#we understand the irony of the day and GIFs | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

matan4il · 1 year

Text

Buddie 615 meta

Before we really get into it, I’m just gonna snicker for a second over the fact that the death doula is named Natalia. Why? The name is related to the Latin term for Christmas Day, which is the holiday when Jesus was born. So the word that the name comes from is related to birth, natal. There’s a touch of irony there, that they gave this name to the girl who is not just a death doula, but who looks like she’s actually into death (who thinks dying for a few minutes is cool or amazing. I have to say, it’s not. It’s a good thing to accept death as a part of life, one that heightens life’s meaning, and help others do the same, it’s another to think that the physically and emotionally scarring experience of being dead for a few minutes is “cool”) and I think that’s an interesting tone to choose when introducing Buck’s new Love Interest. (if you’re into it, you can find more name meanings for 911 characters here) ~~

The scene of Eddie and Chris at the cemetery was very touching. It also spoke volumes on how Buck has taken the same role in Christopher’s life as Shannon. We saw in eps 611 as well as this one that Chris is hoping to be heard by the parent that life has taken away from him (Shannon for good, Buck temporarily). What I find interesting is that with the hospital visit, Eddie must understand this on some level. Even with the guardianship reveal, no one has ever explicitly referred to Buck as Chrstopher’s other dad. But he is, and moments like this cement it. We talk about these parallels, but Eddie gets to live them. He witnesses with his own eyes his son talking about Buck in the same way he does about Shannon. Eddie KNOWS what Buck is to their family unit and it’s not just an emergency guardian. ~~

Which connects me to something I touched upon in my 614 meta, Eddie’s journey. He’s supposedly been okay with dating again since 406, but in the last ep we discovered that he’s still held back by past trauma from his failed relationship with Shannon. She’s featured heavily in this ep, too. Her being Christopher’s mom means she’s a presence in Eddie’s life who will always be there. A reminder of how things can go wrong, meaning romantically, but also just in terms of how unexpected death can be.

It pained me to go from Eddie admitting in 614 that he didn’t want to be alone, to him echoing the words of their deceased vic, “We’re all gonna die alone.” That’s something I’ve heard people saying not so much regarding the question of whether there would be someone by your side when you pass away. More like, when death claims us, we all embark on that last journey into the dark unknown on our own. Whether there’s something after death or not, we’ll all discover that completely by ourselves. That’s such a deeply lonely thought, and we see Eddie trying to deal with it in this ep by not postponing seeing his parents. He realizes he was wrong to assume they got time, because death might come for us at any given moment, just like it happened with Shannon. It’s a continuation of his journey, which is obviously not over yet, but to me it’s quite surprising how this week’s ep actually joined Buck and Eddie’s with the common theme of death, but specifically death intertwined with their romantic life. I think each of them is such a fascinating character in its own right, so why the need to connect their journeys like this? I am staring at you, 911. ~~

I was happy that Eddie brought up what a bad idea it is for Buck to be dating someone they helped on a call. This has been a theme with Buck since he meets the snake lady on a call in 101, through Ali in 202, Taylor in 206 and now Natalia. In other words, this has a big, red sign al over it that says it’s doomed to fail, but our Buck is once more failing to notice that. Hopefully the rest of the events in 6b will help him learn and stop making this particular mistake, where he connects his idea of having self-worth only as a firefighter with thinking he can only be romantically desirable to those he helps on calls. ~~

I wrote in this ask reply about the insanity of how Buck and Eddie seem to always start dating again in consecutive eps. As if 911 is not unhinged enough about that, we also have Buck and Eddie being obstructive with the other guy’s dating attempts, first Buck suggesting ghosting to Eddie as a way of blowing off his date with Vanessa in 614, and now Eddie right away pointing out that it’s not a great idea for Buck to be dating Natalia.

We have seen Buddie dating multiple people over the course of almost 5 seasons now, and not a single time have we seen either man on screen approve of their best friend’s romantic partner. Almost like there’s just no one who’s good enough for the man they love so much, right? No one, because on some level, they know what we do, too. That no one else can compete with what the two of them have together. Which is why none of these LIs feel right and acceptable as partners for their best friend. ~~

I love that right off the bat, we got a reminder that Eddie knows Buck better than everyone, on very intimate levels. Just like Eddie knew when Buck was having an emergency session with Dr. Copeland back in 404, while even Bobby as their captain didn’t, we now saw Eddie knows how well Buck handles his taxes. It’s such spouse behavior. Most of us do not have best friends who keep tabs on how we handle governmental bureaucracy, right? But then the end of this ep circles back to this idea and gives us that scene at the cemetery where Eddie proves that this is true not just when it comes to the small things of daily life. He sees Buck, knows him, understands him and Eddie accepts him in every possible way. Which is why he can say that Buck has indeed been different since the lightning strike, an awareness we don’t hear from anyone else, not even from Maddie, Buck’s very close and loving sister.

It reminded me of how Buck said in 309 that Eddie can be honest with him. Then in 511 Buck repeated a variation of that, saying Eddie doesn’t have to pretend with him. In 513 and 514, Eddie got to be indeed fully open with Buck, just as this was paralleled in 612, where Buck was honest with Eddie. This ep continued to expand on this theme, with Eddie reassuring Buck that he doesn’t need to be anything for anyone. And I loved that in an ep where Buck has just started dating someone new, where he thinks she sees him better than anyone, the person who still gets him the most is Eddie, and that’s the person Buck shares himself with the most, too. There is not a single thing Natalia said to him or that he said to her during their date that can rival the intimacy of the cemetery talk. And if Buck still needs a wake up call to see that, well. I do think there’s a good chance he’ll get one, maybe even very soon.

~~ (my weekly meta posts) (my Buddie gifs) (all of my content)

~~ ~~ My tag list will follow in the reblog, please let me know if you wanna be added/removed here.

~~ I'm so thankful to the beautiful @eddiediaaz for the meta gifs this week! Not only did she step in when my regular giffer couldn’t do it this week, she also made so much effort to make sure the gifs are made as soon as possible, so the meta can be posted as early as possible as well. She’s just amazing and I hope everyone gives her a big round of applause! Merci, cherie!

~~ Thank you to anyone supporting these meta posts. I could never express enough how grateful I am and that they continue to exist thanks to you!

642 notes · View notes

whateverisbeautiful · 3 months

Text

♥️ Ranking Richonne

#17: You Led Me Here (S7E12)

Of course Say Yes has found it’s way back to the list. 😊 This is such a powerful and important conversation between these two. And the scene is stunningly acted from them both. It’s moving every time I see it and while it’s heartbreaking that this van scene ended up having some foreshadowing with the fact that Rick and Michonne will in fact “lose” each other 2 seasons later, it also is such a beautiful declaration of how much they love, respect, trust, need, and believe in each other. Rick and Michonne have had such a valuable impact on each other and this scene depicts how aware they are of that...

First, I love how Rick wanting to extend this trip with Michonne came up consistently in so many Say Yes scenes. And it’s super sweet that he wants her to know how much he loved this time with her when he pulls the van over and says he could've gone a few more days and would have liked that.

He knows Michonne's feeling a lot rn, and he wants her to know that while that was a scary moment with the whole Walker/deer thing, the overall honeymoon trip has still been everything they could’ve wanted.

If they could’ve stayed on this run for a month, homeboy would have been down for it, I'm telling you lol. He so openly loves her and wants to be around her. He has for seasons, and I love that post-canon he now gets to more directly express that.

Then Rick just breaks my heart and boosts my respect even more when he admits to her that he hasn’t been sleeping thinking about what they lost and thinking about his friends.

I love that Rick is always so willing to be vulnerable with her and let her see his most human side.

Side note: Another thing I think about is how in the TWD pilot, Rick talks with Shane and shares that while in front of Carl, Lori asked Rick if he even cares about her and Carl at all. It’s a line that intentionally has some real irony to it, as throughout this series we see Rick go on to demonstrate just how much he unquestionably cares about and will do anything for his family. But clearly, because Rick and Lori weren’t actually each other’s person there’s this inability to truly understand each other. It’s really one of TV’s most compelling depictions of a fail-marriage if you ask me. And I noticed that Lori always felt like Rick didn’t open up and show his care enough for her liking, which just makes me think about how much Rick grew over the seasons and how much Michonne brought out a side of him that was so different than with Lori. You know Rick found his true person in Michonne because he is always so willing to express himself with her. He shares his fears, his pain, his secrets, his hopes, and especially his adoration for Michonne always. And I just love seeing that Rick knows he can let Michonne into every part of his heart. 😊

And Michonne is always so willing to be there for Rick in these vulnerable moments like the one in this van because, upon hearing this, she immediately reacts and puts her focus on him, allowing what he’s sharing to resonate even above the personal state she’s in.

You can just see how much she feels for Rick and doesn’t take it lightly that he’s confiding in her right now.

Ok so then this is when these two don’t take their foot off the gas when it comes to getting me emotional as heck. Cuz Rick opens up about Glenn which is already just heartbreaking to hear them talk about him, but then he says how Glenn saved him but he couldn’t save Glenn. And it’s just tragic. 😢

Like you really feel the weight of this loss when Rick says this, and it’s painful knowing he feels almost like he let Glenn down by having to just sit there and not save him in the lineup.

Then when Rick says “it’s normal I know that” cue my tears because seeing him get teary trying to grapple with these heavy emotions and remind himself it’s normal to be stuck on it is just so heartrending. Like the way Michonne is looking at him at this moment is how I’m looking too. You just feel for the guy. 😢

(Another side note: I’ve seen people dismiss Say Yes as filler, but I actually think there’s important things that happen in this ep. I mean, even if the episode was just a time of levity for Rick and Michonne to enjoy their love and have some well-deserved alone time on their honeymoon before the war, I’d personally still have been sat and satisfied. But regarding the series, this is where we get valuable insight into two very important characters' mindsets about the looming war, their recent losses like our baby Glenn, and about life, which is necessary to see imo. And this particular Say Yes scene plants a seed for the show's future as we see Rick essentially choose a successor for who he thinks is most fit to lead the people if something were to happen to him. Which is notable. And, of course, Rick's choice of who should lead the others forward is his own leader - his exceptional wife. 🤗)

When Rick says they went through something that’s not cured, Michonne does just the most heartfelt thing as she softly places her hand on his face and whispers, "Rick, I’m sorry."

I adore the way she comforts him. The way they always hear each other and are present with each other. The way she sees him feeling so much and just instinctually reaches for him and expresses empathy. It’s beyond beautiful.

And then it’s Rick’s turn to do the sweetest thing ever when he looks at her with so much love in his eyes and takes her hand and kisses it. It’s similar to when she did the same and kissed his hand in a very special scene earlier in the episode (oh we’re gonna talk about it 😋).

The way Rick cherishes Michonne is so evident as he kisses her hand and continues to hold it close to his chest. I’ve always adored how Rick and Michonne are these fearless warriors to everyone else but with each other that’s their baby who they would do anything to care for and protect. And that profound love for the human in front of them was on display in these two gestures from them.

Rick tells her how they’re going to fight the saviors. He says that’s what happens next, and they’re gonna lose people, maybe a lot of them. I’ve always felt like there’s this layered sadness in Rick finally having to talk to Michonne about the real possibility of this war not ending how they hope it will.

Because throughout this ep, Rick so enjoyed seeing Michonne happy and he wanted to stay present in this positive bubble with her. But as the trip concludes, and as Michonne has now learned that losing Rick could potentially make her empty out to the point of dropping her katana in the face of walkers, Rick now knows he has to let talk of unfortunate possibilities in this war enter into their bubble.

And while it’s not fun to talk about, I appreciate how he still holds her hand throughout this cuz he’s comforting her while knowing this topic is not something she or he really wants to consider. But as the leaders, it’s a discussion that has to be had.

Then Rick says how they may even lose each other. Which again, how Michonne reacts is how I react because we are not trying to hear that.

She turns away and stays quiet because both her winning mentality and her love for Rick won’t even allow her to entertain the idea of losing the love of her life.

But Rick isn’t wrong. It’s possible. And I just like that he puts them in their own category because there are the people they love - and they really do love their people - but the idea of losing each other specifically is a very unique type of devastating for them.

Rick says, "Even then...it’ll be worth it" and, watching it back, maybe it’s just me but I really do hear something in his voice that says he’s not 100% convinced about that point. But he’s trying to believe it and help her believe it too because he knows how distraught she became thinking she lost him and wants to remind her the fight has to continue even if she’s without him.

And if I wasn’t shedding big tears before...this next part happens.

After shaking her head at the notion of losing each other, Michonne starts to open up as she says, “When I thought that…” and just the trailing off alone is gonna break me every time. Because she can't even bring herself to say the words of thinking he was gone.

And then Michonne pauses and turns to him and, in the most devastatingly beautiful and vulnerable way, says, “I can’t lose you.”

When I tell you I react to that moment like I’ve never seen it before every time. My heart breaks every time. 😭 The love she has for that man is just so deep, and that was so extremely clear in this moment. I’m shedding a tear every time I hear it idc.

Like wow. It’s such a big deal for Michonne to feel this and express this. She was the ultimate lone wolf when we were introduced to her. This was a woman who had lost so much so abruptly at the refugee camp and felt she had to then keep people at a bit of a distance to avoid being heartbroken yet again.

To see how far she’s come to have opened herself up so fully to team family, and to the Grimes family, and particularly to Rick to the point that now she loves him so much she feels she can’t lose him. It's so meaningful.

And this actually speaks to Michonne's strength because her strength isn't just derived from her katana or her ability to fight and survive - Michonne's strength is also radiantly reflected in her willingness to be vulnerable and open her heart up again even despite the risks.

When I tell you this well-rounded character is an inspiration. I stay looking at Michonne (& Danai) like...

And then y’all, those magnets seem to be kicking in cuz Rick is getting as close as he can to her to remind her that he hasn’t forgotten what she said when she asked him what kind of life they had just surrendered. I love that one thing Rick will never do is forget Michonne or anything she's ever said or done. 😊

Rick expresses that he agrees it wasn’t a life, but what they did while out on this run (and I do think he means everything they did on this run 😋) and fighting for their kids and the communities is what living really is.

It’s precious seeing Michonne nod through tears as she agrees with him about how making a future for their daughter, Judith, and Glenn and Maggie’s baby and fighting the fight is living. Rick repeats her words from earlier in the ep by bringing up 'fighting the fight' which is sweet.

Again, Richonne tones for the win as Rick tells Michonne that she is the one who showed him that’s living. I love that he always gives her so much credit and acknowledges the positive influence she has on him. Not only does he trust her to have this power in his life but also to straight up tell her she has this power in his life because Michonne would never use her influence for bad or to manipulate.

Rick says she can lose him, and Michonne and I really just be on the same wavelength lol, cuz when she turns and says "no," I felt that. Like even though she knows they have to fight for the future, she still loves Rick so much that she doesn’t want losing him to be on the table.

But Rick says she can and that he can lose her. As I’ve noted before, it’s def meant in a literal sense of a physical possibility of losing each other rather than an emotional ability to lose each other and be fine.

He softly places his hand on her as he shares they can lose friends, and people they love, and while we hadn’t heard 'I love You’s' by this point, you still just knew how aware they were of how in love they are on this trip.

Interestingly, Rick says, "it’s not about us anymore." The "anymore" makes me think it's said that way because at one point it was somewhat about them for Rick. Not losing Michonne, Carl, and Judith and having more time with them was a big reason why Rick didn't want to fight beforehand.

Then it is a very big deal when Rick tells Michonne that she’ll have to lead the others forward if he doesn’t make it because she’s the one who can. He says it with such conviction, and I adore how much he wholeheartedly believes in her.

Michonne is truly so perfect in Rick's eyes and so capable. They are each other's biggest fans in the best way.😊

After all this time spent as the head leader, Rick entrusts Michonne most to pass the baton to in his absence. They’re such equals, and he knows that she can carry the torch and continue doing what he has dedicated his life to doing - which is leading the others forward.

It’s powerful and also heartbreaking foreshadowing that she’ll have to do just that when he’s taken away. But seeing Michonne protect their ungrateful community post-Rick’s departure was heartwarming to me because it felt like her honoring what Rick shared with her in this van in 7.12.

