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chantsdemarins · 3 months

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New Fic: Breath of the Æsir ⚔︎🏰 (Loki X Reader)

Formally (Collapsing in the Arms of Chaos) I changed the name. 😬 I know Medieval stories aren't everyone's fav but heck, I hope you like it! It has been brewing in the coffee pot that is in my head for over a year. I feel slightly self-conscious that after my first time with COVID, my brain is not the same. I hope I still have my ability to write! My last story published a few weeks ago was written while I was falling ill and I know it wasn't my best!

Thank you for reading!! If you want to comment I would be so happy and reblogs are like the most precious thing to me. All art is mine, it's a Photoshop-crazed situation.

Summary: Disenchanted with the Danes' misuse of Norse gods to sanction their brutality, Loki finds himself ostracized. Stripped of his divine powers and bearing a severe injury, he wanders into the realm of the conquered. By a twist of fate, he arrives at your manor, where you await your husband's return. However, destiny has other plans.

Warnings: Blood.

Words: 2,471

Smut rating: Not yet...but there sure will be!

Posting schedule: Every Saturday! I am going to stick to this!

Chapter 1 The Embroidery of Destiny Chapter 2 The Stranger Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5

@lokis-little-fawn @lcolumbia1988 @thesoftboiledegg @anukulee @mochie85 @lokisgoodgirl @lokischambermaid @nildespirandum @caffiend-queen @mochie85 @maple-seed @mischief2sarawr @kikster606 @thedistractedagglomeration @glitchquake@simplyholl @holdmytesseract @holymultiplefandomsbatman @wheredafandomat @fictive-sl0th @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @muddyorbs @vickie5446 @trickster-maiden @grymrayven

Before your family settled again, you had been travelers, moving from one darkened patch of earth to the next. Soil on your boots muddied your paths, creating difficulties in finding a home. There were many things to see, some horrors, some things magical and unfounded. Shapes shifted in the forest where you camped at night. One day your father showed you where they lowered men into the bogs, decorated with bronze. These were not the ways of your people. They did not worship like that. It might have been too much for you to know where some ended up when they were no longer living, not in graves or on pyres. Something else.

By the time you reached the northern lands, your family had negotiated your belongings down to just what the pallid horses could carry. Your croft was built into the very earth you had struggled to cross, with bedrooms burrowed into the side of a hill. It was not built for so much rain. Buckets and sluices were not enough to keep out the floods.

So, when your husband came to marry you, you packed your things neatly, placed them in a pack, and left your parents’ home without drawing a breath. You walked a distance far greater than any you had as a child to his family's land, your new home. The way your family had negotiated the marriage remained a blind spot in your mind. You couldn't fathom it. From a croft to a manor.

Over time, nothing in your marriage seemed to flourish. The land, though beautiful, yielded nothing you sowed. Too sandy or too chelated, perhaps unfortunate timing. You became a wife in the loneliest ways. No spinning of yarn would produce a cloth finer than the wool you began with. Hours of practice composing embroidery resulted in nothing more than half completed sea escarpments, knots, and birds with no flight.

The elegant window that surveyed the tenants' labors only deepened your isolation. They carried on with their duties, and you retired to your quarters, curtains drawn. The chill from your childhood followed you here. The stone walls held a dampness no fire could dispel. You knew somewhere across the hills where your parents still sleeping too close to the earth. Rooms still flooded. Though your loyalty never wavered, even as your husband wandered afar, absent for days at a time, his pursuits as obscure as the horizon beyond your room filled with half-finished tasks.

In kindness or disappointment, he had ensured your education extended beyond your lowly beginnings. Through travels and courtly audiences, barons and other titled men and women recounted their lives' poetry over each glass of mead or wine. You listened for moments when they forgot their lines, most days this was more interesting than their images they wanted you to see.

Although had you not met Isolde of Easting, you would not have thought to plant the spiky yellow gorse along the manor's borders. When the proper conversation waned, you had discovered the titled people still spun tales of their lands. The places they had come or been uprooted from. In the best conversations, you gleaned knowledge of the plants, herbs, and tokens from the first peoples, their ways overshadowed by the new cultures but nonetheless seeming to flow from them to you during the quieter moments—the men away hunting, the embroidery thread running low, the teapot empty. These things were spoken of in hushed tones so the servants would not get ideas.

You spoke of the hawthorn tree, the ravens' work, the swords warriors cast into the cold estuary, found along all the lakes' shores. The Roman merchants who brought tales of Jesus and his cross. The god Woden came from the Angles, and Odin, from the North. Their wars and bloodshed filled the spaces between village homes and now the courts. If asked if you prayed to the Christian god, you couldn't say. You longed to speak of the place where they lowered men into the bogs, the place your father once showed you. Later, in the quiet of your room, you would pull out a relic from beneath the blankets in your chest, and it would look unrecognizable. It once held meaning, but that meaning didn't travel with it.

Sometimes when you were awake much too early, the nightingales still singing, you would dip your quill into the small pot of black soot. You would unroll a small piece of parchment, discarded by the cooks, and write down your dreams. Which had room in your sleep since they were so often unimpeded by the presence of your husband. You wrote in the lais of the Frankish people, counting eight sounds to the line, braiding your dreams with your words.

Had I found a small shell, not rope I would have held it to my ear The ocean's song would have come to me Instead, I was swallowed wholly

This was how things proceeded until the day they did not.

As you came to learn, in the void and closeness of life, nothing is reliable enough to expect its continuation the next day. You should allow for change to slip through the crevices of even the dampest chambers. It just had not happened in so long you almost did not recognize it when something remarkable unfolded at your manor.

On this day, as you sipped your tea, with half-finished yards of cloth draped across your lap, and the unopened book of hours on the small, worn table, your gaze was fixed on the wind billowing the emerald curtains—silk from an era long past, traded by hands unknown. Like much of the decor in the manor, these were vestiges of your husband's family's trade in finery, symbols of their stature akin to that of minor kings.

Elinor, your companion for the last 10 years, rapped on your door abruptly, breaking your contemplative gaze.

“My lady, please excuse me,” she croaked, as the door opened before you could arrange a pretext to delay her entry.

“What is it, Elinor?” you asked, not wishing to dwell on the trivialities of the manor that day. Clearing her throat, she reported urgently of a man in a bad way, injured and lying on the steps. She hastened to your window, the portal to the land beyond your manor, and pointed to the makeshift courtyard where a man lay seemingly lifeless if not for the faint moan you heard.

“Why have you not sought my husband or some other man of decisions?” you questioned with a twinge of fear edging into your refuge of solitude.

“Lady, your husband has traveled beyond into the land of the Scots, and the aldermen are not present either,” she informed you.

“A household of women only, then? How did I overlook such an event?” you pondered.

“Lady, you are often engrossed in your own pursuits within these walls. How could you have noticed your husband's departure?” Elinor reasoned, her words not easing the panic now fully upon you. The thought that your husband had left you unprotected added another layer of anguish.

“At such a time, Elinor, how shall we defend ourselves?” you barely articulated.

“I suspect he gave little thought to the matter,” Elinor replied, her head bowed even lower than her subdued voice.

“Then it falls to me to act in their absence,” you reasoned. Not wanting this conflict or the talk that may ensue you knew you must act quickly. This man perhaps knew your husband, or perhaps it was only a small political scuffle that may have resulted in his injuries. You thought of the many reasons he could have ended up at the steps of your manor of this day. None of them added up entirely.

As you navigated the long, narrow corridors, your thin morning jacket provided little relief from the chill as Elinor aided you with the heavy door. You both stood in awe of the man at your feet. Having seen men before, chiefly your husband. This man’s appearance was now shocking at close view. He was unlike your husband in all ways you could imagine.

“Holy Jesus save us,” Elinor yelled through her missing teeth.

“He will not assist with this, Elinor,” you responded, your eyes surveying the severe wound from his stomach to his chest, the dark blood pooling around his lean form.

The man’s hair was a shade darker than the darkest night. Had night possessed more depth, it would resemble the hue of his locks. His attire suggested nobility, which only intensified the chill you felt. He had clearly been bested in whatever skirmish he had come from, and with no healer at hand, it seemed likely that a burial might soon follow—until his eyes fluttered open.

A striking blue that drew your own darker gaze, hinting at his foreign language or origins. His hand reached out feebly before falling back to his side.

He whispered faintly, “Ásjá.”

“He's alive!” you declared, as if the statement itself could reverse his fate.

“Yes, lady, he lives, I told you. Now what shall we do?” Elinor asked, concern evident in her voice.

“We save him. It is the right thing to do,” you answered.

“But without a healer, we risk much by sheltering him,” Elinor’s voice trembled.

“Then we shall tend to his needs ourselves,” you declared, your courage unusual, unfounded, drawn from the same well that had seen men saved from death at a distance. An instinct came over you. You directed Elinor to gather wood, cloth, herbs, and other necessities that seemed more from your imagination than any practical experience. You quickly cut away his clothes, exposing the dire wound more fully.

“Lady, he may not survive this,” Elinor observed with a somber tone. The unhinged flesh flapping against the seemingly unended torrent of blood emerging from him. How could there be so much blood.

“Silence, Elinor,” you hushed her. Your hands, though failed in the art of tapestry, were adept with needle and thread. So much failure had given you courage.

“We must stem the bleeding before we can stitch him up,” you instructed, asking for a branch from the fire.

“Lady, you cannot—” Elinor began, but you had already pressed the smoldering wood to the wound. The man awoke suddenly, thrashing in pain.

“Hold him down!” you ordered. Elinor, small but determined, restrained his arms.

You envisioned repairing his injury as if it were the "Galley of the Titan’s Moons," a rare piece of embroidery from the northern lands.

“I shall map the night sky upon your body, sir,” you said, speaking into the silence as he drifted further from this world. You sensed the ancestors gather, ready to welcome him, but you were not ready to let him go.

“No, not yet” you whispered, a soft rebuke to the invisible presence.

Elinor looked at you, puzzled. To whom were you speaking?

You were determined. This man would not die. Though you had sent for a proper healer, your task was to keep him alive until they arrived, hoping they would be sober enough to be of use. Much worse would be a drunk priest should your help not find any healer available.

It was not until you had finished suturing his wound that you noticed how his body appeared in the dim light of the great room. Your loneliness resonated with the landscape of his injury. It was a peculiar reaction, but there was something else broken within this man, beyond the sword wound. It was something familiar to your own. You held you own stomach for a moment, it felt as if you were the one almost slain, not him.

Eventually, his bleeding ceased, and the healer arrived, tended to him with poultices and what looked like grain spirits. You wrapped your furs around his sleeping form. He did not pass away. The stranger in your home survived. You had been told he might still not make the night. You watched him for as long as your eyes could. His faint inhalations mirrored in your own. But the exhaustion took over, and before you could retreat to your own chamber, you found yourself lying at his side.

“How improper, Lady!” Elinor’s voice pierced the quiet as dawn crept in and your eyes, heavy with sleep, opened. You hadn’t realized you had fallen asleep beside the stranger. Startled, you rose, wrapping a blanket around yourself. Quickly finding a reason that you had slept at his side.

“He remains unconscious, Elinor. The healer was unsure if he would wake,” you confided in the servant who had been by your side for so many years. She looked briefly placated. Yet you knew her mind was racing. The healer would tell the burgh folk of this strange man. Your husband was nowhere to be known. Northman had recently been subdued with heavy piles of church silver, and that arrangement was delicate at best. They would be back and this time they would perhaps sack the village since you knew the last of the silver had been promised away to visiting bishops and clergy. The wealth had run its course.

“He must stay until he awakens, until he can speak for himself,” you quickly decided.

It was better to know who he was. He would surely tell you since you saved his life.

“But what if he is a demon, my lady? Have you considered that he may have come from Hell to bring us further misfortune?” Elinor ventured, instantly regretting her words as her face contorted with shame.

“I apologize. I did not mean to imply you are cursed,” she hastily added.

You felt pity for Elinor, she was not as traveled as you had become. Had not the stories you knew, but you also could not see beyond, you had no way to know if it was safe to keep him with you. If your husband should arrive back, there would be no way to convince him that this man had not abused you in some way, but you did know something of him. There was something you did recognize.

“This man is no curse, no demon,” you affirmed, your gaze fixed on his hair, as dark as the ink with which you wrote.

“How can you be certain?” she queried.

“He spoke in the old tongue, asking for aid. Did you not hear him, Elinor?” you questioned, your voice steady.

The woman stepped back, tossing another log onto the fire, her confusion apparent. “I did not recognize the language, nor do I understand how you did,” she admitted.

The language was familiar to you, it was the tongue of your people from so long ago. From the place of your birth. The place that was destroyed till there was nothing but darkness.

Chapter 2 below!

#loki #loki laufeyson #loki fandom #loki fanfic #loki fanfiction #loki smut #loki x reader #mcu #norse mythology #medieval fanfic #AU loki #tom hiddleston

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naomihatake · 6 months

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In search of freedom (Ch. 5)

5. I've found heaven in hell

⠀⠀➺ fic masterlist

⠀⠀➺ Chapter 4 ; Chapter 5 ; Chapter 6

⠀⠀⠀⠀She's been searching for freedom her entire life and everytime she thought it was laying right in front of her eyes, she was mistaken. She was running around the East Blue, seeking herself and her dreams, meeting people she never forgot. No matter how much she traveled, she could only catch a glimpse of peace before realizing everything would crumble at her feet.

