”

“my name is on the left side and the data *you* are typing is my part of the research. technically, this is my slide.”

“smartass”

“thags quiet rude.”

That’s it. You’ve had enough. It’s too early to be worrying over this anyway, so you delete your past message and the whole slide entirely.

“fine then. u do it. im going to bed.”

On the other side of the screen, Tighnari smiles.

“You look like your soul just got sucked out of ‘ya.”

“Navia, please, I am way too tired for this.” You raise your hand as you bury yourself deeper into your arm. The past week of you staying up is certainly catching up to you now, and you have to deal with the consequences..

“You couldn’t even focus during comm-arts. I’m actually quite glad Mr. Zhongli is understanding–he let you sleep the whole period.” She replies, looking at Mualani.

“I am so done with this presentation thing. When will it end?” You sigh, facing your friends.

Navia only smiles softly amidst your suffering. “Don’t worry, it’s tomorrow.”

“Wait, are you being serious?”

She nods, looking at the board and reading the date out loud– “It’s the seventeenth, so, yeah. Tomorrow. Eighteen.”

“...Is something wrong?” Mualani asks, crossing her arms.

“I mean, Tighnari and I have talked for a total of two times the entire time we were doing the project.” Dragging your fingers down your face, “In one of them, I quite literally called him a smartass.”

“That’s rough,” Navia murmurs.

A voice calls for Navia and she eventually bids goodbye to the two of you. The realization just dawns on you–you’ve wasted all your chances of getting to know boy number 10–sorry, Tighnari, better. Now you’re going to go into the new year knowing that you fumbled quite badly.

“You know what they say,” Mualani pats a hand on your shoulder. “There are plenty of fish in the sea. Knowing you, you’ll jump back from this no problem.”

“Yeah, well, right now there is only one fish and he’s probably trying his best to run away from me.”

She giggles at your comment, “You’ll be okay. Don’t cry over a boy, it’s just not worth it.”

You nod, thankful for the two most supportive friends you have. Mualani, too, gets ready to leave the school already. The bell rang a few minutes ago and you decided to spend time mulling over the decisions you made that led you to your situation right now.

Sitting in the empty, cold classroom with earphones on playing a Silent Sanctuary song–how many times have you seen this kind of scene happen in those cliche love movies?

Sige na please, wag na’ng mainis, bumalik ka na sa’akin.

Come on–please, don’t be annoyed, come back to me.

Your music briefly lowers its volume as you hear a ping come from your phone. You glance at the contact–an unknown number. Who could be so entitled as to ruin your weekly “drown in your thoughts?”

Only one person, apparently.

You were shocked to realize it was indeed not a notification about your parcel being delivered (since you went online to buy something to cure your “sadness” over this technically-a-rejection,) but a message from someone.

4:31 PM | Unknown Contact : “I feel bad about what happened yesterday, I didn’t mean to give you an attitude that late at night. Do you wanna go to a cafe tomorrow, after classes?” Unknown Contact : “This is Tighnari, by the way. Save it.”

You open the chat quickly, typing a response.

4:32 PM | YOU : “Who gave you my number?” Tighnari : “Your friend did, I’ve already thanked her.” Tighnari : “So… Do you want to go? If you want to invite your friends, that's fine too.” Tighnari : “You seem like a nice person and I want to get to know you” Tighnari : “If you’ll let me.”

@ knnichs 2023 ﹑ do not repost, republish, translate, feed to ai or modify any of my works. doing so can and will result into me blocking you.

chat will u believe me if i said i crammed writing this . its probably really obvious i didnt think about the plot too much ALSO there might be a part 2 to this . because i barely scratched the surface me thinks NYWAY im going to go sleep im too tired

#—stellaronhvnters.#genshin #genshin x reader #genshin x reader fluff #genshin fluff #tighnari #tighnari fluff #tighnari x reader #tighnari x reader fluff #tighnari x gn!reader #tighnari x gn!reader fluff #tighnari au #genshin filo au #genshin filipino au #genshin filo fluff

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