Michonne asks how he knows she’s the one who can and then Andy just perfectly delivers the line, “Because you led me here” Powerful. I adore that the scene ends on this. It is so moving and so fitting for Rick to acknowledge the way Michonne has led him here.

Michonne has truly led him in so many ways, and I love that Rick is fully cognizant of that and seems so happy to look at her and let her know the immense impact she has. Rick is always going to give Michonne her flowers. Always. 😌💐

It’s great seeing Rick get to lift Michonne up and instill some empowerment, honesty, and encouragement to her with this whole conversation. They're both so good at speaking right into the other's heart.

It was a beautifully acted scene, a powerful conversation, and also very telling to both how Rick and Michonne feel about each other and how they’ll proceed when they eventually do get unwillingly separated.

And thank goodness losing each other wasn’t permanent and these magnetic soulmates will finally get to be back in each other's arms once again. It’s where they’re most meant to be. 🥰

#when Say Yes aired I thought this must be the peak of what winning feels like...& now richonne has shown we have much more winning in store #greatest ship of all time hands down 🙌🏽❤️‍🔥#richonne #top 30 #number 17 #rick x michonne #twd 7.12 #reveling in richonne #twd towl #the ones who live

96 notes · View notes

guccixstyless · 8 days

Text

Confessions

Pairing: Sunghoon x Reader

Word Count: 1918 Words

Summary: Sunghoon and Y/n are childhood besties, but Y/n is in love with him although his heart is taken by someone else. What will happen when y/n finally confesses and he rejects?

A/N: Wrote this oneshot on a rush, hope you like it! Please leave a comment, it would mean a lot xx

Jake Sim Imagine

***********************************************************************

Sunghoon and Y/N had been inseparable since they were kids. They were the epitome of the classic best friends, finishing each other's sentences, sharing inside jokes, and being there for one another through thick and thin. Y/n cherished every moment spent with Sunghoon, but there was a secret she harbored deep within her heart—a secret she could never bring herself to confess. She was hopelessly in love with him.

But there was a catch, he was dating someone else. His girlfriend, Rim, was perfect, beauty with brains as they say. They've been dating for 2 months now.

"Just a little bit of love," Ariana Grande's melancholic melody played softly from the nearby café (the irony), casting a bittersweet spell over the night as the two bestfriends strolled on a Tuesday autumn evening. Y/n's gaze lingered on Sunghoon, the way his eyes sparkled with genuine joy, and she wished she could freeze this moment in time forever.

As they settled into their usual spot at the café, Y/n couldn't shake the feeling of impending doom creeping into her chest. After placing their beverage order, they both took a seat and she watched Sunghoon's eyes light up as he spoke about his girlfriend, a pang of jealousy twisting in her gut. She forced a smile, masking the turmoil within her.

She watched Sunghoon's eyes, so full of warmth and affection, and she knew she couldn't keep her feelings hidden any longer.

"Hoonie," her voice trembled with emotion, "there's something I need to tell you."

Sunghoon turned to her, his brow furrowing with concern. "What is it, Y/n? You know you can tell me anything."

Yn took a deep breath, steeling herself for what was to come. "I... I love you, Sunghoon. More than just a friend."

For a moment, there was silence, the weight of Yn's confession hanging heavy in the air. And then, Sunghoon spoke, his words shattering Yn's heart into a million irreparable pieces.

"I... I'm sorry, Y/n," his voice was barely a whisper, laced with sorrow. "I care about you, I really do, but... I'm with someone else."

Y/n felt her world crumbling around her, she knew what would be his response already but still the pain of rejection cutting deeper than any knife. She forced a smile, masking her heartache behind a facade of false bravado.

"It's fine, really! I wasn't expecting for you to reciprocate, I just wanted to let it out you know...couldn't hide it any further," Y/n smiled at Sunghoon.

"This won't affect our friendship, right?" Sunghoon asked worriedly, "I-..Y/n you're so special to me."

"We will be fine, Hoonie." Y/n assured him.

*******************************************************************

As the days passed after Y/n's confession, a palpable tension hung in the air between her and Sunghoon. She avoided his attempts to plan hangouts, citing various excuses that sounded stupid even to her own ears. Every time she saw him, her heart twisted with guilt and longing, knowing that she was pushing him away despite her deepest desires.

Sunghoon, ever perceptive, couldn't help but notice the change in Y/n's behavior. He could sense her pulling away, but he couldn't understand why. Y/n assured him it has nothing to do with the confession, so why? Was it something he said? Something he did? The questions swirled in his mind like a relentless storm, threatening to consume him whole.

One evening, as Y/n sat alone in her room, the weight of her unspoken feelings pressing down on her like a suffocating blanket, there was a soft knock on her door. She hesitated for a moment before mustering the courage to answer, her heart pounding in her chest like a drumbeat.

"Y/n, it's me," Sunghoon's voice filtered through the door, tinged with concern. "Can we talk?"

Y/n's breath caught in her throat at the sound of his voice, the familiar warmth washing over her like a ray of sunshine breaking through the clouds. She opened the door slowly, her eyes meeting Sunghoon's in silent apprehension.

"Hey," Sunghoon's smile was hesitant, his eyes searching hers for answers. "Can I come in?"

Yn nodded wordlessly, stepping aside to let him into her room. Sunghoon entered hesitantly, his gaze sweeping over the familiar surroundings with a mix of nostalgia and longing. He cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably on his feet as he struggled to find the right words.

"Y/n, I... I know things have been weird between us lately," Sunghoon began, his voice soft with uncertainty. "And I can't shake this feeling that I've done something to upset you. If I have, please, just tell me. I can't stand this distance between us."

Y/n's heart ached at the sincerity in Sunghoon's words, the genuine concern etched on his face like a map of his inner turmoil. She wanted nothing more than to throw herself into his arms, to bury her face in his chest and confess her love for him once more, but the fear held her back like an invisible barrier.

"It's not you, Sunghoon," Y/n's voice was barely a whisper, laced with sorrow. "It's me. I... I just need some time to figure things out."

Sunghoon's brow furrowed with confusion, his eyes searching hers for answers that she couldn't bring herself to give. He reached out to touch her arm, a silent gesture of comfort and reassurance, but Yn flinched away as if his touch burned like fire.

"I'm sorry," Yn's voice trembled with emotion, tears threatening to spill from her eyes at any moment. "I just... I need some space right now."

Sunghoon's heart sank like a stone in his chest at Y/n's words, the pain of her rejection cutting deeper than any knife. He wanted nothing more than to hold her close, to chase away the shadows that haunted her heart, but he knew that he had to respect her wishes, no matter how much it tore him apart inside.

"Okay," Sunghoon's voice was barely a whisper, heavy with resignation. "I'll give you the space you need. But just know that I'm here for you, whenever you're ready to talk."

With that, Sunghoon turned and left Y/n's room, the weight of her unspoken words hanging heavy in the air between them like a shroud. Y/n watched him go, her heart breaking a little more with each retreating step, knowing that she had hurt the person she cared about most in the world.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, but the distance between Y/n and Sunghoon only seemed to grow with each passing moment. They exchanged polite greetings when they crossed paths, but the easy familiarity of their friendship had been replaced by a strained awkwardness that neither of them could seem to shake.

Y/n watched from afar as Sunghoon's relationship with his girlfriend blossomed, her heart breaking a little more with each tender moment they shared. She knew that she had no right to feel jealous, no right to interfere in their happiness, but she couldn't help but wish that things were different—that she was the one by Sunghoon's side, sharing in his joys and sorrows.

Meanwhile, Sunghoon couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing from his life, a void that no amount of laughter or love could seem to fill. He missed the easy camaraderie he shared with Y/n, the way they could talk for hours about nothing and everything all at once. He missed the warmth of her smile, the sound of her laughter, the gentle touch of her hand against his.

***********************************************************************

One rainy afternoon, as Sunghoon sat on Rim's couch in her apartment, she called Sunghoon to have a talk. The sound of the rain tapping against the windowpane like a melancholic melody, he found himself lost in thought.

Rim sighed as she entered the living room and took a seat beside Sunghoon.

"Sunghoon, I like you a lot," she began, her voice trembling slightly with emotion, "but I know you and Y/n are meant for each other. We had a good run of few months, but even we both know it won't last long."

Sunghoon felt a lump form in his throat at her words, the guilt and sadness threatening to consume him whole.

"Rim babe..." He reached out to touch her hand, a silent gesture of gratitude and regret, but she pulled away gently, a bittersweet smile playing on her lips.

"I'll always cherish the memories we shared," she continued, her voice soft with nostalgia, "but I can't hold onto something that was never meant to be. You deserve to be with someone where there is mutual love, Sunghoon. And that someone isn't me. I see how longingly you look at her."

Tears welled up in Sunghoon's eyes as he listened to her words, his heart breaking a little more with each passing moment. He knew that he had hurt her, that he had let her down in ways he could never fully comprehend, but he also knew that he couldn't deny the truth any longer—that his heart belonged to Y/n, now and always.

"Thank you," Sunghoon whispered, his voice choked with emotion, "for understanding. For being so... selfless."

************************************************************************

With a sense of determination burning in his chest, Sunghoon grabbed his umbrella and headed out into the rain, the memories of his past with Y/n swirling around him like a whirlwind. He knew that he had to make things right, that he couldn't let fear and doubt stand in the way of his happiness any longer.

As he approached Y/n's house, his heart pounded in his chest like a drumbeat, the anticipation building with each step he took. He hesitated for a moment before mustering the courage to knock on her door, the sound echoing through the silence like a thunderclap.

Y/n opened the door slowly, her eyes widening in surprise at the sight of Sunghoon standing on her doorstep, rain-soaked and breathless. She opened her mouth to speak, but before she could utter a word, Sunghoon took her in his arms and held her close, his heart racing against hers in a symphony of longing and regret.

"I'm sorry, Y/n," Sunghoon's voice was barely a whisper, his words lost in the storm raging around them. "I'm sorry for pushing you away, for not realizing what was right in front of me all along. I love you, Y/n. More than just a friend."

Y/n felt her breath catch in her throat at Sunghoon's confession, her heart soaring with a joy she had never known possible.

"What about your girlfriend?" Y/n asked.

"Y/n, we broke up," he confessed softly, his words hanging heavy in the air between them. "We both knew it wouldn't last long, she was very understanding."

Y/n felt slightly guilty but also she was grateful Rim was such a great soul.

She begin to approach Sunghoon, taking little steps.

She wrapped her arms around him tightly, clinging to him as if he were the anchor keeping her from drifting away.

"I love you too, Sunghoon," Y/n's voice trembled with emotion, tears mingling with raindrops on her cheeks. "More than words can say."

And as they stood there in the pouring rain, their hearts beating as one, they knew that they had finally found their way back to each other—that no amount of distance or doubt could ever tear them apart again.

For in each other's arms, they had found the love they had been searching for all along—a love that would withstand the test of time, a love that would light their way through even the darkest of storms.

#sunghoon #enhypen #park sunghoon #sunghoon imagines #sunghoon angst #sunghoon fluff #sunghoon imagine #enhypen x reader #enhypen imagines #park sunghoon x reader #sunghoon fic

86 notes · View notes

moonlight-prose · 5 months

Note

pretty please may i request ❛i once imagined you loved me a little bit, if you’ll excuse the presumption.❜ from the &. 𝐟. 𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐭𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐭𝐳𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬. prompt list with loki? clawing at the walls tysm 🌷

LOVE IS A SMOKE MADE WITH A FUME OF SIGHS

a/n: i haven't written anything this angsty is so long and it felt good to finally churn out that type of fic. i miss breaking these character's hearts. so babes i hope you know that i went so fucking pretentious with this one it actually made me pick up shakespeare just to title it. (yes it's from romeo and juliet which is ironic cause it's a love between a god and a human). but anyways i hope you enjoy! and of course the gif is crimson peak. it matched the vibe.

summary: you were never meant to be apart of their world, of his home. you were a mortal amongst gods and the time for your parting had finally come.

OR the heartbreak of losing someone who is half your soul.

word count: 2k

pairing: loki x reader

warnings: not explicit, angst, heartbreak, overly pretentious prose about love and pain, mention of death, waxing poetically about losing love, not edited because we live and die by the fucking pen.

The tragedy of love has always been steeped in irony to you. After all, there was something of hilarity bound between the emotions that connected two people so deeply they’d go to war for it. Or perhaps die for it. Maybe this belief came from never understanding it—never experiencing it for yourself. But how were you supposed to know what it looked like? What it felt like, when you had no notion of it even existing in the first place.

Maybe it was a well thought out joke that pulled people in, capturing them in the depths of something so mysterious. You understood heartbreak. Knew the depravity that came from having something ripped from you without a notion of consequence. But love…that remained as mythical to you as Lancelot and Guinevere.

You could feel his eyes on you the longer you stood there, fiddling with the drink in your hand. It wasn’t often that an Asgardian invited a human to visit their land and it was a rarity when it happened with a prince. But that’s where you wound up. Standing amidst legends and myths wanting to flee at a moment's notice. And he watched in earnest, with the hope that you would turn to catch his gaze.

“Excuse me,” you said with a smile to the man beside you who had been talking about the nonsense of science for thirty minutes.

Whether or not he actually believed the words he said became an afterthought. You couldn’t stand there and pretend any longer. You didn’t want to.

Music filled the surrounding space, drowning you in the joyous leisure of having nothing to worry about. What could possibly trouble such powerful beings? Where you were nothing but a small speck in the grand scheme of things. Something trivial that would one day pass and be extinguished just as fast as you were ignited.

You saw the way they viewed you the second you crossed the threshold of the hall. How they seemed to pity you. They would go on. They would continue to carve their names in the history of the universe and you would be but a fleeting memory in their minds. The most you could hope for was to place a smile on their face for a moment before you were gone entirely.

People danced wherever you went, others laughed and boasted about their triumphs. And you could feel the air begin to press out of your lungs. As if they were slowly stripping you of everything that made your body work. You gasped, pushing open a door that led to the courtyard in the hopes that you’d make it to a secluded area before you broke down entirely.

Flames were lit to preserve the warmth. They casted a glow along the architecture of the stone walls—trees placed perfectly along the outskirts. The temptation to hide away here lingered in your chest, but you could practically feel the seconds tick by. You only had a limited amount of time before people made their way outside to view the night sky.

Any other night this would be the most romantic setting to find yourself in. Tonight however you were plagued by a pain that refused to fade.

You wiped roughly at the tears that began to fall as footsteps echoed behind you. It seemed that your time was running out faster than you expected and you’d be caught in the open with no explanation to why you were crying. Maybe if you ran you wouldn't have to deal with the questions. But then the warm glow of the fire flickered an emerald green, sparks flying into the air and you felt the energy around you shift.

“I caught you leaving.”

The smile was prominent in his tone—light enough to presume he didn’t know why you were here. Yet no matter how much he tried to conceal his emotions…you could always read him like an open book. A fact he loathed about you.

“I needed air,” you replied, clasping your hands together.

“You will find plenty out here.” Another step echoed like a shot ringing through the air and suddenly he was pressing a hand to your shoulder. The cold sensation of his touch rippled through you. It flooded your senses with more than you could process at this time.

With a sharp gasp, you pulled away. “Don’t.”

“I’m not sure I understand—”

“Loki,” you sighed, finally giving in. With another breath, you turned to face him—the glimmer of tears now unmistakable in your eyes. “What am I doing here?”

You could see the mistake the second the words left your mouth to hang in the air between you. As if this was the final reckoning of something so delicate. The question had been building for days since he brought you with him. Something to explain that maybe…this wasn’t just a frivolous one time fling that he’d forget about soon after you returned home. But nothing ever came. It seemed he was more interested in showing you off to everyone else, rather than letting you in.

“You’re here for dinner of course.” He smiled, offered you his hand, and faltered when you didn’t take it. When you stood where you were with a somber look in your eyes.

The green color flared to life beside you again, reflecting his emotions and finally giving you an insight into his mind. But it wasn’t enough.

