#when the truth is that he was so disconnected from the other parts of his soul that he didnt even notice their destruction

[neptuneiris]

could you pretend to be in love? (10/10)

The Realization

pairing: modern!aemond × fem!reader (fake dating)

summary: prom is coming and so is the end of a stage in your life. surprises and unexpected conversations take place, the question is, are you able to forgive in order to move on?

word count: 9.7k

previous part • series masterlist

this is not a drill, it's really happening!

first of all, i want to apologize for having left this story aside without finishing it. it wasn't something i decided, the writer's block precisely in this fic made me not try anymore for a while, mostly to clear my mind and my ideas, because i had no idea what to write after chapter nine 💀

so I hope you really forgive me and enjoy the last chapter 🥺 it has been an honor to have given you this little fic, I really enjoyed writing it despite the little mental breakdowns I had haha

and just like my other stories, I keep it in my heart and it will always be here for whenever you want to reread (I will make sure to post it in AO3, don't worry) i'm also thinking of doing a poll about the epilogue where you guys will decide if you want one or prefer this ending. let me know after you finish reading the chapter 🤗

enjoy and I look forward to your comments!

It still all feels like a bad dream that you can't wake up from. An unwanted dream. A nightmare.

And every time a new day comes, you feel like a human being who does everything in automatic mode, not because you really want to.

In front of your dad you must pretend that everything is fine, but as soon as you leave home and get to school, you feel a huge weight and a sadness that nothing and no one can take away from you.

You feel the stares of some people on you, if not all of them. But the truth is that you feel so emotionally drained that you don't even pay attention to them.

Many would say that not being accepted to a college doesn't mean it's the end of the world. Nor does it mean that your chances are over because there is still too much time to be able to do everything you want.

And you accept that they are right. All is not lost because you didn't get accepted.

When you were rejected the first time when you applied in conjunction with the scholarship, disillusionment sets in. There is disappointment in yourself for not being enough and there is this question that constantly floats in your mind; why others do and I don't? Why am I not worthy of the same fate as them?

Maybe it's age, but it's inevitable to feel that rejection and failure after having so many plans and having in mind the idea of making your dad proud by telling him that you've been accepted to college.

And not just any college, but Citadel.

But so far, you haven't had the courage to tell him instead that you won't go to any college. You just can't. You don't know what exactly you'll tell him and you don't want to face it yet. You don't want to see his disappointed face so you need more time.

So instead of dreams and aspirations, as well as preparing to live a college life, you prepare and focus on getting a job. You don't see employment as a bad thing either. You just wish you didn't have to focus on it right now.

You haven't talked to Aemond either. You haven't even seen him.

You're in some classes together. But you barely pay attention. Even though you used to notice his presence before and now, unconsciously, you ignore it. Now your mind is too busy with your worries.

It's like being in a disconnect. You are just there, existing. But you barely talk, barely react and barely do. You just want classes to end soon so you can go home.

Of course, he hasn't stopped trying.

He wants to talk to you, but you won't let him. You just don't want to have anything to do with him anymore. Even though you feel that emptiness he has left, you immediately force yourself not to think about it.

It's like pain and confusion mixed together, but your pride and that same pain makes you prefer to stay away.

You don't even care anymore what people say about him and you. It's obvious that the two of you are no longer in a 'relationship'. No one knows what happened and neither one of you is clarifying anything.

Which you are grateful for, so as not to feed the topic in the whole school.

Meanwhile, Alysanne and Cregan are almost always around you, trying to cheer you up and make you endure school better. You couldn't be more grateful for both of them either.

"So what are your plans for the weekend?"

Alysanne asks as the three of you are sitting on a bench in the outside courtyard. On the bench where you and Aemond made the fake relationship contract, precisely. But you try not to focus on that as the three of you eat lunch.

"We're going to the movies, did you forget already?" asks Cregan, confused.

"Huh? This weekend?"

"You forgot," he assures her.

"I didn't forget!" she lies, nervous.

"We agreed to go on Saturday. To the ten o'clock function for the horror movie."

Oh yes, the two of them are dating. Just as you and Aemond have 'broken up', so you try not to feel more distressed about it.

"Do you want to come, Y/N?"

You raise your gaze to Alysanne, confused, who gives you a smile.

"It's a date, isn't it? Just the two of you."

"We'll have more dates," she makes a nonchalant gesture.

Poor Cregan.

"Besides, it would do you good to clear your head a bit. So, what better than going to the movies? Right, Cregan?"

"Yeah, it'll do you good," he nods.

"No, thank you," you say softly, "I don't want to interfere with your dates. Besides, I'm not in the mood to go out. I'd rather stay home."

"You're not going to interfere with anything. Besides, you've stayed home enough days," she reproaches you, "Come on. Even one night. We'll have a great time."

"If you don't want to go to the movies, we can go somewhere else," Cregan proposes.

You grimace slightly.

"No, thank you. I..." you sigh, "I really appreciate it, guys. But I'd rather stay home."

Staying home to look for a proper job and plan to tell your dad you won't be going to college, like you've been doing for the past few days.

"Are you sure?" Alysanne looks at you not entirely convinced.

"Yeah," you shrug, "Don't worry about me."

"Of course I worry about you."

"You should focus on your date," you say as you give Cregan a meaningful look.

"Totally," Cregan nods, "In fact, she'll plan the next date."

"What?" she looks at him in horror.

"What you heard."

"And why me?"

"Because I always do."

Your talk with them doesn't last long as soon the bell rings and they head off to their respective classes, except for you, who has a free hour.

So you stand on the bench alone, just looking outside and nothing else, enjoying your lunch unhurriedly and in peace and quiet.

You let out a long breath and distract yourself for a few moments in your social networks, watching as some people post their reactions from when they were accepted to colleges. Everyone screams, smiles and cries of happiness with their families.

Except for others who quietly show how they were not accepted. But they open more emails and get accepted to other colleges.

You wish you were part of them.

You close those apps and go to Tiktok to distract yourself for a while by watching funny videos or storytimes.

When suddenly, you hear footsteps approaching behind you, which catches your attention. You turn your head, peeking over your shoulder and then you see him, Aemond.

He stops as soon as your eyes look directly into his, as if you've caught him in the act of robbery. Which reveals how very cautious he was being to approach and not scare you.

You see the uncertainty in his gaze, the insecurity and the wariness all at the same time. Which is rare for him, as he doesn't allow himself to look so vulnerable. But you understand why he's this way with you.

First you think about getting up and leaving him with the word in his mouth, like you've been doing lately. But for some reason, it's like finally your mind resigns and your body will force you to stay where you're sitting. And you don't even know why.

Or maybe it's because he's begging you with his gaze not to leave and listen to what he has to say after so many weeks.

Inevitably your nerves invade you and neither he nor you say anything for a few long seconds. He just stands still, as if testing the waters, waiting to see if you will move away from him again attentively.

Then he swallows hard and watches you with a sad but hopeful expression.

“Can I come closer?”

You press your lips together, think about it for a few seconds and finally give him a barely visible nod.

You turn your gaze to the front and begin to put your tupper with food in your backpack. While at the same time Aemond approaches you, cautious but firm. And surprised that you are allowing him to do this.

You let out a long breath and bring a hand to your hair, nervous, not knowing why.

Then he steps in front of you and only at that moment, you realize he has a folder in his hand. A folder that he sets down on the table in front of you, with smooth, cautious movements.

“I just came to drop this off for you. Nothing else.”

You raise your gaze to look at it confused for a moment, then look back down at the folder in front of you.

“It's the paperwork you need to submit to finalize the scholarship process,” he says softly, “Classes start in two months and by now you should have received an email from the university with all the information as an incoming student.”

Wait, what?

Your mind immediately questions, as you frown more and feel your heart start to beat too fast.

“What are you talking about?” you ask in a low murmur, not understanding.

And Aemond lets out a long breath.

“I'm keeping my promise.”

His words echo steadily in your mind.

And you dare to raise your gaze to him again, confused, serious and incredulous. And what he does is lower his gaze, sorrowful and unsure. However… he is firm with what he is saying.

Then a tingle begins to run through your hands, at the same time as you feel the nervousness sweep through your body like a wave. You part your lips as you look at the folder in front of you and with trembling hands, you pick it up and open it.

The first thing you see is the university logo and an overwhelming sensation sweeps over your body and mind as you see what appears to be a letter addressed to you.

Miss. Y/N Y/L/N, Faculty of Law. Official documentation for the scholarship process.

You feel the air you were holding in your lungs slowly leave your mouth. And a huge weight that you felt in your chest is lifted, allowing you to rest and breathe properly.

At first, you think your mind is playing a joke on you. You think he's doing it. But… this is real. More real than you can imagine.

“I know I didn't do things the right way…

Aemond begins to speak, noticing the mix of shock and confusion in your gaze, breathing hard through your mouth.

“I know I took you for granted and that I hurt you,” he says softly, “But that was never my intention, Y/N. I-I… I thought I would get everything under control. That I would work it out and get everything done on time. But, it's just… I don't even have justification.”

You feel tears begin to form in your eyes. But you control yourself. You bite the inside of your cheek and try not to let his words make you break down in tears.

As if the fact that you have in front of you one of the papers confirming and assuring you that you will finally go to the college of your dreams isn't enough.

“I should have acted sooner and looked for solutions. I should have been honest with you from the beginning. And you don't know how sorry I am,” he says softly and vulnerably, his gaze lowered, ”I also don't expect you to forgive me for keeping a promise and asking for forgiveness. I know I fucked up and things can never go back to the way they were. But I just want you to know…” he takes a moment, "That I really did fall in love with you."

Fuck.

“What I felt for you was real. It was never a game or a pretense. I was just… afraid,” he admits, ”Afraid of fucking up what we had. Afraid it would all fall apart if I told you the truth. But… I ruined everything,” he says with a resigned tone, ”You don't have to talk to me again either if you don't want to. You don't owe me anything. I just wanted to tell you the truth and let you know how sorry I am.”

Each word echoes in your mind, with the weight of his regret and his sincerity. You feel the tremble in your body, not helping the fact that you are still staring at the college sheet addressed to your name.

And you hold back, trying to calm the chaos being unleashed inside you by his words.

When he doesn't say anything else, you certainly won't and you both fall silent for a moment, as the weight of his words and the meaning of them fill the space. Until he speaks again.

“I won't bother you anymore,” he moves forward a bit back to the way he came, “Best of luck at Citadel. You deserve it, you really do,” he tells you with a small smile that is sad but genuine at the same time.

Then his figure disappears from your field of vision and you hear him start to walk away. And at that moment, the world seems to stop for you.

Unable to help yourself, you turn your head and watch him walk away with tears in your eyes. There is something in his walk, in that slight slope of his shoulders, that screams the burden he carries. And you don't know why, but… you want to call him, to tell him something that will ease the knot you both feel.

However, you know that won't fix anything.

You feel the air leave you, his words still echoing in your mind. You stare at the folder again, trying to remember what this achievement meant to you before this moment, before he came and stirred all the emotions in you.

You try to be strong, you try not to let this affect you more than it should, you think of the positive. But you can't.

So still in disbelief, excitement, sadness and with all your emotions mixed up, you take your phone, unlock it and open your emails app. And there, your most recent email, you read: Citadel University.

With your hands shaking, you press the email and read in slightly larger letters: Welcome to Citadel University! Miss Y/N, Y/L/N. Faculty of Law, Registration number: 31982.

Then, finally, you can't hold back the tears any longer and you put a hand to your mouth, letting them out, with confused and intense feelings coming over you.

Your father's loving and proud words, hugs and kisses make you smile.

It took you four days to finally break the news to him. And seeing him so happy, excited and proud, made you finally stop feeling so bad for even a moment. You also broke the news to Alysanne and Cregan, who were very happy for you.

Neither of them mentioned Aemond, which you appreciated. But there is the clear acknowledgement to him for making this possible.

You obviously left the job search behind and instead started contacting the university. You sent the missing and necessary documents, they sent you information about the scholarship, your schedule, classes and also about your dorm.

It's like finally this void in your chest is being filled as you finally see this all happening. And as you look at the pictures of the university, with old, elegant and modern architecture at the same time, that excitement rises in you.

However, what you feel is not happiness in its entirety.

In fact, you feel in the middle of a crossroads; joy is mixed with sadness. And the satisfaction of fulfilling the dream feels incomplete.

The worst part is that you know why.

But you don't think about it too much either. You don't want to. On the contrary, you force yourself to repeat over and over again that this was the plan all along. You force yourself to enjoy it and get excited.

You force yourself to think that what happened outside of getting into the college of your dreams was for a reason, but in the end you got what you really wanted.

But, deep down inside, you think about how you wish things could have been different.

At the same time, prom is just around the corner.

At first, you thought about not attending, but of course, Alysanne wouldn't let you think about it anymore. She dragged you with her to the dress store and sentenced that it will be a date of three, her, Cregan and you.

You tried to persuade her, to make her understand that Cregan only wants her as his date. But, of course, Cregan as the great friend he also is, told you it would be fun.

Certainly neither he nor you nor Alysanne have ever been on a three-way date and he told you; what better than to try it at the prom?

The prom preparations are done. Now the important thing is to turn in final projects and get rid of all the pending with the professors.

And that's what you're doing now.

With your headphones on and a notebook along with a book on your table, you're about to finish a long, boring project. When you notice how a figure suddenly obscures your workspace and you raise your gaze almost instantly, curious.

Helaena.

You remove your headphones, surprised to see her as she smiles softly at you.

“Hi,” you say to her in a soft tone, putting your project aside for a moment.

“Hi,” she says to you in the same soft tone, ”I… am I interrupting you?”

“Oh no,” you say nonchalantly, “I mean, yes, but I'm just about to finish it anyway. Don't worry.”

She looks at you a little unsure.

“Are you sure? It's just… I don't know,“ she shrugs, 'It's been a while since we last talked and I didn't know if I could come up to you.”

Again you ignore the small sharp pain in your chest at the memory of Aemond and try to look like you're not at all affected by having his sister in front of you.

“Yeah, well…” you try to smile a little, ”Things have been… intense lately.”

She nods as she takes a seat across from you.

“So it's official?” she asks you with a sad tone as she watches you with a sad little smile, “Like, I mean… you and my brother aren't coming back together?”

This time, the sharp pain in your chest is stronger and more persistent. As well as her question hits you like a wave.

How can you tell her that, in reality, everything you and Aemond had was false? That it was all part of an agreement?

The guilt begins to consume you as you see her face full of expectations and the worst thing is that it's not something you should tell her. That should be Aemond. But, still, you feel the urge to cry and you feel the need to finally tell her the truth, for the sake of everyone who made you believe the fake relationship.

“Helaena…” you begin, your voice barely a whisper, ”I-I… need to be honest with you.”

You take a breath, expecting the worst and imagining a series of difficult emotions to deal with.

“This whole thing between Aemond and I… it was fake,” you speak fearfully and sorrowfully, ”We were just… pretending for our own convenience. It wasn't…” you sigh, closing your eyes for a moment heavily, ”It wasn't real.”

You expected surprise, indignation, incredulity, anger, and more, all at the same time. But to your greatest surprise and bewilderment, she doesn't seem remotely surprised. Instead, she just smiles softly at you, full of understanding, as if she's been waiting for this moment for a long time.

“I already knew that,” she tells you in a serene tone that disarms you.

You feel your lungs hold all your air and you watch her completely stunned, surprised and confused with your parted lips. Then you blink, processing her words.

“What?”

“Aemond told me everything the moment you set up your rules,” she replies calmly, “The truth is, he never hides anything from me. He can't. So I already knew what you both were doing from the beginning.”

You continue to watch her in shock and disbelief, unable to believe it, trying to understand how she could have kept this to herself so naturally.

And in that moment, with disbelief and surprise beating in your chest, you realize that in every single conversation you had with her, right here at school, at parties, even at that family dinner that ended in disaster thanks to Aegon's drunkenness… she had always known.

“Though I don't always approve of his decisions, I understood why he did it… and why you did too.”

But your mind is still short-circuiting, processing and comprehending.

You relive in your mind every moment you went out of your way to pretend, believing you were fooling everyone, especially her. And yet, there's Helaena, looking at you with an expression of calm and empathy that completely disarms you.

“So you knew?” you are able to formulate in asking in a breathy whisper.

She nods, smiling softly.

“Easy, only I knew.“

“And you're not upset?” you ask confused, still waiting for some sign of reproach.

“Not at all. On the contrary, I'm relieved,” she tells you honestly, ”People made fun of Aemond after Alys. And, well, that left a mark on him. You know what rumors are like here.”

“Oh, believe me I do.”

“And they made him miserable. It also didn't help at all that Alys was his first girlfriend and his first formal relationship but the two of them didn't love each other, it was just obsession and whim,” she says absurdly, "And with you, at least, he got some peace back, even if it was temporary."

“But then…” you look at her blankly, “Why did you ask me if we'll get back together?”

Helaena sighs, her gaze soft but intense.

“Because in the end the two of you really fell in love. I saw you at Dragonstone and it was… too obvious.”

You remain silent, remembering those moments.

Both of you walking through those historical corridors, seeing and learning absolutely everything about old Valyria. Both holding hands, fascinated in the aquarium watching everything around or walking together on the shore of the beach, laughing, exchanging glances, hugging and kissing every now and then that everything felt too sincere to be pretending.

You relived every moment and every detail that you wished you could go back to when everything was fine.

Aemond had been different with you those days, a side of him that you had never seen and had thought only existed because of his performance in the fake relationship you had both agreed to.

But even you, being there, without the pressure to pretend, you felt the barriers fall between the two of you, because it was all real.

“He fell in love with you, Y/N,” Helaena tells you sincerely, “You… you did too?”

You feel a lump form in your throat and you let the question float in the air for a moment. The answer is so clear in your mind that it hurts; and yet, saying it out loud feels like breaking a promise you had made to protect yourself.

“Yes, I did too,” you admit, sadness settling in your chest, "But…" you take a deep breath, watching her, ”What happened with Floris even though it was a mistake… and then, the fact that he didn't tell me the truth about Citadel, it really hurt me.”

Helaena nods softly, not judging you, simply listening to you. And when she speaks, her tone is so serene and understanding that it comforts you.

“My brother has this amazing ability to do things in the worst possible way,” she says with a small resigned smile, ”Floris was a mistake. He was drunk and well, he told me that before that both of you have had a disagreement, although that doesn't justify it, I know. I'm just saying, it really was a mistake.”

Your mind momentarily flashes back to that moment, when you tried to end the fake relationship after the family dinner thing.

“And as for the Citadel thing…” she pauses, searching for the right words, “He freaked out, Y/N. He didn't know how to tell you without ruining everything. And I know that doesn't justify it either, but…” she sighs, ”He was going to do whatever it took to hold up his part of the contract. He just didn't count on our grandfather suddenly getting difficult. Our family is already so fucked up as it is, that was the last thing he expected.”

Her words suddenly make you feel interested and curious about a specific topic you hadn't remembered until now. But Helaena continues to speak and you listen to her.

“Even though his method was disastrous, in his mind, he was protecting you,” she says, ”Again, I'm not justifying it. But I know he was desperate to get you that place at Citadel no matter what because he knew you deserved it. And…” she smiles at you with a gesture of resignation, "I think he loves you enough to do stupidly risky things. Even go against grandfather and act behind his back knowing how much trouble he could get into.”

You bite the inside of your cheek and feel a knot of emotions form in your chest. Everything she's telling you opens a door to feelings you'd tried to repress, to thoughts you'd rather bury.

You take a deep breath, remembering again those days at Dragonstone.

You relive every moment, when words were redundant and the silence between the two of you felt so full of meaning. He was always watching you in a way that seemed to say everything and nothing at the same time. He was slowly revealing that vulnerable part of himself that he seemed to have lost after Alys.

But as much as you want to think straight, your thoughts are a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. On the one hand, the pain of it all consumes you but on the other, there's the certainty of how you feel about him.

Even when you're hurting, you know you can't ignore it.

“I know he's still waiting, deep down, for maybe…” Helaena pauses, “Maybe there's a chance for both of you.”

The expression on her face is so sincere and tender that you find it impossible not to believe her, and the thought fills you with a mixture of relief and pain. Because, despite everything, you still love him, and that truth is impossible to deny.

“I don't know,” you confess, biting your lips and feeling your eyes water, ”I-I…I don't know what to do. I mean, we're already graduating. We'll go to the same college but I doubt we'll see each other, you know? And I just… n-no… I don't know….

“Hey, hey,” Helaena tells you instantly, ”It's okay. We don't have to talk about this anymore. I didn't want to overwhelm you or burden you, I just wanted to tell you my opinion and for you to talk to someone in case you needed to,” she tells you softly, comfortingly, ”Still, it's something between the two of you and we can talk about anything else.”

You thank her with a relieved look, her gesture of empathy appearing as she watches you with her soft, understanding expression. And then, she speaks with a more casual tone, changing the subject with a lightness that relieves you a bit.

“You have everything ready for graduation? Are you bringing a date?”

“Hum… yes, I already have everything ready,” you nod, ”And no, I'll go with my two friends. I think you met them, Alysanne and Cregan.”

“Oh yes! I know them,” she says with a smile, ”And I'm going with a friend too. I don't really like the idea of everything being so formal, so going with a friend will make it all more fun.”

Both are silent for a few moments, and although the conversation has taken on a lighter tone, you feel there's still a question trapped in your chest. And at the memory of that day, an impulse prompts you to speak before you can stop yourself.

“Helaena,” you call her softly, "I… can I ask you something?" you ask almost in a whisper, lowering your gaze a little, hesitating.

She watches you curiously and nods without hesitation.

“Yeah, sure.”

“Hum…” you stir in your seat, “That night, at dinner, Aegon said something… about your dad not caring about you. What did he mean by that?”

She immediately looks like she wasn't expecting that question at all, which immediately makes you regret it, but then she softens her whole gaze, not looking at all uncomfortable or upset.

“Oh, well… our dad…” she begins to speak, choosing her words precisely, “Well, he was always very neglectful with us. He always left all the work to mom to take care of us, even when she had to work too so she wasn't totally dependent on him,” she explains, ”It was chaos for a long time. Aegon and I lost years of education because of his lack of commitment.”