⠀⠀⠀⠀Maybe it was destiny that brought her on that ship with three strangers — foolishly, that's what she tried to believe when the moon shined beautifully and hope settled in her chest, squeezed by the same ribcage where feelings were blooming.

Pairing: female!reader x OPLA Zoro Roronoa

Warnings for this chapter: alcohol, angst, arguing, tension, tarot readings

Word count: 7,9 k

Theme song: fic spotify playlist (click on the link)

A/N: I genuinely hope this chapter is as good as I wanted it to be, but I'm not so sure about it. I tried my best, but I'm certainly proud of the last scene of this chapter. Yes, we finally got to Baratie and Zoro's fight with Mihawk. I'd be very happy to hear your opinions, so let me know what you think <33 Not proofread yet.

The reader is referred to as "Witch" because I have no intentions of using "Y/N".

One card fell from her tarot deck from the moment when she started shuffling it: Death.

Nope, she immediately thought to herself.

The witch let out a theatrical sigh and let the cards back in their place, half of her mind completely ignoring the meaning.

No way I'm occupying my mind with such trouble now of all times. I couldn't even sleep last night.

She could think about that later, after she gets a few hours of peace. They were lucky enough to escape from the Marines just a while ago. The answer she received after she came back to her room at the first hours in the morning — when she had just finished her night shift — was ambiguous enough. All she wanted was to breathe some fresh air.

The witch got up from the bed and was ready to leave the girls' room while pulling a large shirt over the tight tank top hugging her curves, leaving it unbuttoned. The hot weather made her choose some shorts in favor of the usually large pants she preferred. The low heels of her boots created a strong sound with each step on the Going Merry's floor.

"I still can't believe Luffy was the one to get us at this floating restaurant in the middle of the sea using his nose only," she chuckled at the navigator.

Nami was glancing one last time into a small rounded mirror she held between her fingers before closing it and shoving it into a bag.

"Add food to the equation and he could take over my role."

"Well, well, that's quite exaggerated. He might have an affinity for sniffling foods, but you can feel a thunderstorm. That's a big difference," the witch winked.

"You're flattering me," Nami grinned.

The witch opened the door of their room and they were instantly greeted with the rays of the sun. She squinted her eyes and walked on the deck with two knives and a gun sitting at her hips. Luffy was already on the dock of the restaurant created in the form of fish with an open mouth. Baratie was written in red neon lights on top of the suspended balcony of the restaurant.

"Do you think there are marines here?" Usopp asked as he leaned against the railing of The Going Merry.

"There are skulls on the flags of other ships. If marines are here, they're probably not for business. I wouldn't start yelling about it in the middle of a place filled with pirates," the witch commented.

Any other words died on top of her tongue when her eyes fell on the swordsman who just left the galley. Maybe the witch should've been more careful while staring so insistently, but gosh, wasn't he always a sight? The dark bluet-shirt clinging onto his chest for dear life, accentuating the muscle lines and — god fucking dammit — the jeans squeezing his legs made her gulp. The signature swords were secured against his left hip.

She averted her eyes before she could get caught ogling at the crewmate she grew fond of. It was a pleasure to blame it on the doses of alcohol in her veins, but it wasn't the case that time. She was wide awake and sober, so the nature of her thoughts was worrisome, to say the least.

She was still dealing with the possibility of feelings. A concerning topic for an inexperienced person in the domain of romance.

Another trouble she didn't want to think of. Maybe Zoro isn't that wrong for drinking with every occasion he gets.

What made it worse was the lack of attention he gave her, as if she was just a ghost.

Maybe she was overthinking it.

Truth be told, she wasn't exactly wrong. Zoro did intentionally look away so he could save himself from embarrassment. He turned away before he swallowed the lump in his throat, his fingers curling tighter around the hilt of his sword. He must've gotten insane to start avoiding people.

"Let's go! I feel like I could die from hunger," Luffy jumped from the ship straight on the dock.

The witch found the right thing to focus on: the restaurant looked amazing. Not only did it smell so divine her stomach learnt how to talk, but it was also splendid. For a second, the witch wondered if that was a place for pirates and not for some rich business people — they could certainly be found there. Dozens of tables and the constant chattering of people, waiters and waitresses walking around and rushing from one side to the other — it was so lively.

The fishman greeting the people coming in smiled warmly at them, even if a little strained — a habit he got from his job.

"You mean there's no free table for our captain, the soon to become King of the Pirates?" Usopp smiled proudly, pointing at Luffy.

She found it hard not to laugh or chuckle at the interaction between Luffy and the poor fishman who said twice already that there will be an available table in three weeks. When the witch saw Nami shove her hand in her pockets, it was obvious what tactic she'd use. Obviously, it worked, even if Luffy and Usopp were cheering, walking down the stairs ahead of them.

The witch looked around, wary of any possible threats or drunk people who would get mad about the smallest thing, like the way they looked. Everyone seemed so caught up in their own thing and it eased her mind, some anxiety leaving once her shoulders fell.

However, there were certain gazes following her silhouette. It was probably because of each confident step she made, the elegance she carried, the force she proved to have with every sharp glance she threw around. Her fingers twitched to grab a hold of her dagger. She figured out there were no imminent threats yet.

At the table, she found herself between Zoro and Nami. She was conscious the moment she intentionally sat a tad bit closer to the swordsman who comfortably spread his legs after he tried to fit his swords. Sometimes, when she'd shift in her seat, his knee would brush by hers and goosebumps would erupt on her skin. She allowed herself to enjoy the proximity, the way her gaze would linger on his figure when he talked, the low timbre of his voice soothing her soul.

She had to get used to that idea.

It ached. Her heart would thump painfully in between her ribs each time it felt like he was ignoring her. He didn't say much to her since morning and something inside of her was bleeding, despite the lack of crimson liquid tainting her clothes.

The witch hated him for every cold glance thrown her away or, worse, each time he didn't even look at her when she spoke. To protect herself, her lips got sealed for a long while.

Her attention was piqued by the fight between two marines who seemed unable to swallow up their pride, threatening each other with death, while a beautiful lady sat at the table, looking at them with fear visible on her expression.

The roll of her eyes and the exasperated exhale she let out spoke for her as the witch rested her elbows on the table and held her face with a hand.

"Do people always act like that over stupid things?" Usopp frowned.

"They act worse," the witch scoffed, amused. "The average pirates aren't any better either, you know."

"Bold of you to say that when you're a pirate yourself," Nami shook her head.

"I've never claimed I'm a lady, so," she shrugged.

A waiter with blonde hair dressed in a clean black suit appeared by the men's table. There was a specific customer-friendly smile plastered on his face while he tried to calm the waters.

One of the two men pulled his pistol out just to have his arm being hit by the waiter's feet. In a few seconds only, the other man received the same treatment, getting a strong blow right in the stomach. The blonde waiter rolled on his feet and right after his feet collided with the man's face, he prompted his hands on the table to pin the other pink-haired marine to the floor with a kick in the crown of his head.

"Good fighter," Luffy pointed out with excitement bouncing in his tone.

As if nothing ever happened, the man's fingers grabbed at the plate he abandoned on the table and smiled again.

"No cause for alarm, folks. Please enjoy your meals."

A normal occurrence, most probably.

The waiter came to their table with a few long steps. From up close, his handsome features washed away the obvious forced smile plastered on his thin lips.

"Hi, welcome to our shitty restaurant where the only thing worse than the ambiance is the food. My name is Sanji. What can I get for you?"

His voice was tinted with harshness and he was definitely in a bad mood, visible despite the professionalism he tried to stick to.

Luffy grabbed one of the small loaves of breasla on the plate the waiter just placed down in front of them.

"One of everything, please," their captain spoke with his mouth stuffed.

"What's wrong with the ambiance?" the witch asked, confused. "Not to flatter, but this place is splendid."

Something in that man's head misunderstood it as you're splendid, apparently, since his eyes shone like crystals when they settled on the witch's figure.

Maybe her mouth spoke before she had time to think it over. Bad decision.

"It became splendid the moment you walked in, perhaps," he smiled effortlessly, his voice dropping an octave.

Wait… what?

"Thank you?" she blinked owlishly.

It sounded more like a question. Not the first compliment she received and she also had to admit that most of the men who flirted with her were absolutely gross. This one was decent, even polite — hell, someone could've taken courtesy lessons from him.

The energy shifted. Or, better said, the man next to her shifted. Zoro just crossed his arms over his chest and fixed Sanji with a glare meant to send daggers through his face. The waiter didn't even bother to look at Zoro.

"Is there anything I could bring for these two beautiful ladies?" his smile widened visibly once he spotted Nami right next to the witch. "Would you care for an apéritif to start? Or perhaps some drinks, like one of our signature cocktails? Maybe a glass of Umeshu? You know, something sweet for someone sweet."

His wink was flawless and it would've been perfect if not for Nami's retort.

"Something wrong with your eye?"

Nami was frowning, taken aback by the comment and equally amused.

"Very good question," the witch nodded.

Nami tried her best to stifle a laugh when she realized she was backed up. Usopp was hardly holding back his laughter

"Forgive a man for being blinded by such beautiful ladies," he grinned as if he'd fallen in love not once, but twice in the same minute. "So?"

"Water, please," Nami answered.

"Still, sparkling, mineral? With ice or without? Cubed or crushed?"

"Regular water in a regular glass. Thanks."

"A beer for me."

Zoro's voice was threatening and low, sharp gaze still focused on Sanji.

"A beer for me. I usually have two, but…" Usopp didn't have enough time to continue as he's been interrupted by Luffy.

"A glass of milk for milk for me!" the straw hat said with his mouth still stuffed with bread.

Sanji's head turned towards the witch with a smile curling his lips.

"One of the special cocktails you mentioned, please."

The witch didn't intentionally use that kind voice. It was a habit whenever she talked to strangers to soften her tone and smile out of courtesy and politeness. Probably, her kind gesture has been misunderstood as flirtatious.

"Any preferences? We have plenty of options you can choose from."

His smile already reached his ears and she could feel a specific swordsman straightening his back by her side.

"Nothing too strong, if you may."

"Of course."

"Are you done yet?"

Zoro made all of them turn their attention to him and while usually he wouldn't like it, at that time he couldn't give a single fuck about it. All he did was arch his eyebrow at the waiter and telling him to fuck off as politely as he could, with no cuss words falling from his mouth yet. If Sanji continued to gravitate around their table with that flirtatious smile on his lips, the swordsman might burst a vein on his forehead sooner rather than later.

Sanji wasn't exactly satisfied to be rushed, but he turned on his heels and left. The witch was still looking at Zoro from the corner of her eye, trying her best to understand what just happened.

He seemed fine minutes ago. Not too talkative, definitely, but not… so mad either. What has been with that scowl on his face ever since Sanji appeared? He couldn't be enough of a man child to be jealous of someone's flirting—

I'm getting delusional lately, the witch cut off her own thought process.

"Mad about something, Zoro?" Nami smirked devilishly.

"Everything's fine."

Everything was, in fact, not fine.

The witch was engulfed by her thoughts, fingers pressing and rolling the fork between her fingers after their food was served. She had to admit she was hungry and was trying her best to savor the pieces of meat tickling her taste buds, but it was almost impossible to ignore the shallow sensation in her stomach.

"Was there anything wrong with your tarot?"

Nami, who was by her side, turned her head and offered the witch her entire attention. Maybe she's been playing with her food for long enough to get their attention.

"Not wrong, just something I would've rather not know," she said after swallowing.

"What did you see?"

She shook her head softly with a light chuckle leaving her lips.

"I pulled the Death card." Quickly enough, she realized she shouldn't have started with that.

"Who's dying?!" Usopp almost choked on his food.

"It's metaphorical death," she clarified. "The ending of a cycle and a new beginning, whatever that might mean this time," with a shrug, she proved her own uncertainty.

"Doesn't sound that bad," Zoro commented while he curled his fingers around his glass of beer.

The young woman still remembered each element of the first tarot card she saw before they left The Going Merry. The skeleton dressed in silver armor on the white horse, holding a flag with the number 'XIII' and the people kneeling in front of it, their clothes painted in golden, blue and white.

"It usually implies a hard step to take in order to advance. Change doesn't come unless you allow it and transformation is supposed to help you evolve, not regress. Each time, it doesn't come easily and it shakes up your reality first. Simply put, who the heck knows what might happen in the next few days," she clicked her tongue. "Anything is possible."

"What use do those readings have if you can't even find out what's really going on?" Nami arched her eyebrow.

Fate spoke for itself.

The witch's eyes fixed on hers, regret hanging around her heart.

"They give enough clues, I just have to figure them out."

She felt bad for keeping to herself the other two cards she pulled: the ten of swords and the four of pentacles — betrayal reasoned by protecting yourself. The witch knew who this was about and she didn't mutter a word about it, finding it improper to do so.

"And did you?"