You wanted to know how he felt. What was he too scared to tell anyone? Perhaps he might let you in on it. But Loki had always been closed off even to those he cared about and you didn’t want to be simply another person he tried to love. You needed more than empty words and flowery promises. As you watched him come up with something to say you could see it. He knew that this wasn’t enough; that you wouldn’t be wooed by parties you had no place in with people you held no interest for.

“I think it’s time for me to go home.” You bit down on the inside of your cheek to stop the tears from starting up again.

“My darling—”

“I don’t belong here Loki,” you admitted. “Everyone in there can see that I am not one of you.”

His gaze turned sharp. “One of us?”

“You know what I mean. I’m not a god.” You stood a bit straighter as if facing the oncoming battle.

“So you think because you aren’t Asgardian that we will think less of you? That I would…” He snapped his mouth shut, eyes darker than you were used to seeing them.

“No!”

“Don’t believe for a second that I brought you here under false pretenses—”

“Then why did you bring me?” you exclaimed. “Because it certainly doesn’t feel like you actually want me here. You left me alone in there! As if I was meant to be shown off for some Asgardian amusement.”

He stepped forward, crowding into your space and like the stubborn human you were…you stood your ground. His lips quirked up slightly, admiration flaring in his eyes before that too was stolen away.

“You forget. I am not Asgardian.”

You scoffed, rising up to meet him—your nose brushing so close to his that you could feel his breath against your face. “That is not who I saw in there.”

His eyes dropped to your lips. The darkness from before returning with a vigor that stole your breath away. No matter how much you wanted to remain upset, you couldn’t deny the pull that existed between you. The longing you felt in your heart. Loki released a shuddered breath as his eyes dragged back to yours and something raw clicked into place.

Cupping your cheek, he dragged you forward until his lips met yours. Loki always kissed you as if this was his last time, as if he would never know the sweet taste of oxygen without you. You were the soothing balm against his wounds that refused to close. A piece of serenity in a place that bred nothing but chaos. He dragged you closer, no longer hesitant to lick into your mouth and drag out a moan, because what else did he have to lose?

You knew the malice that existed in him—had seen it first hand. Yet even that wasn’t enough to turn you away from this.

To make you flee from the man who viewed himself as a monster.

“Loki,” you sighed, fingers digging into the leather beneath his armor. It was as soft as his touch, the scent intoxicating you the longer you stood there.

“Don’t…” He could feel the hesitation in your kiss. The uncertainty in your touch.

You still remained unsure of what he wanted from you; what this actually meant to him. And even though he wanted to proclaim it loud enough for you to hear, he knew that you’d never truly understand the depths of his emotions. Loki had always believed he would remain alone in his life. A lost soul doomed to wander the universe for all eternity, but when he met you he hoped that for a moment…he would finally feel the warmth of the sun against his skin once more.

He hoped he would feel alive again.

“You are…” Warm tears fell against your cheeks and he wiped them away gently. “You’re the one I want to be with. The one I choose.” You cupped his hand in yours, desperate to keep his touch against your skin. “But I am not immortal.”

“We gods die too.”

You smiled. “Not in the way humans do.”

Silence washed over the both of you. A solemn understanding that began to infiltrate even his mind. And thus was the irony of love. Two souls so tragically different that even death would keep you apart until the very end of time. You almost laughed, but knew that the situation would only be ruined by it.

“I need to go home where I belong.”

“You belong—”

“I don’t belong with gods Loki. I never have. And no matter how much you want that to change it can’t.”

Within seconds you watched his walls begin to close up again, pulling back any sense of emotion he once showed. Until you were right back where you started. Alone in the middle of a world that didn’t deem you worthy to stand on it. You were the outsider looking in. A mortal who got a chance to dine with the gods of old and briefly pretend you were one of them.

“So you choose them.”

An ache sprouted in your chest, spreading down to the very tips of your fingers. Until you swore you couldn’t breathe. A necessary evil to stave off the heartbreak of what would eventually come down the road.

“My love…”

He pulled away, standing stiff and face void of any emotion. “That word doesn’t belong to me. Not anymore.” Turning slightly, he roughly wiped at his cheek to hide the tears. Meanwhile you allowed them to fall freely. “I once imagined you loved me a little bit, if you’ll excuse the presumption.”

With a final look—eyes filled with a plea to say something—he relented. He nodded his head, took in a large breath, and turned back towards the steps. Once again leaving you behind as he returned to a world you’d never fully understand. You watched him go, a sob wracking your body as he took with him a love that only came around once in a lifetime. As he took part of your soul.

The flames returned to their natural orange glow, once again emitting a warmth that should have flooded your body. But all you felt was the cold touch of a lover lost to you for good.

#loki x reader #loki x you #loki x y/n #loki laufesyon x reader #loki laufeyson x you #loki #loki of asgard #my writing #a dream within a dream week🍷

87 notes · View notes

depressedbagpipe · 11 months

Text

Ka-Chaow (Charles Leclerc x female!reader)

Chapter three

Words: 4024 Warnings: french cursing?, cringey dialogue, reader being a main character, charles being charles, ferrari being ferrari, mentions of wine, me not understanding how life works in Monaco. A/N: thank you mel for translating the french bits for me, i owe you a coffee. I'm not 100% happy with how this turned out but i think i like the way I'm slowly giving info about the reader. also, life has been hectic lately but I'm slowly back on track. as an apology here you go, a cute Charles gif Series Taglist: @heavengirls111, @roseamongthorns13, @mishaandthebrits, @charlesswife, @silscintilla

Series Masterlist Previous chapter

Monte-Carlo, January 8th, 2023

I had only ever moved twice before in my life. The first time was from a dirty shoe box on the lowliest side of town to a comfortable house in Hammersmith. Namely, I was only two years old when that happened and I don’t recall much, but I know every single detail of everything that happened as it was always conveniently brought up every Christmas dinner; when the entire family would get together and unironically thank God for every opportunity given to them.

The second time happened after I graduated and got my job at Ink’n’Paper. Mr. Williamson needed someone nearby to manage his appointments, and I had been perfect for the job, apparently, so it made sense that I finally moved out of my parent's house and got my own place in the city, closer to the office I lost part of my sanity at every day.

I skipped moving for college, thankfully, so I didn’t have to deal with thousands of other overbearing parents lecturing their kids on how to be responsible 18-year-olds. That also meant I got the lecture later in life, but I still appreciated the tips, like doing laundry at night when light was cheaper, and pre-planning meals for the week –which I now appreciated immensely, due to the hectic schedule my job worked on.

And now, I found myself finally moving the last of my boxes up the stairs to my new Monaco apartment, with tired arms and knees from bending so many times. My back was also strained, but it was nothing a good night's sleep couldn’t fix.

I always prided myself on being an intelligent and strong independent woman, but as soon as the movers left, I realized, just maybe, I could’ve asked for more help. I felt bad after seeing them struggle with the dishwasher and thought I would save them some effort by doing the rest myself, but after the first few boxes, I realized I was doomed. But honestly, what newly-renovated apartment doesn’t come with a dishwasher?

It was also a bit eerie, how I didn’t even see any of my neighbors. I knew the building was entirely new, but I thought maybe a few other residents would have already complained about my grunts in effort and the constant going up and down the stairs. Because, obviously, the elevator didn’t work just yet. Neither did the pool on the roof, or the gym.

‘We need a few more final touches, but all the apartments are ready to be lived in,’ the realtor had explained after the short tour of the building since half of it was still missing.

‘And do you know when it’ll finally be open?’ I had asked, out of pure curiosity. I certainly wasn’t planning on running on a treadmill if I could help it.

The man had only shrugged his shoulders and bid me farewell shortly after, leaving me alone in the middle of the reception hall to wait for the movers to bring my things. That had been over four hours ago, and now I was desperate for food and sleep. Instead, I was struggling with my very last cardboard box full of books, blindingly going up the stairs through a very restricted field of vision.

It was just my luck that, right on my floor, only after walking two steps into the hall to my apartment, I crashed into someone.

Under any other circumstance, I would’ve found the irony and cliché of the situation; accidentally colliding into someone, papers spilling everywhere, getting down to retrieve them and brushing fingers and meeting gazes. Maybe a smile or two. That’s actually how I met Alec. Both of us were running late, him to a band rehearsal, and me to my first interview at Ink’n’Paper. My résumé got mixed with his songs and an hour later we found ourselves sitting at a cute café, sharing stories over warm coffee slowly falling in love with each other. Only this time, I was tired, sore, and buried under a nearly-broken box filled to the brim with books, with some of them unceremoniously lying on the floor half-opened.

The impact with the floor knocked the wind out of my lungs, and for a split second, I debated whether I should just lay there for the rest of my life. But a familiar accent decided otherwise.

‘Oh, mon dieu, je suis desolé, ca va?’ (Oh my god, I’m so sorry, are you alright?)

For a second I froze. Surely, the universe was playing some sick joke on me. I groaned as I stood up, barely noticing the two hands helping me up. I dusted my pants as I looked down at the spilled mess, internally groaning at the thought of having to bend down to pick everything up again.

‘Je vous ai fais mal?’ (Did I hurt you?) the man repeated, and it was only then that I mustered the courage to look up at him. And it suddenly dawned on me that I was standing right before Charles Leclerc.

I shook my head, not knowing how to respond. It was the second time the young driver stood in front of me, but just like the first one, I didn’t know what to do with myself.

‘Sorry, uh, I don’t speak French,’ I stammered. I was trying hard not to tremble, even though I could always blame the pain from the fall for it.

‘Oh, it’s alright. Are you okay, though? Did I hurt you? That was a nasty fall,’ he switched to English as he eyed me up and down, probably checking for any injury.

I tried hard not to blush or giggle, but I couldn’t ignore the fact that my biggest crush was casually there, in my apartment building, and was making sure I was alright.

‘Yeah, yeah, I’m okay. Thank you, though,’ I replied.

He then seemed to notice the box and books on the floor. ‘Here, let me,’ he said before bending down and grabbing the heavy box into his hands.

My eyes scanned over his hands, noticing the way his fingers flexed and strongly grabbed the sides. Again, under any other circumstance, I would’ve found the irony of the situation, but my nerves were making me shake slightly and I wasn’t too proud of that.

I too bent down, taking the scattered books in my arms and not caring about their state anymore. I only wanted to have an excuse to stop my hands from shaking and to look anywhere but at him.

‘It’s okay, really, I can handle these,’ I said, completely embarrassed. Seconds before I had been flat on the ground in front of him. I really just wanted to dig a hole and bury myself in it for the rest of my life after that.

He smiled briefly at me, but his hands remained on the box, effortlessly grabbing it under one of his arms before extending a hand towards me. I stared at it, noticing the rings on his fingers and his expensive watch. Without thinking I took it, and I tried not to dwell too much on the warmth of his skin and his firm grip on mine as he helped me up.

‘Wait, have we met? Your face seems familiar,’ he scrunched his eyebrows while he looked at me.

I was still appalled at the fact that I was talking to him, but I slowly nodded my head, remembering our brief interaction back at the Fiorano track.

‘Yeah, um, we met at Maranello? I’m Mr. Williamson’s assistant,’ I explained, but Charles only seemed more confused. ‘The guy that’s supposed to write the book about Ferrari,’ I added.

His eyes widened in recognition, and my heart beat loudly as I let a breath out.

‘Oh, right! We were introduced at the track! Well, it’s lovely to see you again!’ he smiled, shaking my hand with a short laugh.

I hadn’t even noticed that he was still holding me, and while I would normally be too socially awkward to keep the contact up, I didn’t mind his one bit. But eventually, I let go, because I could feel the grip of the books slipping with every passing second.

‘Yeah, you too! What are you doing here? I mean, do you know anybody in the building?’ I asked before I could stop myself. Surely, the man had more important stuff to do.

To my surprise, he shook his head. ‘Nope. I live here.’

The equivalent of breaking glass was the only sound that went through my brain.

‘Wait, really?’ I asked him.

He nodded. ‘Yeah, I came back a few days ago. And I’m guessing you just moved here too,’ he motioned to the box still under his arm.

I nodded too. ‘Yeah. Today,’ I dumbly answered, feeling the strain in my arms under the weight of the books.

He definitely noticed, because he jumped in his place and profusely apologized. ‘Merde, let me help you with that,’ he looked at the box and then back at me again. ‘So, um, which way to your apartment? In the least creepy way possible?’ he chuckled in embarrassment, yet I found it incredibly cute. (Shit)

I couldn’t help but laugh too. ‘5A.’

His mouth opened in clear surprise. ‘Hey, I’m 5B!’ his eyes almost disappeared when he smiled.

His smirk was contagious, that much I already knew. I would be lying if I said I had never watched his post-race interviews or any other promotion for his team whatsoever, but I obviously couldn’t straight up tell him that. So finding out that not only we were neighbors, but there would only be a rather thin wall separating us, was enough to send me into cardiac arrest.

‘Wow, that sure is a coincidence!’ I dumbly added.

For someone known to have a response for anything, I suddenly ran out of words.

But either he didn’t notice, or he didn’t care.

‘Well, better take these to their new home. I don’t think this floor has been cleaned in a while,’ he chuckled, walking back into the hall and in my apartment’s direction.

I shrugged my shoulders, following after him, thinking all of it had to be some weird dream I was having because there was absolutely no way in hell Charles Leclerc was casually waiting by my door holding a box full of my shit and helping me move into my new apartment in Monaco.

‘Oh, the door’s open,’ I said while I walked past him and inside the flat. With a tilt of my head, I beckoned Charles inside too.

The look he sent me was hilarious. ‘It’s been open this whole time?’

I winced as I put the books down on the kitchen island, which overlooked the wide living space. It was certainly bigger than my apartment in London, but the clean-white walls and lack of furniture made it look like a mansion compared to the other residence, full of books and half-burnt candles.

‘I mean, I was going up and down with boxes and I didn’t want to have to open and close the door every time,’ I said, rubbing my sore arms.

He left the box on the island as well, shyly looking around the pretty empty apartment.

‘Well, nice place you got here,’ he chuckled at his joke. I laughed too, but mine was rather a combination of nerves, disbelief, and sheer anxiety. ‘Sorry, I… I don’t think I remember your name, I apologize for that.’

I shook my head quickly as I answered, saying it was totally fine. Just the fact that he vaguely remembered my face was already a huge accomplishment on his part, knowing that he met new people every single day.

‘Thank you for helping me, by the way,’ I told him, gesturing to the books. I laced my hands behind my back, frantically spinning the ring on my finger in an anxious tic I had developed throughout the years.

He shook his head with a grin, waving his hand in the air. ‘I’m happy to help. Honestly, I’ve been quite jet-lagged lately and I’ve been sleeping all day, but had I been up, I would’ve helped you through it.’

I felt the heat on my cheeks, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from him. ‘It’s fine, really. You know, I even thought I was the only one here. I saw nobody, literally. And if somebody saw me then they didn’t say anything,’ I frowned at the thought.

He grinned at me again, and it felt weird to see those dimples in real life. ‘I don’t think there are that many people living here yet, to be honest. I still haven’t seen anybody else besides you. Kinda creepy, too.’

I laughed, feeling somewhat relaxed now at the thought of living so close to him. Not as a fan, per se, but as a walking person I could turn to in case I needed salt.

‘I would treat you to some tea but I have absolutely nothing to eat right now. I haven’t gone grocery shopping yet. And I have no dishes or cutlery, either. I do have a dishwasher, though,’ I said, wanting to repay the favor somehow, although everything that came from my mouth felt worse than the previous one.

‘You have a dishwasher?’ he gaped at me.

I nodded. ‘Got it installed this morning. I’m never washing dirty dishes with my hands again.’

He chuckled again before looking back at the door, which had stayed open. It wasn’t like there was anyone that could come in, though. ‘Well, maybe this sounds weird, but, if you’d like, we could have dinner together? As in a… housewarming party?’ Charles offered.

I tried hard not to blush at his request, and I definitely felt the strain in my lips trying to control the grin. ‘Shouldn’t I be the one throwing the party?’ I lifted an eyebrow at him.

He nodded. ‘Yeah. But it’s seven in the afternoon and all the markets are closed,’ he pointed out after checking the hour on his watch.

I gaped at him. ‘Is it that late, really?’ I asked, grabbing my phone and checking the time too, but to my dismay, Charles was right. I had completely lost track of time.