“Really?” you look at her attentively and surprised.

“He missed the date to register us for kindergarten in our proper time. He always forgot our birthdays or some important date. But, of course, that never happened to him with our older stepsister, Rhaenyra.”

You remember Aemond mentioning her, though not much.

“And you don't talk to her?”

“Yes, of course,” she says with a small smile, “She was never at blame. In fact, by comparison, she always took us into account and never forgot our existence,” she explains, ”And well, eventually mom divorced him. And the only good thing dad did in the end was to mention us and give us parts of his inheritance in his will.”

Helaena's sincerity and calmness in sharing this about her life surprises you and, at the same time, makes you understand the complicated family history behind them. Now it's no wonder why Aegon was so angry to bring up the subject of parents.

Nor do you ignore the connection you begin to feel towards them, obviously because of your mother and her abandonment.

“It must have been very difficult, for everyone,” you murmur, ”I'm sorry to hear that.”

She nods, though her expression doesn't reflect bitterness, but something akin to mature acceptance.

“Yes, but that made us strong,” she says with a slight smile, "Aegon was the one who resented his absence the most, as you could see," she tells you knowingly, ”You know, being the eldest and all. But we're more… happy now, now that he's gone,” she confesses.

You let out a long breath, watching her with compassion.

“Thank you for telling me. I didn't mean to intrude, really.”

“No, it's fine, it really doesn't affect me,” she assures you softly, ”After that Aegon scene at dinner, it's valid you know. So don't worry.”

You both smile softly at each other, expressions warm and sincere, falling silent. When Helaena stands up, slinging her backpack over her shoulder.

“Well…” she says, letting out a slight sigh, adjusting her backpack, ”I should be going now. I also have projects to finish.”

“Sure,” you nod, ”Thanks for coming and talking to me.”

“Oh, there's nothing to thank you for. Anytime. I'll see you later, okay?”

“Okay.”

You both say goodbye and you watch her walk away in the direction of the main building, her silver hair shining in the sunlight, as you let out a long breath and put your headphones back in.

Prom.

You really don't understand what you're doing here. But it's all Alysanne's doing, like the makeup, hairstyle and dress.

You get out of Cregan's car with a beautiful lilac metallic dress on. Finding it wasn't hard at all, since it was like love at first sight, especially since it has a princess cut. And upon measuring it, Alysanne also decided that it was the one.

The hairstyle was also easy, after all, you didn't want anything too voluminous or too fancy. So a wavy style in your hair with a crown of silver flowers at the crown of your head was the perfect touch.

Alysanne on the other hand chose a beautiful wine colored dress that flatters her at every angle, deciding to gather her hair with two strands falling on either side of her face, making her look absolutely elegant and gorgeous.

And once all three of you are ready, Cregan dressed in an impeccable dark suit, offers you both his arms and you enter the grand ballroom of the luxurious hotel together.

The ballroom is illuminated by the typical disco balls hanging from the high ceiling, casting silver and white sparkles that create an almost magical atmosphere.

The decor is elegant and subtle, with centerpieces of fresh flowers and candles giving each table a touch of romantic charm.

You feel a mixture of nerves and excitement as you enter, as if it's all part of a dream. After all, it is your prom and tonight symbolizes a chapter you are about to close, your high school years.

The dance floor is in the center, surrounded by tables in a circle and already some of the guests have started to dance, getting lost in the rhythm of the soft music that fills the atmosphere thanks to the DJ.

Although not only disco balls light up the place, but also some colored lights to make the atmosphere more colorful.

If someone had told you in your freshman year everything that was going to happen in your final year, you would have laughed out loud and wouldn't have believed it at all, because your life was too boring.

But here you are, with still those events in mind, where at the end of the night, you will put them behind you.

You adjust your lilac dress, whose princess-cut skirt falls in soft layers to the floor. The fabric moves with you, as if it were an extension of your own footsteps, and the color shimmers delicately under the silver lights.

The three of you make your way to one of the tables to take a seat and you take a closer look around you as the decorations and you also see familiar faces of some of your classmates, some laughing in groups and others on the dance floor with their dates.

And Alysanne, excited and obsessed with everything, wants to have memories of the whole night and soon the three of you are taking a long selfie session with her phone.

Cregan complains about too many photos and the laughter of the three fills the air as Alysanne continues to make sure she captures the best shots, changing angles and poses.

Alysanne, with a huge smile, spins around on herself and then grabs your hands to dance with her, laughing every time you both take a step out of rhythm. You can feel her pure happiness, an excitement that doesn't take long to become contagious and where Cregan soon joins in.

The dance floor is filling up and the sparkles of the lights reflecting off everyone's costumes and dresses create an enchanting and magical atmosphere.

The DJ starts mixing more upbeat songs, and you see how everyone is having fun, laughing and dancing.

Immediately this catches Alysanne's attention and she drags the three of you onto the dance floor with infectious laughter. Before you know it, you're in the middle of the dance floor with them, surrounded by movement and music.

The music beats on the floor and vibrates in your chest, and, slowly, you begin to let loose, moving to the beat of the songs as the colored lights swirl above you all.

“I'm going to get a drink!” you let them both know over the music.

You have no idea exactly how much time passes that you find yourself dancing, enjoying the night, the echo of laughter and the warmth of the crowd.

The euphoria makes you forget and enjoy yourself as you feel your throat dry and your feet start to ache, with your body starting to beg for water and a little break.

“Okay!” Cregan nods, throwing you a smile, still dancing with Alysanne.

You smile knowingly, since after all, these two deserve to have their moment, and you walk away towards the table where there are different desserts and the drinks for all the graduates.

You take a bottle of water, and as you drink, the immediate relief makes you close your eyes for a moment, enjoying the coolness.

And only at that moment, standing alone and a little apart, you notice the glances of some people around you, mainly girls passing by you and whispering something between them, looking at you out of the corner of their eyes.

Great.

You thought you were past all this but even at prom it doesn't stop.

You take a deep breath and look out onto the dance floor, where you make out Alysanne and Cregan dancing close together, smiling and animated. You certainly don't want to interrupt them and you look around again, trying to distract yourself with anything you can find to rest your feet on.

You try not to make a big deal of it and look back at them for just a few moments with a serious look on your face and again try to focus on regaining your energy, telling yourself that this shouldn't affect you.

You remind yourself that you are here for you and your friends, and that is all that should matter to you.

When your gaze unconsciously focuses on Floris.

With her arm intertwined with a boy, whom you recognize from the lacrosse team, she looks absolutely elegant with a beautiful hairstyle and a gorgeous pink dress.

And as she joins the party, she seems totally focused on enjoying the evening, her expression relaxed and happy.

You look away from her, focused on something else, where your attention slips unintentionally to Alys, surrounded by her friends.

In the distance, suddenly her gaze meets yours and you quickly look away, not knowing why but… you really don't want to deal with or care about those people anymore.

She's wearing dark makeup and a sensual emerald green dress that completely clings to her body and highlights her curves. She looks completely beautiful, but knowing her attitude and behavior, it makes her lose her charm.

You watch Helaena for a few more seconds, her energy lighting up the dance floor, when suddenly, a tall, familiar figure catches your attention on the other side of the room in the crowd.

Instead, you focus on Helaena, who you find among all the people dancing, getting carried away by the atmosphere and in the company of the friend who told you.

Her silver hair is swaying to the music and she shines in the middle of everyone in that beautiful sky blue dress and gold accessories, looking absolutely gorgeous.

Aemond is standing a few feet away, talking to Aegon, both looking absolutely handsome for the evening. Then, the atmosphere around you seems to fade a bit and he's the only one who catches your eye in the middle of the crowd.

And that mixture of emotions about him rises in your chest again.

You take a closer look at who is around him and it is only Aegon. You don't see any girl hanging on his arm or anything, so apparently he has come unaccompanied, just like you.

He is dressed in a dark suit that highlights his slender figure and impeccable posture, just like Aegon. The silver light of the disc balls bring out his silver hair and his face so perfectly detailed, giving it a glow that is almost unreal to you.

Your gaze lingers on him longer than you had anticipated. From a distance, you can notice the lack of expressions on his face and the small twitch of his lips as he speaks to Aegon, looking around him without really showing any emotion.

That eye contact takes the air out of you. The memory of all the things you shared, the conversations, the looks, the touching and kissing… it all comes over you.

And at that very moment, as if sensing the weight of your attention, Aemond looks up and sees you beyond the crowd, apart and alone. The visual connection is instantaneous, almost electric, and suddenly you feel all the people and bustle around you fade away.

You can't deny the attraction and deep affection that, even now, beat intensely in your chest. And, for an instant, you wonder if he too feels the same mix of nostalgia and sadness in the midst of it all.

You notice how he looks you up and down, lingering on every detail of what you're wearing today, his eyes shining, filled with a kind of wary hope and longing, completely stealing your breath.

Then, his body language tells you he's getting ready to move. Coming at you, with her determined gaze.

Oh God.

A sense of panic invades every part of your body. And before he can do anything, you look away and quickly make your way to the dance floor, blending into the crowd, heading towards your friends.

The music booms in your ears and your thoughts are in complete chaos, hitting you one after the other.

Closing your eyes for a moment, you tell yourself that you just want to enjoy the night, to stop thinking about him and what was, even if it's only for a few hours.

So time passes, the energy of the dance becomes more relaxed, and though you manage to avoid crossing paths directly with Aemond, his presence seems to haunt your mind like a lingering ghost, one that doesn't dissipate with the music or the bright lights.

You look around from time to time, and out of the corner of your eye you notice that he also seems to avoid being too close to you, although you can't help thinking that maybe he is also looking for you in the crowd, as you are looking for him.

Until, finally, the atmosphere immediately changes.

The lights dim and the silver and warm tones transform the room into an intimate place. Couples begin to approach the dance floor, holding hands, to dance to the slow songs. And you decide it's the perfect time to take a break.

You smile at Cregan and Alysanne, giving them another moment again, feeling a twinge of tenderness and, at the same time, unexpected loneliness.

You take a seat at one of the nearby tables, watching as the dance floor fills with couples slowly swaying to the music.

Dresses and suits intertwine, and for a moment, you let yourself be enveloped by the warmth of the atmosphere, allowing yourself to feel invisible in the midst of all that harmony.

You watch Floris dancing with that boy, Alysanne with Cregan of course, and Helaena dancing with her friend, both with amused smiles and talking softly without taking the slow dance so seriously. You also see Aegon dancing very close with a girl.

And as your eyes wander around the dance floor, your gaze focuses again on his figure, which seems just as lonely as yours.

A few tables away, Aemond sits alone, surveying the dance floor with an expression you fail to fully decipher. His fingers drum on the rim of his glass, and, for a moment, he seems lost in his own thoughts. He looks calm, almost vulnerable.

You stare at him longer than you think and sigh, averting your gaze, and as the seconds pass, the urge to stand still and do nothing begins to fade.

You bite the inside of your cheek and begin to move your foot up and down rapidly, feeling your heart begin to beat too fast. You watch all the people dancing again, hesitating.

Then you let out a long breath and without knowing exactly why, you take a deep breath and stand up. With slow steps, a momentum and a calmness you try to maintain, you head towards him.

As you get closer, you notice how his gaze, which was lost on the dance floor, suddenly focuses on you, noticing before out of the corner of his eye your approaching figure. Surprise and bewilderment mixed with something else appears in his gaze and you stop in front of him, nervous but determined.

Then neither of you say anything for a few moments. The same nerves make you unable to speak and the two of you just stand there, watching each other.

You feel how some people around you suddenly have their attention focused on both of you, waiting for what you will do, but you don't even pay attention to them. You just focus completely on him.

Until you sigh.

"Do you dance?" you ask softly and nervous.

The words seem to break the spell, and Aemond blinks, clearly surprised and somehow confused.

You watch the expression on his face, as if he's processing every word you've just said, looking for some hint of doubt or change of heart in your expression.

"S-sure," he says still confused, not expecting this at all.

There's a mix of emotions in his eyes, confusion, surprise and nervousness, something you wouldn't have expected to see in him. And you, not wanting to drag this out any longer than necessary, extend your hand to him.

He watches your face attentively and then your hand, still surprised, to finally take it gently. His fingers intertwine with yours, sending an electricity throughout your body through his touch as he stands up.

You swallow hard, feeling your heart beating like crazy and nervousness invading your whole system. And without another word, you both head for the dance floor.

Then, everything around you fades away, the murmurs and laughter, even the music itself becomes a distant whisper, and only he remains, next to you.

He places a hand on your waist, his touch delicate, as if he doesn't want to do anything that could break this fragile instant. You take his other hand, intertwining it with yours and as you both begin to move to the rhythm of the music, you feel how a mixture of emotions floods each of your senses.

Aemond watches you, his eyes fixed on yours and with a nervous little smile on his lips, as if he can't believe this is really happening.

The music moves forward, slow, allowing you to glide in front of each other. As his steps synchronize with yours, the movements become smooth and natural.

And in a moment you realize that you both are completely absorbed in each other, as if nothing and no one could interrupt this bubble that surrounds you.

Finally, Aemond breaks the silence, his voice barely audible over the music and shy, watching you with a gleam in his eye.

"You look beautiful."

He says to you, his words so sincere and emotionally charged that you feel a surge of warmth wash over you.

You wish his words didn't make you melt. But they do. And everything about him, every gesture, his closeness, the firm, protective touch of his hand on your waist, the way he holds you, as if you were something precious and delicate, envelops and intoxicates you.

"Thank you," you reply, feeling a soft smile appear on your lips, "You too... you look very handsome."

He smiles, marking the dimples on either side of his cheeks.

"I wasn't expecting you to come over," he admits, his eyes revealing something between vulnerability and surprise.

The tone of his voice, so soft and honest, makes you feel a warmth you haven't experienced in a long time.

"I didn't know I would," you reply with a barely perceptible smile, "But I thought, maybe... I don't want to spend the night running away," you confess.

He nods, not looking away.

"I didn't want it to be like that either."

His hand on your waist pulls you slightly closer to him with a firm movement and the slight brush makes you aware of the closeness between the two of you.

You feel your thoughts cloud over and you let yourself become more enveloped by him, unable to help it.

His chin brushes your forehead and you feel that at any moment your heart will jump out of your chest. It's an insistent, powerful beat that seems to resonate with every breath you take at his side.

Then, Aemond lowers his voice, his tone becoming softer, almost melancholy, as if his words are a secret shared only between the two of you.

"I was going to ask you if you wanted to be my date that day, you know? When I gave you the folder.

"I was going to ask you if you wanted to be my date that day, you know, when I gave you the folder," he confesses, with a certain melancholy tone, "But I knew it wouldn't be fair to ask you that and I really didn't want to hurt you anymore."

The sincerity in his tone pierces you, and you feel your own barriers begin to crumble. You listen to him with your heart pounding, absorbing every word.

Aemond sighs and his fingers tighten slightly at your waist.

"And a moment ago, when I saw you so perfect and so beautiful in this dress... I realized how much I wished I had walked through those doors with you on my arm," he says with a longing and sadness.

The music continues to envelop you and you feel his confession reverberate through you, intensifying every sensation, every emotion.

The strength of his words, of the connection that has been created between the two of you in the middle of this song, makes the air seem thick and charged with meanings that don't need to be explained.

Then you raise your gaze to him and you both stare at each other in silence, where your words seem to get caught in your throat.

His eyes roam over your face, as if he wants to remember every detail, as if he wants to take this moment with him. There is a sadness and a softness in his gaze that you haven't seen before, and it makes something in your chest tighten.

And again his voice breaks through the soft silence that envelops you.

"I'm sorry... for everything," he says barely a whisper, laden with a sincerity that resonates deeply.

His fingers trace slow circles on your back, small gestures that seem to try to comfort you and to comfort him too. The contact between the two of you is firm and warm, and yet, you feel as if Aemond fears that at any moment this could disappear.

For a moment, the music seems to fade, leaving only your heartbeat and the echo of his voice in the air.

You feel the urge to speak, to say something that would ease the vulnerability on his face, but you find it difficult to organize your thoughts.

Instead, you opt for a simple but meaningful gesture. You propel yourself a little towards him and leave a soft kiss on his cheek, then rest your head on his chest and gently inhale his expensive cologne, being comforting enough for you.

"It's okay," you murmur.

He lets out a sigh of relief, mixed with longing and makes his grip on your waist tighter, not wanting to let go. Then, he leaves a soft kiss on the crown of your head, resting his head on yours as you both continue to sway gently to the music.

"Thank you for giving me this dance," he murmurs.

You place a soft, small smile on your lips, then raise your gaze to his, watching him with nothing but fondness.

He continues to watch you with that softness and one of his hands goes up to your cheek. In a delicate, almost fearful touch, his thumb runs over your skin in a gesture that is both protective and vulnerable.

Then he rests his forehead against yours and you both close your eyes, as you lean into him.

You both fall silent, letting the slow rhythm of the music carry you away, allowing the moment to linger, in a fragile and honest peace.

You feel that you could stay like this, in this bubble of time and silence, without the need for words, because, in this instant, you both understand what has been said and what doesn't need to be said.

The song changes to another slow one and you both lose yourselves in the moment, enjoying it, not wanting it to end.

Time seems to stand still as you dance together, moving slowly and leisurely, as if nothing and no one else exists. The sounds of the party fade around you, leaving only the beating of your hearts and the faint brush of your breaths.

Your eyes close as you let go, feeling his hand on your back and the warmth his body gives off, so close and so full of meaning.

You both breathe in sync, your foreheads resting against each other, your eyes closed as the moment stretches out and becomes more than just a dance.

This instant is a truce, a refuge where everything else, the doubts, the pain, the past, is suspended and what follows is moving forward.

"You've got everything ready to go to college?"

His voice breaks the silence softly, barely a murmur, as if afraid to disturb the peace around you both.

"Yeah," you murmur, nodding.

"What are you traveling there on?"

"Well, I was checking with my dad about bus and plane ticket prices. But I still haven't made up my mind," you admit, remembering discussions about which was the safest and cheapest option.

Aemond nods, thoughtfully. Then, after a brief pause, he speaks with calm assurance.

"I can take you."

You look at him instantly surprised, definitely not expecting that.

"What?"

"I can take you," he repeats, sure of his words, "Well, sure, if you want," he hastens to clarify, "After all, we're going to the same place and I'll make the trip in my car," he explains, "There's plenty of room for your bags along with mine and so you won't have to spend on a ticket. Besides, it would be safer and I think, I don't know, you'd be more comfortable."

You remain silent, trying to assimilate what he has just said. There is something in his words, in the slow and sincere tone, that strikes a deep chord in you.

The idea of making the trip together, of sharing that important moment of departure, of having one last time alone before facing a new life, awakens a mix of emotions that are difficult to describe.

He lowers his gaze for a moment, nervous, clarifying in a low voice.

"It's just a suggestion... something I thought might make things easier for you. You don't have to do it if you don't want to."

Your heart pounds, and somehow, the simplicity of his offer, the naturalness with which he cares for you, causes a warm surge of gratitude and affection to wash over you.

"Can you really do that for me?" you ask quietly, with a little smile you can't help.

"Sure," he says absurdly softly, as if it weren't obvious, "But only if you want me to. I don't want to force you. It's just an option."

You look up at him, holding his gaze for a second that seems like forever, and nod slowly, allowing the feeling of relief and closeness to wash over you.

"I'd love to," you whisper, your voice barely a murmur, "Thank you."

The shadow of a smile tugs at his lips, and you can see the relief in his expression.

"No need to thanks."

Without another word, Aemond pulls you a little closer to him and again the two of you bring your foreheads together, letting the moment lengthen as the music changes to another slow rhythm.

You both remain like that, moving in silence and enjoying the moment, spending the last moment of your high school lives together, to start college together.

"Are you ready?"

Aemond watches you from the driver's seat, his hands resting calmly on the steering wheel with a small smile on his face.

The car is already loaded with suitcases for both of you and you nod, taking a deep breath to calm the emotions fluttering in your chest.

The thought of heading off together towards this new stage causes a mixture of nerves and excitement to wash over you, though a part of you also feels comforted by Aemond's presence at your side.

"Yes," you reply, adjusting your belt.

You watch him and he gives you one last knowing look before putting the car in move.

Saying goodbye to your dad was difficult, but it was something you were both already preparing for and you knew that moment would come.

Besides, he met Aemond, as your friend who will do you the favor of driving you to college and nothing more. And your dad felt safer with that instead of taking the plane or bus alone.

Especially after Aemond promised him countless times that he would take care of you at all times.

The road is serene at first, and Aemond turns on the radio, letting a soft melody fill the comfortable silence between them.

The roads stretch out in front of you, long and exciting, as the landscape changes shape and the kilometers pass, leaving behind the city where you experienced so much.

From time to time, you exchange glances, small comments about the places you see and the expectations each has for the university.

Aemond seems especially careful, attentive to every sign on the road and every change in your expression, as if he wants to make sure you are comfortable and at ease.

And he especially notices a change in your expression.

"Is something bothering you?" he asks you, his voice low but close, filling the space in a comforting way.

You watch him and after some hesitation, you shrug.

"I guess it makes me a little nervous not knowing what to expect," you admit, "This whole new stage... the idea of being alone in a new place."

Aemond nods, understanding what you mean, his eyes fixed on the road.

"I guess it's normal," he tells you softly, "It's almost obligatory to feel this way, but, for what it's worth... you won't be completely alone."

His gaze meets yours for a second before he turns back to the road.

"I'm going to be around if at any time you need anything or anything happens, anything at all."

You feel a warmth settle in your chest, and a part of your nerves seem to fade. The idea of him being there, close by, offering you that closeness, gives you a strange sense of relief.

"Thank you, Aemond," you murmur with a small smile.

He smiles, marking a dimple in his cheek, and turns his eyes to the front.

The ride continues, where the atmosphere in the car becomes more and more comfortable, chatting about small details, expectations, and the occasional joke that makes you both laugh comfortably.

And finally, as the two enter the town of Oldtown and the university looms in the distance, Aemond slows down, looking at the campus that would soon become his home.

"There it is," he says, a slight excitement in his voice.