"Not entirely yet," she bit at her bottom lip.

She knew her words were probably just passing by the ears of her friends. The witch was well aware they had no reason to believe in such things or listen to her. They could take her words into account or completely ignore them; it didn't really matter, as for her the reality remained the same.

What mattered was that she knew only half of the upcoming events. The other side was hidden somewhere in shadows and life lessons the cards decided she had to learn on her own.

"I won't need food for a year," Nami commented after she leaned back against the cushions, sighing.

"We should do a toast. Come on, grab your glasses."

The witch's fingers curled around her glass of cocktail with a soft smile.

"To the best crew sailing on the sea and to our victory!"

"No, I'm sorry," Nami furrowed her eyebrows. "What victory exactly?"

The witch didn't even get to bring the glass to her lips, Nami's question sinking deeply into her bones.

"I don't know how many naval battles you guys have been part of…"

"Two dozen, at least," Usopp interrupted her before taking one more sip from his beer.

"Plenty," the witch placed her untouched glass back on the table. "It was a disaster, I'm well aware of it. We could've died before reaching a day of sailing with The Going Merry."

"Then I suppose you agree we were unprepared and uncoordinated," Nami turned towards her.

There's never been such tension lingering around the navigator since the witch got to know her. The orange haired woman was easy going and talkative, she was skilled and was so strong. Someone used to the harsh world they lived in and yet she seemed absolutely stupefied by the mention of said victory.

Nami was tense and uncomfortable as she continued to shift in her seat, surprised wide eyes glaring at Luffy.

"You didn't think to mention your grandfather was a Marine? And not just any marine, a vice-admiral! I don't know about you, but I didn't sign up for that."

"You raided a marine base," Zoro spoke calmly. "Of course that'll make you a target."

The witch only let out a soft sigh and straightened her back with a frown. She was equally worried, but…

"I understand where you're coming from, Nami, but it wouldn't have helped us with anything to know about Luffy's relatives or their status. We're already haunted for merely having a map in our possession."

At their table Sanji appeared again, with a gray plate with a paper in between his fingers this time.

"Your bill, sir."

Luffy pulled his lips together and glanced at Nami before taking the pen and scribbling something.

"Thank you," he smiled up at the waiter.

Sanji took the plate and almost instantly, a mischievous grin splayed on his face.

"No, thank you," and with that, he walked away.

Whatever that was supposed to mean.

Luffy turned towards his friends once again, confident in his opinion.

"I'm not saying it's good that the Marines are on our tail, but we showed them that they can't just roll over us. This crew, our crew, can handle anything."

The witch gently smiled at him and leaned her elbows on the table again.

"We could use your optimism, Luffy, but it's harder than that. At any given time from now on, the simple fact that we're after One Piece is enough of a reason for a Warlord to come after us because right now, we're an easy target. Not to mention the relationship between the Marines and the Warlords. Remember that these seven pirates aren't anyone's toys and if we ever encounter them, it will not always have something to do with the Navy."

"What makes you talk about the Warlords?" the navigator gulped. "They'd be an ever bigger pain in our asses. Average pirates are merciless already—"

Nami stopped herself from talking and looked away. An unusual reaction met with silence from the witch.

"Luffy isn't the only one with relatives—"

"Who the hell is Monkey D. Luffy?" a hoarse voice boomed.

The witch could feel a headache appearing along with the old chef who was hobbling because of his wooden leg. She finally gulped the entire cocktail.

Why was Luffy always getting into trouble?

"I need a drink," Nami exhaustedly threw her head back.

"I need dozens of drinks," the witch sighed heavily.

•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈

Maybe it wasn't a camaraderie thing to do to their captain, but they were now occupying some seats on the terrace of the open fish mouth. The witch was in between Nami and Usopp on the large couch, with their backs facing the sea, meanwhile Zoro sat on a chair, at the other side of the table.

The witch had a whiskey bottle from which she poured herself shots once in a few minutes. Usopp had three straws in his mouth and he drank a sweet cocktail from a bowl. Zoro warned him with a chuckle, but he didn't listen.

Nami, on the other side, was silent as she stared into her empty glass for longer than expected. The witch found it worrisome — she was used to her own phases, but it hurt to watch her friend struggle with something she didn't entirely share. Nami's issue was known by them and yet there was something the witch just grasped onto, a tale told by her tarot.

"The next drink is on me," the navigator got up from her seat.

"Nami," the witch's fingers curled around her friend's.

She squeezed Nami's hand gently and looked up at her with concern in her eyes. The witch rubbed her fingers over her knuckles in a silent plea, her eyebrows knitted together.

You're not alone, her touch said. It's alright. We can make it alright.

Nami swallowed down hard and barely squeezed the hand who held her before slipping away from them.

The witch poured herself a shot and gulped it down quickly.

"Why are you in such a hurry as well?"

Zoro's voice made her chest burn worse than the alcohol.

"I'm not going anywhere. I'd just rather not talk," she mumbled as she rolled the small glass between her fingers.

"You know something that I don't," he concluded quickly.

Usopp, who sat like an obedient child and listened, blinked curiously.

"I know a lot of things that you don't, Zoro," she responded with sorrow.

Saying one single word about Nami while she was gone felt unfair.

When the orange haired woman came back to them with a bottle in her hand, her conversation with Zoro somehow turned into a guessing game. Usopp, who obviously didn't take the swordsman's warning into account, went to the dance ring and moved like a sea slug — or that's what Zoro said.

"Are you in?" Nami asked.

"I'd rather not," the witch lowered her gaze.

It was easy to admit she didn't want to share anything about herself. Still, she knew better than that; with some shots, her tongue would loosen up bit by bit.

Her eyelashes fluttered lazily and her gaze fell on the glass she held. The corners of her mouth were slightly curled downwards and she seemed aware of the effect alcohol would have on her. She will succumb into sorrow or happiness, depending on which one clouded her mind first. The lack of answers coming from someone who adored to share experiences and explain was strange.

Nami looked at her from the corner of her eye and accepted the situation as it was. She'll get the witch to talk one way or another. Something was fishy about her behavior — it was poking Nami's senses.

The witch leaned against the cushions and turned her head towards the sea, pushing reality out of her awareness. Zoro's and Nami's conversation sounded muffled from her perspective, caging herself willingly in her head.

Zoro was sitting right in front of her and the witch still thought of him. Her feelings were confusing and analyzing them was a full time job. Maybe it was time for her to accept her situation and deal with the heart aching for him. It was impossible not to think of him, especially when his deep voice sounded like a melody.

She swallowed a lump in her throat and blinked away the overwhelming sensation settling in her chest. Maybe the present could give her peace.

"You're unfair, Roronoa," she crooked a teasing grin and turned her head towards him.

"How's that so?"

His gaze burning holes into her shouldn't affect her as much as it did. Those black oceans shining shamelessly told her everything she had to know, it made hope bloom in the center of her soul.

Maybe there was a chance. A tiny little chance hidden in his mesmerizing eyes.

"She's telling you entire stories, but you don't even bother to elaborate."

He clenched his jaw and scoffed.

"That's not part of the game," the side of his mouth curled upwards.

"Now that I think about it, she's right," Nami smirked.

"Just drink."

With that, they raised their glasses and both glanced at the unusually silent witch.

"I didn't play the game," she excused herself.

"That's why you have to drink. You listened and didn't share," Nami arched her eyebrow. "Are you also unfair, Witch?"

It was Zoro the one who poured whiskey in her empty glass.

"You two are so sneaky," the witch laughed softly and complied.

The alcohol burnt her throat and it was the alcohol getting to her head that brought questionable curiosities in her head… How would his lips taste? Would he make her burn harder? A one single touch from him would both ruin and put her back together.

Alright, I have to find something else to think of.

Hastily, the witch who sat by Nami's side gulped down another shot of whiskey and got up from the cushions. An idea creeped in her mind when her attention fell on the group of four musicians whose music Usopp danced to.

"Where are you heading to?"

"Killing some time," she winked at Nami.

With light steps, she walked to the guitarist and asked for his instrument after he just finished playing. With a nod, he handed her the guitar and she grabbed a chair to sit on. Her legs crossed and she positioned the guitar in her lap easily, like second nature. Gentle fingers tapped the wooden object and her lips curled — it was perfect — before her grip on the neck of the guitar tightened. Her other hand was busy testing the chords, tingles running down her spine at the sensation.

She hasn't felt that in too long.

The alcohol was also a reason for her bold action, but the witch didn't care. The fingers of one hand pressed against the strings, while she played with the other hand, giving life to the guitar. Lively sounds rang through the air and the other musicians quickly picked up on the notes. A classic, an old shanty pirates would sing when drunk after victories, but it was more beautiful when she played it. Even her humming and the rare times when her lips would part to let sweet words fall from between them, it was alluring.

Zoro's attention never left her figure. Her eyes sparkled with freedom and the smile on her face was that of an angel. She was life itself, stuck under soft skin and hidden in her heart. The dim lights of the terrace — the open fish mouth — bathed her in white and warm gold. Her happy face, the smile lines, the crinkles of her eyes, the jovial energy surrounding her; all of these things charmed him over and over again. The longer he looked at her, the worse it got, because he didn't have the courage within himself to avert his gaze from her.

"You should just admit it," Nami said.

He didn't look at her when he let out a low "Hm?"

"Don't you think she's pretty?"

His head snapped towards her.

"What are you talking about?"

"Which one of us are you trying to fool, Zorol; me or yourself?"

Uncomfortably, the swordsman shifted in his seat, clenching his jaw.

"I think you're confused," he responded with fake confidence while he crossed his arms over his chest.

"No, you are confused," Nami scoffed. "You were jealous back then, when Sanji flirted with her."

"You're quick to jump to conclusions."

"If Usopp would be here, he'd agree."

"Unfortunately, he's too drunk to even walk straight, so I suppose he isn't here to support your theory."

"Speaking of him."

Nami just spotted Usopp who came back to their table with a man behind him. A strange man, judging by the hilt of the sword as tall as him — and he wasn't short by any means either.

"Which one of you is Monkey D. Luffy?"

Zoro turned his head lazily, arching his eyebrow.

"I don't recall such a name."

The witch's peace has been entirely destroyed by the new appearance, an unwelcome guest. She could spot him easily because of his big elegant hat with feathers and the sword with precious stones on the hilt.

It was her turn to stand proudly in front of a Warlord she's only heard about from her deceased father. Her back was straight and her chin up high, gaze sharp.

When the man turned his head to her, there was no mistake it was Dracule Mihawk, his golden irises shining with boredom. Even his perfect posture betrayed the obvious superiority he had in front of some mere children.

"I didn't know your father had raised a liar. He was honest, from what I recall."

The witch knew she was her father's splitting image, but how could he know—

The only thing that stopped her eyes from widening in surprise were the nails digging painfully into her palms.

"I don't know any Monkey D. Luffy and I certainly have no clue what you're talking about."

"I have business with your captain. If you know what's good for you, you'll hand him over."

"I don't know either," Nami responded from her seat. "Right, Zoro?"

"You're Dracule Mihawk."

The swordsman got up from his chair and for a moment, the witch wondered if he was insane or more delusional than her, because there's no other way he stood without a worry in the world in front of him.

In front of someone who could slice entire ships into pieces.

"Zoro?" the witch whispered, horrified.

The man in question stepped by Mihawk and walked slowly, steadily, as if the Warlord was his prey.

"It pains me to inform you that tomorrow… you're going to die."

Oh, Gods, please don't.

•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈

The witch was left speechless. She couldn't find strength in her legs and she had to sit on a chair when all of them gathered in the valley of their ship.

Zoro wasn't a sane man. He needed to be locked up or someone had to get that stick from up his ass before he had a chance to die out of stupidity.

She shook her head countless times while Zoro and Nami argued, rubbing her forehead with her fingertips and squeezing her eyes shut.

"Why do you even care?" the swordsman's cold tone rang in the air.

"Because you're my friend, you idiot."

Nami sounded close to losing it all.

The witch already lost it one hundred times. Her heart wasn't beating, her breath was shallow and she was pinching the bridge of her nose to hold back from saying or doing something rude, something she would later regret. The tension in the room weighed on her chest and she wished it was all just a nightmare.

"You said you don't have any friends," Zoro responded sharply.

The woman's eyes snapped open. He was more insane than she thought. She wanted to yell, but no raw sound filled with pain left her chapped lips. The witch could only remain rigid while Nami left the room with loud stomps.

"You're insane, Zoro," she muttered between gritted teeth.

The witch was tugging painfully at her own strands of her in order to stop the overwhelming feelings from spilling out of her like a tornado. Her shaking fingers curled into her hair and gripped, the burn on her scalp bringing her back to the cabin of their ship.

"This is a suicide mission."

"It's his dream," Luffy smiled, "we can't—"

"Zoro, you're gonna die!" she shouted out of the sudden after she snapped her head towards the swordsman.

She sank her nails into her palms until the sting was painful enough to keep herself stable. It was not to her liking to be pessimistic, to admit that someone wasn't able to do something, but what he wanted to do was not the most intelligent idea.

"This isn't good, this won't end well at all and you shall know it," the witch continued. "You can't seriously believe you'll get out of there better than half-alive."