‘Time flies when you’re having fun, eh?’ he tried to laugh it off, and I appreciated it.

‘Well, shit. Guess I’m not having breakfast tomorrow either,’ I joked, yet a pit of anxiety settled in my stomach. I was far too hungry for such disappointment.

‘You’re welcome for breakfast, too,’ Charles added quickly. I stared at him with a frown. ‘Again, if I had been awake, I would’ve helped you, and you wouldn’t be stuck now without food until tomorrow morning.’

My heart ached slightly at his beaten expression. ‘It’s not your fault, Charles. You don’t have to feel bad about it. I mean, you literally have no responsibility over anything.’

He took a few seconds, eyeing me. His eyes then moved to the side, checking the empty kitchen, and the boxes piled right at the center of the living space, and he frowned again.

‘I still want you over. I’m not the greatest chef, but I can make some nice pasta. And I think I’ve got some tea left, for the morning. Not like I’m asking you to spend the night, you know, that’d be weird, but like, if you wanna come over for a quick snack… Although I wake up really early to train, you know… you’re welcome to,’ he rambled.

I stared at him for a whole minute, registering his words. Now more than ever, it really felt like a dream. And despite knowing better than going to a random stranger’s apartment for free dinner on the sole basis of human kindness, I nodded.

‘Alright, I’m not gonna say “no” to pasta. And if you’re trying to murder me, know that my mum is a lawyer. And a really good one at that. And she knows where I am, so,’ I said, pointing a finger menacingly at him with squint eyes. Might as well throw some spice in it.

He smiled at me, again with those dimples showing, holding his palms up in surrender. ‘Great! And I’m not trying to murder you. Then uh, why don’t you come by in like two hours? So I can prepare things and clean around?’

‘Sure!’ I smirked.

‘Alright, then, uh, I’ll see you later!’ he grinned.

‘Great!’

‘Okay, um, ciao!’ Charles said with a final wave. He walked out of the apartment, and I caught his eye as he closed the door, with the ghost of a smirk decorating his lips. (Bye!)

—

‘And you just moved here, then? I asked him.

‘Yeah. Somehow fans found my old address and it wasn’t safe for me anymore. Besides, my neighbors “invited” me to leave so… apparently I yell too much at the simulator,’ he confessed, making me chuckle.

‘I’m sorry about that,’ I said with a grimace, remembering his Instagram posts.

‘Don’t be. I mean I knew stuff like this would happen, just not to me,’ he chuckled.

I stared at him in disbelief. Surely, had to be joking, right?

‘Life works in mysterious ways, I guess,’ I added, taking a sip of the expensive wine he had opened for us at the beginning of the dinner.

‘So, how come you moved to Monaco, then?’ Charles asked before taking a big bite of his pasta.

I swallowed before responding. I still felt quite nervous, trying to look and act decently before him. I had never been one to talk about myself that openly, and it sucked to think our conversation resembled that of a date, even though it wasn’t.

‘Well, as I said, I work at this publishing house as Mr. Stephen Williamson’s assistant, which, for the record, is a pretty big name in the industry. And last November he got this deal to write about Ferrari, so… here I am,’ I tried to explain.

I didn’t want to bore him with the details, but if anything, it only made him even more curious.

‘How do you go from working as an assistant to living in Monaco?’ he asked.

I sighed. ‘I don’t even know. We flew to Italy last month to sign the deal and stuff, and apparently, my boss wanted me to move here to oversee the writing process.’

‘But he’s in London.’

‘Yeah.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘Me neither.’

He laughed. ‘Well, I’m glad we’re both on the same page.’

‘Right?’ I chuckled too. ‘No, but seriously, I know he’s got other stuff to work on and he thought it better that I was the one to come here in his place,’ I continued, still waiting for further instruction from both Mr. Williamson and Mr. Vigna’s part to proceed to the next phase. ‘Let’s just say he’s not… in the best state right now…’ I bit my lip, not wanting to reveal too much, for Mr. Williamson’s sake. ‘So, effectively, I’m the one in charge of getting all the data, interviews, experiences…’

‘And Monaco is the best place for that,’ Charles finished for me as he also finished his pasta.

I nodded, taking another bite. He was a fast eater, for sure.

‘Exactly. Mr. Vigna said they’re opening a new office here and many workers are commuting so… It shouldn’t be hard,’ I added after taking a deep breath.

‘Wow, and you just left? What about your family? Friends? Boyfriend?’ Charles asked, with his eyes fixed on my face.

I choked on my pasta. He patted my back repeatedly as I brought the wine glass to my lips, desperate to calm my aching throat.

‘Sorry, no, no boyfriend,’ I coughed again. I swore his eyes glistened ever so slightly. ‘And my people understand. It’s not going to be forever, you know? Just a few months. And I’m constantly on the phone with them, and I’ll travel back and forth. But it’s easier when half the grid is already here,’ I answered once I was calm enough.

He nodded. ‘You’re right. So I’m guessing I’ll see you around the paddock this year.’

‘Yeah, you definitely will. I mean, according to Mr. Williamson, until he’s able to commit full-time to this project, I am to become Ferrari’s own shadow. A fly on the wall. Any conversation? I’ll be there listening,’ I recalled the conversation with my boss, thinking he had been a bit too dramatic at first, only to later realize he was being completely honest.

He had made a name for himself thanks to his decent spying qualities, which he favorably used in his work to portray the most realistic picture of whatever matter was at hand. Anyone with a brain knew that required skill and time, and the fact that he had entrusted me with it spoke volumes of his faith in me. Or of his inebriation.

Charles whistled. ‘That’s a huge responsibility.’

‘Well, I’m not Spider-Man, but yeah, it’s a huge power too.’

He grinned. ‘If you need any help, you know where to find me. You know, it was always my dream to drive for Ferrari.’

‘I’m sorry.’

He laughed. ‘Well, last year certainly didn’t go as I expected, but I’m excited for this season.’

Charles’ eyes shone whenever he spoke about driving. I hadn’t spent much time with him yet, but it was easy to share his enthusiasm for the sport, even after going in tangents about laps, sectors, and front and rear wings. He spoke with the excitement of a little kid, and at times, it was hard to believe he was a twenty-five-year-old man.

‘But I don’t want to bore you with it, sorry,’ he caught himself after a while, but I shook my head.

‘Not at all. I’m a fan of the sport too, you know,’ I said, suddenly feeling embarrassed and shy.

But his face didn’t seem to mind it one bit. His eyes, in fact, widened. ‘Really?’

I nodded. ‘Yeah. My dad is a huge motorsport fan so he made sure his only daughter followed his steps.’

‘May I ask which team are you supporting?’ he asked.

‘Don’t want to inflate your ego even more, but Ferrari,’ I chuckled.

He grinned again. ‘Red is the best color, after all.’

‘It’s all about the Italian in us.’

‘Certainly.’

Our dinner was long finished, but we both stayed at the table, drinking wine and sharing stories for the rest of the night.

It was easy to talk to him, contrary to popular belief. When I had knocked on his door a few hours before, I had been a mess of anxiety and nerves. I had tried so hard to come up with the best possible outfit right after exiting the shower, wanting to look good and put-together, yet not too formal. I had rehearsed over and over how to say hello, how to compliment his food, and how to thank him again for the immense favor he was doing me, but all that evaporated as soon as he opened the door. Pleasantries were exchanged, some more apologies as well, and before I could even react, we were already sitting down, enjoying some warm meal over good wine. Charles turned out to be excellent company too, and I could only thank the universe for having met him on my first night in Monaco. I truly felt a bit less alone, all thanks to him.

I had been scared about moving to a different country by myself, away from my parents and my friends. I hadn’t even had time to sit down and think about it. Twenty-four hours ago I was packing my bags after the longest Christmas celebrations ever and now I was smiling and chuckling away with someone I was hoping to call a friend sometime soon. Even after getting in bed, tired, but happy, no tears came. I wasn’t scared anymore. For once, even after all the heartbreak and stress, I was excited for what was to come, despite not knowing what was in store for me. And I was ready to find out.

Next chapter

General Taglist: @angiewhoohooo, @azaleaniath, @mishaandthebrits, @celestialcharles

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x female!reader #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc imagine #formula 1 #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 fic

187 notes · View notes

sadesluvr · 16 days

Text

Parting Gift

You love Mike, but he's jaded.

Mike Schmidt x GN! Reader

A/N: Something for my FNAF fans! I’ve been watching too much HBO and wanted to write angst, so this fic features a realistic Mike Schmidt. This features hints of Vanessa x Mike, but also his emotional problems in general. We love him, but I don’t think its controversial to say that being in a relationship with him would be difficult...

Please read my other Mike works if this isn’t your kind of thing!

Set post movie.

Word count: 1.6K

Tags: ANGST / SMUT / Gender Neutral Reader / Reader is human as has weird emotions / Breakups / Hints of jealousy + rage / Hints of fluff / Bittersweet stuff, really

You never went inside.

As a detective, you weren’t oblivious to the irony of it all. You’d been to hospitals thousands of times; speaking to suspects, injured colleagues or even to address the dreaded ‘call’, and yet the thought of watching Mike and Abby leave handmade cards at Vanessa “Shelly’s” bedside made you violently ill.

You knew everything that had gone down at the defunct Freddy Fazbear’s, and it had plagued you to no end. Though Abby and Mike’s relationship had certainly turned for the better, you were angry, frustrated at the fact that he’d been hurt, not only from being physically punted across the room, but the fact he’d had to stare his brother’s killer in the eye, virtually powerless to it all. Even more so, you were pissed that Vanessa had become a factor in your lives.

You’d only been dating Mike for just under a year, meeting him in a rather cliched manner at a donut stand in the mall. An exchange of numbers turned into casual check-ins, which soon evolved into a relationship – or at least parts of one. It was no secret that Mike was guarded; letting you in, but not too close enough to get overly attached. At first, it felt like you were made for each other – you felt a similar way about you line of work, and how you operated with people because of it – but closer towards those crucial few months of the new year it had begun to grow tedious.

You weren’t expecting a whirlwind, all-consuming romance, but it certainly wasn’t supposed to feel like this; with days of missed calls, unexplained outbursts and erectile dysfunction making being with him feel like a chore. Some days, you wondered why you’d even bothered asking for his number. Most days, you wondered why he’d responded at all.

Deep down, you knew none of this was his fault. He'd been fighting to survive since he was a teenager, and it was only inevitable that he’d develop issues. Being a detective meant you were all the more receptive to them, understanding the nuances of why people became the way that they were, and it was painfully clear to you why Mike had changed since the incident.

He and Vanessa were both conjoined, victims of William Afton in their own ways, yet both bound by blood. You’d been there when he’d stopped on the way home to visit her, listening from the outside as you supervised Abby. Why couldn’t you all go in? It wasn’t as if it were a particularly gory scene; it merely looked like she was sleeping. Why had he made you all wait?

“Vanessa, I don’t know if… you can hear any of this, but, um… I’m having a hard time just processing everything that happened.

But you were there for me and Abby when it mattered the most.

And I don’t think that either of us would be here today if it weren’t for you.

So… So get better. And we’ll be here when you wake up.”

The words were as clear as day. Hadn’t you been there for them? Tried to give Abby a sense of a stable life? Tried to help with bills? Offering to send him to counselling? Why had it taken a near fatal murder attempt for Mike to wake up?

Now, with all the fallout, you were all left with far more questions than answers…and this time you didn’t have the energy to try and solve them.

“Abby’s sleeping,” you announced, poking your head through the door. Mike was rummaging around his room, trying to prepare himself for work in the morning – a menial task for some, but strangely methodical to him in the moment. He didn’t answer.

“Abby’s sleeping,” you repeated, and he perked up, a flustered smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Oh...” he said, clearing his throat. “Thanks. I guess I lost track of time…”

“Yeah.” you mumbled, leaning against the doorframe, clearly waiting for something…you just didn’t know what.

“Thanks —“ he said after a moment of silence, his soft brown eyes gazing into your own. You could see him nervously gnawing on the inside of of his cheek. “—For helping. I really do appreciate it. I’m not trying to seem like a douche, there’s just been a lot on my mind recently.”

“I’m not surprised,” you hummed, strolling into the room. “But it’s been bugging you for a while now. Don’t you want to…you know…talk to someone?”

Mike paused and cocked his head.

“Like a therapist?”

“That would be a good option,” you hummed, trying not to dance around the subject. “Or you can speak to me. I won’t even psychoanalyse you, I could just listen, y’know?”

He bit his lip again, this time glancing down at the floor before back at you. You couldn’t quite make out what he was thinking, but he was certainly showing signs of restraint. Restraint. It seemed to be the defining word in your relationship.

“…I don’t think you’d understand.”

“Oh, but Vanessa would, right?”

He flinched at your raised voice, and glanced nervously down the hall.

“That’s not what I meant —“

“Then what do you mean, Mike?” you huffed, crossing your arms. “You met her a month ago, whilst I’ve known you for a year! You’ve never once given me as much grace as you have her. Ever!”

“I had a lot on my plate, okay? It wasn’t easy.”

“I know that! But I was there for you. I watched you pick up those prescriptions, I tried to be a role model to Abby, to help take the load off all those payments, and I got nothing!” you yelled. “I wasn’t asking for a mile, but you didn’t even give me an inch.”

Mike didn’t respond, instead he ran a hand through his hair, pushing the stray strands away from his face before he rubbed his eyes.

“How is it that you can mend every relationship you have except the one you willingly chose to be in?” You said, voice wavering as you watched him sink into the bed. It was his natural response; life was crushing and had done so many times, but his lack of fight was extremely telling. He could stand off with a serial killer and haunted animatronics, but not muster a few words to reassure his partner?

He was just too complicated for you to understand.

“I’m sorry…” he mumbled, shaking his head absentmindedly before looking up at you. “Maybe I didn’t think this through…”

You knew what that meant, and even though you’d been anticipating it – even manifesting it yourself – it didn’t make the blow any easier. Sighing, you steadied your week knees by sitting on the bed next to Mike, grasping at the bedsheets as you stared blankly around the room. For once, it felt like you were both in the same page.

“I love you,” he said, breaking the tension. You glanced at him, taking in the fact that his eyes were welling with tears and jaw clenched, and you could tell that he meant it. “I really did, y’know? I tried.”

You nodded, rubbing at your cheeks anxiously before kissing him. His lips were slightly chapped, but you didn’t mind, losing yourself in the way he drew you into his body with you hands, clinging onto you as he made a desperate plea to attempt to reach out to you for a final time.

Before you knew it, you back was against the mattress, and Mike was on-top of you, hurriedly pulling down his sweatpants before doing the same to you. As your lower torso lay exposed, he pressed a kiss to your stomach, making his way around your belly button and down towards your privates. Shutting your eyes, you wondered what your relationship could’ve been if every time felt like this; electric and passionate…with intent.

Once he’d slipped his boxers to the side, you gave his erect cock a few languid strokes before inserting him into you, letting out a broken moan as he adjusted to being inside of you. Mike’s eyes fluttered shut as he sighed, and you remembered just how beautiful he looked in his (rare) moments of bliss.

He stabilised himself on his forearms as he watched you, rolling his hips as he explored your hole, searching for that all-important sweet spot. The room may have been dimly lit; the darkness of night encroaching upon the walls, but he could see you all too clearly. It pained him that he hadn’t before – no, he had, but he didn’t know how to express it – and wondered just how much different things would’ve been had he not met Vanessa, hell, had he not attacked that man that fateful day. He knew some things had changed for the better, some for the worst, and some that only time would tell – and he had a sneaking suspicion that you fell into the latter.

His mind was hell, but it felt like heaven to be inside you.

Leaning down, he placed a sloppy kiss to your lips before moving to your neck, groaning as you ran your fingers through his hair and whispered sweet nothings into his ear.

“Mike...” you moaned. “You’re so good to me...”

‘For me’ was left unuttered.

“Please...” you begged; your words almost inaudible over the creaking of his bedframe, and his heavy thighs slapping against your own as he rutted into you. “Cum for me. I need it...”

Mike nodded, damp strands of his fringe glued to his forehead as he pushed into you a final time, his legs trembling as he came. It was unfathomable that in the heat of his pleasure – the best orgasm you’d had together – he wanted to cry. Breathlessly, you held him as he rode off his high, so tightly that you thought you might’ve pierced his skin, before you spoke your final words into the night.