The same excitement rubs off on you and excitedly, you take his hand, intertwining it with yours, excited and hopeful.

Hopeful that all that is to come for you in this place are good and promising things. As well as hopeful for Aemond and for you.

series taglist:

@melsunshine @at-a-rax-ia @jxdegodfrey @ttkttt @yentroucnagol @kate-to-the-ki @iamavailablesstuff @bluerskiees @urmomsgirlfriend1 @toodlesxcuddles @rosie-posie08 @iloveallmyboys @bellaisasleep @deliaseastar @cupcakesminicakescupcakes @dixie-elocin @lilostif16 @wickedfrsgrl @a-beaverhausen @saturnssrings @ladythornofrivia @vhwyrm @strangersunghoon @queen-of-elves

[neverendingford]

.

[thisisnotthenerd]

the responses to grief this episode. it's such a perfect encapsulation of these characters and what makes them compelling.

evan, dying and reaching for his shadow, not from a pure sense of want but from the obligation to his friends, from his need to be useful and protective, from his deep down desire to be loved and wanted but not relying on that. only pursuing the mission to anchor himself. shadowing sam and connecting with her as the one who could still look on him in her grief. asking for the answer to the perfect question with a restatement in the answer and getting a book that could erase all of his existence and everything that shaped the world as it is now.

jammer, compartmentalizing. holding it together. doing cpr, and when he can't get the body back up, finding a means of getting evan back. taking 30 seconds to weep with every ounce of grief and then getting on with the work. achieving a pinnacle of magic and channeling it into his connections with others and the fact that he is a lynchpin. that he is always giving to his community. having to be forced to rest and feel by an embodiment of truth within the universe.

sam, seeing evan die on her and feeling her way through it. feeling the grief. the only one to look at evan in his shadow and accept it. sharing her doubt in herself and the persona she wears even as she uses it to get them moving again. being the first to reach out to the coli, as she always is. wording her question so carefully to get the answer she needs because she does not have time to be tricked, whether by an entity or by her own mind.

k, breaking their wand and it still not being enough. never disconnecting from the network even as evan dies in front of her. going small and quiet, not acknowledging their part in the violence, nor ignoring it. feeling the resentment and anger directed towards her but not having the time to process or defend it. asking for a way to save everyone, save everything, as they turn their eyes toward truth, toward the truth of the coli, with a sense of wonder, of curiosity that has always driven her actions.

[comicaurora]

Do you think the main characters (in aurora)’s fatal flaws can be summed up in one word? If so, what are they?

Yes, but most of my answers only register as flaws if you squint. I think characters are most interesting if their admirable qualities are also what gets them in trouble, and anything becomes a flaw in the right circumstances.

Kendal is selfless. He barely registers himself as a person, so his acts of compassion frequently come at a severe personal cost. He has a massive blind spot for how much it hurts others when he hurts himself. He is kind and lacking in ego, but he has zero ability to advocate for himself. He defines himself by what he can do for others, and is only barely beginning to understand that he can do things for himself.

Alinua is paralyzed. She wants to heal and she does not want to hurt, and she's wrestling with a massive, terrifying power and responsibility that allows her to do both. She spent so long terrified of hurting anyone that she overthinks her actions unless she's running on pure adrenaline and impulsiveness can take over for her.

Erin is independent. He's quicker than everyone around him, and he has no patience for anyone who he sees as slowing him down. He is tremendously powerful and very intelligent, but he has absolutely no ability to work in a team, because that means trusting others to execute his ideas flawlessly, and from his angle, nobody can do that reliably except for him. It's not a logical conclusion, but he can always find a reason for why his plans were foiled by other people messing them up. Erin would love to be helped and rescued. He just knows nobody can, and nobody will.

Falst is loyal. Falst is also unbelievably lonely and, like Erin, has cultivated extreme self-reliance in the face of neglect. Falst loves being part of a team, but has absolutely no ability to trust that he is safe in it. He hasn't been wanted anywhere in a very long time. He's too proud to say that, and he's very angry at the part of himself that is hurt by that, which makes him very volatile in very specific contexts where that part of him is exposed to the air.

Dainix is insightful. He reads people too clearly, but has very little understanding of how much it's okay to plainly say about what other people are thinking and feeling. Where he's from, thanks to the magical influence of Fire, the seat of emotion, everyone can to a certain extent feel the vibes and temperature of the room and everyone is mostly on the same page about it. He is utterly unprepared for people like Falst who become extremely defensive at any insight that prods a sensitive spot, and he's pretty much hopeless at performing any deceit more complex than a half-truth.

Tess is free. She's the ideal of wanderlust, and living her truth is good for her, but it makes her fundamentally unreliable for everyone around her. She cannot be comfortable in stability, and she is ultimately following a selfish goal of pure self-determination that makes it impossible for her to stay anywhere long. She is disconnected from her surroundings and the people who love her. She doesn't like thinking of her loved ones as tethers holding her down, but if she stays anywhere too long, that's what they become.

[kamiversee]

˗ˏˋ My Love Note ´ˎ˗

10 | I know that's

❧ Synopsis | In which Choso Kamo, your asshole of a best friend, starts to change after you get involved with a rather cheeky cashier, Gojo Satoru.

❧ Content | language, tension, flirting, mention of drugs & alcohol consumption, sexual tension, teasing, taunting, etc.

❧ Word Count | 7.2k (phew.)

❧ Pairings | Choso Kamo x f!reader & Gojo Satoru x f!reader.

| Chapters mlist |

——Back in your room, you wasted no time calling Gojo back. That whole… thing with Choso is something you’ll save your worrying for another day. As of right now, Gojo should be your main focus since you have a Halloween party to attend with him tonight.

Laying stomach first across your surprisingly neatly made bed, your feet dance back and forth in the air as you hold your cellphone to your ear and listen to Gojo ramble to you about his day. He didn’t address the phone hanging up at all or the way he definitely heard Choso’s voice before the line disconnected earlier—he just got on the phone, asked if you were alright, and then when back to what he’d been telling you before.

Which brings a nice smile to your face. It’s refreshing to have someone like Gojo to talk to, honestly. Not only do you really enjoy conversing with him or listening to him talk but, you also like how he didn’t question you like crazy. That simple act alone took some weight off of your shoulders because it meant you didn’t have to lie again. God knows you hate lying to the guy. 

But you’re not gonna tell him the truth either because the truth is terrible. How do you even being to explain to your crush that you almost fucked your best friend again in the short amount of time you were off of the phone with him?

“So,” Gojo continues, clearing his throat a bit between words. “Aside from tonight’s party, you don’t have any plans for today, right?”

Your head tilts further against the phone as you release a gentle sigh, “To my knowledge, no I don’t have any other plans. Why?”

He yawns softly, “Because, that gives us enough time to go last-minute costume shopping, remember?”

Chuckling into the phone, your lips curve into a smile. “Don’t you have work?” You ask.

You can’t see it of course but, Gojo rolls his eyes at that, “I mean, yeah… But I’m sure my boss won’t mind if I close up a bit early. It’s Halloween.”

“If you say so,” You comment. “I’m assuming you want me to meet you at the cafe in a few hours then?”

“Yup,” Gojo hums with a sassy lil pop of the ‘p’ at the end there. “Til’ then, I’ll have to drown myself in work. My break’s about to be over.”

You click your tongue and frown a bit, “Aw, well hopefully time flies by fast.”

“Yeah, hopefully.”

· ───────── · ꨄ · ───────── ·

Once off of the phone with Gojo, you spend your day holing yourself up in your bedroom in an honest attempt of avoiding Choso. Luckily for you, at no point did he come knocking on your door trying to gain a bit of your attention. This provided you with a rather relaxing morning and afternoon of bedrotting.

Not the most productive thing to do but, hey, at least time flew by pretty fast. After lazying around for hours waiting for the right time, you ended up rolling out of bed and throwing on something cozy to go out in—you’d be changing into a costume in an hour so there was no point in dressing up too cute or anything. 

You end up exiting you apartment wearing something easy to get in and out of so that when you do find your costume, and in the event that it later gets uncomfortable, you have something else to throw back on. 

Taking a walk all the way throughout your campus just to reach that cute lil’ cafe you’ve grown to love and adore, you felt the season of fall brushing all against your skin as you walked. It’s as if that hectic morning of yours never even took place with how peaceful this part of your day was. For just a moment, it was only you and your thoughts. No horny Choso humping against you like a dog in heat, no anxiety induced thoughts screaming at you everytime Gojo talks to you… just, tranquility.

And when you finally arrive at the designated coffeehouse you’ve been to time and time again, a smile is painted across your face before you even push past the front doors. The sun is making it’s set so the sky is all pretty with different hues of oranges and reds—something you took a few pictures of on your way here.

Grabbing a hold of the warm metal door handles, you give it a light push and that homey smell of coffee rushes into your nose. A smell in which you’ve grown quite fond of given what follows shortly after…

No one is inside except for Gojo so the smile on your face merely brightens as you meet eyes with him. Almost like a damn puppy, his entire demeanor lightens up at your presence, pretty dimples peaking out in his cheeks as he reciprocates your happy expression.

You’re approaching the counter and he’s making his way around it, all too quick to embrace you by wrapping his muscular arms around your waist and pulling you in close. Gojo lets out a long sigh, “Been’ waiting all day to do this, y’know.” He tells you, voice muffled slightly with the way his face slowly barries itself into the crook of your neck.

You hug him back with the same amount of passion he’d approached you with and then smile. “Do what? Hug me?” Your voice is gentle against his ears and unbeknownst to you, his heart feels all weird in his chest. Then there’s these flutters your feel in your stomach at how good he smells and how stupidly clingy he seems to be today.

It’s this strange mix of coffee beans and his cologne that seeps into your nose now, making you hug him just a bit tighter to simmer into the scent some more. He smells like a hard working man and you simply love that for whatever reason. You suppose that thing people say about a man in uniform is true after all…

“Yeah,” Gojo soon answers your question whilst lifting his face from your neck and meeting your eyes again. His gaze stays put for barely even a second before he’s cracking a smirk and leaning in to kiss you. 

A brief grin ghosts your lips as he kisses you. Your arms firmly wrap around his neck and you push up on your toes a bit to deepen the connection of your mouths. Gojo’s lips feel like comfort against your own, almost as if you were ice and he the sun—his every touch melting you in his hands. You let out a small hum in between the kiss as he slots his lips against yours further, steadily drawing your bottom lip into his mouth and sucking on it.

His tongue dances against the plump skin for only a moment before he pries himself away and you both ease out a small breath of air. “And that,” Gojo says, “I swear you’re on my mind all day.”

Such a soft admission spoken to you so suddenly makes you gulp. “Am I now?” You whisper, noticing how he’s leaning back in for another kiss already.

Gojo wets his lips and smiles. “Yeah,” He utters back just as softly, skin brushing over yours, and eyes narrowing, “Jus’ can’t get enough of you.” Is the last thing he tells you before he’s ridding himself of all the space between you two again.

No one else is in the establishment, so you kiss for a hot minute. It’s soft at first, like always, but then it gradually heats up. His hands move to your waist and his head tilts further while his tongue makes its journey into the wet caverns of your mouth. Groaning at the sweet taste resting there, Gojo unconsciously steps forward with you. You naturally follow his lead and he ends up kissing you until your lower back meets the counter.

Not sparing you the chance to break the kiss, Gojo bends down a little and swiftly lifts you up onto the counter—his lips never once leaving yours. He feels starved as he makes out with you right in the middle of where he works. Hushing out a simple, “Taste s’sweet,” In between your lips.

You mutter his name somewhere throughout the kissing and one of your hands ends up on his chest, very faintly pushing him. As the kiss is severed, Gojo has this needy expression all over his face and his cheeks are reddened. He’s so pretty that it genuinely hurts to look at. It almost isn’t fair.

“Don’t we have some shopping to do?” You remind the man in a slightly breathless tone. 

Gojo bats his lashes at you almost innocently. “Yeahh, but we have time, don’t we?” As the words roll off of his tongue, his lips are curving into that taunting little smile again, and then his dimples are making yet another appearance.

His hands, which are so stupidly soft, trace the outskirts of your thighs upon the counter. Those almost beryl-blue eyes of his scan over your face, taking in every inch and curve, studying you, and getting mesmerized by you. If you looked way too closely into it all, you’d almost asume the guy was in lo—

You clear your own throat to cut that thought off. “No, it’s Halloween, silly.” You remind him with a smile, glancing down to your hands on his chest and moving your fingertips to trace what you can feel beneath his clothes. “There’s barely gonna be costumes as is, the later we go, the less there’ll be.”

Gojo sighs while he thinks for a moment. His bottom lip protrudes as he pouts and you can’t help the way you chuckle at that. “S’not funny. I really did miss you,” He tells you again, tipping his head down into your neck and pressing his lips against your skin, “But you’re right, we probably should head out now.” He’s agreeing with you with his words but the way he’s planting these soft pecks against your neck is saying something else entirely.

His kisses tickle and you end up holding onto his shirt a bit and letting out a giggle, “Satoru,” You call out once, receiving no sign of him stopping his ticklish kisses. Then you squirm and he smiles against you. “‘Toru,” You say, to which his teeth graze you.

“Such a tease,” Gojo simmered into your skin hotly. “Callin’ me that nickname like you don’t know what it does t’me…”

Full on smiling now, you angle your head to look at him and he pulls away from your neck to meet that incoming gaze. His pupils seem to expand ever so slightly as they’re met with yours but, you may have imagined that. “It does something to you?” You ask innocently as you push forward to slide off of the counter, “I had no idea…!”

That cheery faux innocence in your tone makes Gojo’s smile expand before his eyes roll. He watches the way you step aside and straighten up your clothes before sending him one last glance. Something about you really keeps his mind at this mushy state because every time his eyes lock with yours it’s like he can’t form a single thought in his brain that doesn’t involve you.

Staring, letting a small moment of the eye contact pass by, Gojo scoffs softly. “Riight, sure you didn’t.” He replies to your last comment sarcastically.

After that brief conversation, which could’ve easily progressed into something more if you didn’t stop him, you assist Gojo in cleaning up the cafe so he can leave with you. All you had to do was wipe a few tables off and then you watched him sweep and mop. It seemed like not many people had come in today given the state of the kitchen and how clean it was (you’d picked up on how messy it gets when Gojo is swamped with customers a while back).

Small talk is held almost the entire time up until he finally closes up and walks you to his car. It’s then that silence is welcomed back into your space and even as you walk with him, you still feel this comforting air wrapping around you. Especially when Gojo throws an arm over your shoulder and soon opens his car door for you. He’s so strangely perfect that you can’t help the way you feel for him.

Even throughout the car ride to… the nearest costume shop? He plays a bunch of Halloween songs and throughout Micheal Jackson’s ‘Thriller’, you notice that even Gojo’s singing is perfect. Hence why by the time you two make it to your destination your cheeks hurt from how hard you’d been smiling and you can hardly remember the last time a guy, aside from Choso, has made you laugh this much.

The shop he takes you to is rather… pricey, you note as the two of you stroll through together. And yeah, most of the shelves are cleared off and whatever’s left isn’t anything super creative. Gojo guides you to the back of the store though and you swear he had this all planned out in his head with the way he leads you straight to a particularly cute couples costume. 

“Y’know,” You start off, picking up the clearly designated costume that stands out in contrast to the other last-minute options left on the surrounding shelves. “If you wanted us to wear matching costumes, you could’ve jus’ said something.” 

When you glance back to Gojo, you notice the way he’s got a hand scratching the back of his neck and is looking off to the side nonchalauntly. “I have no idea what you’re talkin’ about, sweets…” He hums, that faint pigment of pink coating his cheeks yet again.

You snort, “Really? So how is it that you’ve led me all the way back here and straight to the only decent costumes left in this store?” As you speak, you lift the two costume packages up and hold them out to showcase them to him. “Not to mention, they just so happen to be the only matching ones too.” 

Gojo redirects his eyes to the items in your hand and he grins innocently. “This is a coincidence, really.” He chuckles, “I mean why would I—“ He stops himself mid-sentence at the look you’re giving him and just ends up sighing in defeat. “Okay, okay, fine,” His hands went up, “Ya’ caught me.”

You smile, “Mhm, I know. Now, are you gonna go ahead ‘n ask me to match with you orr…?”

His shoulders sink a bit, “Do I have tooo? You’re already holding the costumes, are you really gonna make me ask—“

“Yep,” You hum in response with a mocking pop of the ‘p’.

Gojo scoffs playfully. “Fine.” He starts, stepping closer to you, “Do you wanna be the cowgirl to my cowboy and y’know, ride throughout this Halloween night with me?”

There’s half a beat of silence that passes after the cheesiness that just left his lips before you burst out laughing. “You’re so corny, oh my God.” You snicker out in an airy tone.

He joins your giggling with his own and then tips his head to the side, “So is that a yes orrrr…?”

Rolling your eyes, you nod. “Yeah, I’ll be the cowgirl to your cowboy tonight, Satoru.” Then you hand him his designated costume and brush past him.

Gojo clenches his fist and brings it down to himself in celebration, whispering a little, “Yess.” To himself childishly while you make your way to the nearby dressing room.

There were other last minute costumes that’d caught your eye on your way to the back of the store but, you think you’re pretty content with the cowgirl costume you end up putting on. Sure, you passed the classics like witches, cheerleaders, vampires, ghosts, etc… but this costume fits you so well that it’s almost as if it were made for you.

It fits your body almost like a leather glove but without being too uncomfortable or tight. It’s a top and bottom set—mostly consisting of black and an accenting hint of red here and there. 

Once you get it on, your body is quickly flattered by the fabric. The top is long sleeved, cropped up high, and has a knot that ties right in the lower center of your chest with a vest that has these sparkly red stars on it. Then there’s the sorry excuse for shorts accompanying the top, that’s decorated with this semi-chunky belt with matching sparkly red stars. Lastly were the boots and hat, both black with hints of red, that completed the look.

And once you got a glance of yourself in the nearby mirror, you were gagged by how good you look. You spun around to get a full view of yourself, noticing the hug that the shorts have on your ass, shaping you perfectly. Hell, you almost never wanna take this damn thing off. And contrastingly enough, part of you is a bit self-conscious to actually go out like this.

It’s not until you take a deep breath and step out of the dressing room that your confidence returns to you with the wolf-whistle you recieve from Gojo. Your eyes had been somewhere on the floor until you heard the sound he let out, lifting your gaze to find him slouching back against some chair he managed to find and pull up. He’s got his legs all spread like some slut (not that you’d ever say this aloud, of course) and you don’t think there’s a single thought of innocence in your head as you take in the sight of him.

His costume is matching yours but, there’s a lot less skin showing, obviously. The shirt he has on is rolled up to his elbows and he’s got a teasing amount of his chest revealed—matching you with that low v-cut top you have, except his shirt is just a bunch of buttons undone.

His lower half is your typical pair of cowboy pants, all snug against his thighs, fabric straining over his muscles, and—

“Eyes up here sweets’,” Gojo says with a snap of his fingers. You flinch and revert your gaze to his face, gulping at the way he’d caught your gaze trailing elsewhere. “There she is,” He purrs, motioning with two fingers for you to walk toward him, “C’mere. Lemme get a better look at’cha.”

You almost awkwardly shuffle over to him, shyly covering your exposed midsection and trying to calm the pounding of your heart with each step you take. “Satoru, d-don’t you think this is a bit…” You hate how nervous you are right now, as if he hasn’t seen you with less clothes before.

Once you find yourself standing right in between his legs, he peers up at you with that ridiculously handsome smile of his. “A bit what?” Gojo hushes out as he reaches forward and moves your arms out the way to expose all of you to his greedy eyes. “I think you look perfect, like always.” He practically whispers, leaning forward and planting an all too affectionate kiss onto your stomach.

You flinch again and instinctively move your hand to his shoulder to push him back a bit, “Thank you but, I feel exposed.”

He acts as though you shoved him back, slumping into the chair like he was before and giving you this lovestruck expression as he meets your eyes. “S’okay,” Gojo tells you, “I’m sure there’ll be a lot more people wearing a lot less tonight so, you’ll feel more comfortable once we’re there.”

You give him a little nod in response and he moves his hands to trace your hips, feeling the tight fabric of your shorts beneath his fingertips and taking a deep breath. 

“And if not,” He moves to stand up and you’re reminded of the height difference between you two all over again. ��I’ll give you my jacket or something, okay?”

Nodding again, you feel so safe beneath his gaze—almost like nothing else really matters when you’re around him. 

Once that’s all been settled, you and Gojo leave the costume shop. You forget to question him about how the hell you two were able to leave without paying for anything but, the rest of the night takes over all those questions you love asking him so much.

· ───────── · ꨄ · ───────── ·

Before you even know it, you’re pulling up to this huge house, distant thumping sounds of music and giggles heard throughout the air as Gojo parks his car not too far off. There’s vehicles placed all down the street, people all over the front yard, some just hanging out and others taking pictures or even making out.

It’s been a while since you last attended a party but, the sight of multiple skimpy outfits brings you a sense of comfort as soon as you step out of the car. The music from the house is so loud that you can’t even make out what song is playing right now due to the bass. Even so, Gojo quickly approaches your side and rightfully places his arm over your shoulder like he did earlier, keeping you nice and close to him while the two of you make way for the entrance.

The atmosphere is overly lively. You can hear and see people laughing, talking, dancing, drinking, etc. The music vibrates off of the house walls as you and Gojo walk in, shuffling past hella people just to make it fully inside. The house-, mansion, really, is packed with semi-drunk college students and you’re quickly reminded why you don’t surround yourself with party goers almost every weekend like you used to. 

There’s definitely heads turning as you and Gojo navigate through the crowd of people but, you can’t really tell if that’s because of him or you.

You would’ve loved to say that Gojo was the most attractive man there but… it’s really hard to say that when you’re quickly stopped by some tall polished blonde man wearing a priest costume. Ignoring the way Gojo’s got an arm around your shoulder entirely, this guy grins at you kindly and he’s got the prettiest honey brown eyes taking in all of you as he leans toward you to voice a compliment.

“Beautiful costume,” The man says to you simply. From where you and Gojo had made it to, the music wasn’t overwhelming and you could actually talk to someone without yelling or leaning in too close.