The swordsman didn't need to respond in order to answer. His unmoving gaze and straightened back told enough: he wasn't going to change his mind at all, no matter what anyone said.

She knew it meant a lot for him to become the strongest swordsman in the world, but in his current state he wasn't able to defeat Mihawk. Out of all the people he could've dwelt with, Zoro chose him, that monster of a man.

"Did you not listen to me when I said 'He cuts entire ships with a mere flick of his wrist'?" she furrowed her eyebrows. "Did you suddenly forget when I clearly warned you all the warlords aren't some mere toys for the big guys in the system, they do whatever the fuck they want!"

She cussed herself for letting out so many emotions, but she seriously couldn't hold back anymore, no matter how worried Usopp seemed, or how confused Luffy was. They had no clue what Zoro was getting into—

"That's exactly why I'm dwelling with him and not someone else," the green-haired man spoke firmly.

"Oh, so your dream is to get cut in half by a sword taller than you?" her irritation slipped.

"Do you really think I trained my entire life to get cut without putting up a fight?"

Even if she didn't want to admit it to herself, one side of his heart was hurt. This entire time, every time they spoke, she openly told him she believes in him, that she trusts him even if it would be her downfall. It sounded like she's been lying this entire time.

"You know very well I never meant that you're weak, but you're not stronger than him! That's your idea of a swordsman? You can believe, you can even hope for the best to happen, but the happiest situation would be a quick death. And the worst? A torturous one."

"I didn't take you for someone who wouldn't understand what the pride of dying in a duel means."

"Fucking hell!"

The witch's tight fist hit the table placed in the middle of the cabin with a quick and hurried motion, her feelings indeed getting the best of her that time. It didn't come to mind the last time she ever acted so harshly.

He turned her words against herself and he was a professional at doing so. She knew what kind of pride swordsmen and pirates carry, she knew what they considered noble because she's spent years of her life listening to men and women talking about such things. Her father did the same, thought he could get out of any problem, until it brought him his death.

"Maybe you should have more faith," Usopp intervened in a small voice.

He was hesitant, the surprise obvious on his face — none of them expected that their most collected crewmate would lash out like that. Luffy was also silent, confused, obviously trying to find a way to get into the thick heads of his friends somehow. The argument escalated quickly and the tension wiped away any ounce of peace.

The witch's eyes were fixed on Zoro's and they burnt holes through his face. He's seen just as many emotions a night ago, when she told him about her past sailing experiences, about the life she left behind as she desperately tried to find freedom. And if freedom felt like that, he wondered if she really wanted it. He succumbed to the flames of hell in her eyes, but snapped himself out of it.

She was angry at him, he figured out quickly.

He didn't like that gaze. He'd do almost anything for her to stop looking at him that way, as if she wanted him away from her, as if his very presence brought her suffering. Almost anything.

"You see just what you want to see, Zoro. You're deliberately ignoring our worries, thinking we have something against you, thinking god-knows-what about how we're not your friends or whatever the fuck's going through your head—"

I'm worried for you, she swallowed a lump in her throat.

"Just because me and Nami are trying to stop you, it doesn't mean we're assholes keeping you away from your dream. We might be assholes, but we want you to be alive, not six feet under the ground!" her voice raised slightly at the end again, her breath shallow.

"You're worried about her, not about me. I don't need your worry."

"Zoro—" this time Luffy tried to intervene.

"You're impossible," she faintly spoke, like a ghost.

She gave up.

She buried her face into her own palms and sat on a chair, her elbows prompted on her knees. She had so much faith in Zoro, she could barely even point out how many feelings swirl in her heart when it comes to him, but she was aware he was mortal. He could die at any given time.

"Right, Zoro. Go die with pride filling you up the same way that man's sword will," she bitterly mumbled.

I hate you, Roronoa Zoro. You and your stupid pride, along with the fucked way I feel about you. I hate it all.

The poor woman was exhausted, her heartstrings twisting into knots, making it hard to ignore the pain running through her entire being. His name rolled on her tongue so many times in only a few minutes and it made her situation worse, that one word made of two syllables cutting through her chest.

The witch regretted her words immediately, but didn't say anything for a while.

Usopp nudged Luffy into leaving the other two alone and it was probably one of the few times when the straw hat understood subtleties without any questions.

"Take your time and clean your swords, Zoro, we'll be waiting outside," Luffy spoke.

The witch heard two pairs of steps that walked away, her face still buried in her palms. She gulped and took in a few deep breaths before she moved from her seat, straightening her back and moving to the window of the cabin, hands gripping at the edge of the wood.

She didn't throw a glance at Zoro. Silence stretched between them while the witch focused on the stars shining in the night sky.

I shouldn't have been here in the first place, she thought to herself, twisting the blade deeper into the wound. I shouldn't have accepted to come with you. I should've stayed in Syrup Village and left with another ship, to go somewhere far away from you. I should've known better that there's no way in hell I can grasp at the mere notion of freedom.

There's no place for me in heaven and there's no place for me in hell either. I'm stuck here, in this body, with these feelings and this swordsman in this galley.

I should've known. I should've known I was damned to die on my feet, with a bleeding heart and my back turned at you. I should've—

She gulped down harshly, blinking away the tears.

I want to stay with you all so badly.

"Zoro," she whispered his name again.

Tears stung in her eyes at the sound of his name. It felt like it was the last time she could hear his name repeatedly, the same name carved with silver on her heart.

"Be careful," she continued, her voice faint.

"Why do you care?" his bitter tone resounded in her eardrums. "Everyone seems deadly interested in my actions lately."

Only then she turned her head towards him and her ribcage protested when the prisoner that was her heart beat so harshly.

"I don't need a reason. I simply do. Please, Zoro."

Like the idiot that she was, she begged him to stay alive. A confession was hidden between her chapped lips — she picked at them with her nails and there was blood surfacing on top of the skin. Her tongue swiped over her bottom lip, the metallic flavor tickling her taste buds.

Judging on the way his jaw ticked with tension, he grasped onto enough of her words. Or maybe he refused to do so — who knows?

"Don't throw your life away. You'll never fulfill your promise if you die today. Be mindful. Don't rush when fighting, don't get angry if he pushes on your buttons and irritates you. Be wise, Zoro."

It was a lost fight on her side. There was nothing she could do to stop him, so at least she had to give him the best advice she thought of.

When he finally looked at her, her breath hitched. His brown eyes saw through her soul and she wondered if he could also feel how much she cared for him, the way she cared for him. She liked everyone on the ship equally, but her affection for him took a different path, one she's never walked on before.

He didn't say a word, letting everything sink in.

Maybe there is a chance he gets what I meant.

"Be careful."

This time, her voice trembled but she didn't look away. She stood there, staring at him as if it was the last time she saw his eyes open.

She turned towards the window again, nails digging into the wooden frame. She refused to look at him when she figured out tears could spill over her cheeks like a river if he continued staring at her, burying himself further into her soul. She only wanted him to be safe, because nothing was greater than that. If all of them could be kept away from harm's way, she would have days filled with peace.

Too bad such a thing was impossible in that unforgiving world.

Behind her, Zoro moved around and left the galley. After a few minutes, he came back with a bottle of oil for his swords. He dragged a chair and sat down at the table, more silent than usually. With utmost care, he took one of his black swords and unsheathed it, leaving the scabbard on the table. He poured some oil on the blade and used a piece of cloth to spread it even from tip to hilt.

The witch only dared to throw glances with an aching heart. She couldn't bring herself to leave, to stay away from him for too long now more than ever. She swallowed hard before making a tough decision.

Wordlessly, she moved from the window. Her heavy steps echoed in the room until they stopped right by Zoro's side.

"Can I help?"

Calm, just like she always tries to be, she spoke with fear clinging to every nerve in her body. She would blame herself for the rest of her life if they would part ways like that. More than her fears and worries, he mattered. He deserved all the pain she was capable of harboring inside her poor heart, he was worth the fight with her own self.

The swordsman didn't expect her gesture. He supposed she would storm out of the room, that she would scold him or try to stop him, just like before. He guessed she was more sane than him, even if he couldn't bring himself to care enough about that. Her reaction pained him in ways he couldn't explain.

His fingers pressed the piece of cloth against the blade of his words. He thought of being petty, shutting her down. Why couldn't she believe in him more? Was he that weak?

He nodded. Like the stupid man that he was, with no need for spoken words, he accepted her help. He watched her blank face, devoid of any life, as she took another sword from the table, following his exact steps.

Except, her hold on the white sword was gentle like a feather. A careful grip, so it wouldn't slip from her hand, but gentle nonetheless. He stopped whatever he was doing, focusing on the woman who rested her hips against the table, close to him, so close, but, oh, so far away. Zoro watched her unsheathe his Wado Ichimoji and place it on the table. Her hand reached out for the bottle of oil and her other one took advantage of the opportunity, taking the piece of cloth from his own hold.

Their fingers touched. Hers were cold, but they still burnt his skin. Electric shocks traveled through his body and his chest tightened.

She poured some oil on the material and then left the bottle on the table, gripping at the hilt of the sword again. She moved the piece of cloth over the blade carefully, as if she's done it before countless times. Left, right, left, right. Everytime she exhaled, her breath was trembling, despite the slow pace of her gestures.

He paid more attention to the hands holding his sword: they were shaking when she placed the sword on the table. She poured some more oil on the cloth and dipped the tip of her index finger in the same spot. With the same finger, she drew on the blade a symbol Zoro didn't recognize.

With each stroke of her fingertip, she traced lines and connected them in a barely visible symbol: an arrow pointed upwards.

"It's a rune meant for protection," she explained softly as she sheathed the sword. "It's associated with strength and honor. It doesn't matter if you don't believe in it, because I do and that's enough."

It was true: he didn't believe in such things and never did. The swordsman never found it reasonable nor did he ever try to figure it out. It didn't mean he denied her beliefs — no, but he was indifferent towards it.

However, he couldn't act indifferent towards the witch, which he found at that point to be straight up painful. It was painful to look at her and see torment in her deep eyes, it hurt to see sorrow painted on her angelic features when none of them was dead.

The witch did the same gesture with the other two swords, carefully holding each one of them, as if they were her own treasures, not his.

"Come back alive," she whispered.

If he wouldn't have been so close to her, her voice would've sounded like a breath.

"That's all I ask of you. If you wish so, then no sword will cut through you. Blades can cut steel, but nothing can cut will."

What was she mourning when she said those things? Who did she think of? he wondered.

May the gods protect you tomorrow, she hoped. They've taken so many away from me along the way.

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lakesparkles · 14 days

Text

I finished the first chapter of my Gideon and Ramona fanfiction :D

I'll post it somewhere else someday, but so far I can share it here.

(reminder that this is NOT a ship fic. I just want to explore their relationship and project on Ramona tbh)

Ramona and Gideon - I

She decides to leave one last time

Ramona remembers the seven reasons that made her fall in love with Gideon

—

She had that same fantasy every day. As she walked down the halls, running her fingers along the wall, she imagined herself entering her own room. It was satisfying, somehow. She could perfectly see herself opening her wardrobe, taking out the few things that really interested her, putting everything in her bag and simply walking away.

In that fantasy, of course, she always smiled. She even laughed. That kind of hysterical and cathartic laughter only present in films. She wanted to imagine how Gideon would react: how long would it be before he realized she wasn't there anymore? Two weeks? And when would he realize that this wasn't just another one of her "famous tantrums"? Two months? Two years?

Part of her was almost excited at the prospect of making him furious with such an accomplishment. It would be his turn to take endless turns through the halls, finally using his brain trying to understand what had gone so wrong between them. Maybe he would find out years later. Or perhaps that doubt would eat away at him for decades to come, the bitterness of her image never leaving his mind.

And part of her... thought that wasn't realistic. She knew Gideon well enough to know that he would never even consider any mistake on his part, with a mixture of confusion that never ended well when it came to him.

Or worse.

He wouldn't even care about her lack of presence in that house.

Therefore, Ramona released her fingers from the wall, slowing down her steps until she stopped altogether.

Then the fantasy ended. Every single time.

☆

7 MONTHS BEFORE

"Ramona Flowers," he repeated once again, with his head bowed. At that point, she figured he just wanted to test how the name sounded on his own vocal cords. "Ramona...Flowers."

"Did you like it, huh?" Ramona took a sip of her own drink, even though she already considered herself drunk enough. Maybe he was too, now that she thought about it.

"Sounds a little familiar."

"Strange," she shrugged, not caring. "And you are?"

Now he raised his head once more, looking her in the eyes. Ramona found it strange the way he raised one of his eyebrows, as if he had just heard a terrible insult.

"Did I say something wrong?" Alcohol always made her put all her thoughts out, without thinking much. She slowly realized that it hadn't been a good idea to start talking to that guy in a situation like that.

He laughed, however:

"You are intriguing, Ramona. And my name is Gideon Graves, to answer your question!"

He - Gideon? Weird name - had said such a thing with so much pride that she began to suspect there was something she wasn't understanding. She became even more certain of that once she noticed his gaze still fixed on her face, waiting for a response - perhaps an acknowledgment. Strange, huh.