“I love you too...” you whispered. “I’m sorry...for everything.”

You were gone before sunrise.

#florence writes!!#mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt imagine #mike schmidt smut #mike schmidt x gn!reader #gender neutral fanfic #gender neutral reader #fnaf x reader #fnaf angst #mike schmidt x reader angst #mike schmidt x male reader #fnaf x gn! reader #angst imagines

44 notes · View notes

forasecondtherewedwon · 1 month

Text

my Masters of the Air masterlist

RATED T

coming in clear When Buck uses his bunk to hide the new radio, Bucky offers him a different place to sleep. Bucky x Gale | 1k | sharing a bed daring tales of heroism The fact that Crosby slept through D-Day just means Rosie gets to celebrate twice. Rosie x Crosby | 1k | celebratory kissing eggs in heaven Curious, the body, what it’d absorb and what it would not. Was Gale’s still his, or only as much as that powdered breakfast was still eggs? Gale x Bucky | 1k | emotional hurt/comfort

how to cook the loch ness monster If there’d been one, why not two? It was a big sky. Such a big, big sky, and Crosby clamped his eyes shut and listened hard to hear another plane, or one man breathing inside it, or little bubbles of air bobbing in a snow globe. Or, Bubbles' plane lands after Rosenthal's. Crosby x Bubbles | 2k | hurt/comfort my how they fly Bucky, Curt, and Buck wait out the fog. 1k | stolen moments seven degrees east It's 1996. Soundgarden's on the radio, Charles and Diana are headed for divorce, and seven American PhD candidates are studying literature at the University of Thorpe Abbotts in Norfolk, England. Between taking Prof. Harding's summer class and obsessing over their favourite authors, the boys will kick asses when they must, and fall in love if they can. multiple ships | in progress | '90s AU stop-motion poetry the irony of loneliness / is we all feel it / at the same time - Rupi Kaur 1k | grief/mourning trading paper dolls Tired of the pin-up girls, Alex draws Buck Cleven in a similar style, never intending for the sketch to fall into the hands of Bucky Egan. Bucky x Gale | in progress | feelings realization

RATED M

hanging clothes They’d let the night grow late around them, cozy by the fire, and then she’d said goodnight, and then she’d reached for him, and then she’d reached for him again. Crosby x Sandra | 1k | voyeurism

RATED E

dear john The Regensburg-Schweinfurt mission changes John. What Gale can't say aloud, he puts in the letters he writes to John in his head. Gale x Bucky | 2k | love letters little fix Gale dabbed on extra cologne in preparation for the many, many hours he knew he'd be spending in the cockpit. Once in Algeria, the heat reinvigorates the scent, and John notices. Gale kinda likes that he does. Gale x Bucky | 2k | plane sex

so I smile and say The night he and Sandra sit by the fire, Crosby almost cheats on Jean. It takes the voice of a departed friend in his head to help Crosby understand why he felt so close to Sandra, and which feelings really need to be resolved. Crosby x Bubbles | 2k | masturbation

34 notes · View notes

readychilledwine · 7 months

Text

Eris Week Day 3 : Secrets | Fire

Cold Hands

Prompt - Does Eris keep anyone else’s secrets? Why?

Summary- Azriel and Eris find themselves trapped in a cave in the Winter Court. The heir, ever the curious lordling, does not understand why Azriel will not join him by the fire he's made to allow them to keep warm.

A/N - A little platonic Azriel and Eris moment for day 3 of @erisweek2023 I desperately want Eris and Azriel to, at the very least, be friends at the end of the series.

"Then fucking freeze for all I care," Eris rolled his eyes as he lit the fire at the back of the cave, secretly hoping enough warmth would flood to the stubborn Illyrian sitting towards the middle.

Azriel was visibly shivering as Kallias allowed his court to storm and rebuild as needed. Winters in the mountains had been harsh, but Azriel was male enough to own this was cold, even for him. He rubbed his hands together, feeling the tingling sensation that happens every time they get too cold begin to set in. "Remind me," he shivered again, "why you can't winnow us out of here?"

Eris rolled his eyes again. "I was trapped in faebane, Azriel. I had enough magic to get myself out or start this fire. There's no way I could have taken both of us." Eris sighed sitting down. "I made the choice to stay with you. To try to ensure you stayed warm since you were also poisoned. Evidently that was a waste of my time though." Eris watched as Azriel desperately tried to warm his hands. "Just come fucking sit by the fire."

The growl from Azriel was enough of an answer. "Fuck off, Eris." The spymaster watched as the heir rolled his eyes again before standing and grabbing his cloak.

Eris walked to him with a grace that only Rhysand and Lucien could match, holding the wool and fur lined cloak to Azriel. "Then at least take this. No one will forgive me if you freeze to death here." Eris felt his voice soften at the end of the sentence.

Eris had noticed the habit several times now. Azriel avoided camp fires, hearths, wild fires. He back away from Eris while the heir used his magic. He had always thought nothing scared the Illyrian until they had become friends. "Why are you afraid of fire, Azriel?"

The spymaster took his turn, rolling his eyes. "I am not afraid of fire." Had Eris not been lying his whole life, he may have accepting that statement as the truth. Azriel had a tell, though. When the male lied, his left wing twitched.

"You do not lie well." Eris chuckled lightly at the irony. "I will trade you a secret for a secret? Then we both have something on each other." Azriel mulled the option over in his mind. Having a card to pull on Eris would be beneficial to Rhysand, to his court, to himself. However, that secret required vulnerability, something both of the males sitting in the icy cave struggled with.

The heir sat down across the cave from him. Waiting with his brows raised and a neutral expression on his face. Azriel knew he had to capitalize on this moment. He had to take whatever secret Eris would give him.

"When I was younger," Azriel began slowly. He sighed contently at the warmth of Eris' cloak before continuing. "My father kept me locked in a dungeon. I was hardly allowed outside or to see my mother." Azriel stared towards the fire. "My brothers thought one day it would be fun to see how illyrian healing and oil and fire mixed."

He watched as Eris shut his eyes, his jaw tightening. "They put oil on my hands before setting them on fire. My father's guards heard my screams and came, but the damage was done." Azriel pulled off one of his gloves to show Eris.

The heir's mask had broken as he moved to Azriel and studied the all too familiar burn scars. Anger was radiating off of him. "Where are they now?"

"Alive and serving low ranks in one of the camps?" Azriel almost sighed again at the warmth of Eris' hand holding his. "Your secret, Eris?" The heir took a while to answer. His mind still processing that Rhysand had allowed these males to live after the act they committed on someone he considered his brother.

"I have a wife," the heir stated quietly. "A beautiful little thing. Blonde hair, bright green eyes, high fae. I do not know why I was blessed with her, but she is everything to me." Azriel watched as he smiled. The heir's amber eyes were distant and sparkling. "I keep her safe and hidden in a cabin my father is too stupid to detect."

Eris rose and looked at Azriel's wing. "We will get to her tomorrow when we're ready. She should be able to fix your wing easily. Mother knows she's had to patch myself and my mother up more times than I can count."

Azriel nodded. "Your secret is definitely more valuable than mine. I didn't know you had a family."

Eris nodded. "Very few do. You can destroy my whole world, shadowsinger. Now, please. Come sit by the fire. I would never let anything burn you. I know that pain all too well."

Azriel studied Eris. Another silent confession was made by the heir. Azriel noted the sincerity in his eyes, the seriousness on his face. "Swear it?"

Eris nodded. "I swear it."

#acotar #acotar x reader #eris vanserra #azriel #azriel acotar #eris vanserra x reader #eris x azriel #azris

129 notes · View notes

endless-ineffabilities · 1 year

Text

unalloyed (18+)

(Daemon Targaryen x modern f!reader / nurse!reader)

A bonus chapter for this world was never meant for a fire like yours

series order: part one - part two - unalloyed - part three.one -

word count: 3.2k ▪︎ masterlist

themes/warnings: language + nsfw/smut! (18+), mechanic!Daemon

❗️best to read parts one and two first to fully understand this chapter

April 2023

“Are you sure we’re allowed in here?” Your voice pipes up from the corner of the room.

“Of course we are, love. Bobby said so himself,” Daemon stands in front of an open hood. He twists his wrist in a circular motion, driving the wrench in further, “and he can’t say no to me.” The repetitive movement draws your eye to his strained bicep, his short black sleeve tightening each time.

The garage-like room is brightly lit, its uniform walls painted a dark steel gray, big enough for conducting work on just one car. You sit atop a high stool, your legs freely swinging beneath you, in front of the rolling tool tray. Like its custodian, or Daemon’s assistant, you hand him what he needs from time to time. An impact wrench. Hood light. Spark plug pliers. Words that would have flown over your head, if not for Daemon guiding you through them.

Oh, the irony. Daemon teaching you about things from your own world. And you can’t deny it, ever since he came into your world, it all the more started to feel like home. You were used to simply drifting through your days in relative mundaneness. Work, apartment, friends. Nothing was ever new. Until him.

With Daemon, every day feels unpredictable. Exciting. Yet, at the same time, you’ve never felt more comfortable in your own skin. You’ve never placed as much trust as you had in this confusing sequence of your life, slowly unfolding before you.

It’s true, out in the open, for you to see.

Daemon feels like home.

The auto shop that Daemon works in has been temporarily closed for several days, as Bobby, the owner, has gone on holiday with his family. Plus a few friends, who also work for him in the shop. He gladly extended the invitation to Daemon, who refused, saying, “I’d much rather stay here, and be with my y/n.”

Daemon has been coming to the closed auto shop while everyone’s on holiday, because he wants to occupy himself while you’re on your shifts. Merely staying in the apartment alone makes him feel as if he is “wasting away” apparently, and a few other choice Daemon phrases, such as how his “skin burns with yearning for you.” So, he’d much rather surround himself with chassis and fuel and metal, his time quickly passing with the advanced mechanics that he has grown to admire. Today, you only had a brief morning shift, after which you headed to Daemon straightaway.

You sit patiently, as Daemon continues to tinker on one’s of Bobby’s personal projects. Your eyes eagerly follow Daemon's movements, so adept that he comes off as seemingly trained from years of work. Truth is, you found him scrambling in the street, half out of his mind, just months before.

This cherry-red 1968 Chevy Corvette is only one of the few vintage pieces that Bobby has been painstakingly restoring throughout the years. Nestled in one of the inner working stations in the auto shop, separate from the main room, it allows work to be done to it in relative privacy. This is one of Bobby’s precious babies after all.

“What are you thinking about, my love?” Daemon asks, his change of stance indicating that he has been watching you for a while.

My love. Damn him. You look down, warmth rushing to your cheeks, “Just,” you start to say, wondering if you should shy away, or do exactly what he’s good at. You shrug your shoulders innocently, “uhm, I’m just admiring the way your broad shoulders look in this light.”

You raise your eyes to meet his, lips pursing flirtatiously. Daemon’s gaze grows hungry, and he reaches for a towel, wiping the grease off his hands. He lowers the hood of the red Corvette, gently pushing it shut with a click.

Daemon’s smirk is mischievous as he struts over to where you sit, “Is last so?”

Nearly every shred of boldness leaves you, as you melt under his intense gaze. His eyes run over your body, practically undressing you. Your crossed legs tighten against themselves to alleviate the growing heat, but he reaches for your knees, prying them apart. He spreads your legs to either side of his waist, wrapping them around him. You nearly go off-balance from the high stool, making you grip Daemon’s shoulders.

“Daemon,” you opt for sense, although your body screams otherwise, “not here.”

“Why ever not?” He leans forward, and kisses your neck, sucking hard before pulling away.

“Be…cause, you work here. And there might be surveillance cameras in place.”

He merely switches to the other side of your neck, leaving soft bites in his wake, “Not in this room. It’s Bobby’s private working space.”

“All the more reason why we shouldn��t… here.” Your eyes flutter half-shut from his lips grazing your skin, and his teeth against your neck, “It wouldn’t be appropriate.” Damn it, just give in.

“He allowed me to work on this while he’s away, and to use this space however I please.” His hand migrates to the back of your neck, tilting your head back. You glance up at his deep violet eyes, heavily darkened by his dilated pupils. He purrs, “Gods, my love, I want you.”

"Mmm, to use this space yes, but not for..." you raise your eyebrows at him, knowing he gets the point.

"For fucking?" Daemon's smirk has returned in all its shameless glory. His wandering hands squeeze your thighs, slowly inching ever so close to your heat.

"Daemon, come on. There'll be plenty of time for that when we get home."

He leans in close, his breath heating up your face, "You don't want to fuck me now?" Tauntingly, he reaches up the white shirt you wear underneath your scrubs, and palms your breast under your bra, "Darling, I think you do."

"Fuck. I do, I just... " you bite your lip, resolve weakening.

"Tell me what you want." Daemon has always been sure of himself, taking all that he pleases, caring not whether he leaves a storm in his wake. It's something you admire about him, his ferocity, his brazenness. This prince is chaos in human-form. Your prince.

He has helped you get rid of any uncertainty you might have about yourself, about why he would settle for you. A whole new world ripe for the picking, and he only wants you. When you asked him if he only stayed with you because you've become too familiar, he irately responded, "My love, if you believe that to be the truth, then you underestimate how much you mean to me."

You wish to mirror his bravery. You wish to take what you want, like how he has taken you. And you have, in your own way, grown more into yourself. Becoming more confident, in large part due to Daemon's influence.

He repeats, edging you on, "What do you want?" His hand tilts your head up by the chin, "Tell me. If you truly wish to stop, then just say so."

"Daemon-"

"But," his pupils are dilated, so much that his violet eyes are nearly blackened, "if you want to fuck me here, now, as I want to fuck you... then demand it."

"Daemon, I - "

"Whatever you want, my love, you shall have."

"I just," you hesitate, biting your lip, while your eyes hurriedly scan the higher corners of the rooms. No cameras, like he said. He persists in peppering soft kisses across your jaw, and down your neck, practically begging you to answer.

Before you could change your mind, you whisper, your voice raspy and heated, "Fuck me."

"Hmm," Daemon hums from deep within his chest, acknowledging your request. Something carnal quickly switches on inside him, and he captures your lips in a desperate kiss. You startle a bit when his rough hands lift you up, carrying you. He takes a few steps back, and gingerly plops you down atop the hood of the Corvette.

The surface is cooler than you expected, and the metal feels smooth against your skin. Daemon is quick to lower himself down to you, feverishly reconnecting his lips to yours. Your hands reach out to touch him, but he grabs them and holds them firmly down on the hood. You squirm underneath him, and the movement causes friction on his dark-wash jeans.

"Qogralbar nyke," he breathes, "Jaelan naejot qogralbar ao sīr quba."

His High Valyrian is like music to your ears.

"What was that?" you coyly ask.

"I said," he leans back, so that he can gaze at you fully, "I want to fuck you so badly."

You swallow, your body practically screaming in anticipation, "Well, go on then."

Daemon smiles proudly, "I like this side of you, my love."

Smirking mischievously, you prop yourself up on one elbow, and start pulling his black shirt off with one hand. He assists you, shimmying it off much quicker.

You sit up fully, grasping on his torso, your palms tracing the firm planes of his chest.

He chuckles lowly, at the sight of his y/n clinging onto him like some serpent. His eyes trace the curve of your jaw, the swell of your lips, the fire in your gaze, and he can't help but feel so damn fortunate despite his lot.

Sure, he is in a strange, perplexing world and all. He's far from everything he's ever known. He might be angry at times, for everything that has been taken from him. He might be lost.

But he has you.

As if you are privy to his thoughts, you ask, mirth in your tone, "What are you staring at?"

Daemon holds your gaze, unblinking, his brows furrowed in concentration.

The corner of his lips turns up in a contented half-smile.

"My life."

Your hands pause in their wandering, and your lips part in surprise. It is as if the rug has been pulled from underneath you, and you are grasping at air. His words never fail to catch you off guard.

"God, I might never get used to that," you breathe, mostly to yourself.

"Hmm?" he leans in closer.

"Nothing," you smile, "I just love you, Daemon."