Naturally, you smile in thanks and give him a little nod. “Thank you, I like yours as well. You’re a priest, right—“

“Nanami!” Gojo beams beside you, unconsciously telling you the name of the blonde man you were seconds away from making casual conversation with. “The hell are you doin’ here?” He asks in a taunting tone.

Nanami’s face flicks into something tired at the mere sound of Gojo’s voice. “I should be asking you that, Gojo. You’re supposed to be at work right now.” He says sternly.

Gojo chuckles lightly, “Oh don’t be like that, boss.” He says, taking his arm from around you and moving to tap Nanami on his arm, “It’s Halloween!”

Nanami sighs. “Yes, yes, I know. That’s why I’m not upset or anything but, you could’ve sent a text. I’d like to be aware of whether or not my cafe’s closing early.”

It suddenly clicks for you that Nanami owns that beloved cafe you visit practically everyday—something which, getting a good look at his chiseled face, just fits him. Nanami is exactly what you imagined Gojo’s boss looking like, honestly. The only thing surprising you here is the fact that he’s around the same age.

You’re about to say something to insert yourself back into the conversation but you’re interrupted by a familiar voice. “Oh my God, Satoru! You made it!!” Hori says overly cheerful.

By the time you turn your head to spot her, her arms are wrapping around Gojo’s waist and she’s hugging him tightly. Gojo hugs her back with one arm and forces a friendly smile onto his face.

“Hey Hori,” Gojo greets rather plainly. “Are you dressed as a… bunny?” He asks as he looks down at her within his grasp. You couldn’t really see her because of the way she was hugging Gojo but that didn’t bother you too much when Nanami steals your attention away with a light tap.

“I didn’t get your name,” He says to you, having leaned in a bit so that you could hear him clearly.

“Oh,” You chirp before extending a hand out and voicing your name to him. Nanami nods as he shakes your hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Nanami.” You greet officially.

He grins kindheartedly, “The pleasure is all mine, honestly.”

There’s a moment of prolonged handshaking before someone bumps into Nanami’s arm and your hands disconnect. You both look to see who it is and you’re met with this brown haired guy dressed as some kind of criminal (?). Tugging the skimask up off of his face, your eyes are greeted with a very contrasting face. He’s got these big doe-like eyes and his features scream innocence in a way.

“Woah, you’re pretty,” He chuckles, clearly tipsy off of whatever drink seems to be held in his left hand. “Y’Mind if I get your number?”

Your eyes go wide at his straightforwardness and all you do is smile at first. “Uh, I’m actually…” You slowly glance to where Gojo is, only to find that he’s been dragged elsewhere with Hori. You see his a peek of his snowy white hair amid the crowd and your shoulders slump a bit at how quickly he just left your side. Turning back to the brunette male, you nod, “Y’know what, yeah, sure.”

Nanami clears his throat and his phone is held out soon, “Me too actually,” He chimes in.

With that, you're entering your number into the two guy’s phones and then handing their devices back to them. The brunette soon informs you that his name is Ino and the three of you stand there making small talk for a bit.

It’s mildly concerning that Gojo just left you like that but you distract yourself with the two men talking to you at the moment. 

After chatting with them for a bit, they eventually part ways with you and you navigate your way through the sea of party people alone. There’s not a single familiar face throughout the crowd and it’s not until you notice you’re getting stares from people that you start feeling self conscious again. 

You thought that maybe if you made your way to the dance floor and vibed by yourself for a bit, you’d be fine. But, you don’t even make it that far because somewhere throughout your shuffling through people, someone grabs a light hold of your arm and pulls you out of the crowd.

You stumble into step to see who the hell decided to grab you like that. It wasn’t aggressive or anything but it was concerning since you’ve only seen unrecognizable people thus far.

“Finally a familiar face,” The sound of Utahime’s voice hits your ears and she’s turning to face you after pulling you far away enough to talk to you. “Y’know how long I was in that damn crowd looking for literally anyone I knew? I’m so glad I found you.” She says with a sigh.

Your chest feels light as you drink in her wearing a cheerleader costume. “I’m glad you found me too, I was walking around here for maybe ten minutes or so.” You explain.

She rolls her eyes, “I thought you came here with Gojo? Did that asshole ditch you?”

You’re quick to shake your head. “Nono, he didn’t ditch me! I think Hori pulled him off earlier and I was talking with these other guys so we just got separated. Any longer in that crowd and I would’ve called him.”

Utahime pauses for a second while she gathers your words. Then, her expression changes and she smiles at you. “Oh, okay. I was just making sure because Gojo can be a real dickhead sometimes.”

“Think so?” You end up asking. This was the first time you’d heard anything remotely negative about him so, of course your curiosity is piqued.

“Yeah.” She replies, clearly having no intention of going further into an explanation at the moment. Then, with a sigh, she allows her eyes to drop down along your figure. Utahime lets out a small up and her head tilts, “Anyway, you look good—love the costume.” She compliments, her tone light and almost flirtatious.

Though, you could totally be misinterpreting things. “Oh, thank you! I love yours too, it fits you nicely.” Your returned compliment makes her smile and she allows her arms to fold beneath her chest.

“Aww, thanks. I think I—“

“Utahime!!” And there she is again… Hori. Cutting off yet another conversation and spawning into the scene out of seemingly nowhere, dressed as Regina George’s sorry excuse of a bunny from Mean Girls 1 (which is fitting since she’s blonde as well), Hori’s all smiley and her cheeks are lightly flushed. “I was looking for you everywhere. Where’d you run off to?!” She huffs as her arms wrap around Utahime’s singular arm and her head comes to rest on her shoulder.

Utahime says something to respond but all words and sound practically dies out in your ears as a pair of arms wrap around your waist from behind and a fluffy head of hair rests on your left shoulder. Flinching at the sudden contact, you don’t even get the chance to say anything before lips are grazing your ear and a familiar spread of warmth is brushing at your skin.

“Was lookin’ for ya’ everywhere, sweets.” Gojo hushes out into your ear. “God, you smell so good,” His voice lowers and the arms around your waist begin to shift along with his head. The tip of his nose is soon felt burying itself into the crook of your neck and he inhales sharply while his slender fingers smooth over the exposed skin of your waist.

Your body tenses up due to all the sudden touches but, a smile is sparking across your lips before you even realize it. “Thank you, Satoru. And, I was looking for you too… for like, ten minutes actually.” You inform him, earning a gruff little hum in response. “You invited me here ‘n then left me in less than five minutes…”

Gojo grimaces once the mentioning of his departure hits his ears. He sighs into your skin before pressing a small kiss at it, “M’sorry. First Hori pulled me away to find Suguru, and then some other people came pulling me along… I should’ve come back for ya’, my bad.”

You lean back against his touch a bit and your back becomes flush with his chest, “It’s okay, I’m glad you found me.”

“Yeahhh,” He sighs. For a second, you begin to wonder if he’s drunk with how sly his words seem to fall off of his tongue. “To make up for it though.. We could go—“

“Lemme guess, dance?” You cut off, recalling the last party you went to with him and how the same exact thing happened then. He really was a people magnet all around, huh?

Chuckling, Gojo gives your body a small tug and your ass is brought back toward his crotch. “You know it,” He says cheekily as he lifts his head from your neck and then drops his hands to your hips. It’s swift the way he spins you around to face him, your hands soon finding place on his chest and your eyes meeting his pretty blue ones. After which, he allows his hands to sneak behind you and grab a nice handful of your ass within his palm.

Ultimately, you were left looking up at him all surprised and confused. Gojo is touchy, sure. He always has been but… he doesn’t normally touch you so intimately out in the open like this. It was different. Not that you minded it but, it left you to wonder who or what he wanted to showcase these touches off to…

His cheeks were similarly flushed to how Hori’s were when you last looked at her, again leading you to wonder if he’d dranken anything. “Satoru,” You call out gently, moving your hands to cup his cheek and lull his expression a bit closer to your own for better study. “Have you been drinking?”

Gojo’s eyes take a second to actually focus on you, which silently tells you all you need to know. “Juuuust a lil’, yeah.” He admits to you.

To which you frown, “You went off and drank without me too? Wowww.” Your voice is clearly dramatic but Gojo seems to pout anyway.

Leaning in to you, he rests his forehead against yours and his arms circulate your waist again as he hugs you properly. “I jus’ had like, one cup of somethin’.” Gojo explains, his voice softening whilst his lashes bat in an innocent manner.

You stare at him. “One cup and you’re tipsy already?” You say, releasing a soft fit of laughter.

Gojo scrunches up his face a bit and you feel like it’s just you and him in the room right now, despite sounds of people laughing and talking all loud surrounding the two of you. “Mhmm. I don’t drink too often ‘cause I can't really handle alcohol too well,” He explains to you with a slight clearing of his throat.

The distant sound of Tory Lanez’s ‘The Color Violet’ can be heard and it makes Gojo lift his head and glance back toward where most people are dancing and the music is at its loudest.

Your eyes remain up on the man, “Should I be worried?”

He looks at you again and smiles, his brows tweezing together. “What? No. I’ve been told I get clingy when I’m drunk but aside from that, I’ve never done anything… stupid, I guess.” You hum in acknowledgement and Gojo starts backing away, tugging you along with him before he motions toward the dance floor. “Now c’mon, I owe you a dance, don’t I?”

It takes you a second or two to allow your body to be pulled properly with him but after that, your hand ends up in his and he soon pulls you through the crowd of people. 

· ───────── · ꨄ · ──��────── ·

The music gradually gets louder and louder until it consumes the entirety of your senses. You could feel the vibrations of the bass within each step you took, the music blurred throughout your ears, and all the dancing and lingering smell of marijuana and alcohol truly gave you that party atmosphere you’d forgotten about over the years. Before you even realize it, Gojo’s got you somewhere lost amid groups and groups of people dancing, trailing you closest to him using the grasp he had on your hand until you were able to dance right with him.

In contrast to dancing at that gala with him, you feel a lot more at ease here (surprisingly). Instead of gentle sways and intimate slow dancing, it’s more of sensual rolling of bodies against one another and long lasting glances all up and down your body that make you feel warmer than you should be. 

Gojo’s got his hands everywhere with little care as to who sees what. From your hips, following their structure and the way you sway them around and against him, to your waist, twirling you around so that your back is facing him one moment and then vice versa so he can gather all of your neon illuminated features.

His favorite bit of the dancing is very obviously when your back is facing him and you dance against him. It’s in the smooth rock of your hips against him that he gets lost in, eyes all casted downward on your lower half, watching the way you dance back against him. One moment he’s smiling and the next he’s genuinely dazed by you. Then again, it could’ve been the alcohol in his system that made all his senses feel heightened like that.

Gojo felt like he was high simply from dancing with you. So much so that at some point he had to ask you if he could go sit down for a bit because you were uh… causing a bit of stiffening to stir up in between his legs. Part of you wanted to tease him about how just a bit of grinding back on him had turned him on but, another part of you was ready to loosen up a bit and partake in some drinking of your own.

Nothing crazy of course but, you felt like you would be a little stiff in the crowd without Gojo by your side and if he wanted to go sit down but you wanted to continue dancing, you’d have to get some alcohol in you to lessen the tension in your body. As such, a small conversation between you and Gojo took place and he ended up pointing you toward the kitchen before letting you know he wouldn’t be too far off.

The house was huge but with the directions he gave you, you figured you’d be fine.

And honestly? You were fine navigating through people on your own this time. But just in case, Gojo did take it a step further and message you the same thing he’d told you (just in case you didn’t hear him perfectly enough over the music). 

How considerate of him. You thought to yourself as you made your way down a hallway and toward the far off kitchen.

Upon entering the space, you spot a few people making their own drinks, smoking, or talking with a friend but ultimately it’s a lot more laid back in comparison to the dance floor you’d previously been on. This allows you a moment to breathe, exhaling softly as you make way for the first stack of red plastic cups you find.

As you find a decent space on the counter to prepare your stuff, you begin to replay the small events from this party in your head. Smiling, you realize how wonderful everything’s been going for you thus far. You met two guys who were really nice, one of whom seemed to be acquainted with Gojo, Utahime was really friendly with you, and then dancing with Gojo just felt… nice. It was almost like things had gone too good for you tonight. Well, safe for Hori repeatedly interrupting something for you and failing to even say hi to you.

It’s not like you were expecting her to but, it would’ve been nice. She was standing right in front of you. Twice.

But hey, maybe she didn’t even remember you and the small convo you had with her. After all, this is her party and she clearly knows a lot of people so there’s probably a million and one things occupying that brain of hers. Speaking of which, that small conversation you had with her reminds you… didn’t you invite—

“How much for a ride, princess?” Choso’s voice suddenly hits your ears and you practically flinch out of your skin.

Your elbow instinctively shoots back and you nudge him right in his stomach with a loud yelp, “Jesus-, fuck, Choso!” You spew out before clasping your hands over your mouth in response to the sound of surprise you’d let out. “Scared the hell outta’ me.”

He lets out a laugh in between some sort of cough, probably one provoked from your strike against him just now. Slowly, his coughing fades into a full on chuckle and you move your eyes to gather the sight of him behind you. He’s wearing red and black, his hair tied up into two messy pigtails using these red hair ties, and—holy shit. Choso’s dressed up as Garu from Pucca. 

The realization makes you gasp dramatically as you turn around to face him fully. “Oh my God? Are you… Is that a Garu costume?!” You exclaim, moving your hands to his shirt and tugging him a bit close as you study the big red heart imprinted on the center of it.

Choso finally clears his throat and drops his eyes down to the way you’re pinching the hem of his shirt in between your fingers, “Uh, obviously?” He remarks sassily before lifting his gaze to your costume and cocking his head to the side. “And what are you supposed to be? A cowgirl?”

“Obviously,” You say mockingly. “Didn’t you just ask me how much for a ride like twenty seconds ago??”

His red gloved hand moves to brush your touch off of his shirt and then he smirks. “Yeah, ‘n you didn’t even answer, jus’ gave me a mean nudge to the gut…”

“You scared me!” You huff out to him.

Choso’s eyes settle firmly on the cleavage of your tits, not making any sort of attempt to avert his gaze as he talks to you, “I know.” His tone makes it seem as though he did that on purpose. “But I had to get back at you somehow. Who the hell invites their friend to a party and then makes no attempt to see if they’re still coming or if they even made it?”

Oh damn. You did kinda forget about him as soon as you got around Gojo… You don’t think Choso’s even crossed your mind again since earlier that morning. “Ohh uhm, sorry about that.” You say, a slight awkwardness drafting by mere seconds afterwards.

Choso gives you this loose nod of his head before stepping past you. “Yeah uhuh,” He hums casually whilst taking two of those red cups out from their stack. “Too distracted dancin’ with your partner to think about me, right?”

Your eyes follow him as he moves and you watch the way he fixes two drinks—one of them clearly for you. “He… He’s not my partner, Cho. I just—“

“No? But you two are matching,” He points out as he interrupts your next sentence. “Cowboy and Cowgirl too, how cute,” Then, Choso’s turning his head to look at you with this expression you can’t quite read as the next words leave his lips lowly. “Wonder if you’ll ride him the same way you did me.”

“What—“

He scoffs, “Yeah, y’gonna show him all the things you showed me?” He presses even further, taking a step away from preparing those drinks and toward you. Your body seems to not want to listen to you because you remain still and don’t even try to step back. Choso leans in close and angles his head to the side as his eyes remain dead set on yours, “Hm? Are you gonna beg him to fuck you the same way you begged for my cock that night?”

You’re left staring at him all speechless and dumbfounded, no sharp remarks to throw back at him, no attempts at arguing with him, just… nothing. 

mlist | last chapter | next chapter |

Tags 1/2; @siriusblackswankourtzeyy @eternaltpaoe @moonsgravee @sooshisweet @looking4hina

@blognicole @designerpvssy @andyfasia @shytragedybluefox @papigotwap

@senseifupa @gojoslefttoenail @juliiizh @gojos-cumslutt @lovergirl65

@sydlunamoon-blog @gojstrulxvezx @gigiipeaches @kivrumi @urunclesbottomlip

@iseeyouuu @annieleonhardtsbitch @lwkykiyo @itsbellablue-blog @gorouenjoyer

@mua-for-now @bee3l0v3r @scarletteyuno @lilablogsblog @lolznoelle

@madaqueue @keriaonmarz @parakisssss @aniniyah @trx-xrt

@sxnkuna @chocolatecheer @unibrow-yzz @lovely-lady-tits @woofzz2

@pineapplepan7 @janrcrosssing @hauntedchoso @linksylove @lemonninq

@littlemug00 @namjoonie17717 @notjustagirlinthisworld @moonneversleeps @k4rma1sntd3ad

[awakenedevildays]

「quarrels and sofas」 Art Donaldson x F!reader

TW: angst, smut (minors DNI), fighting, jealousy, insecurities

you can read the other parts here!

━━━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━━━

Art knew it was a terrible idea to properly introduce you to Patrick right away, from the moment he saw how his best friend looked at you up and down he knew he was in for troubles. Even more when Patrick "kindly" offered to teach you how to play tennis while "your boyfriend was busy". 

You agreed happily almost immediately: with Tashi busy with her professional tennis career, and you with yours, you didn't have much time to see each other, and when you did you tried to disconnect from your jobs by doing other things and that resulted in not playing that much anymore, expect with Art sometimes.

"your girlfriend is really cute by the way, how come I didn't realize it when we met her years ago" he teased Art after you excused yourself to go to the bathroom of the restaurant. 

Art knew where the conversation was going, but decided not to respond to his best friend's taunts "you didn't realize she was cute? It's your bad I guess" he replied in a snarky way, his fingers playing with his glass "besides, she's been cute since forever, what are you even talking about?" Art asked.

Patrick snickered a little at Art's response, taking a sip of his glass while he kept his eyes on him.

"Oh don't play dumb with me. She's always been on the cute side, but come on... she's seriously gorgeous now. You're so lucky and you don't even realize it" he replied back, a mischievous grin on his face growing as he continued to tease Art.

Art felt anger rise in his body, why did he always feel like he had to compete against Patrick? 

Patrick could feel the tension between them and continued to push further "You should be glad she's still loyal to you. She could easily leave your ass if she wanted to, bet she has tons of men after her" he kept going with a smug smile, knowing fully well he was pushing Art to his limit.

"Yeah well, unlike you I know how to treat my girlfriend right" he bit back, his smile growing. 

Patrick's smile faded a little at the reference to his past relationship with Tashi, but he quickly regained his composure and a smirk formed on his lips "Oh please, I know how to treat women just fine. Tashi simply just couldn't handle me" he said with a laugh, trying to brush off the topic.

Art's frowned his eyebrows in fake confusion, his smile turning into a thin line "Oh... my bad, I heard it went differently, from what I know.. it was you who couldn't keep up with her". 

Patrick raised an eyebrow at Art's response, his smirk faltering slightly as he tried to keep his cool.

"You've heard wrong then. It was Tashi who couldn't handle my life as a successful businessman." he retorted with a hint of defensiveness in his voice, trying to deflect the truth with arrogance.

Art was going to answer but a voice interrupted him "excuse me, I'll leave you the bill" the waitress said leaving the small receipt holder on the table, both men smiled as she walked away. 

Art took his wallet to pay and Patrick didn't bother to stop the blond as he slid the money inside of the card holder before leaving it on the table for the waitress to take. 

Then, Art takes a sip of his beer, his eyes never leaving Patrick's "stay away from her Patrick, I mean it" he warned. 

Patrick rolled his eyes at Art's warning "Oh, come on Art. I'm just being friendly. What's the harm in that?" he replied with a smirk, clearly not taking him seriously. 

"I know what you're trying to do, I know you". 

Patrick leaned back in his seat, his smirk widening at Art's accusation. "And what exactly do you know, Art?" he asked with feigned innocence, though his eyes gleamed with mischievous intent.

"I know you can't stand seeing me happy while you're not" he replied immediately and Patrick couldn't help but scoff at Art's words. 

"Oh please, I'm perfectly happy in my single life. I don't need a relationship to make me happy" he replied with a dismissive wave of his hand, though there's a hint of bitterness in his tone.

Art leans on his chair "sure you don't, but don't try to ruin mine too" his smile didn't reach his eyes. 

"Ruin your relationship? Who said anything about ruining your relationship?" Patrick asked with a hint of sarcasm, feigning innocence once again. "I'm just being friendly, Art. I don't have any ulterior motives" he added, maintaining his smile but his eyes betrayed his true intentions.

Before Art could answer you are next to him again "sorry, what did I miss?" you asked innocently, Art's arm wrapped around your shoulder while his other hand takes your fingers in his to play with them. 

Patrick's gaze flickered from you to Art, observing the two of you with a subtle feeling of irritation before he plastered a charming smile on his face. "Ah, nothing much. We were just catching up, talking about old times" he replied smoothly, though his gaze lingered on your hand enclosed in Art's, a flicker of envy in his eyes. Art looked at you and smiled, "nothing important" he said, brushing off the conversation to shift his focus back to you. 

"we should go baby, we have to wake up early tomorrow" Art stood up, you mimic his action. 

"Oh yeah, that's right" you said, slightly puzzled but you quickly brushed it off and leaned into Art's side, giving him a soft smile. Patrick watched the two of you raise from your seats, his smile still on his face "alright then, it was nice catching up" he said standing up as well, giving Art a nod before his gaze went back to you. "It was really nice to see you again" he added, his voice carrying a hint of flirtation you didn’t seem to notice, but Art did. 

"It was nice seeing you too Patrick, I'll text you for that tennis lesson, ok?" Patrick briefly looked at Art and smiled "can't wait, good night". 

Art's grip on you tightened momentarily, his expression tense but he quickly regained his composure to give Patrick a curt nod in return. "Good night" he replied shortly before leading you out of the restaurant, his arm remained protectively around your shoulders. 

Now, a few weeks later, Art leans with crossed arms at the doorframe and watches you getting ready for bed. He can't stop thinking how Patrick looked at you during that dinner and he can't imagine what his eyes saw while you played together, how he probably glanced at your legs and checked you out.

"So how was your match with Patrick?" He hopes you don't hear the jealousy out of his voice. 