To escape her own discomfort, she looked ahead, watching as everyone calmly walked around the party room. It was an average place, so there were too many people everywhere: one of the reasons she felt so uncomfortable. Parties stopped interesting her when she left college. Now she had no idea what to do there other than walk around with her glass of wine. And walk more. And pretend to be interested in the topic that another weird guy in a suit, who held her arm, was talking about. And walk.

"What brought a girl like you here?" Gideon cut the awkward silence, catching Ramona's attention again.

What was he implying with that? That she looked poor? Messed up? Or was it her hair?

"I was challenged for 20 dollars that I wouldn't be able to crash this party."

"Seriously," he laughed lightly, now being his turn to sip his glass. "What was the reason?"

"It's a looooong story."

"Don't tell me!"

"You wouldn't have that much time to listen to me."

"It seems that you don't know me very well" he implied, good-naturedly.

Ramona turned her head to the side until realize Gideon kept his eyes fixated on her face. He always had a blank expression, difficult to read. She took the opportunity to analyze him more closely, trying to decide if he was ugly or not. His dark hair was longer on one side, in a kind of fringe that must've been popular about 10 years ago. What caught the most attention, clearly, were his thick glasses that he occasionally used his index finger to place back on the bridge of his nose. However, she also couldn't help but notice his white coat, much more informal than she expected for an occasion like that.

Normally, Ramona was good - great even! - knowing a lot about someone just by her first impression and how the other person acted. But that guy? He was different, he just seemed like a weirdo who apparently was interested in her.

She had watched him for a few minutes before he approached. Gideon was talking calmly to a large group of people, making no effort to become the center of attention. He had something in him, that was for sure. A kind of confidence mixed with how unusual the way he gestured with his hands was.

She was so caught up in her own mental notes that she didn't even notice Gideon's next move until it had already happened. Still with a smile stuck on his face, he held her arm tightly, pulling her away from the wall and making her follow him.

"What the hell, dude!?" Ramona practically screamed, looking around in confusion.

"Let's get out of this stupid party, I can't take it anymore!"

Indifferently, Ramona let herself be guided wherever the other wanted. She didn't care anymore. About that party and about everything else. Not when everything had already gone catastrophically wrong. She was too drunk to think about that anyway.

The two of them sneaked among all those people, occasionally apologizing for stepping on someone's foot. When they paused for Gideon to exchange their glasses for two full ones, Ramona realized that she was having more fun in that moment than in any other second since she entered that tight space.

This time, she didn't even need Gideon's grip to willingly follow in his footsteps, laughing along with him every time they had to take a giant turn just because there were so many people.

"I know a place~" Gideon hummed when they arrived in one of the corners of the room. Without making much effort, he lightly opened one of the large doors, waiting for her to pass before closing it behind them"

They came face to face with a long circular staircase - not the most pleasant sight at the moment. She felt sick just looking up:

"Can we be here?"

"Yeah, Jonah doesn't care! Do you know Jonah? The owner of this buiding."

"Obviously not, man!"

"He's a friend of mine... For a long time. Anyway, keep following me!"

And so Ramona did, having the next minutes extremely complicated. She almost tripped on some steps, needing to lean on the handrail as if her life depended on it. Gideon himself didn't seem so good either, his feet unsteady even as he continued to take large gulps of wine. Anyone who looked at them at that moment would think they were idiots, and that thought amused Ramona.

Fortunately, the stairs ended after some time - how much had they gone up? Four floors? - Gideon opened another door, smiling at her as he waited for a reaction.

"Wow," she murmured, somewhat ironically, looking up. Until that moment, she hadn't even realized that they'd gone to the roof of that building. The sky above them was almost completely dark, the stars being overshadowed by all the other lights coming from the buildings.

"Much better than down there, don't you think?" Gideon boasted of himself, taking slow steps to the edge of the slab, leaning there to better observe the entire view.

"Funny. For the way you got along with everyone, I thought you were enjoying it."

"Not even close to that. The good thing about Jonah's parties is that you soon know everyone there, at least by sight. The bad part is that it gets repetitive after the third party."

"I'm already thinking it the first time. Who is Jonah?"

"Huh, he's..." Then he interrupted himself. "You're really not from here."

"What do you think?" Ramona went to his side, resting her glass on the slab and exhaling through her mouth in a kind of 'pfff'. "Do I happen to look like the type of person who comes to New York with a completely fanciful idea coming from $1,99 novels, only to find out that it's not all that and that she's not even good enough to be a pizza delivery girl?

"From the way you're saying it, I believe so."

"That is not what happened!!" She got angry, being grumpy again.

"Alright."

With a sigh, she leaned her body weight - up to her chin - on the wall:

"I'm not here to stay" finally something sincere came out of her mouth. "I just need some money to get to Vermont."

"It's far away, y'know?" Gideon spoke very quietly, his gaze fixed on the sky. She could've sworn he looked a little disappointed, which interested her. "Is there anything you need to do there?"

'No, I just want to know how it is. Just like here."

"And what are your thoughts about New York so far?"

"Overestimated."

"I knew you'd say that!" He shook his head, pretending to be irritated. "And something also told me that you were exactly the type of person who liked to hang around."

"The thing you said about my eyes, right?"

"They're beautiful."

"Did you know that your flirting gets worse every time you drink more?"

Gideon let out a sudden laugh. If he was offended, he didn't show it. At most, he finished all the remaining liquid in the glass in one gulp, teasing her.

"And why are you right here, in the party?" He continued.

"Is this an interrogation?"

"I'm just curious about someone as fascinating as you!"

"Silly," she rolled her eyes, not falling for that. "It was because of a friend. No, not a friend. A guy I met."

"A boyfriend?"

"What? No! It's the guy from the coffee shop across the street, I think he knows Jonah or something. His name is Jay, we talk when I go there. Do you know? That coffee shop over there, look!" She pointed with her index finger to the dark spot on the street below.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Anyways! Jay ended up becoming my roommate. It's in a tiny studio apartment, but he can pay for it with his cafeteria salary and I can with the money I saved from Pennsylvania."

"Mhmm!"

"Shitty, I know! But I'm getting out of here. Soon."

"Are you sure you don't have any plans?"

This time, Ramona was silent, watching the cars pass by below. That part not even alcohol would let go so soon.

"And you, Gideon? Are you from here?"

"Me? I'm not. I came from North Bay.'

"Serious? You don't look Canadian."

"What does looking Canadian mean to you?"

"Someone who isn't you."

"Did you know that you make less and less sense the more you drink?" He countered, raising both eyebrows.

She ignored him, then he spoke again a few seconds later:

"Do you see that building over there? The one near the red sign."

Ramona followed with her gaze where he was pointing:

"Man Media?" She read with her eyes almost closed, barely seeing.

"G-Man Media! G! The triangle is a G!"

"Ah, now I see it."

"So, I live there!"

"Live?"

"It's my company building, actually. But I arranged one of the floors to be my apartment."

"Company?"

She was still looking closely there, almost getting scared when she felt Gideon's hand on her shoulder.

"Ramona, are you okay? Of course you're not!"

She responded with a nod, cursing herself for making it so apparent that she had drunk more than she was used to. What a great first impression. She tried to stand and turn to him, to prove a point, but she remembered little after that.

It was as if her mind had stopped working from one moment to the next. I mean, she was conscious as best she could. Wasn’t she?

The problem was remembering that the next day.

She lifted her head for the expected pain, her mouth dry as a desert upon waking up. Even though she couldn't see very well, she realized she was in a bed. How? She barely had time to despair before she looked everywhere, analyzing the light coming through the window and realizing she was alone in an unfamiliar place. It wasn't her apartment with Jay, that was for sure. That room alone should've been bigger than the entire place.

The last thing she remembered from the last night was being in a car. Gideon spoke to her, a little impatiently. He asked where she lived, she thinks.

Well, there was no sign of Gideon at that moment, which made her feel a little calmer. She also seemed fine, if she ignored her hangover.

It'd just been... Weird.

It took her about half an hour, rooting and snooping in every corner of the room, until she noticed the most obvious thing of all: the sheet of paper and the envelope on top of the cabinet.

She sat at the foot of the bed, reading what was written there:

"Dear Ramona Flowers,

The room´s already been paid for overnight, don't need to worry! If you want to see me again, you know where to find me. If not, I wish you the best of luck in Vermont!

-GGG"

Half curious, half laughing at the stupid name, she opened the envelope to find enough money for five trips.

☆

She didn't know why her brain reminded her of that specific moment. Ramona raised the corner of her mouth, coming back to reality and running her fingers along the walls of the hallway towards her room.

Now the fantasy was completely over. Instead, she imagined a fictional life in Vermont, accompanied by someone poorer and less complicated. It looked good, if she ignored the lack of detail because she had obviously never set foot there.

God, what an idiot she was!

Even without having a specific direction, she continued walking there. It’s what she does when she is so bored in such a big building. It was even funny. She'd lived there for months, but she was pretty sure she'd never explored all the rooms and floors.

She was near her room when someone suddenly came out of one of the open doors, colliding painfully into her.

"Ow. Sorry" she automatically apologized, expecting to be one of the tower's employees.

"Ramona," the other person's voice said. In that typical and curious way.

"Gideon," she said back, her head down. "I thought you were working all day today?"

"Nope, only in the morning" he finished straightening his suit that had crumpled during the impact. "I was looking for you, actually."

Ramona raised her head, certainly not anticipating this turn of the conversation. So much so that she was speechless for a second, giving Gideon the chance to continue:

"Do you want to go out for lunch? You can choose the place this time."

His tone... It seemed normal. Different from usual, which made her suspicious:

"I prefer to stay at home today, my head hurts. I was going to my room," and then she started to feel guilty. "Do you want to watch a movie?"

"Only if it's Sherlock Holmes!"

"Nothing like that! You said I choose and it will be The Butterfly Effect!"

Gideon smiled as he nodded, putting his arm around her neck - that had to be uncomfortable, considering how many inches taller she was than him -, and walking beside her to her room.

Then they spent the next few minutes together, without anything too special. Besides, of course, being in each other's presence in general. It seemed like the longer their relationship lasted, the less they saw each other. And that only made her feel strange about the current situation. It seemed so normal that something had to be out of place.

The film played in front of the two, who lay on her big bed. Gideon had a straight body, with his legs crossed and his arms the same way. Ramona kind of touched him and kind of didn't. Gideon seemed interested in the film, laughing and making occasional comments. Ramona pretended to pay attention when answering him.

What was so wrong? There had to be something wrong.

Then Gideon stretched a little, changing position to turn around and wrap his arms around her body. His familiar shape made her dizzy for a moment. This hadn't happened for a long time. Without thinking too much to avoid regret, she snuggled into his hold, feeling warm and... Fine. Almost.

The memory was almost automatic. Her brain refocused on that same day, months ago:

What she hadn't told Gideon when they met was how incredibly lost she was feeling because of her own stupidity. After graduating, she decided to leave everything behind, as she realized that she didn't belong there. She might not have any idea where that place would be, but she could certainly look! She took whatever temporary job she could get; she boarded planes and even trusted strangers for rides; she spent months, weeks and days in completely different cities. Searching.

New York before Gideon had been more of the same. Her days were made up of looking at those giant buildings while wondering which point in that immense city was the right one.

Apparently, it was exactly in that room, feeling Gideon's comforting warmth. He looked so relaxed that she couldn't help but laugh at the funny face he made as he tried not to fall asleep. The energy bar above his head said otherwise, being practically zero. Ramona... She was almost fine too. Her eyes took longer to blink each time.

So why did she still feel exactly the same as the time she spent wandering around New York? She was beginning to think that she was incapable of settling down and being content.

An instant before she fell completely asleep, something clicked in her mind. Her eyes suddenly widened.

She finally realized what was so wrong there.

It was about the day she met Gideon. She was absolutely sure that, until now, she remembered perfectly how everything happened when they got down from that slab. Before now, she remembered taking a taxi with him and all the conversations they had inside. And how he took her to a random hotel for the night, saying goodbye briefly by leaving her in the room and writing something while she went, in her drunken state, to bed.

But now... It was as if her mind had gone blank.

#my writing #ramona flowers #gideon graves #scott pilgrim #ramona and gideon au #if you read it i would love to know what you think :D

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ax-y10 · 7 months

Text

My Little Zombie

In which- You and Wilbur match zombie looks

A/n: I originally had this idea when the sorry boys video was released but I never got around to finishing it, so here is my very, very late zombie wilbur fic.

Chapter info: "zombie" depictions, makeup, fake blood, mentions of fake bites, slightly suggestive context with the matching makeup, petname "My little zombie", sleeping in the same bed as someone

Pronouns: None (You/Yours)

Masterlist:

Your filming part of the evening came to a close when Wilbur was carried through the halls and laid down. It was actually quite fun to film, but you had a quick idea you wanted to check with the group before going to complete Wilbur's "Zombie" look for the last clip.

"Can Wilbur and I match zombie makeup?" You ask out of breath from running to the boys, and practically falling against Ranboo. Carrying a bulky camera wasn't all fun and games.