He kisses you lightly, his hands moving downward, slithering underneath your shirt, "And I, you." He pulls your shirt up over your head, ruffling your hair in the process.

It's easy to see the unmistakable want in his eyes, as he takes off the rest of your clothing. He doesn't stop, until you are laid fully bare, your smooth skin contrasting against the gleaming red frame of the Corvette. You slide your buttocks upward, so as not to slip off, hooking your fingers in Daemon's belt loops, pulling him with you.

"Come," you implore. He need not be told twice. He unbuttons his jeans, and hurriedly kicks them off his legs, his boxers sliding down with it.

He clambers on top of the hood, the front of the car tilting under the weight.

"Is this okay?" you ask, as the car gives off the slightest squeak.

"Yes," his stomach presses onto yours, and you feel his hard length against you, "if it isn't, then I don't fucking care."

"Daemon," you scold playfully, a giggle escaping your lips.

"Forget about the bloody carriage, it's fine," he groans, and reaching off to the side, he takes a condom, fished from the pocket of his jeans moments before.

"Do the honours," he hands it to you, his face contorting with obvious impatience as you carefully peel the wrapper off. He pushes his silver hair back away from his eyes, straightening himself to give you a better angle.

"Calm down, my love," you tease, pinching the tip of the rubber with one hand, and sliding it all the way down his cock with the other. "There. All done."

"Gods, I can't wait until I can fill you with my seed. When we can fuck freely, without these annoying contraptions." He positions himself in your entrance, which already glistens with precum.

"Mmm," you bite your lip, not entirely averse to the image he described, "perhaps one day, soon."

"I'll hold you to it," he swears, before swooping down again to kiss you. His tongue collides with yours, your teeth practically grinding against each other in your unabashed hunger. The passion goes straight to your head, and you suddenly bite his lower lip hard, causing him to growl. The almost animalistic sound is enough to make your pussy throb.

"Get inside me," you moan, "Now."

His thumb briefly reaches up to soothe his lower lip, and he collects the faintest hint of blood from the cut. His cock twitches at the sight. His sweet y/n, wantonly showing him how much she wants him. Needs him.

She's got some fucking Targaryen fire in her. Daemon recognizes a similar spark in you. His innate vanity further intensifies his desire for you, as if it weren't already breaking any and all possible boundaries. Daemon has never wanted anything, anyone, more than he wants you in this very moment.

Who in the seven hells could have foretold that his other half, his soulmate, would be this divine being from a whole other world? This inexplicable creature, sprawled atop this intricate steel carriage. Her legs spread wide, juices spilling from her cunt, ready to take all of him.

Daemon chuckles, the sound reverberating deep in his chest, "As my lady commands."

He enters you, inch by inch, a faint ache spreading through your cunt as it stretches to accommodate his girth.

"Look at me," he steadies your face, with one hand gripping your jaw. When your eyes meet, he pushes himself inside to the hilt, his balls grazing your skin.

A strained moan leaves your lips, your back arching slightly. Daemon's hungry eyes devour the way your body shudders in response, when he pulls out, only to slam back inside you.

"Fuck," you pant, desperate for more, "faster, Daemon. Harder."

Leaning forward, he bends your legs towards your torso, anchoring them on his shoulders. He drives himself even deeper, his thick cock disappearing completely in the depths of your cunt. Again, and again. Your back slides repeatedly on the hood, the sweat causing you to glide on its surface.

Your breasts rock back and forth with his every hard thrust, and Daemon momentarily slows down the pace, to lower his lips down onto them. His tongue swirls on your nipple, sucking greedily, pulling away to breathe a raspy, "Fuck."

When you reach up to touch his face, he catches your hands mid-air, and slams them back down on the hood. His grip on your wrists is firm and unyielding, and all you can do is lie there, as he mercilessly ruts into you.

"Daemon," you whisper, as your eyes roll to the back of your head in pleasure, his name sounding like a prayer.

"Uhh, fuck," he pounds into you, his balls rhythmically slapping against your backside, "my love. Ñuha jorrāelagon."

My love. That one you know well. You repeat his words, "Ñuha jorrāelagon. "

"Ahh," he grins, "Avy jorrāelan."

He rocks back on his heels, pulling you close. He holds your legs up wide, your feet suspended in the cool air. He fucks you even faster than before, his pelvis blurring in the ceaseless motion.

The look on Daemon's face is something feral, his lips pulling back against his teeth. Strands of his silver hair have fallen in front of his face, partially shielding his vision. He groans, making every effort to bury his cock even deeper inside your dripping cunt.

"Gods," he curses, as you tense around him, causing a shiver to run down his spine.

"Daemon," you moan, heat pooling low in your belly, the throbbing in your pussy almost growing too much to bear, "I'm getting close."

He keeps going, the most unhinged noises escaping his lips, the filthy sound of his balls slapping against your backside echoing throughout the room. His knees scrape against the polished hood, but he does not dare stop thrusting. Not until his y/n comes undone beneath him.

"Ah, fuck, fuck," you let out a strained cry, as your juices spill out of you, squirting onto Daemon's cock. Milky white droplets spill onto the red Corvette, sliding along its curve.

Daemon releases his orgasm, one which he has been struggling to hold back so that you might cum first. His cock twitches inside of you, and he collapses midway, his forearms framing your face.

With desire burning in your eyes, your lift your head up to kiss him. He welcomes it, his lips dancing against yours, with soft moans emitted from both of you.

His body grows still, and he slides his cock out of your cunt. He focuses on the kiss, on your hands blindly grasping his face, his hair, his neck.

You pull away to take a breath, looking flushed all over.

"Daemon," you pant, searching for the right words to say. Anything that might be adequate to encompass how you feel. How much he means to you.

"Daemon, I - " Nothing comes to mind. Even I love you does not seem enough. You could say it a million times, and it would never be enough.

He understands the turmoil in your expression. Pressing his forehead against yours, his silver locks falling to frame your face, he professes, "I know, my love. Whatever it is, I know."

The two of you stay there for a while longer, your naked bodies pressed against each other. Basking in the calm, in the glow of your lovemaking.

"I hope we didn't mess up Bobby's car," you say, as your head rests against Daemon's shoulder, his arm lazily wrapped around you.

He only laughs, evidently unbothered. Of course he doesn't care. His tone is wry when he responds, "The bloody carriage is fine. Even if it isn't, I'm sure Bobby will understand."

You smile at his use of the word carriage instead of car. His Westerosi vernacular can't help but slip through, and you've grown fond of it.

"Daemon," you lean on one side, slapping one hand lightly on his chest, "don't you fucking tell him anything." Of course he wouldn't, but you can't help but jest.

His expression is positively smug, with his head resting on one hand, every bit at ease with himself as he always is, "What? I'm sure he will love how I fucked you senseless until your pussy was dripping on his precious carriage."

"Well, fuck," you relent with a heavy sigh, lying back down. "Whatever, then."

Daemon laughs, propping himself up on one elbow to look at you. His fingers lovingly trace your lips, "He will never know. We can fuck on top of every other carriage in this bloody place if we wish to."

"Do you promise?"

His face inches closer to yours, until your lips are flush against his. A minute later, he answers, "I promise."

Daemon knows he promises something more, something far greater.

I promise to protect you. I promise to defend your honour. My heart is now intertwined with yours.

I promise to love you until my heart stops beating. And perhaps even beyond that, in wherever the next realm might be, I will fight to keep you.

Words will never suffice, but he tries, "My love, I - "

You notice the turmoil in his eyes, in the love burning in them. "Daemon," your hand reaches out to caress his face, "I know."

- end of unalloyed -

preview of part three

August 2023

A flash of bright red passes by, your peripheral vision noticing it as if on instinct. You don't look back as you turn a corner, not wanting to see if it is a similar vehicle.

If it is, then that's just fucking cruel. As if the universe is mocking you.

But no matter how much you deny it, every single thing reminds you of him.

Cars. Broken laptops. Your worn-out couch. Old movies. Pizza. Burnt food in your kitchen. Helicopters. Fantasy series and books.

Damn him. Damn him to his ridiculous seven hells.

It has been weeks since Daemon Targaryen disappeared from your life, as easily and as abruptly as he had entered it.

Without a trace, as if you plucked him from your imagination. Except he did leave a mark so indelible it cannot be denied. He left his mark alright, in the form of your broken heart.

You remember the torture reflected in his face, the rage, when his brother came to take him away. You knew how badly he wanted to go home, so you made his choice for him.

You told him to leave.

Stupid girl. You want to go back to that very moment, and scream at yourself to make him stay. You know you should have held him in your arms, keeping him rooted in place. In this world, with you.

But you opted for selflessness. You chose to have your heart broken, so that Daemon can go home. You know that he would have stayed if you only asked.

Fuck, I should have asked.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

😭😭😭

I felt like writing this first, so we can see more of their relationship. And so it's even more painful when they will be apart. Enjoy the heartache! Hahahaha.

Part three will be the final chapter, and we'll see these two idiots almost unable to function without each other. Particularly Daemon! + A happy ending?? We'll see.

Taglist (series/Daemon/HotD): @omgsuperstarg @sebastian025 @iilsenewman @padfootsvixen @teapartydreams @lucytheripper @kindalslightlyacidic @naelys-the-aster @zoleea-exultant @vainillasmil157 @llovinjoonie @outundertheocean @grimistangel @ladespedidas @nanabarnes @pineappleandro @luckythirtxn97 @knockemdeadgirl @stella-cadante @milber32 @canvashearts @dangerousbluebirdpoetry @kryzeira @selahstars @captainweirdo42 @nitimurinvetitumsposts @iilsenewman @aemondmyl0ve @eternallyvenus @immyowndefender @moonmaiden1996 @caspianobsessed @wrendermeuseless @schniiipsel @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @random-human02 @icarusignite @flourishandblotts-inc @siriusdumblittlepuppy @booknerd2004 @just-a-harmless-patato @moni-cah @boofy1998 @huntycola @angel6776 @sanguinalia @thelastcitysposts @daeneeryss @wondergal2001 @huntycola @blackravena @vyctorya @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @itscheybaby @my-dark-prince

#house of the dragon #daemon targaryen x y/n #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen imagine #daemon targaryen #modern!daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen smut #matt smith

396 notes · View notes

mrbensonmum · 1 month

Text

TV Show - Dr. House | House M.D. XIII

THAT'S A WRAP!

We did it! Last night, the final episode of Dr. House flickered across the screen, and I must say, this rewatch was extremely enjoyable for me, partly because of writing about it. But from start to finish, there wasn't a single part that felt like a struggle, because the series is consistently good.

Cuddy is gone, Foreman is the new head of the hospital, and House is in jail. If that's not a spectacular start to a season, then I don't know what is.

But before that happens—since we still had a few episodes left from the seventh season—we see House completely out of control. First, injecting himself with experimental substances and then surgically removing the resulting tumors from his leg. After that, he tries, in his own way, to make things right with Cuddy, but it's increasingly failing. Even though I can understand some of his accusations toward her to a certain extent, what happens toward the end of the season is anything but justified.

In the eighth season, we see a very bizarre side of House, but one action hints at why he keeps resorting to such strange means. When he makes the immigration office document disappear, forcing Dominika to stay with him, he reveals something that has been subtly apparent all along—that he's incredibly lonely. Not everything can be attributed to this theme, but it does explain a lot! Especially what will happen with Wilson becomes increasingly clear.

Otherwise, Season 8 is another wild rollercoaster ride, not just in terms of the cases but also in terms of character development. During his time in prison, House meets the young doctor, Dr. Jessica Adams, whom he immediately adds to the team when he returns to Princeton-Plainsboro. There's also the suspended doctor, Dr. Chi Park, and after some initial difficulties, Taub and Chase make it back onto the team. From then on, everyone on the team faces some really tough challenges, and the worst one, towards the end of the season, comes to House himself. His best friend, what irony, is diagnosed with cancer. House has to confront many inner demons from then on and realizes that soon there will be no one left who truly understands his character and is also somewhat friendly towards him.

House tries everything to prevent Wilson's death because he doesn't want to lose this important person and also knows that his future would be uncertain without this support. But he's fighting windmills because Wilson has seen and experienced too much already to want to undergo treatment. He wants to enjoy the remaining time he has left.

I particularly liked Wilson's development because at the beginning, he's quite a thin, rather boring oncologist, and in the end, he's the tough, three-day-beard biker with a leather jacket. Especially when he's on the bike and puts on the glasses, he looks incredibly good, even though tragically plagued by cancer, just good!

What I find unfortunate, but can understand from an actress's perspective, is that we didn't see Lisa Cuddy (Lisa Edelstein) again. In the end, when House gets another beating in the burning house, he hallucinates quite a few people, and even Kutner and Stacy are there. On the other hand, Cuddy might have simply taken up too much space, especially after what happened in the last episode of the seventh season. Maybe it's for the best that she didn't show up again because otherwise, it might have felt like the focus was only on their relationship. Instead, it felt more like it was about each person and House, as well as the processing of different periods in his life or his drug addiction.

Whether there's such a thing as a perfect ending for a series, I don't know, but the ending of House comes pretty close. Of course, you're initially a bit disappointed because even though eight seasons are long and an ending can be a good thing, you don't want to let go just like that, and the inner series junkie demands more. But objectively speaking, this ending is really good because we've seen so many facets of House that it might feel forced now if there were more. We see how Adams and Park are firmly established in a team, Chase has finally found his place (I think his development is very good and how much more stable he is compared to the early seasons), and Taub embraces his role as a father. Cameron is also happy, which makes us all happy. And we also get another wonderful look at a still relatively healthy Thirteen, wonderful. Plus, there's that little nod with Foreman finding House's ID under a side table. Judging by his expression, you might think he knows House is still alive but is content that he has found his peace.

As often, I only picked out the really prominent parts from the season! The eighth season is full of interesting cases, exciting interactions with patients and the team, and a lot of new things, compared to the old seasons.

The thing between Park and Chase.

Chase being attacked and seriously injured by a patient (which is used to give him the necessary distance and make his team takeover make more sense)

Taub, who has a pretty established presence but still hasn't quite found his place in life

Foreman, who doesn't know whether he should be like House, like Cuddy, or just like Foreman as the head

What happens next? I honestly don't know yet. Yesterday, I looked around a bit and then decided on Bullet Train (2022). I still have to continue with Halo, but maybe I'll wait until the season is finished and then binge-watch everything in one evening, we'll see. But one thing I know is that I feel like watching something in the crime genre again!

26 notes · View notes

hexpea · 13 days

Text

Ch. 15 - Missing ⚠️TW: Emetophobia⚠️

You were woken up the next day with a splitting headache, as expected. Remembering what you had done the night before, you quickly grabbed your phone from your nightstand only to be greeted with no notifications from 'you know who.' You double checked the call log to confirm that you did, in fact, call Gojo. You immediately cringed at yourself, falling back down on your pillow and facepalming. The sudden movement had caused Seiko to wake up.

"Good morning, beautiful," they turned over in bed to smile at you. You gave a weak smile in return. "How are you feeling?"

"Wonderful," you gave a single laugh. "I'm going to need something for my head for sure."

"I thought so," Seiko playfully rolled their eyes. "What are you and your m-"

Before Seiko could finish their sentence, the two of you could hear your mother's voice from the living area. She sounded as though she were on the phone and by her tone it sounded incredibly serious, serious enough for you to check it out.

"What's going on, Mom?" You asked, walking into the room as you found her with a worried look on her face and phone to her ear.

You stood patiently waiting for her answer as you could hear your dad's voice from the other end. He was speaking quickly with his own tone of panic. You slowly furrowed your brow the longer it took your mother to answer your question.

"Sukuna," your mother's urgent glance flickered toward you as she hung up the phone. "One of the fingers is missing." You swallowed hard, suddenly frozen stiff. Sukuna was incredibly powerful, if not the most powerful, curse user in history -- and a hell of a guy to separate and imbue into a cursed object. "You're going to need to help," your mother looked at you sternly, your technique inherited from your father's side of the family. You stood frozen for a moment and your lack of response had irritated her. "Do you understand what I'm saying, Y/N?"

You took a seat in the chair across from her, still stunned at the news. Could this mean that Seiko...? "Y-yeah," you finally answered your mother. "I need to go back to Tokyo."