"it was good, how was your day baby?" you decide to ignore his jealous tone, you kiss his lips when you pass by him to go to the bathroom.

He kisses you back, smiling when your lips touched his but he can't help thinking of Patrick right now. 

"My day was good," he says "what did you and Patrick do after your practice?" He asks while he changes from his jeans to a jogging pants.

"he gave me a ride here" you shrug.

He tries to hold a neutral mimic by hearing that but his jealousy is too much to not say anything about it. 

"I could've picked you up, baby" he tells you while he sits down on your bed waiting for you to finish brushing your teeth.

"I didn't want to bother you, and we were already together" you explain to calm him down but it's not working as you hoped it would.

You can see his knuckles turning white "it's not about bothering me. It's about you and Patrick together, alone. I don't like him". 

You look at him shocked "what do you mean? he is your best friend Art" you exclaim incredulous. 

"he just has a thing for you and it's obvious and I don't like it" It's like you can touch his anger, it's filling the whole room.

He can't stop imagining how Patrick might have touched you when he wasn't there, how he looked at you... just thinking that he might have looked at you the same way he did during the dinner is making him crazy. 

"I don't want you to see him anymore" he states and his arms cross in front of his chest and you scoff. 

"you're being ridiculous Art, he didn't try to do anything" you say and finally look at him from the bathroom. 

He starts to raise his voice and you can see the veins on his forehead throbbing "don't you see he has a thing for you?! You think he's such a good friend helping you play better? He doesn't give a damn about that, and you're just too naive to see that. He's just waiting for a chance to be with you" he snaps and stands from the bed. 

"I'm sorry are you trying to say I'm cheating on you?" you ask and you really hope he's going to deny it. 

 "I'm saying I'm tired of seeing you give attention to every single male that flirts with you, I mean how much attention do you need, are you really that desperate?" he snaps and immediately regrets what he just said, your hurt expression makes him shut his mouth.

He sighs and walks towards you, but just as he arrives in front of  you take a step back, tears swelling in your eyes and Art's heart clenches in his chest.

How can he explain to you that there is a voice in his head that tells him, every time you look at him, that he doesn't deserve you? that you could find someone better than him? that what Patrick had told him had affected him more than he wants to admit and that he is as terrified of losing you as he is terrified of few other things in the world?

"you're being unfair Art, you know I didn't cheat on you" you defend yourself but your voice tremble and it's difficult for Art to hear you. 

"I know, I'm sor-" but you don't listen to him.  

"I never, ever, gave you a reason not to trust me," your voice raises, you feel so hurt by him right now, you thought his trust in you was stronger than this. 

"I know, I'm sorry you're right, it's just that... Patrick told me some thing last time at dinner and insecurities got the best of me! I'm sorry, I really am baby, its just that..." he tries to explain what he is feeling "every time I look at you I always think you are too much for me, that you could find someone better than me and that you could leave me at any given moment, I love you so much it makes me crazy... Please forgive me" he takes your face in his hands but you don't look at him,  you can't bring yourself to feel sorry for him right now, you're way more hurt than he is. 

"but this is not the right way to show me Art, what you are saying it's unfair, I never, ever gave you a reason to doubt my loyalty towards you and our relationship" you take his hands off of your face. 

You are right, he knows you are, but his thoughts just won him over this time. He gently pulls you closer by wrapping his arms around your waist, he starts kissing you on your jawline and down your neck but you don't hug him back. 

"I..am so sorry baby. You have every right to feel hurt by what I just said and did. Please forgive me, I really am sorry, look we're both tired, can we go to sleep? we'll talk about this tomorrow morning, how does that sound?" he gives you a small smile in hope to soothe you but you avoid his gaze and he realizes he had said too much this time, he swallows the lump forming in his throat.

"I'm sorry, I truly mean it" he whispers with a gentle voice. All he wants to do now is to kiss your pain away, but he know you won't let him this time.

"I think I'll sleep on the couch tonight" you say and slip past him out of the bathroom and the bedroom.

 He watches you leave the bathroom and the bedroom with his heart racing like crazy. You are going to sleep on the couch? No. No way. It hurt knowing that he made you feel bad enough that you would sleep on the couch instead of in your bed with him. His legs moves on his own and he follows you out of the bedroom before grabbing your wrists and pulling you close to him. "Baby please, don't sleep on the couch" he pleads and tries to press you against his body.

"Art I don't want to be close to you right now, I really need space to think" you pull your wrist back and Art feels his heart sink at your words as his head starts spinning. 

He tries to blink away the tears that were in the corner of his eyes, but he can't. So his hands slowly lets go of your wrists and he takes a step back. "Okay. If you want space then I will give you the space you need", he says with a cracked voice and looks down at his empty hands.

You smile weakly "thank you, night Art" but before you can turn again he surpasses you to sit on the couch before you can reach it "I'll sleep here baby, you take the bed" he says and lays there, his eyes never leaving your figure and the way he is looking at you makes you feel so damn guilty even though he is the one at fault.

You open your mouth to speak but nothing you think seems appropriate, you reclutantly nod and turn around to go back to the bedroom.

He watches you disappear in the dark bedroom. His thoughts are racing. The guilt that was already so heavy on his soul is getting heavier every second. But he knows that you need space now after what he said to you. The only thing that he can do now is to pray that in the morning everything will go back to being alright. So that's what he did before falling asleep after a long time of just simply staring at the ceiling.

You hand caressing his cheek softly stirs Art awake the next morning.

You can feel the you man’s body tensing up at first at the soft touch of your hand on his cheek, but he quickly melts into it. The warm feeling of your hand on his skin makes his heart flutter and he slowly opens his eyes to look at you. "Baby?" he whispers still sleepy from what you assumed was a bad night on the couch.

"Hi" you murmur and his hand come to rest on yours still on his cheek "I made breakfast, would you like to join me?" if it wasn't for the fact that Art slept on the couch and his burning eyes he would've thought that what happened yesterday was just a bad dream.

Art is confused, he is afraid to speak and ruin this moment, to push you away once and for all and lose you forever "Yeah I would love to".

You gave him a small smile before making your way to the kitchen and Art follows behind you. He still seems exhausted as if he barely got any sleep last night. His heart sinks once his eyes lands on the table. You made his favourite pancakes with maple syrup, but in contrast to all the other days you didn't made coffee this time, only milk.

You sit on your place but Art stands awkwardly at the doorframe as if he needs your permission to approach you. So you give it to him.

The both of you eat the food in silence. Art doesn't dare to say a word the whole time, the only thing that he can't stop doing is stealing a look at you every now and then when he believes that you won't notice it. He can't get over the fact that you were so kind and cooked him his favourite meal after what happened last night. But his heart stops when you suddenly put down your fork and clear your throat. He was so nervous that he can already feel the lump in his throat building up.

"I think we should talk about yesterday Art"

 His heart is beating out of his chest the second he hears that dreaded sentence. The dreaded talk. The talk that would surely decide how everything is going to be between you two from this point. He swallows loudly before nodding his head. "Okay. Baby, listen I-" his voice cracks and he feels pathetic, if only his voice stopped him from speaking yesterday he wouldn't find himself in this position now. 

The second he sees your hand going up to stop his rambling, he immediately shuts up and swallows hard again. The tension in the room is so thick it could be cut trough with a knife. He has no idea what to do or how to start this conversation, so he looks at you with his thoughts racing in his head and fear building up more and more.

"I'll talk first"

He felt the lump in his throat growing thicker, but he nods once to show you that he is listening. "Go ahead," and you nod.

"what happened yesterday was not okay Art, I'm sorry that you feel so insecure of our relationship but you have to talk to me about these things and not accuse me of things I never did and never will"

 Art takes a shaky breath at your words. Everything that you said makes sense and he knows it. He should have talked about his insecurities and doubts, but instead he lashed his pain out on you. He feels so stupid right know.

"You're right. You're right. I'm sorry for what I said and did yesterday", he mumbles while he reaches for your hand to hold it. "I just..I don't know what got into me, but I promise I will never do this ever again".

"I'm not done" you say but take his hands in yours to reassure him. 

He swallows hard as you tell him that you aren't done. So he sits there still, not moving a muscle but also not letting go off your hands while he waits for you to continue. His heart is beating in his chest so fast it feels like it could explode any second.

"If you really think that Patrick is flirting with me, I'll keep him away from me... from us. I don't want to know what he told you that night, I don't care, but I need you to know that I love you, I'll always love you and only you, nothing will change that and I will never cheat on you, and I won't tolerate you behaving or accusing me like you did yesterday". 

Your words hit Art in the heart. He squeezes your hand a bit to show his affection and he nods "I know, I know that you love me and only me and that I'm an idiot for ever doubting that. And I love you too. More than anything. I'll try and work on my self doubt and my stupid insecurities. I'm sorry." He can't believe that you are still sitting in the same room with him.

You get up from your chair and sit on his legs, your hands go to his cheeks and you can feel his breath hitch as he hurriedly wraps one arm around you. Slowly he starts to press his cheek into your hand, he loves feeling your touch on him and he lets his eyes slowly close.

"is Patrick really the only thing that is bothering you?".

Art hums softly as he gives your question a real thought. Is it really the only thing that is bothering him?

He slowly opens his eyes and looks at you when he realizes that there is one more thing that made him jealous when he thought about it. "It isn't only Patrick..." he mumbled.

"what is it then?" 

"It's you" he says truthfully "It's you and how many people find you attractive. Everywhere you go there are so many guys checking you out. I know that they're no threat to our relationship, but everytime I see them looking at you I can't help but wish sometimes to have you all for myself".

"it's your fault for choosing a hot girl as your partner" you joke to lighten the mood. 

Art chuckles softly at your joke. He can feel the corner of his lips slowly twitching upwards to a smirk at your words. It's just like you to try and lighten up the mood and he loved that about you. 

"That's not fair" he mumbled against your palm before he leaned in to press a soft kiss onto it.

"you think I don't feel the same about you? everywhere we go there is always some girls making heart eyes at you and it makes me crazy, have you ever noticed them?" he shakes his head, he never sees them, he only has eyes for you, "and in the exact same way I don't see any other guys that is not you." he blushes and you kiss the corner of his mouth "the fact that I am insecure as you are about other people finding you attractive doesn't mean I get insecure of your love for me or of our relationship, and you shouldn't either" you flick his forehead 

At this point he is simply stunned by what you said and you could literally see on his face, so you are jealous of him too?

Art doesn't know what to say at first so the only thing that he does is to tighten his grip on your waist while his cheeks slowly turns red. "I..I thought you didn't feel the same about..you know..." He trails off when he realized that there aren't any words that can express what is on his mind.

"about other girls finding you pretty?"

Art slowly nods his head. "Yeah..I guess so" he mumbles and looks down at his lap, embarrassed that he has those thoughts and doubts. "I just thought that it didn't bother you cause you never said anything. I thought I was being crazy" he mumbled and looked up at you with guilty eyes.

"I should've express my feeling about it sooner, maybe you wouldn't have felt this way about Patrick" 

"Maybe..." he mumbles while he slides his arm from your waist and gently brushes some loose hair behind your ear "I'm sorry for what I said about you and Patrick baby...I'm so sorry"

"I know you are... I'm sorry too" you murmur 

His eyes widens slightly and his head snaps up so that he can look at you. "What are you sorry about, sweetheart. You didn't do anything wrong" his thumb gently brushes over the skin on your cheek.

"about not expressing my insecurity sooner, for making you feel alone in this, we both could have handled this situation better" his heart starts racing in his chest when you lean into his hand and softly press your lips onto it. A small sigh escapes his lips while he keeps his eyes on you "I guess we both have to work on sharing our insecurities baby. Let's not keep anything from each other, alright?"

"sounds like a great deal to me" you whisper and kiss him softly on the lips and he comes alive under you.

He immediately leans into the kiss and presses his lips back onto yours. He feels like all the tension between you is slowly fading out and he cups your face with his hands to pull you closer.

He can't get enough of the taste of your lips. The way you are sitting on his lap kissing him passionately feels so right. It takes all his willpower to slow down the kiss and pull away from you to breath for a moment. His thumb gently caress your cheeks, while he watches you, flushed and looking absolutely wrecked.

You climb off his lap just to straddle him and rejoin your lips together, his hands fly to your hip to pull you closer. The feeling of your body pressed against his makes him groan and his eyes flutters for a moment, before he deepens the kiss again. His tongue licks across your bottom lip and he gently nips on it with his teeth.

you moan and grind your hips on his, the only things keeping your body separate are your short nightgown and his jogging pants. 

A breathy moan escapes his lips at the feeling of your hips grinding on him in such a sweet torture. He pulls you even closer if that's even possible and his fingers digs into the skin on your sides to hold you in place while his hips starts to move on their own. "Baby.." he gasps against your lips at the delicious friction of your bodies, he can't handle how hot you look on his lap.

"I need you Art, please"

-------

The second those needy words leave your lips something inside him snaps. The way you beg him makes him feel like he could explode in any second. "God, I love you" He gasps and pulls his lips from yours just to shower kisses along your jaw. "I need you too, baby." He moans against your skin and his hips rocks upwards to meet your movements.

you grind your hips on his again and again in circolar motions, his lips goes to your neck and lightly suck on it and his hands on your ass to help your movements. Your hands instead goes to raise his shirt to take it off and Art leans back against the chair to help you before going back to the same position as before.

Art groans in anticipation when you start to pull off his shirt that reveals his pale chest and abs to you. He shivers slightly when your hands roams over his bare skin and he buries his face in the crook of your neck. He leaves wet kisses on your skin while he let his fingers sneak under the hemline of your nightgown to feel your skin. 

you take off your nightgown and throw it on the floor with his shirt before raising your hips to slide off his pants and boxer 

While you take the rest of your clothes off he can't stop himself from watching you. You look so divine and beautiful while undressing in front of him that he has to swallow hard and bite his lips at the sight of your body. After all this time you can still make his mind blank and speechless with your beauty. Slowly his hands roams up your thighs and over the skin on your hips while his eyes looks up at you, completely mesmerised.

"you look so beautiful baby" he says while you slid your panties to the side and sink down on his member, you let out a moan.

He keeps his eyes on you while you slowly let yourself sink down on him, his fingers gently grabbing at your hips to help you, while he feels himself becoming consumed in the feeling of you. "You're the prettiest girl I've ever seen" he manages to gasp before slowly kissing your lips. It felt like his mind was blank as he could only focus on every single sensation that you make him feel.

His breath hitches at the feeling of your insides wrapped around him and a moan escapes his lips in between the kisses. Art can't even concentrate on anything in this moment apart from you. He starts to move his hips in a steady rhythm with you in his lap.

"fuck, you feel so good baby, I love you" he moans and picks you up, a yelp come out of your mouth and your body trembles in his arms as his member slides deeper than before.

He picks up the pace when he hears you moan out loud, his mind completely blissed out at the feeling of himself buried inside of you while he continues to kiss you everywhere he can reach. 

His idea was to take you in your bedroom but you feel too good and his legs tremble from the pleasure, so he has no choice but to sit you on the table, him between your legs as he pick up his pace.

A surprised gasp escapes your mouth at the change of positions. He spreads your thighs further apart and his hips snaps against you and a groan escapes his lips.

You bring his face to yours and kiss him deeply, your tongues intertwined and your hands slide to his shoulders to dig your nails there and Art moans at the pain mixed with pleasure, one of his supports his weight off of you by resting on the table and the other finds your clit to rub it in circular motions to stimulate you further.

He moans into your mouth the second your tongue finds its way to his and his body presses against you while he does so. That action alone causes him to be deeper inside you and his eyes flutters close despite his best efforts to keep them open to look at you.

"Art- fuck" you moan and tremble against him, your chests pressed together before you let yourself lay against the table completely 

He stands back to look at your spread out body, you look so beautiful that it almost physically hurts him, he gets out of you to turn you around, you whine in response but lay against the table again without much struggle, he slips inside of you again

His pace now is slow and he stops your hips as they try to meet his, you whine in protest 

"Art please... go faster" you look back at him, your eyes pleading while your elbows support your weight, he lowers himself until his chest is pressed against your back and his mouth is close to you left ear "tell me you are mine" he orders while he bottoms out inside of you. 

The way he says that in your ear combined with how deep he is inside of you makes you whimper and shiver runs down your back. "I'm yours" you breathe and your eyes flutter by the feeling of him pressed so close against you. You feel like you're being wrapped up in Art and that feeling alone makes you feel so loved "I'm all yours, please..."

"I swear I'm only yours Art" you say again and his right arm goes around your neck while he brings you up with him in a straight position.

His hand tightens around your neck, making sure the pressure is light as his other hand slips around your stomach to hold you up against him. He then starts to move inside you with slow even strokes. "That's right you're mine..." he groans into your ear, "I love you so much..."

The new position makes his cock hit your cervix and you eyes gets watery from tears of pleasure, he picks up his pace "I'm going to cum Art" 

"me too baby" his hands goes to your clit again and your walls spams around his shaft "can I cum inside of you?" you nod furiously and turn your head to kiss him, when you cum your mouths are still joined and he slides as deep as he can as he reaches his climax too, his mouth now on your left shoulder and your hands wraps around both of his wrists. 

You stay still for a moment, your bodies joined together as your mouths lets out shaky laughs and breaths, he slide out of you delicately and turns you to sit you properly on the table again, his Hans on your thighs as they tremble.

Even in this moment you look the perfect combination of beautiful and wrecked to him. "I still can't believe how prefect you look all the time" he mumbles as he brushes some loose hair behind your ears softly.

You smile and pepper his face with sweet kisses that makes Art close his eyes in content, you slide off of the woodened forniture and take his hands in yours, "how about we take this to the bedroom, my love?"

He immediately nods in response and his eyes flutters when he feels your lips on his face. He feels like in this moment he could stand here and let you shower him with kisses forever. "Lead the way" he mumbles with a lazy tired smile on his face, his eyes follows you while you make your way to the bedroom.

━━━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━━━

do not copy or repost.

[plasticfangtastic]

Dairy Girl

A Homelander X F! Reader fanfic

A/N: I am still working on my other projects but I just wanted to write something fun and light to get me back into writing. I hope y'all enjoy this short little piece, btw i aint got no kids so i have very little idea how milk banks work, this will be a 2 or 3 part story.

Synopsis: In order to provide a constant supply of fresh breastmilk for Vought’s number one hero, Vought has had to get quite nifty in order to prevent this secret desire out the press and the public– you have unfortunately discovered the truth.

Tags: Stockholm Syndrome, abusive dynamic, Homelander being Homelander, dub-con, dark, mild smut, breastfeeding kink, kidnapping, child-death mention tw, cheating tw, set in s4 but canon nothing, slow burn.

Word Count: 3K

Part 1– Heifer

Such a small box, smaller than a shoe box, just big enough to fit its contents with enough space for his ghost to move. You stared at the small box as its buried in the family plot… you never thought of visiting this place to ever bury the last shred of happiness you had left, his body was born weak, so small you wonder if you’d given birth to a child or a chick, 2 months ago you had come home to find your now ex in bed with his ex, he had turned this betrayal on its head and blamed you for it, something about your lack of desire lately, about how your pregnancy had given him amounts of pressures he'd never agreed with, talking endlessly about his needs and how much you’d ignored him.

Whoever this man was, you didn’t recognize him.

Time blurred into nothing but disconnected colors and shapes, all you know was that the stress and anguish lead to this.

A box under soil.

Days passed and in your empty apartment, surrounded by all the stuff you bought you stood in front of the sink, throwing a bottle of fresh milk down the drain feeling tremendous guilt, the doctor said you would dry out soon enough but your breast had swollen so much your bras no longer fit– even the spare ones you bought just in case they’ve grown a size too big from what you expected, you booked an appointment with your doctor hoping they could give you whatever cocktail of drugs to dry you out and save you from the pressure and pain in your chest, it had been nothing but a passing message from a worried neighbor who had stop by to give you some mail that had been sent to them by accident when she mentioned her daughter-in-law had donated her excess milk after her little one refused to latch, she gave you the name of the charity and after much thinking you gave in, you lost your baby but there was some woman out there who could end up experiencing your same grief if their baby starved to death, yours simply born too small and weak to hold your finger for very long.

It felt good, you met the women running the charity and even some of the faces of the women you helped, as you delivered your frozen packs to the women’s clinic where the charity operated, it helped you heal, it gave your pain purpose, but as the months faded behind you a part of you worried about how much you keep producing, less than before but still too much, yet you keep going knowing it would end soon enough. 

Perhaps somebody in the clinic or the charity had dropped your information to these people but you'd received some mail regarding some research trials Vought International was running and how they needed some donors to drop fresh samples, in their pamphlet they offered to pay a decent amount--your divorce had been costly plus having to move to a new place and breaking your previous lease had left your bank account quite dry, this was cheap money, you had given your milk for free, you looked at the few pouches you had collected for next week's drop you saw a wonderful opportunity to make some quick cash.

You went to the Vought Clinic and saw a few other women filling up forms, reading old magazines or dilly-dallying on their phones until some nurse called their numbers, you filled the medical form, waited less than half an hour before your number was called, brought into a small bleach scented room, the nurse read your form and told you she would take a blood sample, a doctor came in, reciting whatever script he’d been given about what this project was, giving you big words you had no interest in, this was about providing better milk formulas closer to natural milk than anything currently in the market apparently, thanking you for your donation, he looked at your form smiling as he saw your inked words.

“You're still producing 4 months after…” The doctor handed you a disinfecting wipe and a freshly steamed breast pump in a silver tray– we just need two samples, please press the alarm to let us know you’d finished, then follow Nurse Potts to the front counter to sort out your payment.”

It had been an awkward experience, but there you were 300 dollars richer, you probably should’ve read those papers a bit closer before signing but money was money and you were told to come back if you could.

You did it a couple times for 2 months, much like a man donating sperm for pocket money or plasma to pay the rent.

That was the first mistake, you headed home and woke up the morning after wishing you had stayed out for an extra hour or two, perhaps caved in to your friends pressures and tried going back to dating (after all your ex was whoring himself all across the lower east side without moral qualms) or hookups so you would had gone to a different address, maybe you should had taken a taxi instead of taking the train and walking home.