"Sure! It'll be funny to," Phil spoke up after a beat of silence, and you sprinted back to your boyfriend, still laying on the cold concrete floor, exhausted from the day.

"Come on, we're gonna go match makeup with each other," Wilbur perked up hearing that, closing his eyes and pulling himself into a standing position before following you to the bathrooms.

You sorted through your bag, finding the makeup you had been using for people, filming equipment and electronics like your phone and laptop for on the go updates and editing.

"Can I have fake blood dabbed on my bottom lip and you have a slightly bloody bite mark on your neck? Or is that too much?" Wilbur whispered as you pulled out the supplies you'd need for your plan.

"Okay, stay still and I'll start," You zoned in on his face, making sure the concealer covered his dark under eyes, the brown eye shadow scattered across his hairline and the-

"Can we match makeup?" Wilbur spoke up again, seeming like a kicked puppy, and you just shook your head and clicked your tongue.

"I heard you the first time, and did I shut down the idea?" You laughed.

You got to work with his reddish, purplish eye bags, outlining them up towards his eyelids. You ran a bit of fake blood from his nostril, careful not to get it inside his nose, and wiped off the red liquid that touched his lip. He dabbed a bit of fake blood on his bottom lip, tracking down his chin, after many attempts of begging to do something from the taller man.

"Darling, don't move," he mimicked, hinting to you so you didn't move while he applied some purple, red and brown eyeshadow onto a very visible spot on your neck.

You touched up the "bite" mark on his forearm and added a matching one on your wrist with two darker red circles, obviously creating the illusion of a bite.

"My little zombie," you heard him whisper as he walked towards the bathroom door again, a blush spreading over your face.

You told him to hide in the back of the "uber" Charlie had called to scare Tommy and Ranboo. And your plan worked, successfully scaring the two youngsters. You and the three boys collected everyone on the team, filming and acting, and you all headed back to your respectful hotel rooms.

You helped Wilbur wipe off all of his makeup, kissing his cheek when you finished, wiping yours off, and you both went to bed snuggled up against each other, not caring about changing, both too tired to care.

His snores sounded through the room first, pulling you off into a deep slumber

#wilbur soot #wilbur soot imagine #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur x reader #wilbur #wilbur soot fluff #zombur #bursona #zombie wilbur #wilbur soo timagines #wilbur fluff #zombie #sorry boys #sorry boys we survived a zombie apocalypse

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vbecker10 · 1 year

Text

My Best Friend...

Part 2 of 2 (Part 1 here)

Pairing: Loki x plus size female reader (y/n)

Warnings: angst (of course), self depreciating thoughts, feeling inadequate, issues with self image, low self worth... but I promise lots of fluff - let me know if I forgot anything 💚

Summary: What you thought would be a relaxing girls night quickly turns into an interrogation by Nat and Wanda about your non-existent relationship with Loki. After denying you are anything other then friends for as long as you can, you finally tell them how you really feel about him... and why you know he will never feel the same. The night goes from bad to worse when you realize Loki overheard you talking to them and you try to hide from him.

A/N: I know I promised this would be all fluff but you should know not to listen to me lol also... I know this part got really long, I didn't want to make it three parts though

Tag List: A lot of people asked to be tagged in the second part of this which is amazing but I'm not sure if you want to be tagged in my other Loki fics as well so please let me know 💚

Dividers by: @harlequin-hangout

You leave the common room in a hurry and head down one long hallway then another. Stopping short at the end of the hall, you realize in your haste to get away from Loki and your friends, you've gone in the wrong direction. Instead of going towards the elevators so you could make your escape from the Tower, you found yourself at the library. You curse under your breath and wonder how you could be this careless. Turning around slowly, you know the only way to get to the elevators is to go back the way you came.

Your phone vibrates as you stand in front of the tall door, deciding if you should go in and try to hide here for the night or go back and risk running into Nat and Wanda or worse, Loki. Checking your phone, you see 10 new messages in your group chat as well as a missed call from both Wanda and Nat. Your finger hovers over the chat but you don't open it, you know they are worried about you but you can't talk to anyone right now. You just want to pretend the whole night never happened.

Turning off your phone, you take a deep breath then push open the door to the library. Wandering slowly through the large room, you make your way up one aisle of books and down another. You try not to think of how much the space reminds you of Loki but it is nearly impossible to keep him out of your thoughts. You make your way towards the back of the library, the part that reminds you of him the most. When you reach the last aisle you can't help but pause, remembering the last time you were here with him.

One day last week, Loki and you had made plans to get takeout and watch the final few episodes of a TV show you had both become overly invested in. He hadn't responded to your text about what he wanted to order so you went to his room but he wasn't there. You smiled to yourself, knowing exactly where he would be hiding as you headed down to the library. He would spend hours reading in the furthest corner with a cup of tea forgotten about but kept warm by his magic. Everyone on the team knew he was not to be interrupted when he was there, it was his escape after a difficult mission or a disagreement with his brother. This rule didn't apply to you however, Loki had made it clear to you that you were always welcome.

When you found him, he was sitting on the end of one of the couches reading a thick leather bound book. It was easy to see how lost he was in the story, his eyes shifted back and forth as he read the words quickly before turning the page. You leaned against one of the shelves watching him silently, not wanting to disturb him. After a few moments, he looked up and saw you waiting for him. He closed the book and apologized for losing track of time, he had meant to reply to your message but he wanted to finish the chapter he was reading.

You laughed, "How many chapters ago was that?"

He opened the book again and began to flip backwards, closing it with a smirk, "Six."

You moved to sit next to him then you picked up the book from where he had set it on the table. "What's it about?" you asked curiously as you looked at the foreign words on the pages.

When he finished telling you about the book you were hooked and quickly asked if he could help you find a copy in English you could read. His face fell slightly at your request and he responded, "Unfortunately, it is one that I brought from my personal library on Asgard." He paused, noticing how disappointed you looked. After a moment he smiled and said, "I could read it to you if you'd like."

You shake the memory away, Loki is supposed to start reading the story to you tomorrow but that might never happen now. Your heart begins to pound in your chest as you hear the door to the library slowly open and close with a light thud. Staying completely still and silent, you wait for someone to speak but instead you hear heavy footsteps and know instantly they don't belong to Nat or Wanda, it's Loki.

"Y/N, are you in here?" he calls out from the front of the library.

At first you don't respond, hoping he will go away but then you hear him coming closer. You walk backwards until your back hits a wall and you slide down so you are sitting against it. You hear him come to a stop a few aisles from you and at first you are unsure what he is doing. You bite your lip anxiously but then you hear your own voice, it's your voicemail message. He groans in frustration as he hangs up without leaving a message. His footsteps begin again, still coming closer as he makes his way down the next aisle.

"Y/N?" he tries again, you can hear the concern in his voice while he looks for you. "I know you didn't leave the Tower," he says and you curse yourself again for having made a wrong turn.

"Please... just go away Loki," you finally respond and his movement stops.

"Can we talk?" he asks over the shelves of books. You shake your head even though you know he can't see you. "I just need to know you are ok," he says.

"I'm fine," you answer with a sniffle as you wipe your eyes. You hadn't realized you had begun crying again.

He sighs, "I don't need to be the God of Lies to know that isn't true." He waits to see if you will answer and when you don't he starts to walk towards you again.

His footsteps become louder and slower when he reaches the aisle you are hiding in. He doesn't say anything and you don't look up, still hoping he will leave but you know now he won't. Instead you feel him sit next to you on the ground and gently place one arm around you, his hand slowly moving up and down your upper arm. You can't help but lean into him, allowing him to pull you closer.

Your mind wanders back to the only time you had ever hugged Loki in the six months you've known each other. A few days after you had begun talking everyday he had to leave for a mission and was gone for a little over a week. The data retrieval mission was ultimately labeled a success despite the intel being outdated and Loki getting injured. Thankfully, it was a shallow wound and he healed before the jet landed at the compound but that didn't stop you from worrying about him. You hadn't meant to hug him but the minute you saw him, you ran up to him and wrapped your arms around him tightly, telling him you were glad he was back. For an agonizingly long second, he didn't hug you back and you thought you had done something wrong but then his tall frame relaxed and he leaned down to hug you back. You could have stayed like that forever, closing your eyes as you pressed your cheek to his chest. Suddenly his phone began to ring and his hand left your back so he could talk to whichever woman he was supposed to see that weekend. As soon as he answered the call, you let go of him and walked quietly to your office, not looking back to see if he noticed you had gone.

Your memory caused you to shift uncomfortably and Loki loosened the gentle hold he had of you, allowing you to pull away. You look away from him and say again, "I'm fine, you don't have to stay."

"You are not fine and I'm not leaving," he says in a soothing voice as he touches your cheek lightly, wiping away your tears. "We can talk or we can sit here in silence all night, it is up to you," he tells you and you nod at the choices.

You sniffle and clear your throat before asking, "How... how much did you hear Loki?"

He rubs his hands together slowly, a gesture you know he only does when he is anxious, "I heard Wanda bring up Exhibit B and... I'm sorry I know I should have left, I did not plan on interrupting your girls night but I was curious." Your mouth falls open in disbelief, you had hoped he only heard the end of your rant about being in love with him, but he had heard almost everything the three of you talked about. You sit in silence next to him, not sure what to say so he continues. "Rogers and I completed our mission early and I only went to the common room to let you know I was back. I wanted to see you for just a moment, I've missed you so much the last two days," he says.

You look up at him, your mind trying to register what he had said. Loki had never told you he missed you before, even when he had been away on longer missions.

"I have to admit, I thought it was a bit silly that Natasha and Wanda were so adamant that we were dating in secret because-" he starts to explain.

"Because you would obviously never date me," you interrupt him without thinking. "Because you wouldn't want to be with someone who looked like me," you say as you cross your arms over your chest and look down. "I know, you only date tall, skinny, beautiful women and I am not one of them, it was pathetic of me to even pretend you might be vaguely interested in me."

"No, Y/N, that's not why," he says firmly but he can tell you aren't listening to him. "Please, look at me love."

The pet name is almost too much for you at the moment, you get up from the floor as quickly as you can without saying a word. You take a few steps away from him but stop when you feel his fingers close around your wrist. "I'm sorry... I'm sorry I ever said anything," you whisper as you look at the ground. "I should have just kept my stupid feelings to myself, I've ruined everything."

Loki pulls on your wrist slightly causing you to turn towards him as he walks closer to you. He stands directly in front of you, his other hand strokes your cheek then follows your jawline until he can gently lift your chin. You look up at him and he smiles in return then suddenly your heart begins to race as you realize Loki is closing the distance between your lips and his. He kisses you softly, his hand never leaving your chin while his other hand lets go of your wrist and settles on your lower back.

When his lips leave yours, you look up at him in utter shock and he chuckles lightly, "Can I speak now?" All you can do is nod as you search for words. "The reason I thought it was silly, is because if we were dating," he says with a smirk, "I would never keep it a secret. I would want everyone to know that you are mine and I am yours." You stare at him still not able to form a proper sentence.

"Do you know why I never go on dates anymore?" he asks after a moment of silence passes between you.

You shrug, finally able to speak again as he removes his hand from your chin but not your back, "Not really, it was right after we started hanging out. We never talked about it but... I just assumed you were tired of Steve and Tony telling you to slow down before you slept with every woman in New York City or because Fury would get really angry when your dates ended up in the tabloids."

"I would need to value the opinion of the three of them if either of those were the real reason," he says and you look at him confused.

"I'm not sure why then," you admit.

"I stopped going out because I had no need of them, I found someone I wanted to be with for more than just one night," he tells you. "Do you remember the first night we spent time together, just the two of us?" You nod and he smiles. "Gods, you were so adorably nervous when you asked me if I wanted to watch a movie with you. I never told you this but I was looking forward to it so much, I forgot to cancel my date that night. I had several very angry text messages when I finally checked my phone the next morning."

Before you can stop yourself you ask, "Wait, you want me to believe that you were so excited to watch a movie with me, you literally forgot to text a super model back?"

He corrects you, "I'm not sure if that one was a model or an actress, they all blurred together after a while and I honestly couldn't tell you the name of the movie we watched either." He pauses, taking note of your growing confusion. "Y/N, I had been wanting to get to know you outside of our few work interactions since you started at SHIELD and when you asked me to spend time with you, I was thrilled but also a bit shocked."

You look down at your shoes and whisper, "Nat dared me."

"She what?" he asks.

"Nat knew I had a crush on you so she dared me to talk to you more," you tell him. "She suggested we watch a movie but I told her you would be busy with more interesting things and there was no way you would ever agree to it... but then you did and I kinda panicked. I almost didn't show up for the movie but Nat practically dragged me to the common room. I'm glad she did though, cause otherwise we never would have gotten to be friends," you say with a laugh but your smile fades when you see he isn't smiling back. "Loki?" you ask.

"I've wanted to be more than your friend for so long Y/N but no matter how hard I try, you never let me in. Even something as simple as wanting to give you a compliment. You would come back with a sarcastic comment or a self-deprecating joke to bring yourself down. I don't like how you talk about yourself, love," he says.