"You can't go back there," Seiko suddenly appeared in the room with curiosity. Their tone was stern and commanding.

"Seiko," your mother muttered, "she needs to-"

"NO!" They suddenly shouted, letting their anger get the best of them. "She can't go back there..." Their voice trailed off as the steam wore down.

"Seiko, I have to," you said sadly, looking up at them from your chair. "I'm really sorry, but with my dad being as old as he is... I'm...the last of my name," you chuckled at the irony. "The last of the imbuers."

Seiko breathed heavily, trying to contain their anger as best as they could. "Fine," they finally muttered, avoiding your eye contact. "But you need to stay away from him," they suddenly commanded.

You chuckled lightly. "Don't worry, Gojo won't cause any trouble."

"Stay away from him," they repeated with a hint of hostility. Your mother remained silent but was taken aback by the sudden attitude Seiko was having with you. They clearly weren't the same person they met at dinner those weeks ago.

"I can't exactly avoid him," you rolled your eyes with a light smile. "It's Sukuna we're talking about. You remember what I told you about him. He's not to be underestimated," you shrugged, "and if someone ingests or even possesses a finger, he'll be a threat to everyone, not just me. Gojo is the most powerful sorcerer, I'd need him to be there during the ritual when we find it."

Seiko's shoulders tensed as they reluctantly nodded in agreement. "Just...be cautious. I don't trust him..."

Their voice trailed off and you knew that they wanted to say your name, too. And rightfully so. That night spent with Gojo was a huge mistake, one you wished you could take back. The thoughts that lingered behind, though, were so tempting that they made you sweat. You had to get over him and that night, Seiko was your future and your love for them shone brightly. You considered them your best friend and this weird behavior they were exhibiting was just a hiccup you needed to figure out. One step at a time, you tried to reassure yourself.

The next day, you had prepared for your travels and your mother had scheduled your flight to Tokyo for that evening -- all paid for by the school, of course. As you contemplated your upcoming trip back, you couldn't help but feel a sense of foreboding. The missing Sukuna finger was a grave concern. You knew that it held immense power and its loss could potentially lead to chaos that hadn't been seen in nearly a thousand years.

Seiko's sudden change in demeanor also troubled you deeply. Their outbursts and uncharacteristic behavior hinted at a darker force at play. Deep down, you wondered if he was the cause for the missing finger. To you, there really was no other explanation. However, Seiko's warning about Gojo lingered in your mind. The night you spent with him had left an impact, and you couldn't deny the temptation that still simmered beneath the surface. But now, the situation was different. Your responsibility was not only to your family and friends but also to Seiko, the one you had promised to share your life with. You needed to ensure that your connection with Gojo remained strictly professional for the sake of your future.

With a determined resolve, you turned to Seiko. The three of you stood near the front door, your packed bag at your feet. You had a sense of sincerity in your eyes as you looked toward your partner.

"I promise, Seiko, I'll be cautious," you reminded them for the thousandth time that afternoon. "My priority is to recover that finger and ensure our safety. I won't let any non-existent personal feelings get in the way," you emphasized.

Seiko's eyes softened as they looked at you, and for a brief moment it felt like the person you had fallen in love with was still there. "I trust you, Y/N. Just come back to me safely."

You reached out and took Seiko's hand, offering a reassuring squeeze. "I will, I promise. We'll get through this together."

"Goodbye, dear," your mother offered a warm hug as you began your departure. She had promised to stay behind and keep an eye on Seiko; it reassured you of your trip back to Tokyo.

"I'll get home as soon as I can," you smiled, releasing her and opening the door to your apartment.

"Of course," she smiled, "and not long after we'll all have to go back for somebody's wedding!" She teased as she closed the door behind you and you rolled your eyes to yourself.

As you stepped into the bustling arrivals area of the Tokyo airport, you couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions; you swore you were almost nauseous. You were back in the city, yet again, but the reason for your return was far from exciting, yet again. The missing Sukuna finger hung heavily in your mind, and the journey to find it was daunting. The turmoil in your stomach seemed to be a mix of dread, and the unfamiliar sensation had been plaguing you for days.

As you navigated the sea of people, searching for Ijichi, you spotted a familiar figure holding a large sign with your name sloppily written on it.

Gojo's grin was as obnoxious as ever, and it didn't take long for you to notice him in his ostentatious fashion. His stark white hair, tall frame, and that ridiculous grin made it impossible to miss him. He was dressed in casual attire, but you couldn't help but notice how effortlessly attractive he looked. He held the sign above his already six-foot head while others stared and whispered while passing. He leaned from foot to foot, swaying the sign to draw attention even more. The whispers didn't deter him, he seemed positively adamant on catching your attention in the most flamboyant way he could.

He continued waving the sign in the air as you approached, his blue eyes lighting up with mischief from behind his sunglasses. His happiness wasn't swayed by the blatant scowl on your face. "Y/N!" He greeted, laid the sign against his leg, and held out his arms as if you were about to embrace him. "My favorite imbu-"

You stopped in front of him, holding your scowl with your arms tightly at your side. You couldn't contain your annoyance any longer, cutting him off mid-sentence. "Satoru, do you really have to be this extra? You're embarrassing me." You ended in a whisper and leaned toward him so he could hear you.

He chuckled, completely unapologetic. "Embarrassing you is my specialty, Y/N."

You rolled your eyes and took the sign from against his leg, giving him an exasperated look. "I thought Ijichi would be here to pick me up."

"C'mon, Y/N, it's you," Satoru teased, grabbing your suitcase and rolling it along side himself as you left. "Why would they send Ijichi?! Plus, I thought a warm welcome was in order...and I may or may not have missed you."

You glanced at him, surprised by his words. "You missed me?"

He shrugged casually but didn't let his smile fade. "Maybe just a little. Now, let's get going. We've got a Sukuna finger to find."

The drive from the airport back to Tokyo had been a relatively silent one. You sat in the passenger seat of Gojo's sleek, black car, gazing out of the window at the familiar cityscape. The tension in the air was palpable, largely stemming from the unresolved feelings you had towards the man behind the wheel. But you promised Seiko, and yourself.

Your thoughts were abruptly interrupted by Gojo's voice, pulling you back to the present. "I hope you don't mind, but I made your arrangements."

"You turned to him, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "Arrangements? I thought I'd be staying at the school. Why would you need to make any?"

Gojo glanced at you, his smirk never leaving his face. "Well, I thought it'd be more convenient if you stayed at my place for the time being. I may have mentioned it to the higher ups. You don't mind, do you?"

Your shock and irritation were evident. He'd spoken to the higher-ups about your staying arrangements without even asking for your consent. He was clearly up to no good, playing his usual games. "You what? Gojo, you can't just decide things like that for me!"

His grin widened, almost as if he enjoyed getting under your skin. "Relax, Y/N. It's not a big deal. My place is close and I promise it's way more comfortable than the dorms at the school."

You crossed your arms, clearly not pleased with this turn of events. But he wasn't wrong. "That's not the point, you should've asked me first."

As you drove deeper into the city, your discomfort increased. You thought that your stay would be at the school, where you could maintain some semblance of independence from your ex-husband. Now, you were on your way to his flat, feeling like that ability was slipping away. The steady sound of the car and the city passing by began to make your stomach churn. The feeling from earlier hadn't subsided. It was somewhat familiar, and not in a good way. You tried to ignore it at first, but as the queasiness grew, you knew you were in trouble.

Gojo noticed your discomfort as you fidgeted in your seat and raised an eyebrow. "You okay, Y/N? You don't look so good." From the corner of his eye he could see your face beginning to pale and dampen ever so slightly.

You nodded, trying to hide your nausea as saliva began to pool in your mouth. "I'm fine, just tired from the trip."

But your body had other plans. As Gojo turned onto a side street, you couldn't hold back any longer. You brought a hand to your mouth, and Gojo's eyes widened as you began clawing at the door handle.

"Whoa, hold on!" He quickly pulled over into a vacant spot near the curb, unbuckled his seat belt, and reached over you to open the passenger door.

Immediately, you began to vomit onto the pavement. Like some sort of professional, he quickly moved your hair out of the way and held it back while you coughed and spit away the remnants of your sickness.

Once you'd finished, he quickly handed you a tissue from the box he kept in the backseat. "I told you that you didn't look so good. Maybe it's more than just being tired. Are you sure you're okay?"

You took a few sips of water from the bottle you had bought at the airport and wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. The nausea you'd been experiencing had become a regular part of your morning routine as of late, but you didn't want to say anything to Satoru. To your knowledge, a stomach bug had been floating around but this had lasted longer than any sort of bug.

"I'm sure I'm okay," you reassured him seriously. "Please, let's just get to your flat. We've got more important things to worry about."

#gojo satoru x you #satoru gojo x you #gojou satoru x you #satoru gojou x you #gojo satoru x y/n #satoru gojo x y/n #gojou satoru x y/n #satoru gojou x y/n #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojou satoru x reader #satoru gojou x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #gojou satoru #satoru gojou

23 notes · View notes

sgiandubh · 6 months

Note

I don't even understand what there is to gloat over? (antis) Why does him saying he had Covid serve the narrative? (shippers) Lots of people got Covid (including Cait), it shouldn't be a surprise. Honest to god, both sides of this fandom do the absolute most! He could have had Covid and quarantined, he could have spent it with Cait, he could have blah blah blah. It was 2 years ago. SO WHAT? He was going to be in New Zealand over Christmas away from family and friends regardless. It's just a story, there is no need to take everything so personally. That last sentence isn't directed at anyone in particular, but sometimes this fandom gets deep in their feelings and it's just not necessary.

Dear Both Sides Anon,

I have no idea if you are new or not in here and to be honest, I don't think it's relevant. The reason I am answering your ask, while I currently send a good 75% of them to the bin, is because it sums up very well the puzzled look on the face of a complete stranger who stumbled by chance on our blogs.

This is an adversarial, even gladiatorial fandom. Kindness (🙄) abounds, as you can see. No one in here is probably never very far away from it (🤬😡🤢🤮👺💀☠👻👽👾💩). Irony aside, I don't think I have ever seen, in my entire life and in any other social context., such a consuming passion for the tiniest detail and such a nuclear spending of energy, on a daily basis. And mind you, everything is usually taken on a very personal level and how could it be otherwise, given the rich bullying and harassment history of this damn place?

Upon entering, it's not exactly lasciate ogni speranza, but rather - place your bets intelligently. Speak to the right people, which means 'speak to the people you personally feel the most comfortable sharing things with'. Never assume you are away from a faux-pas. Think twice before posting and always try to imagine you're talking to people, not sheep or aliens or robots or pawns. And by Jove, never imagine everybody will like you: this is not a popularity contest, this is sometimes Beirut.

Last, but not least (and I think you've noticed it, by now), this fandom just loves drama. Justified or unjustified - it doesn't really matter. That makes the good fortunes of 💩👻, who zip between the combat lines faster than the Venetian commute vaporetti. Carelessly light a match and the whole gunpowder warehouse goes 💥 in a matter of seconds. So yes, Anon - I understand what you mean. But I also know very well the equanimity you vouch for is never to be found here.

So, we should be grateful for small graces: someone who asks you if you are ok or about your #silly day at the office. Or someone who drops two lines just to say your posts made her smile, while riding an overcrowded bus on the other side of the world. That is the real beauty of this strange place, Anon. The rest is Byzantine politics and the Mighty Circus that keeps us all in here, riveted.

#Anon

46 notes · View notes

igotanidea · 1 year

Text

Here we go again : Matt Murdock x reader x Dick Grayson

A/N: I think I got myself into an unhealthy addiction of writing stories based on the songs stuck in my head, but well, it fits, so why not.

A/N 2 : This is just something to make you grasp the idea behind the story. The next chapters are going to go back in time to properly deal with the timeline and events.

inspired by : That's hilarious by Charlie Puth.

PROLOGUE

That's hilarious

Hahahaha.....

haha

Yeah, if you haven't already guessed I'm laughing because at this point nothing seems real anymore and if I wasn't laughing at the irony I would probably start crying, screaming and then jump our of the window.

Let me give you a quick introduction into my life, so you could understand me better.

Hi,

my name is Y/N and I'm a citizen developer. Which means I pretty much do everything that has to do with IT, Artificial Inteligence, programming, computers and programming. I loved my job to the point where I was spending hours and hours in front of the screen to be the very best. And truly, finally I got to the top. At the age of 21 I was a most-known in my profession.

And that got me some attention.

Did I mention I was born and living in Gotham?

So, perhaps you guessed who was the guy that gave me my first job?

No?

Well, it was Bruce Wayne. Yes, Wayne as in Wayne Enterprises.

Oh, god, I was on cloud nine being able to put my hands on all that technology, give my ideas and finally having someone to listen and apreciate them. I upgraded it, gave a bit of personal touch to the systems and god, it was amazing., I felt like I was where I belonged.

Bruce, however reserved and distant he was soon started to treat me like his own daughter. I mean, what else can you expect from a relationship between a CEO who spend most of his time with the youngest IT who also happened to be a half-orphan?

So, soon, he let me into the Wayne Manor, where I met his adopted son, Dick. Quite different than his parential figure, but pretty much the same with distant and pushing away. I didn't force him. It took us half a year to become some sort of friends and another half a year to fall truly, madly, deeply in love. No irony here. We spend a lot of time together. Or at least as much as our busy schedules allowed us to. Dick was a detective with crazy work hours, both night and day so when I get the chance I worked from the Manor, even when Bruce was not content with it.

Now that I think about it, i wonder how love-blinded I was.

That's when the story starts to go downhill.

When I was 23, Wayne Enterprises' tech department, with me leading it, introduced some new prototype. The whole project was on the highest security level, full NDA and confidentiality, so from some point the only people involved in the details were me and Bruce. I was literally sunsine and rainbows I get to be involved, hell! be the head of the assignment.

Until I got myself in trouble walking home from work at late night.

Remember, it was Gotham City and I was overwhelmed with our success.

So, due to my absent-mindedness some assaulters came right at me, grabbing both of my arms and dragging me into the dark alley. Of course I was figthing back, screaming and squirming, but what can one girl do in confrontation with 3 pretty beefy men?

Yes, three points for the right answer. NOTHING.

I was pretty much saying goodbye to my life (or at least my sexual health and good memories in that aspect - thank you, Dick Grayson for giving me them) when Gotham's heroes - Batman and Robin decided to show up, blowing everything and beating the assaulters to shit. Maybe they exaggareted a bit, after all those men were not criminals, and there was no need to knock them unconscious and that made me wonder. Still a bit overwhelmed I looked around and then I spotted Batman's new gear. Based on the technology I created.

So there were two, maybe three options:

Batman stole the technology from Wayne, and therefore he was not a hero everyone believed him to

Batman got the techonology from Wayne and therefore Bruce knew Batman's identity (Bruce would never let anyone, even the hero got it without checking all the details)

Bruce was Batman.......

"Bruce......?"

"Y/N."

"What is going on here?" I took a step back and bumped into wall

"Let me explain it to you....."

"Y/N!" another voice came from my right and before I realised what was happening, another caped vigilante was holding me close to his chest, his warm embrace being oddly famliiar. "Are you alright?" Robin's hands started caressing my back, his breaht ticking my face.

Holy fuck!

If Bruce was Batman than .....

"Dick?" my eyes went wide. Stupid, stupid girl! You should have known!

"Are you all right?" he asked again, a mix of desperation and remorse in his voice.

"Yes. I mean, no. I mean, I don't know. What is this? some sort of Surprise Sur Price?"

"Let us explain...." Dick took a quick glance at Batman Bruce who nodded

"Not here. It's not safe."

NOT SAFE!?

"Y/N." Dick took my hand squizing it gently, but lovingly "come on, baby, let's get you out of here."

"Um, well, okey...."

They got me to the Manor and then, since the secret was out and in their own words, they trusted me, I got a quick tour around the batcave. Yeah, they trusted me so much they kept their second life in secret for two fucking years! How is that trust?! I felt betrayed, played with, used, you name it. All that anger made me cry and clench my fist at the same time, my face going red and my heart at the edge of literally breaking.