Regardless you woke in some strange empty room, the only thing beside your person was a pair of pale pink hospital gowns, grippy socks, clean underwear and a pair of thick large towels, you screamed and banged on the door for an ungodly amount of time but nobody ever came, you stayed alone in that room for what could have been 12 hours or more… maybe less… who knew it was all too much, suddenly a sharp sound cut into the silence a note had been slid under the door, you rushed to the note.

It was instructions, they wanted you wearing their clean clothes, you could not leave the room unless you did so, and as much as you hated the idea, you wanted to get out so badly, you knew if you wanted to escape your only chance came in knowing your surroundings, you begrudgingly and tearfully changed, waiting until anything changed– the doors hissed opened, a woman in a sharp cream coloured suit stood there with clipboard and an armed guard, at the sight of the heavy looking gun– you froze.

Then you took the first step towards hell.

You knew the following things: You lived in some basement area– there were no windows, only elevators. You weren’t alone, there were other women here and they made sure to keep your interactions at minimum no doubt to keep all of you submissive and not getting any ideas, sometimes familiar faces will fade and you could only speculate nightmares. Lastly… your purpose, the reason you were trapped here in the first place was… to lactate.

A plucky little thing that stayed optimistic despite your shared horror called herself a ‘Heifer’ she wasn’t wrong… you lived in a small cell where everything had sat on top of each other feed to keep fat and producing milk much like a cow, whoever developed this diet knew of all the ingredients known to help production, and you knew there were putting something else in the food for your breast begun to feel uncomfortable, for a little while you thought you could fight it by starving yourself, then two men with guns came into the room and told you to eat or else.

The time you spend outside this microflat hong-kong style cell was in the milking room and the shower room, you were ordered to stay clean and quiet, at least in the milking room you had some television and could spend time with the other women, but they keep you isolated, you could do very little, sometimes music would play and a book would be dropped with your food but your happiness wasn’t priority, you had to fill a quota.

After a couple weeks of this you simply accepted defeat, too many guns… not enough spaces to run, and nothing to come home to… a man that wanted to sue you for more feeling as if the judge had been unfair, a pestering family who acted as if they had been the only ones who experience loss, an empty cot you still hadn’t gotten rid off and piles and piles of bills, in this quiet cool room you had spend endless hours thinking, you didn’t love your job, you had been distant from most of your friends and you could only imagine that they assumed you had run away or killed yourself after what happened nobody could blame you.

Existing for the sake of existing until you could figure out what to do next.

“Good Evening… I’m glad you’re eating so well” The lady you met the first day said as the door hissed open, she watched you like a hawk as you process this sudden interruption, clutching at your paper thin blanket, you looked at the floral fabric in her arms and the clipboard under her arm– I need you to sign this before you’re allowed upstairs”

“Am I being let out?” You said anxiously, no way it could be that easy you thought.

The lady let her smile waiver, looking at the unseen guard then at her wrist watch as she handed you the clipboard.

“Your performance might determine how soon you'll be release…”

“You assume I won’t go to the police…”

“That wouldn’t be wise Miss L/N but we assure you that you’ll be sufficiently compensated for the inconvenience.”

You wanted to yell, but a voice in the back of your head thought of this but nothing but pageantry, you were dead either way, but perhaps this could be your opportunity to escape, whatever they wanted to do now meant being outside of these buried walls, you signed the sheet without thinking, briefly considered stabbing the bitch in the eye but is likely they would turn you into swiss cheese before you even took a step too close, she took the paperwork from your hands and in change handed you a long sleeved dressed straight out of the mormon section in target, she closed the door and you dressed up.

The halls looked so odd when you didn’t wear your prison clothes, the other few doors housed sleeping and bored girls, your plucky friend hidden behind one of them, the new girl hidden behind one of them and the girl you seen before in the milking room once hid behind one of them.

They took you to an elevator– it was old box, if you had to guess by the button’s design maybe built in the late or mid 70s, you never left their side until the elevator closed before them, the box moved slowly, a dingy silver box with low honey coloured lights, so dim… and you were alone, as the light chime as it went up you felt your entire being sink into your stomach, your heart beating so fast you were sure you were gonna have a heart attack before the doors opened once again, swallowing dry spit, your eyes opened so wide it hurt.

Quiet… it was so quiet when the doors opened, you expected something else, something menacing… something frightening– not an old house, an old house in the middle of some evergreen forest, everything screams old, untouched, museum like, like it's meant to present this idea that somebody lives here but not really, despite it being an elevator hidden behind a bookcase, you take a few cautious steps, your naked feet bury in the plush carpet, there’s bird singing outside and the sun is so bright and warm it hurts your eyes, the cool tones gone and this feels like a bad dream, pinching yourself but you’re awake, tragically awake, a weird wiry smile creeps on your lips, an almost laugh escapes your lips before you can feel tears burning your eyes.

“Hello…?” You ask and you don’t know why.

As you venture into the living room, hands firm against the tacky dark pink wallpaper, you found old floral couches that matched the drapes and despite how old school it was it had a charm to it.

Then you saw him.

Perusing the VHS collection filled the entire bookcase on the wall, just rows and rows of VHS boxes, some plastic and some cardboard, the TV boxy and just as antiquated but who cared— he was there.

You ran before you even realized you done it, crashing into him with desperation, tears staining your cheeks and you could barely breath as you tried so hard to speak.

“Homelander please help me!! I’ve been kidnapped!! Please!!” You cried, pulling on his suit– please!!”

Those endlessly blue eyes more poison dart hide than veronica flower bush the more they stared at you calmly, his lips into a thin smile and his hand thad taken your wrist inflicting just enough force to keep you firmly in his grip… to show you how he wasn’t an ordinary man, he looked at you as your tears changed meaning as if you were the most unfortunate creature he’d ever seen, his lips parted just enough to show those sharp canines that had looked so charming in sidewalk posters, now you could sense their presence squeezing at your jugular.

“You are so much prettier in person, Y/N.” His voice is disturbingly soft and calm, intimately quiet as he takes a whiff of your neck, moving you to make it easier, his free hand creeped towards your hip– I was so glad when I saw your picture and you weren’t hideous.”

Trembling against him, a nonexistent cold draft blew against you, your whole body shivering and covered in goosebumps.

His eyes fixated in your breast, mouth agape as his tongue dared to lick his lip, watching you like a starved man at a las vegas buffet, his hand slithering upwards, you know where this is leading, you can’t stop crying but you can’t scream either, you're just there as his hand avoids your breasts and creeps towards your back and presses your bodies together.

“I’m so glad you signed that sheet, I was getting sad endlessly waiting for one of you to agree to the deal” He says quietly, you stare at him and you realize you should’ve actually read that stupid sheet– why so scared? I ain’t gonna bite.” He bites the air as a joke and you could tell that that single bite could have torn your finger off cleanly.

His eyes shift to your clinging fingers that stayed so stiff against his padded suit, you stopped squeezing at him now they rested limp against him.

“Let’s watch a movie…” 

It’s an awkward dance concluding in sitting down on a couch, its surprisingly soft and you’re sinking on the cushion while your mind dissolved in the sky, the coffee table had a humbled spread of snacks, pizza and milkshakes, not once did you notice, you stared at him clutching at your dress as he picked something out of the shelve, watching as his hand worked the VHS player, the clicks and whirling all you could focus on. He sat beside you as the speakers began to play the included trailers, he took the drink urging you to do the same with a menacing look, filling you with incomplete thoughts as you obeyed.

Malt vanilla marinated in your tongue, you had a terrible thought.

‘Milk’ 

You were there to provide milk… to whom? Why just milk? You thought they would sell your body or your organs, experiment on you but… they wanted your milk, but who was buying it? Who was drinking it? Where did it go? You stared at the pretty blond whose arm kept your shoulders still, you saw the news– you’d known he had a child and who knows with whom but his kid was old enough to not need it… was it for him? You thought… thinking of it as ridiculous until you remember how 20 minutes ago  he was staring at your tits as if he was malnourished, you looked at his lips pursing as he took a long sip of his milkshake and wonder if that was milk… from a cow… not a heifer like you.

Homelander smiled at you.

“I don’t like ‘The mothman prophecy’ , never been a Richard Gere fan” he said casually.

“He was really good in ‘Pretty Woman’ . This one is okay…” You looked at the screen your voice so stiff– what’s going on…? Mr. Homelander… I…"

“Shhh… watch the movie” He leaned against you resting his head on your shoulder– you tasted the best… every batch perfection– such delicate custardy taste… So this is what we are gonna do… I’ll keep you in this floor so you’re not so bored ."

You swear he’s purring as he rubs himself against you marking you as much as he was making himself comfortable.

“There’s cameras everywhere… The glass is bulletproof, doors won’t open without a fob and code, and there’s no phones or internet, but if you do manage to get out of here just be aware I’ll know.” He said such terrible things as if it was nothing– if you tried to off yourself there will be 3 armed guards and nurses here in less than a minute but if you behave I promise you– you’ll be allowed out, but only if you gain my trust.” He looks up at you as you focus on those thin lips of his– there’s no kitchen but your meals will be delivered… if you want anything just tell the camera over there.”

He pointed at the corner tucked in between two VHS tapes was a small camera.

“I like you Y/N you're cute… you’ll behave for me, right?”

You nodded, too afraid to disagree.

“Now… let’s finish the movie… I actually like this part”

You stared at the pizza box, you could at least tell that the pizza was from an american restaurant, which made you feel safe ‘Select Pizza and Grill” said in the box and you knew you were somewhere in Pennsylvania, far from your apartment in Clinton Hill.

You looked at your boobs feeling his piercing gaze on them, you started drawing lines connecting weird things together, back when you were donating your milk, girls joked about people buying for medicinal and fetish purposes, this spelled itself out for you.

Maybe you could get out of here… but you had to do something weird… but as you heard the birds outside and the warm light peeked into the room, you realized maybe you could leave… no you’ll leave, you’ll go back home and you would find a way to ruin this man and those bastards beneath you, you’ll get them out too, so you took one courageous breath and forced a smile on your dried lips.

“You really liked it?”

“Huh?”

“My milk…” You mumbled– you know I never tasted it myself but am glad to get a review.”

“It’s really tasty” he bites his lip.

Your hand plays with one of the buttons on the dress.

“It hurts a bit… I usually get asked to pump around this time… dunno if you know this but it's a bit painful when they get this swollen.”

The look in his eyes told you everything you needed to know and as you leaned away from him pulling on buttons with slightly trembling fingers, you watched him follow your movements like a snake chasing prey.

“Would you help me out, mister superhero?” Is not flirty but is slightly playful and you’re surprised that you can lie that well, he’s so shameless as he shakes his head enthusiastically, mouth opening for you– please don’t bite.”

He gasps as you let him see all that he’d wanted from the get go, why he put you in that box, why you ended up in this place for.

His body was lighter than you thought as he sunk against you-- eyes closed, body limp against yours, he made the softest sounds it put you at ease somehow, for a moment you saw a very small being latched on your chest, you’d only experienced it once before, and it was seared into your mind as a painful yet tender memory, so you close your eyes dreaming of a fantasy far removed from this peculiar reality, half lid eyes found a man so blissed out your lips curved, this was unbelievable, the world most famous supe keeping you hostage just so you could indulged him.

But you knew now… that this was your way out.

[sugar-grigri]

How about an analysis of Dunmeshi's latest episode?

What I find really interesting, and episode 17 made me realize it, is the extent to which Laios and Shuro are the opposite of what they portray, even worse: the image they might portray is actually that of the other.

Let me explain :

How does Shuro see Laios ? As someone stubborn and thoughtless, disconnected from reality to the point of using black magic to resurrect his little sister.

We know that Shuro would have made the same choice, which shows that even if he tries to deny it, there is a point of connection between them.

The key to these similarities and differences is Falin.

What Shuro loves about Falin is the tenderness in her every gesture, her compassion and understanding of every creature, and her smile.

When he sees this monster kill in cold blood, he realizes the extent to which he has lost his loved one, which is why he chooses to kill her to free his soul, thinking he has lost her.

But what Shuro doesn't realize is that he's exactly what he's blaming Laios for: he's stubborn and reckless, not realizing the danger and sacrifices his teammates are making for the sake of this mission.

He's also disconnected from reality, not caring about himself, his hunger or his fatigue.

Above all, and this is very interesting, Laios had said that he hadn't perceived that Shuro couldn't stand him because he was so happy to have him as a friend, that he hadn't detected any of these signals.

Shuro shares this blindness

Shuro repeats that this monster is not Falin, yet he sees her as such, to the point of embarrassment when the monster removes her blouse.

And that's the opposite of Laios, who sees his sister as the monster she is

Like the chimera Falin has become, he sees his little sister calling him and this super-cool monster.

He's the one with his feet firmly on the ground, he's the one who really cares about his team, taking care of himself and those around him through balanced meals.

The one who understands that Falin has many vital points, rather than allowing himself to be overwhelmed by despair, is Laios.

So when Shuro hits Laios, in reality he's not hitting a man who differs from him, he's hitting his own flaws, and his own failure in the situation.

This failure he projects onto Laios, a man brimming with flaws.

Not only does Laios reason with him, but if Shuro ends up taking the wiser path, it's also because he's literally fought against himself.

But it all goes even further!

Shuro realized his feelings, or rather how unique Falin was in her tenderness and altruism, towards every being, even the smallest.

But what set this whole cycle in motion was Falin's self-sacrifice, her own death.

Laios and Marcille are responsible for what follows, but they are not responsible for everything, as Shuro tries to believe.

Shuro refuses the truth

So he doesn't see Falin

He couldn't accept that her tenderness had led to his death

Nor that her tenderness gave way to extreme coldness and indifference

He won't accept his own blindness

So he hits Laios and his extreme sincerity that irritates him so much

Shuro can't see anything in the darkness of this dungeon, he's the one who's lost his footing so he has to get back up again

Laios has accepted to see everything, even the unavowable, the forbidden, the pain.

What Shuro sees in Falin is love

In Laios, what he sees is the truth

In reality, Laios has only told part of the truth; he is the other half.

But if he goes back up, it's not to abandon Falin, Shuro has to face reality, the truth, that Laios was the only one who could save his beloved. It was by fighting that he finally put his trust in Laios. And finally became a friend

[princeoftheeternalbog]

Presenting a Laois fic for consideration☝️

I just think he's neat- also tell me if the dialogue is confusing cos i can totally colour code it for you guys🫶

Anyways here you go

-

His hands are shaking.

"Just- Are you sure-"

"Yes"

"But I could go get Falin, she's here now and she's more skilled so-"

"Laois if you say that one more time I'm going to whack you"

He nods jerkily, cheeks slightly flushed, eyes a little bit glazed over but gaze still fixed on your face.

"Sorry"

"It's okay"

His hands finally move to cup your face. His shoulders seem to slump slightly, like just the act of touching you allows him to relax. A thumb sweeps gently under your eye, brushing away a stray eyelash.

You can feel the temperature between you rising. Your heart thrums in your chest like a hummingbird, he's so close you can feel his chest move as he breathes.

His right hand moves up, to the gash on your forehead, he presses lightly but you still hiss, the sting radiating throughout your skull.

"Sorry-"

"Just focus on the healing part"

"Right right"

He closes his eyes.

You can feel him connecting to your mana, it almost feels like holding hands if it were an intangible cosmic emotion. His own mana feels warm and silky, like liquid sun in your veins, as it intertwines with your own for a moment.

You shudder.

"Almost there"

He probably mistook that for discomfort but it couldn't be further from the truth.

The warm feeling spreads until you actually feel physical heat on your wound as it stitches itself back together. It's weird, being able to feel your tissue reconnecting in ways that usually takes at least a few days.

He moves his hand away to look and then smiles brightly.

"It worked!"

"Oh did it? It still feels a bit weird"

His brow furrows in concern,

"Weird how?"

"I don't know...but it kinda feels like..."

"Like what-"

His voice is starting to sound a bit panicky now and you feel almost bad. Almost.

"It kinda feels like you might need to kiss it better"

You can see his mouth drop open slightly as blood rushes to his face, cheeks going pink and splotchy.

His mouth opens and shuts but no sound comes out and you can't help the little giggle at his demeanour. He's usually so calm and so so oblivious, to see him actually get flustered well... it makes you feel even more confident.

The giggle starts to morph into a full laugh when his face sets into a determined expression, still pink,

"Okay"

"Wha-"

You barely have time to react when he presses his mouth to yours. His lips are slightly chapped but you're sure yours are worse, it's not exactly like you're doing spa treatments down here. Regardless of chap level, he kisses so softly and reverently, like you're the most precious thing he's ever touched. His hands move to your back to steady you as he leans into your space, smooth and sure.

He sighs sweetly against your mouth, gently leading the kiss as it gets a bit heavier. One of his hands has settled at the small of your back, the other arm practically pulling you into his lap with how much of it is curled around your upper back. Your hands have come to rest on his shoulders to keep your balance as you slide closer to him and further off your own chair.

The need to breathe becomes apparent all too quickly and you both disconnect, chests heaving in sync. You don't go far, keeping your face close enough you're essentially breathing the same air.

"Does it feel better now?"

"Huh"

You still feel slightly dazed, the rush of the kiss making you feel like your brain like melted honey.

"Your head. Does it feel better?"

He's grinning a little at you, almost smug but more sweet then anything.

"Mm might need another"

His smile is so giddy as he leans back in.

[my-my-my]

I have an idea about working with Aisen. How about Aisen accidentally hurt his s/o, you can choose the situation yourself. And can u do Aizen Hueco Mundo version, please?

Yes of course! Thank you for your kind compliment and for your request! I received similar requests as well, so these will be answered together.

TW: this is SFW but it is very angst heavy! There are descriptions of physical pain.

Word Count: 1917

Read on AO3 here.

Las Noches was perpetually silent. The arrancars remained in their kingdoms most of the time, only meeting with Lord Aizen to convene on strategy and general war preparations. Sometimes you attended these meetings, other times you were doing reconnaissance for him and his soldiers.

Today, you were free. You remembered Lord Aizen telling you it was optional to attend the upcoming meetings, as it wouldn’t concern you. If it were anyone else, they would believe him, as he was an exceptional liar, but for as long as you had been with him, you sensed he wasn’t being truthful.

Lately you wondered why you remained here. Your reconnaissance days seem few and far between, and Lord Aizen had kept you away from several meetings as of late.

It made you feel useless.

It didn’t help that as of late, Lord Aizen was standoffish and cold towards you. To outsiders, his actions towards you were normal, he was cold, callous and calculative to everyone around him. But a small part of you, which grew larger and larger as the days went by, wanted to yell at him that you weren’t like “everyone else.” Your loyalty and devotion were to him, and it hurt you to be treated like a common soldier.

You shared the same bed, but when was the last time he fell asleep next to you?

You shared private quarters with him, yet when was he there with you?

Every day you told yourself that this would pass. Lord Aizen was meticulous in his plans and that this was a necessary step for the larger goal. He would be successful and hopefully… hopefully the frigid attitude would melt away. But as the days continued on, the seed of doubt slowly grew.

You weren’t sure where you were walking towards (or from) in Lord Aizen’s palace. Your mind was in disarray, as you walked through the familiar halls and corridors. Your mind wandered to places outside of Las Noches, to places further past Hueco Mundo. To the warmth of Soul Society, where you enjoyed the field of wildflowers, to the fireworks in the night sky.

While your mind wandered, your body took you along the familiar route to Lord Aizen’s strategy hall. You weren’t sure what drew you here to begin with, a force of habit? A sense of longing?

But before you could dwell on the thought further, your body was hit with agonizing pain. You were being crushed by raw spiritual pressure. You couldn’t make out the voices or the sensations as your body convulsed in pain. Your mind wouldn’t stop racing, thoughts swirling with memories of times long forgotten. The pressure continued, and you felt as if your mind was disconnected from your body. You became acutely aware of the dress Lord Aizen had designed for you, clinging to you painfully. Your body continued to sear with pain, the intensity becoming too much, as if it would break your bones. The pain continued to the point where you felt disoriented, where you began to stumble forward. You thought you saw someone kneeling with blue, and someone else standing, but before you could register the figures, an intense wave of nausea hit you.

You wanted to say something, as your mind processed that it was Lord Aizen and Grimmjow that you were seeing, but as soon as you opened your mouth, your body lurched as vomit and saliva dribbled from your lips, before you collapsed into darkness.

Your body felt incredibly weak, pulverized almost, yet confusion ran through you as you couldn’t recognize the room you were in. The dress you were wearing was gone, instead it was your nightwear instead. You tried to sit up, but tears pricked your eyes as you struggled. Your body remained in pain, and everything hurt.

A familiar hand placed itself on your forehead. Something was said, but your ears were still ringing, as tears continued to pour down your face. Then, the same hand that was on your forehead, emitted a faint, light green glow, and you began to feel numb, the pain slowly dissipating.

You opened your eyes to see Lord Aizen watching you, as he placed his hand over your body. Exhaustion hit your body as his kaido spell worked itself all over you. His eyebrows were furrowed, but his eyes remained distant.

His voice still sounded muffled and distorted to you, but you could make out that he wanted you to lift your arms, to which you complied. The pain was decreasing overall as his hands ran over your body several times.

“I’m sorry, Lord Aizen.” You sobbed. You weren’t even sure what you were apologizing for, but you wanted him to say something to you, something directly to you, about you and him – not for this goal of his, not for his palace, not for his soldiers, but you.

But there was no response from him as he continued healing your body.

Your heavy breathing filled the otherwise silent room. Lord Aizen meticulously inspected your body for any other injuries, as his kaido spell continued to work over you, until it dissipated into thin air. You closed your eyes, flexing every finger and toe to ensure that they were able to move, when you felt a large hand encompass your own. Your eyes shot open as you stared at Lord Aizen, who remained silent, but gave your hand a gentle squeeze.

His face was unreadable, but his hand was warm as his fingers interlocked with yours. It was then you looked around the room. This was nothing like your private quarters in Las Noches.

“Where are we, Lord Aizen?” You struggled to ask. Your mouth was incredibly dry.

“In the realm of the living.” He curtly responded, watching your reaction.