"That's my defense mechanism," you tell him. "I- I thought you were just a shameless flirt because of the stories I've heard from Thor and the fact that you call everyone darling. When you say I'm beautiful or perfect I just- I would make jokes to remind myself that I wasn't either of those things and it was just your personality."

"But you are Y/N both of those things and more," he tells you and you can feel a blush creep across your cheeks. "Calling women darling is nothing more than an old habit," he touches your warm cheeks and you look up at him. "You are the only one I call love," he reminds you with a smile.

You can't help but giggle at the pet name he uses so frequently with you, "I had noticed that but I thought-"

"Stop," he says softly. "No more excuses," he urges and you nod.

"Y/N", he says seriously, "You are everything I have ever wanted. I love that I can spend hours on end talking to you or we can simply sit together and read in comfortable silence. It makes me feel lucky to know you worry about me when I am on missions and you are here, waiting for me to return. We have so many similar interests but you still manage to teach me new things constantly. I can't tell you how much I enjoy seeing this city with you every weekend and I wish I could bring you to see Asgard one day. I want to spend every minute I can with you," he pauses to chuckle lightly, "That's part of why I insist on you staying the night so often. I sleep better when you are the last person I see at night and the first person I see in the morning. You are caring and quirky, intelligent, sweet and you are perfect."

You stand in front of Loki in silence as your heart feels like it is about to explode with excitement. You smile from ear to ear, having never in your wildest dreams thought this was possible.

He puts his arms around you and pulls you flush against him. "I cannot believe you thought something as trivial as your weight would keep me from falling in love with you," he says.

You can't help but shrug, "I guess it sounds kinda silly when you say it like that."

He smiles, one hand firmly on your lower back while his other hand runs up and down your arm lightly. You look up at him, your arms around his waist. "I want to date you Y/N," he says simply.

"I would really, really like that," you tell him and he laughs at how excited you sound. He leans down to kiss you again and this time you kiss him back. When he breaks the kiss, his fingers gently follow the chain of your necklace until he is holding the charm in his hand.

"This is very pretty, my love, but I would like to make one small adjustment to it. Would you mind?" he asks and you nod, curious to see what he will do to it.

He closes his fingers around the small gold flower and a green glow spreads over his knuckles. When he opens his hand a few seconds later, the clear stone that was in the center of the flower is now a deep emerald green, the same shade as Loki's cape. You smile and say, "Green is my favorite color."

He chuckles, "I know, it's one of the many things I love about you." You kiss his cheek and thank him, he knew you had wanted the necklace with a green stone but the artist had sold out of those before you could buy one.

You take Loki's hand and bite your lip, "Um, so it's pretty late."

He smiles, "It is."

"Should I stay with you tonight?" you ask Loki.

"I think that would be a fantastic idea," he answers.

The two of you walk quietly through the Tower, back to his room still holding hands tightly. He opens the door to his apartment and lets you walk in first. As soon as he closes the door he puts one arm around your waist and pulls you close to him again. He leans down to kiss you then suddenly he picks you up. You giggle in surprise and put your arms around his neck as he carries you through the living room towards his bedroom, his lips never leaving yours. He walks towards the bed then turns so he can fall onto it backwards with you on top of him.

As soon as his back hits the mattress you pull back from the kiss and instinctively try to move off of him. He lets go of you with one arm but keeps the other around you loosely. He moves your hair behind your ear and is concerned by your sudden change in expression.

"Have I done something wrong? We can stop, I didn't mean to go too far," he says in a worried tone.

"No, no, it's nothing you did," you say as you look away from him. "It's just... I'm too big to be on top of you like this. My ex used to complain about it, he said I was too heavy and-"

Loki kisses your cheek softly, stopping you mid-sentence. He makes sure you are looking into his eyes and he smiles. "Y/N... I carried you here," he says. "And I laid down first so I would be under you."

You blink slowly as you look at him beneath you, "You did."

"Which means..." he starts, hoping you will finish his thought.

"Which means... you don't think I'm too heavy?" you ask slowly.

"My love, I don't know many things about your ex but I do know that he never deserved you if that is how he spoke to you," he says. "You don't need to worry about that pathetic mortal anymore. You belong to a... how did you put it? Ah yes, a freaking prince and a god," he laughs a bit and you can't help but smile when he says you belong to him. "You know, I think I might have a talk with my brother about having my official title adjusted."

You giggle and bury your face in the crook of his neck, finally relaxing and allowing your body to settle onto Loki's. He hugs you tightly and whispers, "I need you to remember something for me Y/N, I don't love you because of your body or in spite of it, I love you wholly and completely, every part of you because you are perfect." You nod, taking in his words as he runs his fingers through your hair. "I will not let anyone speak ill of my queen," he tilts your chin so you are looking at him, "And that includes you. I want you to tell me if these ugly thoughts return to that beautiful mind of yours."

"I promise," you tell him quietly and he guides your lips back to his.

"We should probably get some sleep," Loki says and you agree. "Should I sleep on the couch or..." he pauses. You don't move from where you are laying and mumble with your eyes closed. "I have no idea what you said," he laughs.

"I want to cuddle," you say clearer, picking your head up a bit.

"Cuddles it is," he agrees with a smile.

The two of you get under the covers after quickly putting on clothes to sleep in. Loki lays on his back and you curl up with your head on his chest again, listening to his heartbeat as you close your eyes.

He kisses the top of your head while his fingers trace small circles on your back. "You know," he says quietly, "There is something else Nat and Wanda were right about.

"Hmm?" you mumble, barely listening to him as you drift off to sleep.

"Well, it does seem silly for you to keep paying rent on your apartment when you could just live here with me," he says.

You sit up just as he shuts the light off. "Goodnight love," he says with a smirk.

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writeforfandoms · 3 months

Text

A Lonely Place - 3

Find my Soap masterlist

The last part of this fic, and my last entry for Soap It Up hosted by the amazing @glitterypirateduck

Let's see if you guys can find which prompt I used this chapter.

Discoveries are made, scarves are knit, and somehow things work out.

Warnings: Swearing, Feels, seriously more Feels, bit of anxiety, nameless characters, a familiar face shows up (if you read Gaz's zombie au fic).

Word count: 2.1k

Days passed easily with them - you helped out in the kitchen, learned how to chop firewood, and met several other members of the little community.

It was very different from anything you'd experienced before. It really was a community - everybody knew everyone else. It was common to see at least one of the four protectors out and about.

But you saw the most of Soap. Johnny, he offered, after a few weeks. He was funny, and kind of sweet, and very competent.

He even showed you how to use the knife to protect yourself.

It wasn't long until you were missing him when he was gone. Until you debated inviting yourself over to the house.

But you always talked yourself out of it.

The weather turned colder, making you glad for the heavy coat you'd picked up, and for the sweater you were finally almost done knitting.

Somehow (you suspected the MacTavishes), word got out that you could knit. The first request came from a woman a little older than you with two children.

“Could ye make scarves?” She asked, reaching out without looking to grab the younger of her two children. “Something warm.”

You shrugged, absently scratching the back of your neck. “Yeah, should be able to,” you agreed, looking between the two. “I've got enough yarn.”

She grinned at you. “How long?”

You shrugged. “How soon do you need them? I can have them ready in a week, if you're in a rush.”

“Perfect. What do ye want in return?”

That stumped you, and you shrugged again. “Not sure, really.”

She harrumphed but nodded. “Ah'll bring ye somethin’ good,” she promised before she strode away, little ones in tow, leaving you blinking after her.

Well. Guess you'd better get to work on those scarves.

You pulled out all your remaining yarn, frowning down at the spread on your bed. You already had the yarn set aside to finish your sweater, thankfully. Which left you with a few skeins. Not a huge selection, but you'd make it work.

At least it all felt like wool, rather than synthetics.

“Runnin’ out?”

You jumped at the question, not having heard Mrs. MacTavish coming. “Oh, uh, yeah. I suppose so.” You shrugged.

“Hmm.” She leaned a bit to one side to look around you and clucked disapprovingly. But she was bustling off before you could ask, muttering to herself too fast for you to parse what she was saying.

Leaving you bewildered, blinking after her.

Then you shrugged and picked out one of the remaining skeins. Fortunately it had already been wound into a ball, so you didn't have to worry about that.

Without any pattern books or your usual online resources, it would be pretty plain, but it would be a warm scarf at least.

It was only two days later that Johnny and Gaz stopped by the house. You'd finished your chores already and had settled comfortably on the couch to try and finish up the first scarf. The door opening caught your attention, and you looked over just as the two tromped inside.

“There ye are!” Johnny hopped over the back of the couch to drop down near you (though not on top of your yarn, thankfully). “Doin’ alright?”

“Same as two days ago,” you agreed with a little laugh, shaking your head. “Which is when you last saw me.”

Johnny pouted, exaggerated and over the top. “Ah cannae even check on my favorite knitter?”

“I'm the only knitter,” you pointed out dryly, though you were trying to hide your amusement.

“Tha's beside the point, bonnie.” Johnny grinned at you, reaching over to tug playfully at the end of the scarf. “And what's this, then?”

“A scarf for one of the kids,” you answered, swatting at his hand but not trying very hard to hit him. “One of the moms asked for her two, so I guess I'm taking commissions now.”

“Brilliant idea.” He sat up straighter, eyes bright. “Be a big help, too.”

You snorted. “For these two kids, sure. I'll have enough yarn after that to maybe make a few hats, but that's it.”

He blinked, just once, and then nodded. “Ah see,” he murmured, something calculating in his gaze. “Good thing she asked first then, aye?”

“I suppose,” you said slowly, eyeing him. You weren't sure you liked that look. “What brought you over, by the way?”

“Oh, that.” He reclined again, arms spread along the back of the couch. “We'll be goin’ on a supply run. Wanted ta see if there's anything ye need.”

You shook your head. “No, I've got things, I'm fine.”

“Ye sure? We find all kinds ‘a things,” he wheedled, leaning a little closer to you.

You just shrugged, because you couldn't think of anything you needed, except yarn. And that was a long shot. Better to ask for nothing, so you wouldn't be disappointed. “I'm okay.”

Johnny looked like he wanted to argue more with you, but the back door opened and the other three came in. So he simply sighed through his nose and stood, offering you a hand up.

Dinner was lively with the two additional people. It helped that Gaz and Johnny played off each other beautifully, keeping the entire table entertained.

After dinner, Johnny pulled you out front with him while Gaz was still chatting with his parents.

“Gotta be somethin’ you want,” Johnny wheedled, still holding your hand from when he'd pulled you out the door. You didn't mind, heart fluttering at the gentle press of his thumb against the back of your hand.

Your lips twisted and you looked down at your linked hands. “It doesn't matter what I want.”

“Course it does.” Johnny leaned closer, tugging your hand gently to pull you in closer. “Anythin’ ye want, promise ah'll find it for ye.”

Your lips parted at the sincerity in those blue eyes, mouth going dry at the promise.

But you didn't have a chance to respond. Gaz stepped out the door and nodded to you.

That was enough for you to smile and pull back, shielding yourself again. “Stay safe,” you said instead of giving him anything else. “Come back bite-free or I'll be very upset.”

Far from being deterred, Johnny's head tipped, gaze laser-focused on you. “That what ye want?” He asked softly but no less intense.

“Yes.” You met his gaze and didn't back down this time, briefly squeezing his hand.

He nodded decisively, a brilliant smile breaking like sunlight across his face. “See ye in a few days,” he promised. He darted forward to press a kiss to your cheek, warm and fleeting, before he walked away. Gaz grinned at you, eyes warm, before he jogged after Johnny.

You pressed a hand to your cheek and tried to deny the warmth blossoming in your chest.

It didn't work.

You spent the next five days thinking about him in between your work. Chopping wood? You wondered where Johnny was, how far they'd traveled. Knitting? You hoped they were staying safe and avoiding the infected as much as possible.

You couldn't deny that you wanted him to come back safely. You wanted to see him.

Even if you couldn't yet admit to yourself why.

The fifth night, someone new came over for dinner. She introduced herself as Kyle's partner. (It took you an embarrassingly long time to realize she meant Gaz.)

The best part was that she brought fresh bread and cookies with her. The cookies were the best you'd tasted, and you told her as much.

You walked her outside, shivering briefly at the chill in the air.

“They're fine, you know.”

“Hmm?” You blinked at her, half-turning to her.

“I worried the first few times they went out, too.” Her smile was soft and a little embarrassed. “I still worry, honestly. But they take care of each other.”

You nodded slowly, though you eyed her curiously. “Why are you telling me this?”

She rolled her eyes at you. “Oh, come on. We both know you're worrying about Johnny.”

“I'm not–! I mean, not that much.” You floundered for a moment, looking away even as your heart stuttered in your chest.

She clucked her tongue. “Honestly, you're not really fooling anyone,” she chided gently. “You care for him, we can see that much. And he's a good man, he deserves someone to fuss over him.”

You huffed. “He's sweet,” you muttered, still looking away. “And he's a good friend.”

She laughed, stepping forward and patting your shoulder. “Keep telling yourself that,” she said with a cheeky grin and a wink. “Get back inside before you freeze. I'll see you soon.”

“Stay warm,” you replied, stuffing your hands in your pockets and watching her take the first few steps away. Only when you saw her flashlight beam moving steadily away did you go back inside.