"Talk to her." apparently that was too much for Bruce, since he decided to let my boyfriend deal with the damage. "You're off the patrol tonigh. Just make sure she'll be fine."

Oh, quite a conversation it was. However, at first not many words were used..... Anger, or rather fury, found another way out......But, when we both calmed down enough to use our mouths to actually echange full sentences it was all painfully clear.

The problem about heroes comes down to the fact that when being torn between their mission and the person they love ,they always choose the duty. And Dick did exactly that when he decided to sweet talk all my worries and cover up the truth for two whole years. That was sad. But, trying to be rational, I didn't scream or blame him. To some point I understood his motives, I mean, as a gotham citizen. As his girlfiriend I could not. I stayed in the manor until he felt asleep in his serene belief we were fine now.

We weren't.

I left Gotham that nigh, leaving him a letter explaing why I had to do this and kindly asking him not to look for me. The thought of the heartbreak he had to go through must have been soul-piercing. At least that's how it was for me when I found myself in Hell's kitchen trying to put my life together and move on.

I found a new job, but it was not the same without him.

And then Matt Murdock came into my life. He was such a nice guy, With an opinion amongst girls, as his best friend Foggy told me. Well, I was not going to fall for him. I had my walls high. Matt and Foggy were both lawyers and a bit of tech was kind of useful in this profession so soon we were working together. As friends. But clearly it was not enough for Matt. We were working late in his aparment, foggy has already left and I was picking my stuff to go home as well, already halfway to the door when Murdock yanked me back by my hand and kissed me with the most knee-buckling, hot, passionate kiss. You know, the one when you just reciprocate in an instant, no need to process what the hell is going on, while the other person's hand sneak around you pulling you closer. At first, i just let him caress my body, but quickly fall on the concrete.

"Stay with me...." he whispered against my lips

"Matt...." I pushed him away and he backed out immidiately

"I'm sorry Y/N. I didn't mean to push you, but I just... I have so many feeligns for you."

"No, I'm sorry. I'm just..... not ready. Yet."

"Yet?" damn lawyers

"Yet" I smiled lightly to defuse the tension

"Well then, I'm not giving up on you".

***

You know the saying "the history repeats itself?" Well it really does. I learned that in a painfull way, when a month later it turned out Matt Murdock was the devil of hell's kitchen. DAREDEVIL for fuck's sake. What was wrong with me and why the hell was I attracting vigilantes from the whole damn country?!

At least I didn't have to get myself in trouble to get to know his secret identity.

Oh no.

This was much worse when he stumbled into my apartment at 3 a.m. waking me up, in not so pleasant way, al bloody and on the verge of life. Yeah, we.... well, we had an argument. But somehow, he convinced me to stay. Something Dick couldn't do in the past. He never asked me to stay.

So I give in to the hope that this time it would be diffent. And I stayed, ready to fight for whatever was blooming between us.

And I was happy-ish to work through it with him.

And I was slowly moving on.

Until one evening, half a year after I left Gotham the past came knocking at my door.

Literally.

I was at my apartment, working and cuddling with Matt when the noice from outside made me get up and open.

"Y/N...... I found you...."

Dick fucking Grayson was at my door.

"Y/N...." he whispered tenderly "I need you back. I want you back with me...."

"Y/N? who is that?" in a blink of an eye Matt was by my side and at this point I was just turning my gaze from one guy to another in shock.

"Who the fuck are you?" Dick hissed

"Well I could ask you the same question" Matt retorted coldly

"I'm her boyfriend" ok, now it was Robin talking

"Funny thing, because that is who I am." hello, Daredevil, nice to see you woke up as well. I guess it was automatic - when Dick went into vigilante mode, Matt responded with exact the same.

"Guys....." I tried to stop them, but they did not let me.

"So you must be the ex?" Matt smirked

"You know about me? Does she moan my name when you two....."

"Ok! Ok! That is enough!" ultimately I got their attention, pretty sure I was red as an apple due to Dick's words.

Now.

I was the only thing standing between two vigilantes in their full-on fighting mode, ready to kill each other .

Oh, boy......

@somest1

@pinksirensong

@everything2134

118 notes · View notes

dr-lizortecho · 12 days

Text

come back and haunt me

(a -very crucial- missing 4x12 scene)

The sand gives way, swallowing them whole. It’s almost some metaphor for the desert itself, how the dry heat of it held so many secrets, ate away the meat off bones and saw more than its fair share of disappearances.

Then there was the irony of it.

Max and Isobel had come into this world holding hands walking through an unforgiving desert and now they left the same way.

There’s a burning sensation against his skin, seeming to seep through his thick jacket and scrape away at his very soul. Making Max’s whole body convulse with a sharp pain- not physical, more akin to a wrongness. His lungs burn, sweat starting to bead at his forehead.

Breathe. Isobel’s mind murmurs soft and sweet.

Max fights for it, grasping for oxygen as he pries his eyes open, only to be met with a dark cavern. It’s too close to their origins on Earth to settle easily in his mind.

“Max,” Isobel squeezes his hand. She’s worried, anxiety thick in the space between them, mixing all too readily with his own.

Max sucks in a sharp breath, the air burning his lungs and then soothing them. It’s strange. Makes him feel fuzzy and his fingers tingle. Almost a mirror of the gas from a child’s dentist.

“Iz-“ Max chokes out, voice rough.

She squeezes his hand in turn, moving to stand up and take him with her. Another mirror.

He remembers all too vividly that night they’d come out of the pods. Not so much the days after. But he’d been cold, shivering as he’d laid out on the sand and rocks, clutching at his knees. Michael hadn’t moved far from his own pod. But Isobel, she’d gotten to her feet first and offered him her hand. Led them out of the caves and towards the distant lights.

“Let’s find Michael.” She says it resolutely. If it wasn’t for their bond Max might actually believe she was unaffected by the strange place around them. Seemingly alien, seemingly malevolent. At least Max felt an unsettling feeling in his bones, as if the atmosphere was trying to consume him whole.

“All of us,” Max says simply, squeezing her hand gently before letting go. “We just got to figure out which direction he went.”

Isobel snorts, “shouldn’t be difficult- just follow the existential cowboy angst.”

Max laughs, knowing she would say even worse if it was him lost inside some hidden layer of reality that wanted to eat them alive.

The cavern is dim, but as Isobel takes a step towards the passageway lights seem to flicker- until a hazy blue toned image of her mother stands in her way. Adrenaline strikes through Max, something like pain and relief crashing through the bond from Isobel’s end.

“Mom,” she manages, voice thick.

“My little star,” Louise smiles wistfully. Something sad in her eyes.

Max glances away, feeling something hollow in his stomach as he steps alongside Isobel- supportive.

Louise starts to say something but it’s drowned out by the crash of emotions that goes through Max as Nora’s visage flickers to life in front of him. She’s looking at him with pain and regret, tears pooling in her eyes.

She bites at her lip, something soft and broken expanding out from her. Max recognizes it as their native language, emotion and feeling and pure thought coalescing around him. It’s tortured and longing.

Not perfect. Not whole. But not hollow or nonexistent either.

Max gulps, throat thick, tears threatening to fall down his face as something tightens in his chest. Pain and relief seemed to take over his whole body. An understanding passes through their bond, of Max’s hesitancy, of his acknowledgment of her pain. Of her regret, from days old to the fact she never had the chance to lift him up and give it herself.

Nora lifts her hand, and Max lifts his to greet it. Their fingers brush, cold electricity seeming to dance across his palms as she smiles soft and sad.

Max smiles in return, before she vanishes, leaving him alone with his grief.

Ready? Isobel’s mind asks. Careful not to jar him with real words.

Max takes a steadying breath, the air a little less heavy even as it tries to slowly strangle him. He tries to ignore the tears pricking at his eyes as he nods. “Yeah. Let’s go get our idiot brother.”

Isobel smiles, “this way.” And Max follows her out into the blue light.

#roswell new mexico #rnm #max evans #nora truman #isobel evans #michael guerin #pod squad #trigger warning: rnm s4 #fun new tags!!!!#rnm fic #tw child abuse

12 notes · View notes

thesherrinfordfacility · 7 months

Note

Hello! Hope you're having a nice day 😄 I'm extremely new to the fandom, as in post season two's release, and I keep seeing offhand remarks about Crowley's fear when Furfur shows up in the dressing room in the Blitz minisode and how he didn't know he was saved until he and Aziraphale were back in the bookshop. I was hoping as the designated 1941 person you might know whether there are any posts looking exclusively or just in more detail at those things? It's just, it may be fairly self-explanatory, but there's been enough reference that I feel like there should be a starting point somewhere for those observations despite that?

hello anon sweetheart!!!✨ first of all, welcome!!! and second, im having a lovely day so far, thank you - hope you are too!!!✨ im not aware of any posts that look at this exclusively, and whilst im certainly not an expert on 1941, the minisode accounts for about 50% of my personality at this point so i'll do my best to give you one instead!!!

let's start from when furfur enters into the dressing room. aziraphale and crowley are both completely relaxed, albeit keyed up on the success of the trick, and their guards are down. you can feel the tension begin to settle in, though, as soon as furfur starts speaking after entering, just as aziraphale removes the feather boa, and his armour goes back on.

now, for me, the crux of the issue in 1941 is that crowley underestimates both furfur and hell. we know that in the various other flashbacks that crowley, in some ways correctly, dismisses hell as only being bothered about anything he does, or doesn't do, when the paperwork isn't handed in. he arguably gets a very rude awakening in 1827 when, it seems, that hell might have been keeping a closer eye on him than expected; after the events of the resurrectionists minisode, he's dragged into hell - and then in 1862 is shaken and paranoid, asking for holy water.

1862 is the first time, i think, we've actually seen him petrified - his countenance, his eye movements, his body language, even his speech pattern all suggests this. it is also, it seems, to be after 1862 that crowley becomes more and more vehement about aziraphale expressing any kind of gratitude or compliment towards him - this tracks, if he thinks hell are listening in. suffice to say, despite his cool bravado, he's been shown the measure of what hell can and will do, and understandably doesn't want a repeat.

i think it's also fair to say that aziraphale somewhat predicted this; it's one of those unfortunate ironies where - for all of the criticism shown towards aziraphale for seeing things in black and white, both in show and by the audience - this is one of the times where aziraphale was absolutely correct in his assessment of hell. it's not a hell vs heaven, good vs. evil thing, it's a "demons and angels can be as cruel as each other" thing. it only ever seems to be crowley that thinks lowly of his own 'kind' (for lack of a better term), and this has repeatedly bitten him on the arse.

we've seen this kind of behaviour though even since the pre-fall scene; crowley, both as demon and as an angel, can be very blinkered. sometimes, he'll only pay attention to what suits him, to what holds his interest or fascination, and what threatens it. we've seen it with the stars, with humanity/earth, and with aziraphale. its not, per se, that everything else has no importance, but more that he doesn't consider it worthy of his attention.

so let's go back to the 1941 scene (i promise this is going somewhere), because it seems that in the height of the trick, and the development that his and aziraphale's relationship has made, crowley has forgotten all of that.

furfur enters, and drops the somewhat bombshell that crowley and he fought together during the war. crowley, however, paid attention to the war, but evidently not to furfur. this is understandable in that context, but it's crowley again seeing to consider all of hell to be idiots, and below him; had he perhaps paid more attention, would he have realised that there are multiple demons that actually have their own personal motivations? shax for power/status, and furfur to be recognised? possibly; he'd know who the really dangerous demons are.

so we establish immediately that crowley is somewhat at a disadvantage, but still maintains the behaviour that furfur is not a threat to him.

this all mirrors the interaction between aziraphale and shax in the bentley at the beginning of the episode, in 2023; aziraphale, however, acts more appropriately, given that he has the benefit of hindsight to not underestimate what information, motivation, and power shax/hell might have. aziraphale doesn't know that she does or doesn't have proof of anything (neither of their relationship or of gabriel being in the shop), but there remains the possibility that she could - and that's dangerous, something rightly to be afraid of.

but when furfur accuses them of their fraternisation, crowley comes up with an excuse that is delivered very coolly, and almost practiced; there's no way that hell would have proof, they're not clever enough for that, and he can just deny it (especially if he has the favour of beelzebub at this point). however, unfortunately for him, furfur is actually one step ahead in that:

again, all very circumstantial... but crowley is notably very quiet. aziraphale takes control, asks where the booklet came from etc. when furfur then hands over the photograph, again, crowley is remarkably quiet as he takes it, and removes the photograph. his eye movements aren't very visible, but from what we can see they don't look especially wide or frightened. however, from the moment he can see 'evidence' written on the envelope, and can read the docket, he appears to withdraw, gulps, and very calmly hands it over to aziraphale. this to me is the very typical "...ah, fuck." kind of fear; his face is very passive, non-emotive, and you can almost feel your stomach sink along with his.

and whilst of course the scene itself calls for him to hand over the photograph so aziraphale can see it, it feels also that symbolically he's handing over control of the situation to aziraphale too; crowley has, realistically, got nothing - is coming up empty - on how they can possibly worm their way out of this one.

and the thing is that crowley continues to underestimate his fellow demon; when furfur mentions the miracle blocker, he immediately questions who the blocker was placed by, seemingly not considering that it might in fact be furfur himself (and, imo, as was heavily implied in the way furfur said the line). aziraphale however very quickly comes up with a solution and, whilst furfur is distracted, sets up the sleight of hand to hide the photo up his sleeve - with misdirection.

the bit however that really tells me about crowley's emotional state, however much he's keeping a fairly good lid on it, is the next bit; he covers his face with his hat. now, from furfur's perspective, he's just acting nonchalant and dismissive again, but to us - we know that crowley doesn't show his eyes. a combination of both how strange they are, but also how expressive they are (and therefore how vulnerable they make him). but crowley goes a step beyond, and practically covers his entire face, shielding it from furfur and the zombies.

furfur obviously goes off on his tirade, and his last parting shot is telling crowley that he'll be escorted off of earth first thing in the morning, and probably sentenced to who-knows-what... but given that he's already had his warning, so to speak, i think it would be fair to evaluate it will be rather... final. i think therefore we can interpret this emotional state as not only fear, but defeat - he's not been careful, he's underestimated hell again, and is going to be made to suffer the consequences.

the fact that then, after everyone has left him and aziraphale alone, crowley removes the shield, his hat, because he can obviously trust aziraphale with that vulnerability; take down the cool, hardened exterior. he looks - just on his face alone - so resigned, but the exhale, the way he chucks down his hat, and returns his hand to his face... well, i wouldn't say it's fear anymore, by this point, but more that he has accepted to surrender to the inevitable.

we leave them at this point, and then rejoin them in the bookshop, where crowley learns how aziraphale secreted away the damning photograph. the whole scene then turns into not only the discussion on black/white vs. the grey, but also into a bit of a joke; crowley doesn't even thank aziraphale for legitimately saving him. despite the fact that aziraphale's magic trick is literally the device used to save him, he immediately reverts back to taking the piss out of aziraphale for fluffing it when performing on command... as aziraphale said, he "got it right the time that mattered", and this just completely sails over crowley's head (or seems to, anyway).

so my conclusion personally is that whilst we can be fairly confident that crowley feels some kind of fear, it's not as palpable, in my opinion, as it was in 1862. but 1941 is an example in crowley not learning from his lesson; he has been shown that hell is (or at least, certain demons are) possibly more driven than he's previously given credit for. unfortunately this time, as far as he's concerned, his underestimation of them has led to him blowing all the chances hell has presumably given him, and just as he's gotten closer to aziraphale, he's now about to be pulled away again.

as for his behaviour in the bookshop - well. we know crowley doesn't do well with being vulnerable. i have certain thoughts that ive discussed separately on crowley's propensity towards a hero-type narrative, and in this case he literally had no way to save himself or aziraphale... and possibly doesn't want to accept that he messed up, and that aziraphale had to be the one to save them. fear may not have been very evident on crowley physically, but to me his actions and mannerisms betray just how deeply it was set.

anon beloved, i hope this went some way towards answering your question!!! of course this is only my interpretation of these two particular scenes, but always happy to discuss 1941!!!✨💕

#good omens #ask #crowley meta #1941 spec #ish #flashback meta #s2 meta

25 notes · View notes