You sighed, somewhat in relief, but also of sadness.

“I suppose I’m of no use to you now if I’m here.” You murmured, looking at the way his hand engulfed your own.

The room remained silent as tears pricked your eyes again. Your worst fear was coming true, and your heart felt like it was being squeezed to oblivion.

“You’ve performed your duty well. There’s nothing more to ask of you.” Lord Aizen said, letting go of your hand and cupping your face. He was lying to you again. You saw a brief flash of remorse in his brown eyes, but what you were seeing now was a vacant man.

“You’re lying.” You harshly whispered, surprising yourself with how angry you sounded.

Lord Aizen momentarily looked shocked, but his vacant stare reappeared. “It’s not safe for you in Las Noches anymore.” He calmly explained, rubbing the tears away from your eyes. His hand was incredibly warm to your cool skin, but his words rang empty in your heart.

But you were too tired to argue with him, too exhausted to care anymore.

“The captains and humans are approaching Las Noches soon.” Lord Aizen remarked, “and I will be leaving to Karakura Town.”

You nodded into his palm, knowing it was a waste of time to argue why you should be fighting alongside with him. Lord Aizen was particular about his plans, and as hurt as you were, both physically and mentally, you were in no shape to aid him.

Lord Aizen let go of your face and the two of you held hands, cherishing the silence.

“What is this place though, Lord Aizen?” You asked, as you slowly took in the space. It was beautifully decorated, but nothing like Las Noches at all. It seemed warm, bright and inviting.

“Your - our home. I suppose.” He admitted, as he began to help you out of the bed. He held your hand and guided you to the window, where you were greeted with a breathtaking view, rolling hills and wildflowers, and to the distance, a body of water.

You gasped, taking in the scenery, “this is beautiful, Lord Aizen, thank you!” You smiled at him, as you took in the air, view and sounds. It felt real, the sun hitting your skin, the faint perfume of the flowers.

“There’s a town nearby, who is in need of a florist.” He explained, watching your reaction. “These flowers are yours alone, as is this home and everything inside it. There’s something else I want to show you.”

Lord Aizen guided you outside, past the field to a lone, singular, yet incredible wisteria tree. The tree was adorned by thousands of lilac blossoms that gently danced in the breeze. “This is imbued with some of my reiatsu,” Lord Aizen explained, as he placed the palm of his hand on the tree’s trunk. “My presence will always be with you here.”

It was then it dawned on you…

This was a goodbye.

Tears welled in your eyes again, as your heart shattered. “You’ll come back once this is over?” You asked as tears continued to pour.

Lord Aizen didn’t say anything but embrace you gently. You cried into his chest as you tried to remember everything about him, to the firmness of his chest, to the warmth of his embrace. He tilted your head up and placed a gentle kiss on your lips, then kissed your eyelids and forehead.

You weren’t sure how long the two of you stood under the wisteria tree, but eventually he took you back home. Night began to fall, and he quietly prepared you dinner, ensuring that there were nutrients to nourish your healing body. The two of you spent the remainder in each other’s arms and quietly reminiscing. And it was the first time, in what you felt was an eternity, of sharing a bed with him. Your body fell asleep quickly in his arms, as you were lulled to sleep by his heartbeat.

But by morning he was gone.

“He’ll come back, I know he will.” You said aloud, as you began to prepare yourself for the day.

But deep in your heart, you knew… that may have been the last time you would see him.

Several years had passed since the day you were brought here. Every day you would look out the window, expecting Lord Aizen to come through the fields, but no one was coming. Your heart couldn’t bear it, so you kept yourself distracted by growing your florist shop and business. While you never left the home he built you, you never set foot in near the wisteria tree.

Yet now you were here, walking towards it. You noticed a small, wooden bench underneath and sat down under the heavy blossoms, as petals danced in the wind. Shock ran through you, as you felt it – you felt him. You turned around and faced the tree, placing your hand on the trunk. His familiar spirit lingered all around you, as if he was there himself, the branches swayed a bit harder, as if they acknowledged his presence too. It was then you knew, he was somehow watching you, as you quietly began to tell him about what had transpired since the day he left.

In Muken, Aizen became acutely aware of his growing reiatsu, and the far reaches it had beyond the confines of his prison, Soul Society and beyond. Every day, he would sense where you were in a world without him.

It was then he felt you near the wisteria tree had placed. Under his seals, coverings and bindings, Aizen smiled to himself as the gentleness of your spirit enveloped him, filling him with a sense of peace.

I hope you enjoy this anon! Thank you for reading!!

[azrielbrainrot]

When Prayers Fall on Deaf Ears

Pairing: Azriel x F!Reader

Description: For the first time in his life, Azriel is not ready to accept death.

Warnings: Death, All Hurt No Comfort

Word Count: 1500

Notes: I'm so sorry. I didn't proofread this so I'm sorry for that too.

How could the Mother be so cruel?

After centuries of walking this world alone, of throwing himself at dangerous missions and surviving multiple wars, how come when he finally found something worth living for, his life gets taken away?

Azriel can hear you anguish cries for help, screaming at Rhys to get a healer, can hear your reassurances that he's going to be okay, but the truth is he can barely feel your hands on him, can barely feel his body at all. He's taken several falls like this, but this pain is different. He knows better than to check, knowing he wouldn't be able to bear the sight, - probably wouldn't even be able to complete the movement on his own - but he knows his left wing was mostly ripped off, his arm and leg might be in similar ruined states. The realization that he'll never be able to take to the skies makes him close his eyes for a second, tears gathering in them.

Everything happened so quickly, he had barely reacted in time, sending up a shield around him at the same time Cassian did. He doesn't know what kind of magic that was, had never seen anything like it before, but he knows if it hadn't been for the shield, there wouldn't be any piece of his body left, and his brother would have met the same fate.

His shadows were completely silent, uncharacteristically so, unmoving as they lay under his body, but, even if they weren't singing to him, Azriel could feel them mourning, could feel them disconnect, no longer following his command. They had been with him for most of his life, and he hopes they know how grateful he is for them, for the way they stayed by his side, protecting him and those around him, and they remain until his last breath escapes his body. He truly couldn't have made it this long without them - they were part of his identity.

It's your frantic calls of his name that has him opening his eyes again, blinking a couple of times to try and focus on your beautiful face. This is probably the last time he'll be able to see it so he should enjoy it as much as possible. You send him a relieved look when you notice him watching your face, leaning closer until he can faintly feel your breath on his skin. “Rhys went to get Thesan, alright? You're going to be okay, Az,” you promise, struggling to keep your voice from failing while trying your hardest to choke back your tears, and he struggles to focus on the words, the sound reaching his ears as if he was under water.

He won't be okay, you both know that. No matter how good a healer is, there are some things that can't be helped. Sometimes they forget given their long lifetimes, but fae are still mortals. Everyone around him seems to have come to the same conclusion, but they're all unwilling to accept it, stubborn as they are. Gods, he's going to miss them so much. Azriel almost wants to tell you to call Rhys back, so he can see his brother one last time. No healer is going to be able to fix this anyway, not even Thesan. He's not sure if he can form the words though, even breathing is becoming too much to bear.

Trying his best to pay attention, Azriel tries to focus on his family - the people who have made his life worth living. He can hear the three Archeron sisters crying somewhere at his side, holding onto each other. They've all lost so much in their short lives, Azriel hates that he's going to add to their suffering. After a particularly loud sob escapes Feyre, he realizes his mental shields are probably down, making her privy to his thoughts, but he can't bring himself to care, not anymore.

Amren is studying his body a few steps behind you, staring at him with a conflicted look in her eyes, arms wrapped around herself. This might be the first time she sees someone she cares about die right before her eyes, as she watches on, unable to do a thing about it. Right next to her stands Mor, an uncharacteristically blank look on her face as she watches one of her bestfriends take his last breaths, shock seems to have taken hold of her. Emerie stands behind her, ready to comfort her. He couldn't see Cassian but he feels him kneeling right next to his head, can hear his choked breaths as he desperately tries to keep his tears from coming, can feel the familiar thrum of his power. He had also been injured, but it seems that Azriel had taken the worst of it, his brother would be alright.

And you. He doesn't even want to imagine how much pain he's going to bring you. You, who's trying so hard to be strong for him, to keep on a brave face and make him feel better in his last moments, even though you probably want nothing more than to curse the Mother and any deity responsible for this. If it had been the other way around, he's not so sure he would survive it, or that he would want to, but he knows you're more resilient than him, so much stronger, always have been.

None of you deserve this. To have your family ripped away from you like this. And he doesn't either, after suffering through so much, he knows he deserved a few more good years with you and his family by his side.

“I don't want to die,” the words escape him in a whisper before he has the chance to keep them down. The sobs that escape both you and Cassian almost make him want to take the words back, knowing he's going to give you guys enough pain as it is. Your hands raise to hold his face, bringing a smile to his lips even at a time like this.

He was almost surprised to see that he meant it. Azriel had never been afraid of death, would gladly do it to save the ones he loves, as he is doing now, but that had always been easier when he felt like he had nothing to lose. Aside from his friends and his mother - who he knows should be more than enough reason - Azriel had never truly felt fulfilled or content with his life. Throwing it all away would have been easier then, but now he had you.

He's been waiting for a love that would give his life purpose ever since he can remember, as pathetic as that may sound, and now that he finally met you, he's going to die without ever getting the chance to give you the ring he keeps stored on his nightstand. He had been waiting for the right time to give it to you, it seems like fate had other plans for him. He can only imagine what you will feel when you find the silver ring engraved with both of your initials.

A sudden pressure in the air tells Azriel his brother returned with Thesan. He feels a strange sort of relief at this, not because he thinks the healer can still help him, but because he didn't want to go without knowing Rhys was here as well. His heart seems to echo this sentiment, as he can hear it slow down with each painful breath he takes into his lungs.

Azriel uses his remaining strength to hold up his hand, trying to feel your skin against his rough palm one more time. He can't quite raise his arm high enough, the blood loss catching up to him, but you hold his hand in yours and hold it up to your cheek. You always knew what to do, what he was thinking.

“I love you,” he struggles out.

Your tears are flowing down your cheeks freely as you repeat the words back to him, having no choice but to resign yourself to your cruel fate. Rhys and Mor kneel at your side, the latter resting a hand on your shoulder, trying to give you as much comfort as she can, while Rhys stares at his brother, the normally striking purple not visible behind his tears.

As scared as he was, he could admit this wasn't so bad, dying surrounded by his family, surrounded by so much love. He feels comfort that the last thing he felt before everything turned cold was the warmth of your body against him. Enough so that it almost catches him by surprise, barely registering his shadows moving from his body to yours, covering your body the same way they've been covering him all these years, barely feels his arm drop from your face, his strength completely leaving his body until he can't hear anything, can't see anything as the world goes black, and the last thing he feels is your head falling on his chest as a wail of his name escapes you.

[briebysabs]

I’ve been deliberating for a couple days now and have decided to discuss in-depth about Kim Dokja and the tendencies of putting his life on the line. For most of the novel, I was split on whether I should view KDJ as a self-sacrificial bastard or a suicidal character. And by the end, I’ve reached the conclusion that he is both.

Before I elaborate further, it should be noted that while we all meme about KDJ’s dying count, he actually isn’t that careless with his life. What I mean is he sacrifices himself usually as a last resort, plans A to F didn’t work and it’s the only option left to hope for kimcom’s safety-ditch effort. Usually. We’ll circle back to that when we bring up OD. But his sacrifices are always done as granting his companions salvation, utterly blind to how they feel about it. But to understand his constant need to do this you have to first start with where he learned how to love. Lee Sookyoung’s love was sacrificial, she’d take the brunt of her husband’s rage to shield KDJ, she’d take on blame for his death and be incarcerated for years so Kim Dokja won’t discover the truth. All of this, in my opinion, unbeknownst to KDJ, imprinted onto him this interpretation of love. As nobody else until the scenarios began had loved him (Yes HSY technically but he doesn’t know that). Which gives the irony that multiple characters KDJ resent in the story such as Kim Namwoon, his mother, the constellations are ultimately revealed to be reflections of himself.

Another component to his self-sacrificing is “Kim Dokja the reader”. I’m not going to dive deep into how orv interweaves dissociation and escapism into its narrative, I’ll do that some other day. But KDJ views himself as the reader, an outsider, the sole member in the audience watching the story unfold before him. Yes he grants commentary, the players notice and acknowledge his existence, but he isn’t part of the play. So if he decides to step out of the auditorium for a while, if he decides to leave a bookmark where he left off and close the book, nothing should change. The story will continue in his absence, the characters cannot possibly miss him because Kim Dokja was not a character. He was not part of their world so even if he’s gone, the ending will still happen. And that is something I want to stress here.

KDJ says “he wants to see a certain story’s epilogue”. Specific choice of words, “see”. He doesn’t say he’ll be part of it,that he’ll be with them, or any close variation of those phrases.

This is where I want to diverge to talk about KDJ's suicidality. You can say “Ok then, KDJ has a clear goal in mind to reach the ending he desires. Yes he may feel the need to step out of the story every now and then, but he does so reluctantly. So obviously, he doesn’t want to die.” And you wouldn’t be wrong really but that simplifies it to an overwhelming degree. That’s how I initially thought of it until I realized how complicated it actually is. Because most people who deal with suicidal thoughts aren’t searching for death but rather feel there’s no other choice. It often isn’t as clear cut as 1863 YJH who, anyone that read this arc will say with certainty that he was suicidal. Yes KDJ isn’t chanting in his mind over and over that he wants to die but why does he want to live? To see the proper ending of a web novel that stopped him from attempting again to begin with. Over the course of orv he finds people he loves and who love him back deeply. People he longs to live for but despite that because of the disconnect between them, his self-loathing, accompanied with what I said before, believing he has no other way out of these threatening situations. Yeah it’s to save his companions but in the end Kim Dokja still feels the need to die. Even if you do not see KDJ as a suicidal character, it is undeniable that so much revolving him, the impact it has on those who care for him, and the visceral descriptions used to convey their thoughts, is a direct metaphor for that.

Or in a few cases, straight up what’s going on and now we arrive at what I think was the final straw for Kim Dokja. Meeting the Oldest Dream. For me, this is THE scene of orv. The biggest twist and what finally irreparably broke KDJ. Prior to this, Kim Dokja had become the “Enemy of the story” but it was unlike his previous dances with death. This time he truly had no intention of dying, he wants to be a part of the ending with his companions, he understands now that his sacrifices do hurt them. That according to him “I, someone of no redeeming quality, could be loved by the others.” That he is a character and that just maybe, he does deserve to live happily ever after with them. And then Kim Dokja meets a 15-year old boy with the same face as his, doodling in a notebook his ideas for Ways of Survival and a notification tells him to ‘Please end the Oldest Dream’. All of that progress is shattered in an instant.

KDJ tries to excuse himself by recalling his promise to SP to kill OD but we all know if that was any other kid, he would not have tried to kill them. He would’ve hesitated much more, he’d look for a loophole, he would’ve tried talking which is his biggest strength for every corner he gets into. Killing them would not be the first option but now it is. Because this isn’t an instance of sacrifice anymore, KDJ is sick of himself. OD is a presence that confirms KDJ’s worst fears. That he’s meant to be weak and pitiful and alone, that he was always an outsider, that he unintentionally causes pain and misfortune to people he loves, that everyone would be perfectly fine and better even without him. And Kim Dokja is the physical manifestation of them: a monster. And there’s only one way to get rid of this monster.

The chain of events from him swinging his sword at OD, trying to stab himself with the blade only for YJH to stop it desperately with his hand, everyone restraining and begging him to stop, KDJ crying and screaming for SP + the other Outer Gods to kill OD. Everyone else is forgiving him and KDJ is only thinking of getting a blade.

This is Kim Dokja’s relapse. It’s real, it’s harrowing, and he never recovers from it. He reaches the conclusion that he has to be alone, it’s his atonement, it's what he deserves. So he splits himself 49-51. I interpreted this when I first read it as presenting 49% of what you believe people want to see. More real than a facade but it’s not the true you. The true, fucked up version of who you are is trapped in a prison of your making, trapped in a darkness you feel you don’t deserve to escape. Which is why it’s so powerful that KimCom went after that 51%. They didn’t want just their version of KDJ, they wanted everything KDJ is including the larger side of him that he wishes didn’t exist. But the plan fails, they managed to turn that full stop into a comma but they couldn’t save KDJ. Because you can’t drag someone out of that train, out of that mentality, you can’t force someone to love themself. All you can do is reach out to any corner, every worldline you can and let them know you’ll always love them. That you’ll always love every aspect of their story and hope that perhaps one day, they’ll accept your hand and believe it.

[ID: Omniscient Reader's Viewpoint art by Blackbox: first of Kim DOkja smiling, seen through a space in a bookshelf, and second of astronaut Yoo Joonghyuk floating upside down as letters float around him. End ID]

[flowerandblood]

Death and Resurrection

The Gate of Salvation Universe Oneshot

[ young pope • Aemond x catholic • female ]

[ warnings: sex content, smut, angst, sexual tension, anxiety, doubts related to faith, religious guilt, breaking celibacy ]

[ description: When the Pope decides, after drawing inspiration from TV series, that they will go on a date, she knows that she cannot refuse. However, it turns out that their adventure ends differently than they both expected and a boundary is crossed from which there is no return. Main theme: sexual tension & holy touch. ]

This oneshot is the events that take place a few months after The Gate of Salvation and The Songs of Songs. It can be read as a oneshot, but at the same time it is a complement to the entire series.

Aemond as a Pope Edit Series Characters Moodboard Aemond NSFW Alphabet

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

My other works: Masterlist

_____

"Where are we going?" She asked apprehensively − they had never gone underground together before, the cramped, dark corridor beneath the Papal Residence through which he led her while holding her hand smelled of centuries-old dampness.

His attire also made her uneasy − he was dressed all in a white tracksuit, a hood over his head and sunglasses with white frames on his nose.

He wore this outfit whenever he wanted to get away somewhere.

"We're going on a date." He communicated softly, as if he was just explaining to her what they were going to have for breakfast. She shook her head, looking back in horror, feeling her heart pounding like mad.

"Please, Holy Father. We can't." She mumbled helplessly, knowing that usually when he came up with an idea it was difficult to dissuade him from it.

She thought with horror that it was because of a TV series they had recently watched. He insisted that she show him the blockbusters she loved as a child on her laptop, so she decided to show him The Office for fun. She turned on a random episode and the main characters in it went on a date, leaving him bewildered.

She thought he would be disgusted by the jokes and humor in this series, but he was intrigued by something completely different.

"What's so great about dating? What's the point of it? Why can't they just meet up and talk about what's important to them?" He asked with a frustration that surprised her.

She realised that his years in the church and convent had completely disconnected him from the life he could have lived as a teenager.

She wasn't sure how she should explain this.

"It's true, however, you can't be serious all your life. Sometimes, as we are doing now, a couple feels like watching a film and just being together. It's pleasant then, for example, to go to eat ice cream, to take a walk in the park, to have shared memories, shared moments." She muttered, feeling embarrassed that her explanation was childish and that he certainly thought she was silly.

He, however, only pressed his lips together at her words, as if something in her words troubled him, his fingers beginning to play with the fabric of her dress covering her knees, trailing over her bare skin after a moment.

"Would you like to experience something like this?" He asked as if unwillingly, tense.

She knew she couldn't ask that of him.

What they were doing was too much anyway, and they both knew it.

She smiled at that thought, squeezing his fingers in hers.

"No, Holy Father. You give me more than I would dare to ask. I am happy and fulfilled." She said softly. His gaze lifted to her as if to see if she was telling the truth − his arm finally embraced her and drew her close, her cheek pressed lightly against his chest.

She was sure he'd forgotten about it, but he'd clearly taken her words so personally that he couldn't get over it.

"I had it all planned out. We’ll blend in with the crowd, have an ice creams, walk around the Vatican and come back. After this we can kiss if you want." He added after a moment, as if he thought that might be part of her ideal image of the event.

She swallowed loudly at the thought, feeling at once terror, discomfort and warmth in her heart, love for him, gratitude at how much he cared, how much he wanted to give her everything she could possibly need in his mind.

She pressed her lips together at the thought that when they stepped outside he hadn't let go of her hand − he intertwined their fingers together as they headed quickly down the main street between the cramped tenements, looking around.

"It should be somewhere in there. I checked on the map." He said excitedly, like a little boy pulling her behind him towards a café that held a huge fridge outside, where you could actually order ice cream.

She looked around as they got closer, afraid that by some miracle even though no one knew what he looked like, someone would connect the dots, someone would recognise him.

As if he always had to wear that bloody white tracksuit.

"Good evening." The girl standing at the counter greeted them, waiting for their order.

"Good evening. We'd like five scoops of ice cream in two different cones, please. What flavours do you want?"

"Five? That's too many, we won't eat it all." She muttered surprised, looking at him in disbelief. He turned towards her, his eyes hidden behind his glasses, all she saw was that he furrowed his brow.

"No? Are you sure?" He asked with disappointment, from which she scratched her cheek.

"I mean…if you are sure you can eat that much then, take it. I'll stick with two."

Holy Father seemed displeased, however, he cheered up when he saw the size of his cone with scoops in cream, vanilla, strawberry, toffee and blueberry. She watched with amusement as he struggled to eat with a plastic spoon what had started to run down the waffle into the bottom of his cone, herself taking her ice cream from the seller.

"How is it? Do you like it?" She asked with a laugh, seeing him lick his fingers, all sticky from the berry cream.

"Very much. It's delicious. What should we do now?" He asked, looking around, eating and at the same time trying not to stain his snowy white tracksuit.

"Let's just stroll."

They moved ahead arm in arm, looking around the evening skyline of the Vatican, focusing only on the food and this surprisingly pleasant moment.

"Have you done this before? Dating and all?" He asked reluctantly, as if the thought that she might have done it with another man before him made him uncomfortable. She looked at him indulgently, trying to hide a smile of amusement.

"Not really. I haven't had the opportunity. I have never been as close to anyone as I have been to you, Holy Father."

"Aemond."

"Pardon?"

He shrugged his shoulders, taking a bit of strawberry ice cream into his mouth.

"That's my name. I won't mind if you use it when we're alone." He muttered, visibly tense, as if what he'd said, the fact that he'd exposed himself to her terrified him.

She smiled involuntarily at his words, embarrassed.

"Very well."

After a few minutes, she could clearly see that the portion he'd ordered for himself had outgrown him − he was eating slower and slower, and it occurred to her that he'd gone pale when she'd long since finished eating her ice cream. He wanted to share his portion with her, but she shook her head.

"I can't fit any more. But if you don't have the strength to eat it, don't force yourself." She muttered, seeing him sigh heavily.

"Wasting food is a sin." He mumbled and continued eating, apparently trying not to think about the discomfort in his stomach.

It wasn't even a few seconds after he had squeezed the last bit of cone into himself when he vomited the entire contents of his stomach into one of the bins.

She ran up to him quickly, horrified, stroking his back, taking from his face the glasses that had rolled down his nose so they wouldn't fall right into his puke.

"Oh dear. Are you okay?" She asked tenderly, at the same time unable to hold back a smile of pity thinking that she had warned him after all.

He was like a little child.

When they returned back to his residence by the same route they had fled he wanted to go back to his room, although he usually insisted that she let him sleep in her bed.

"Let's go to my place. I don't want you to spend the night alone when you're feeling unwell." She said softly, grasping his fingers. He pulled down the hood from his head, all pale, fatigue in his eye.

"I ruined everything."

Though reluctantly, he followed her as she began to pull him towards her room. After he had brushed his teeth and brought himself to order, he lay on the bed without strength − he watched indifferently as she changed into her pyjamas, closing his eyes, as he always did when she revealed her naked flesh.

She was touched by how much respect he had for her, how important it was for him to treat her body with proper reverence.

She lay down beside him, turning off the lamp beforehand, his face immediately snuggled against her soft breasts.

"Do you love me?"

She froze and swallowed loudly, feeling her heart begin to pound like mad under his cheek, her hand that had been stroking his hair stopped in mid-motion.

"I love you. You are the love of my life."

She pressed her lips together when she heard him gasp, an indication that he was crying but didn't want her to see it. It took him a moment to get more out of himself, her lips placing warm, reassuring kisses on his head.

"Forgive me for not being able to give you what you need."

"You give it to me."

"You know what I mean. Sometimes I wonder…" He began and hesitated, swallowing heavily, as if afraid to say his words aloud.

"…I wonder what would happen if I left, if I married you. I imagine we would have had children, a house with a garden. That we would have had a dog. That we would pray in the evening and then make love and it wouldn't be a sin."

She shuddered at his words, feeling a drop of cold sweat run down her back, her body tensed, all hot.

"− I − you would not forgive me for that −" She muttered helplessly. She felt him rise up on his elbow, his lips parted in an accelerated breath, his cheeks swollen from tears.

"− for what? −"

"− that I have destroyed your life − pulled you away from God and your destiny −" She whispered in a trembling voice, feeling a warm tear fall from the corner of her eyes onto the pillow under her head.

He looked at her with a gaze filled with pain, breathing heavily, playing with the fabric of her shirt between his fingers.

"− but it is in your presence that I feel his presence most strongly − as if he were in the room with us −"

"− the devil takes the form of angels −" She mumbled wearily, letting the air out loudly, feeling that her throat was squeezed with pain.

Was this the moment?

The moment when she would have to say farewell to him, do the right thing?

"I have deceived you for too long. Forgive me. I will give my official notice tomorrow."

He looked at her dully, as if he didn't understand what she had just said, his breath stuck in his throat.

"− you said you love me −"

"− I do −"

"− that you won't leave me alone −"

"− I won't leave, not in my prayers − but I'm destroying your life, pulling you away from what matters −"

"− is it because of this stupid date? − I regret ever taking you there −" He hissed, as if he was furious at his idea and the woman who sold them ice cream.

"− no, of course not − Holy Father −"

"− Aemond −" He growled.

She pressed her lips together, swallowing hard, the first time she had seen him like this − his jaw clenched, his nostrils twitching in accelerated, anxious breathing, his gaze dark and cold.

She didn't recognise him.

"− don't you remember what I said to you when I first met you? − there is no greater sinner in the world than me − because I am eternally, eternally thirsty −" He said slowly and carefully, like a predator who was just slowly preparing to lash out at its prey.

"− do you think you know what I desire? − what I really need? − I'll show you −" He said lowly, not even giving her time to reply − his lips immediately clung to hers in an aggressive, impatient kiss that took her breath away, a startled, muffled squeal escaping from her throat.

She felt his body pressed her back against the bed as his hips began to rub his hard manhood hidden under the material of his sweatpants to the spot between her thighs making her shake with a strong, wonderful shiver of pleasure.

"− mghm −" She mumbled out, clenching her fingers in his hair as she felt his slick tongue invade deep into her throat, licking her with its tip − she was panting into his mouth, shocked, involuntarily responding by rocking her hips to his movements.

"− undress −" He breathed out, rising up on his knees, pulling the material of his sweatshirt over his head with a quick, impatient swipe of his hands − she stared at him with wide eyes, feeling her insides clench greedily around nothing at the sight of his bare chest.

Her trembling fingers quickly rose to the buttons of her shirt, undoing it one by one, exposing her skin piece after piece. She shuddered and moaned, surprised, as his hands pushed the material aside, revealing her breasts and stomach.

His lips parted in desire at the sight − his hand tentatively rose higher, running gently over her bare flesh, kneading and massaging her breast between his fingers.

For the first time he was looking at her naked body, at what he was doing, and she felt like she was going to die of desire. It seemed to her that everything that happened next was like a dream − his swollen lips that clung to hers, their panting as they impatiently slid every piece of their clothing off each other, when at last his bare skin pressed against hers.

"− Aemond −" She gasped out into his mouth, feeling his thick length rubbing against her achingly swollen folds, their hands trailing blindly over their naked, sweaty bodies, pressing into their exposed skin as if to melt them into one.

"− fuck − so warm − so soft − like silk −" He murmured, sliding his lips down to her jaw, neck and shoulders, leaving wet, sticky trails behind − her body arched back with her innocent, surprised whine as his mouth finally pressed down around her puffy, hard nipple and began to suck on it.

"− yes − God, yes −" She mumbled, involuntarily spreading her legs in front of him − she heard his grunt of delight as he moved his hips back in a soft motion so that a moment later she could feel the fat, leaking head of his cock begin to push against her slick opening.

She guided him with the movement of her body to where he should slide in, only to hear his sigh of delight a moment later as he thrust deeply into her with an impatient, desperate push of his hips.

"− yes − yes, yes, yes −" She panted, tilting her head back with her eyes closed, digging her fingers into the hot skin of his buttocks, startling him as she threw her legs around his waist, crossing them over his back.

Nothing but grunts and noises of pleasure left his throat as, with his lips pressed against her nipple, he pounded into her again and again with deep, greedy, fast thrusts, from which their bodies slapped against each other again and again with loud, sticky splats.

For the first time in her life, she was experiencing something so animal and spiritual at the same time − him deep inside her, stretching her tight, fleshy walls apart, doing what was natural to man, what Adam had done to Eve back in Eden.

"− forgive me − I −" He breathed out at last, as if with each successive brutal thrust of his hips he understood that there would be no turning back from this, that they had crossed a line after which nothing would be the same again, that he would take her for himself in every sense of the word.

"− inside me − please, inside me −" She mumbled helplessly, thinking only of the fact that she craved his seed inside her, that she could be his lover, his whore, bear his children if it meant spending her life by his side.

By the side of the man she loved.

She reached her peak with a sweet little moan of relief at the thought, at the image of herself and him, holding their children in their arms. She heard him gasp loudly at her words and closed his eyes, panting heavily as she suddenly felt something hot and sticky squirt out of him deep inside her.

"− f-fuck − fuck, oh, God −" He mumbled out, rocking his hips inside her with a loud click of their shared wetness for a moment longer, his mouth wide open, his eyes closed, as if he wanted to remember this moment forever.

After a moment, he looked at her − there was a calmness in his eyes and some kind of certainty, as if he already knew what was right.

"− marry me −"

[hoshinasblade]

lmao i couldn't decide between hoshina smut and hoshina angst so i chose both. there might be a part two to this, im not sure yet.

too late

pairing: hoshina soshiro x f!reader trigger warnings: NSFW, MINORS PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT; a pinch of angst towards the end. likes, reblogs, and replies are appreciated. my masterlist is in my pinned post.

midnight.

his hands, your mouth - drawing shapes, coaxing a roadmap out of goosebumps, tracing a way out of an invisible labyrinth; savouring heaven, partaking in the delectable flavor of desire; indulging in a forbidden delicacy of sensual gratification. naked and unhindered - demanding possession, trespassing territories, laying claim on each other's entirety. mumbling lewd suggestions like a prayer, drunk on a promise of nirvana - only the silence is the witness to your sinful communion.

the clouds in the sky had obscured the moon, not allowing even a sliver of light to pass through. the room is plagued with darkness but the two of you moved with grace - as if he'd memorized your contours and curves; as if you are a virtuoso in the art of pleasure; as if you had done this a hundred times before.

you had.

"i want you." he murmured in husky desperation - a request, almost a plea - teeth grazing on your collarbone, nipping gently, leaving hickeys in his wake. the oxygen must be thinning - he is out of breath - but he's combusting nonetheless: heat gathering in his core pushing to find release.

"then get me." a hint of teasing tainted your shaking voice as you disconnected from the trance of his stare. a naughty smirk loomed on your face, taunting him to go on, to take it further - a glint of mischief directed to him - a whole world of fantasies lurking behind the black of your irises.

"don't i already got you?" his question was an unsure declaration, and a wave of anxiety ran through you. a monosyllabic answer was held hostage as your subconscious panicked, and you wondered if he had finally seen through your facade - if he had already learned of the truth you tried to cover up with apathy and promiscuity.

you gasped an inhale of air when he suddenly squeezed your bare breast with his calloused palm. you keened against him, abandoning all logical thoughts, squirming below him. sliding away from your upper torso, he trailed a path down your belly before cupping the apex between your thighs.

shifting above you, he had his index finger along your opening, then as fast as it got there, he removed it. the wild look in his eyes screams for you: a siren call impossible to ignore - or deny. you live for these moments - when it is like everything has dissipated in a puff of smoke; when it is like you are the lone person in his sight; when it is like it's only you and him. in the following second, you watched him suck in his finger, tasting you on himself. you moaned.

"fuck me." it was not more than a whisper - a quiet music of dark words dedicated for him alone.

as if worshipping you, he lowered himself, doing another exploration on your lips. the collision was phenomenal - an avalanche of sensations too much to bear, a stream of stimulus craving for a response. he pulled back, flashing you a grin. "your wish is my command." an addictive rush of adrenaline flooded your veins, threatening to demolish your composure and sanity.

gripping his nape, he found your waist. putting a halt in your kiss, his forehead on yours, you couldn't help but to give a smile.

your touch had strayed on his arms when he dipped into you. you held onto him, eyes screwed shut. "you're - god." your muscles contracted around him; his length was fully buried within you. when the tension couldn't be endured anymore, he started to surge in and out - obeying the rhythm as old as time, the both of you slick with sweat.

"nah, my name's soshiro actually." his chuckle sounded of angel's - sweet to the ears and even amid intimacy, you laughed. your hips are in contact, creating fiction and you tilted a bit to accommodate him.

"is that a ploy to make me moan your name?" you asked him but he did not respond in words.

pressure building, lust intensifying - your legs bracketing him, his weight straddling you, pinning me down. syllables transformed into curses, and the calm turned into begging as his every thrust and withdrawal became more furious, more fervid, more forceful. "i'm yours," he chanted.

no. you're not. you never will be. your denial was drowned in a series of expletives, a string of unholy utterances - a pile of desperate grunts of encouragement.

accelerating his actions, plunging into you deeper, your back arching off the mattress, your body out of control, writhing as you chased your own peak.

"soshiro", you panted, your vision glued on his face as he brushed the strands of his bangs off his forehead. your insides were bursting with satisfaction, and with a slip of the tongue, you betrayed myself. "i love you."

he leaned into you and that's all it needed to make you a molten mess of cells screaming for more. he drove into you with no mercy, and you counted the throb of your pulse, your nails digging into his flesh.

hovering over the edge, jolts of electricity - sparks flying, he failed to suppress the soft cries and whimpers - profanities that included your name, wreaking havoc on your well-being.

"i'm -"

"i know." swallowing your admission in one gulp, he gave you a peck in the cheeks. he's losing his balance and -

"shit." white warmth poured on you as he groaned - shattered, his body taken over by violet shuddering. you came after, quaking and quivering, crumbling apart.

delirium.

he collapsed onto you - spent, tired, sated. he was so close; his heartbeat mingling with yours to form a harmony of thumping. his chest was still rising and falling when he rolled into the other side of the bed. you felt empty.

you knew what was next. the routine is to gather your wits - when the ocean has ebbed into ripples, when the flame has been reduced into cinders, drenched in shame or still intoxicated, one must leave.

soshiro surprised you by talking. "don't fall in love with me."

"too late", you replied.

taglist- @lavenderkita @octrellue-ren22 @Iaminvalid @chuuberrysworld @hoshina-shiro-universe @noble-17 @lilialover11 @isentsworld @darling-delilah @aruatsu @beebumbo @asheseiler @k0z3me

honorary tag to my bestie - @umafanfiqueiraqualquer who sent me hoshina art last night

[seriousbrat]

Yes, exactly! I don't think either scenario would ever have crossed his mind. It reminds me of the classic line from Philosopher's Stone: "There is no good and evil, there is only power, and those too weak to seek it." Voldemort has no regard for the magical abilities of a house-elf, because to him the mere fact that they don't seek power and are seemingly content with subservience makes them automatically weak. The same would apply to a child who can't use magic outside of school.

It's interesting you bring up the Trace because that could be the explanation as to why the boat doesn't register Harry. The Trace seems like one of the more... inconsistent things in HP lore, but my personal explanation is that it's a sort of "alarm system" that sends instant notifications to the Ministry when an underage witch or wizard performs magic; these are automatically filtered out by a separate spell when an adult witch or wizard is present, which is why Arthur, Tonks, Dumbledore etc could use magic at Privet Drive without triggering the Trace, while Dobby's magic did. However, using the excuse of Harry's protection in DH, the Ministry removed the filters on the Trace notification system just for Harry.

Anyway, a similar thing could apply to the boat: Dumbledore's presence cancels out Harry's magic. Regulus is barely older than Harry when he crosses the lake, he might have been 17 but I doubt he had much more magical power than Harry. (then again there probably isn't a minimum on magical power for the boat, so it might not matter haha)

Since I'm writing about this rn, it has struck me that Dumbledore is willing to drink the potion in the horcrux cave because he believes that Voldemort wouldn't wish to kill the drinker immediately so as to question them... Dumbledore's usually pretty good at guessing Voldemort's thought processes, but as Harry discovers, this isn't true, because the potion causes thirst which leads the drinker to the lake, and then they're pulled down by inferi and die anyway. I'm wondering, was Dumbledore simply wrong, or is this because Voldemort was arrogant enough to believe that he would immediately be able to tell his horcrux was destroyed and get there in time to question whoever it was before leaving them to die? (in DH he does seem to believe that he would be able to tell.)

This is a pretty big flaw in Voldemort's logic if so, because as Kreacher, Harry, and Dumbledore all demonstrated, I think most people would be more likely to take the horcrux and try to destroy it later. Maybe this isn't too hard to believe because Voldemort also committed the major oversight of not realising that a house-elf or an underaged wizard could also be accompanying the drinker (which is extra stupid since he himself travelled across the lake with a house-elf.) I guess it makes a certain sense because Voldemort, who ultimately works alone, who underestimates everyone he considers inferior, might not have been able to fathom the loyalty, trust and love required for Kreacher and Harry to follow Regulus and Dumbledore into the cave.

It's also interesting that Dumbledore creates a very similar situation to that of Kreacher and Regulus-- he expressly makes Harry swear that he will follow any orders without question, he even tells Harry to leave him behind if needs be, which is what Kreacher does in his case. We know house-elves can disobey/work around some orders if they really want to, and in both cases Kreacher and Harry are ultimately following orders not because they have to but because of loyalty and trust. (I know Kreacher is literally bound to obey, but think about it this way- would he have done as much for Sirius, or would he have found a way around it like he does in OotP?)

Really the foreshadowing (or post-shadowing really haha) for Kreacher's tale is so good. It's hinted at when Dumbledore points out that it's Voldemort's mistake to underestimate the less visibly powerful, and I also really like the way that Harry can picture the scene perfectly as Kreacher narrates it-- because he lived it himself, after all.

[tuiccim]

Lost in the Dark (Part 3)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: Dark content! Somnophilia, Non/DubCon, and other dark elements. This fic contains dark themes and may include potentially triggering topics. You are solely responsible for your media consumption.

Summary: Bucky comes home after a mission and can’t wait to be with you.

A/N: Special thanks to my beta reader @whisperlullaby

Denial, anger, bargaining, depression. You had been through each of these stages of grief multiple times in varying orders. Facing away from Bucky on the edge of the bed, you went over the last few months in your head. Nothing you did fazed him. He remained steadfast, calm, and loving. There was only one stage left, acceptance. Your last resort was to accept your fate and try to gain his trust. Maybe you could escape before Stockholm Syndrome took hold. If you could convince him to trust you maybe there would come a moment when you could slip away.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, you turn over in the bed and cuddle up to his side. His arm instantly went around you. Laying your head on his shoulder, your hand resting on his chest, you forced yourself to relax.

"Are you cold?" Bucky whispers. You can feel the tension in him at your unexpected touch.

"No, I'm just..." you were about to say you just wanted to be near him but it was a lie and he'd know. So, you told him the truth, at least in part, "I'm trying, Bucky. This is hard. It's not what I thought my life would be."

"I know, doll. I just can't lose you. I need to know you're here and safe," Bucky says as he kisses the top of your head.

"I understand," you whisper. You didn't, you didn't at all. You had been his from the first time he'd asked you out. You were head over heels for him, then. That life, that world seemed like a distant dream. The longer you were with him, the more you felt disconnected. You supposed that's what wore people in your situation down, what made them succumb to acceptance of this reality. Tears leaked from your eyes despite fighting to hold them in. You just wanted to go home.

"It's okay, doll. Don't cry. I'm gonna keep you safe," Bucky says as he gently wipes away a tear.

"Was I not safe before?" Your voice is strained.

"No one around me is safe. I'm sorry I put you in danger but I love you. I had to be with you and so now I have to protect you. I'm sorry I was so selfish. I need you. I love you so much, doll. I'll make you happy, I will. You just have to trust me. Can you try? Just try for me, doll?" Bucky says earnestly.

You pause for a moment, thinking through your next move, "I'll try if you'll make me one promise. I need you to promise not to drug me again. I don't like it. It scares me."

Bucky thinks for a moment before tipping your chin up to look him in the eyes, "I promise.”

“Really?” You look into his eyes searchingly.

“I promise, doll,” he whispers earnestly.

As you look at him, you remember the man you had fallen for before all of this. His beautiful blue eyes seem to beg for you to believe him. Slowly, you inch your face closer to his. He holds his breath as he studies you, hope blooming in his chest. He fought the urge to pull you to him, letting you take the lead was important in this moment. Not daring to move a muscle, he watches enraptured as you bring you close the distance. Your eyes glance down at his mouth and then your lips press to his. You give him one small kiss before pulling back to look in his eyes again.

Bucky stares back at you, lips slightly parted, eyes full of awe, hoping, praying you’d kiss him again. It had been so long since you had kissed him back, since you’d even looked him in the eyes. He was desperate for your touch.

You were just desperate. So you kissed him again, this time twining your tongue with his. He still gave you the lead, his participation passive, and so you rolled on top of him. Bucky’s hands flexed, wanting to reach out for you, but he gripped the sheets under him to stop himself. His heart was beating hard and he felt light-headed. His cock was incredibly hard just from being gifted your touch. He wanted to roll you under him and bury it in your sweet heat but he stayed still, allowing you to be in control.

When he felt your feather-light touch on his cock, he shuddered. He couldn’t believe this was real. Had you finally come back to him? Did you finally understand that he was just trying to keep you safe? His mind didn’t have long to consider these questions as you straddled him. Positioning his cock at your entrance, you slowly sink down on him. It was the first time in months that you had felt some modicum of enjoyment during sex, that you were choosing it of your own free will. You feel him trembling beneath you and you break your kiss to ask, “Are you okay?”

“Yes, please don’t stop.” His voice sounds almost panicked.

“Don’t stop this?” You tease, sitting up and flexing your hips.

“Don’t, don’t stop,” he whimpers with his head thrown back.

Bucky is in absolute ecstasy. His cock twitches inside of you with each movement you make. His metal arm whirs as he clenches and unclenches his fists, nearly ripping the sheets. You realize what he’s doing. He’s giving you the power in this. It tugs at your heart a little. He really does care for you. Haltingly, you whisper, “B-Bucky, you can touch me.”

You expected him to grab you, to take over and do with you as he pleased as he had always done. Instead, he looks up at you with love and a hint of apprehension. Slowly, he sits up, staring into your eyes and gently puts his arms around your waist. He presses your bodies together softly and buries his face in your neck. You wrap your arms around him in response and make slow circles with your hips. You stay like that for a long time, just holding each other and enjoying the gentle movement of your bodies. You begin to tremble and clench around his cock as you come, milking him of his orgasm. Still, you stayed wrapped in each other.

“I thought I’d never feel you like this again, doll,” Bucky whispers against your skin. “I love you so much. I’ll never let you go, I promise. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” you murmur in his ear. You stare at the chain that still connects you to the bed. The next step was convincing him to let you off your leash. To do that, you’d tell him anything, even that you love him.

Part 4?

Updates and taglist: Due to the unreliable nature of tags, I no longer keep a taglist. Updates for series will be made on Sundays Central Time Zone. Please follow my sideblog @tuiccimfanfiction  and turn on notifications for updates. All series and new stories will be reblogged to it. You will only receive notifications when a new part or story is out! Nothing else will be blogged to the page. I can’t thank you enough for your support!