You tossed and turned all night, unable to stop thinking about your conversation with her. Were you really so transparent about your feelings? Your… regard?

Just thinking that made you feel too much like a Victorian novelist. You snorted and rolled over to your other side.

Clearly, you were not as subtle as you thought. You smothered your groan in your pillow. It was fine. It would be fine.

It had to be fine.

You delivered the two completed scarves by midday the next day, taking more fresh bread back with you, with the promise of some kind of sausage to come.

Idly, you kicked a rock down the dirt road, debating what else you could do. You could make a few more hats - probably one each for the MacTavishes, to make sure they stayed warm enough. Beyond that? You'd have to wait and see.

“Bonnie!” The cheerful call yanked you from your thoughts, and you blinked a few times as your gaze focused on Johnny. Hole and hale and safe, standing in the doorway. He positively beamed at you as he jogged the distance to you.

“You're back.” You blinked at him once more, your brain still rebooting a little, even as your heart fluttered and swooped.

“Aye, safe n’ sound, as promised.” He stopped in front of you, taking one of your hands in his. “Are ye busy?”

“Right now? No.”

“Good.” Johnny wasted no time in pulling you along with him, ignoring your little yelp. You gave in, laughing a little, and let him tug you back to the other house. He chattered the entire walk, telling you about where they'd been, some of the things they'd seen. It was comforting, having him near, holding your hand, talking your ear off.

You had a brief glimpse of the others in the kitchen, mugs on the table, supplies scattered around in various stages of packing or unpacking. But Johnny didn't give you time to do more than wave with your free hand before he was tugging you up the stairs.

“Johnny,” you half-protested, laughing a little. “What are you doing?”

“Ye'll see.” He let go of you only to put a hand in front of you. “Closer yer eyes.”

“What?” You blinked at him, startled.

“Eyes closed.” He wiggled his fingers at your face height.

With a huff, you gave in, closing your eyes. The door clicked as it opened, and for a moment you stood with no indication of what was going on.

“Gonna guide ye forward,” Johnny murmured just before one big hand landed on your shoulder, the other taking your hand again. You moved cautiously, hand holding tight to his, uncertain but willing to trust him. But he guided you true - you didn't so much as bump into anything.

“Okay,” he murmured, keeping hold of your hand. “Open yer eyes.”

You opened your eyes and gasped. The entire bed was covered in yarn. Skeins, balls, balled remnants, in all colors and sizes. It was more yarn than you'd seen in ages. “This is… incredible.”

“Ah found more, but Price wouldnae let me fill the car with yarn.” Johnny shrugged when you looked at him, his cheeks pink, even as he continued talking. “But is close enough we could get the rest another time, aye?”

You stared at the yarn for a moment longer, and then turned your gaze to Johnny. He'd brought all of this back. For you. Just for you.

You tugged your hand free, but only so you could cup his cheeks, cutting off his nervous rambling. You kissed him.

Johnny made a noise, something startled that you thought of as a squeak. And then he was kissing you back, eager hands cupping the back of your head and your back, pulling you in closer.

When the two of you parted, neither of you went far, both of your lips shiny.

“Thank you,” you whispered to him, fingers scratching through the longer hairs at the back of his head. “For all of this.”

Johnny just smiled, bright and besotted and incandescently happy, and kissed you again.

#soapitup #johnny soap mactavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish x you #f!reader

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unicorncornflakes · 11 months

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Dark Desire - Modern AU! | Chapter 6

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Paring: Aemond Targaryen x Niece!Reader

Summary: Aemond doesn't know how he feels every time he sees you. Neither do you when you look at him. Your father Aegon has always been absent from your upbringing ever since he divorced your mother. That role has been filled by Aemond until last summer, when everything changed.

Tags: Alternate Universe – Modern/ Setting Emotional Hurt/ Comfort/ Drama & Romance/ Eventual Smut.

Warnings: This fic includes manipulation, violence, death, and inc3st, at some points. Reader has purple eyes and her mother is from Dayne House, the rest is complete free :D

Tag-List (If you wanna be tagged in thi series or all of my work, let me know):@thedamewithabook @afro-hispwriter @chainsawsangel @thetrueblackheart @atherverybest @itsabby15 @boundlessfantasy @partypoison00 @glame @tempo-rary-fix @tssf-imagines @aaaaaamond @imaloserbby @youngcomputerpuppy @aemondsfavouritebastard @cloudroomblog @queenofshinigamis @bluevxnus @wooya1224 @serving-targaryen-realness @darkenchantress @padfooteyes @mariannnavao @moonlightfoxx @jennifer0305 @ammo23 @iloveallmyboys @tempt-ress @bellameshipper @okfashionista @shelbyteller

Author´s note: Pls, enjoy! Feedback, shares and comments are always welcome!

Word Count: 4.8K

Alys didn't think Aemond was capable of bonding with anyone. With absolutely no one. She remembered that shy but cocky boy who had walked into Daemon Targaryen's office at just twenty-two, about to graduate and ready to help his uncle as his personal assistant. He was a boy whose voice filled with pride when he talked about himself and who wasn't used to others. Back then, Aemond's one eye had sought affection. If she compared it with what had turned out after years of secrets and ambition, there was nothing left of the boy Alys had been so attracted to. Daemon Targaryen's secretary had felt irrepressibly captivated by that boy who was so independent, but that he only demanded affection. Alys had smiled to herself seeing him the first time and she had told herself that she would show him what he was missing. Now she did have an idea how well she had taught Aemond.

"I love you, dammit. I love you too” That was all she heard him mumble that time as he cumed inside her, fucking her on all fours, burying her head between the many pillows on her bed. His strong grip burying her completely... He didn't want to see Alys's face, and the secretary knew why: Aemond hadn't thought of her for a while now while they were fucking. At first he must have. At first, he was a needy pup. Now he was a dragon who had everything he wanted, except what he coveted. Alys knew that 'I love you' was not for her, but that had surprised her. She didn't think Aemond was capable of saying those words. She felt the grip he'd had on her hip and her head loosen. He was done and that was all Aemond was looking for these days. His satisfaction, and with it he was fulfilled. As a young man, he had been a pretty good lover. Now he just wanted to do what he wanted and excites him. That was where all his dedication came from. She felt him pull his cock out of her pussy in one swift motion. It contracted in response to the lack of that which had completed her until a moment ago. A wet and obscene sound was the only thing that was heard. In another time, Aemond would have enjoyed Alys holding him until he fell asleep. Now, he always smoked angrily when they finished, as if he punished himself for the things he'd thought during that fuck with his secretary.

Alys took a deep breath with a smile. Aemond could think of whoever he wanted, she always had a good time in those meetings. After five years in an on-and-off relationship with a much younger Aemond, Alys had realized that they would never be together, in the traditional couple's sense. Aemond wasn't going to get down on his knees and ask her if she wanted to marry him and Alys wasn't sure she ever wanted it. They were too free for it. Actually, she was too free to commit to anyone. She belonged to no one. And she had thoroughly enjoyed those years when Aemond was hers alone and she was everyone's, but she had finally realized how selfish she had been and had established that the two of them were just friends with benefits. Alys had always been an ambitious woman. Yet with Aemond, she had even encountered something she couldn't chew or swallow. They were friends, friends who slept together, who didn't have affection for each other and who just kept having sex because of that secret that they both kept under lock and key and that could destroy them both. It was a pure symbiosis between two parasites that fed each other. Without the need for much more than those always torrid and strange encounters.

She saw Aemond sigh heavily. He was angry. Alys had no idea what had happened. Yet seeing him sitting on the edge of the bed, completely ignoring her as he lit up a cigarette with his smug Zippo, Alys knew something was wrong. That night, he was fucked up, really fucked up, like she had never seen him before. Alys had just opened the door to that insistent doorbell and she had gotten a good shag. That was all she had gotten. Aemond always came back to her when he was stressed, but it was because of that relationship they had always had, that pure symbiosis. She saw him take a puff with his back to her and he got up from the bed, going to the window of that small bedroom. He leaned back and continued smoking, watching the spectacle of that city that never seemed to sleep. Alys put on her robe and took one of her long cigarettes. She came up next to him and didn't say a word. He turned it on. She smiled, fixing her feline gaze on him. But this time, Aemond hadn't even reacted. Alys gave a defeated smile. She had liked her when Aemond had looked at her with fascination and desire, but things change, and they weren't as young as before, especially Aemond.

The secretary took a puff and blew out the slow smoke as if she were savoring it. “A hard night?” she asked him breaking the silence. After all, she had spread her legs for him as he had told her that she needed a fuck and then the only thing she had heard was the springs of the bed, her screams and his moans between his teeth. Alys worried about Aemond, perhaps because if she hadn't been as…as free as she was with him, now Aemond wouldn't be the callous prick he was. He had only received blows, one after the other, and Alys was one of those who had beaten him the most based on infidelities. What they had now was so much better than what they'd had, though Alys's capricious behavior always unconsciously aspired to more.

Aemond did not even reply. He just kept looking at the city and smoking quietly. Alys also looked ahead. Of course it had been a hard night, and he wasn't going to tell her anything. He never talked to anyone about what he really felt or was going through his head. She had lived a brief time in which he had told her something of what she really felt, but it had ended when he had found out her with one of the Martells during a company council at Sunspear. And Alys smiled to see him so focused on the most absolute nothing. She knew who he had said "I love you" to. He was a lonely and cold man, but he was so because he couldn't afford to open his heart again. Alys had been one of those who had broken him. Only together for a secret. Just a secret. Aemond Targaryen was a great dragon, but he was only great for all the blows he had taken.

"I found them in the bathroom, damn it" Daeron whispered to his sister while she was preparing a salad to eat without losing sight of her two little ones, who were sitting with you on one of the deckchairs in the garden. "He had the fucking face he makes when he's screwed and she... she was a fucking sea of tears" Daeron continued to explain to Helaena while she began to make a worse face while her little brother explained to her what he had seen. She kept cooking while her brother whispered “Do you think…?”

"Daeron, what you're implying is very shady," Helaena hissed as she finished cutting some tomatoes and went to wash her hands. Helaena resented how gossipy Daeron could be. He had always annoyed her. "Pass me the carrots" she ordered, considering the matter closed.

"But it makes sense, doesn't it?" he told her, lashing out again with the same topic “He starts ignoring her and she plays distraction. In truth, they are…sleeping together, like Daemon and…”

"Are you seriously suggesting that our brother is doing that with Aegon's daughter?" she scolded him angrily. “Please don't suggest things like that, Daeron. Please” she told him as she began to cut the carrots. Helaena looked at you through the window. In truth… what her little brother was telling her didn't seem so far-fetched to her. You and Aemond had always been together, in a relationship very similar to the one Daemon and Rhaenyra had... but, it was one thing to think about it in the depths of her soul, deny the evidence and pretend nothing happened between the two of you, and another thing was what Daeron did: verbalize it, name it, and point to it. That was something Helaena did not dare. It was…repulsive to her, just as what Daemon had done to her older sister had been repulsive. Incest was in their family history, but it was no longer medieval.

"Then what the hell were the two of them doing in the bathroom alone?" Daeron said visibly angry at his sister's attitude. They both kept whispering, trying to keep that gossip to themselves. Then, at that moment, Helaena couldn't take her brother's advances anymore and she just looked at him with a sharp and uncaring look.

“Then today you discuss it with Aemond while we are all at the table. I'm sure you'll come out very well for all your curiosity" he said through his teeth and Daeron turned pale "Oh, and don't forget to tell Aegon so he can kill Aemond before dessert" he said, narrowing his eyes, trying to silence the evidences that she also believed to be possible.

Daeron looked at you through the kitchen window. Jace was telling you something about the children while you tried to pay attention to him, but he could see from your sad look that you couldn't. Your eyes were swollen from crying and you looked much worse than you had come from Starfall. The lawyer wondered what they had achieved with that agreement in which they had forced you to be with them during the summers. Nothing. That was all. Nothing. Aemond had tried, unsuccessfully, to make you a Targaryen, but, Daeron thought for a moment, what was a Targaryen? Perhaps, for Aemond, it was that you spread your legs for him under the pretext of a purity of blood that had not been realized for 500 years.

“Hel…” Daeron started saying as he kept looking at you in the garden. Daeron didn't want to go through the same embarrassment or discomfort that he had gone through during that scandal with his older sister.

“Daeron, it's better this way. It is better that we look the other way. There is nothing between them. It's just that we have a history of suspicion in the family, but nothing else” Helaena said as she looked seriously at her brother. They weren't going to say anything for the greater good. Helaena thought that now it was all about Aemond not screwing up, but she was going to keep quiet. Her family could never get over another scandal.

Aemond entered through the door of the mansion, with a scowl and not much desire to talk to anyone. He had been surprised to see Helaena's car outside, as well as Daeron's, but he had brushed it off. It was a Saturday morning like any other and he was coming back from just spending the night with Alys, no one was going to care what had happened. His hand ached. Alys had bandaged it as best she could, but Aemond would heal it better now, after showering. That day he had proposed to eat alone and then... later he would read a good book... he looked up thoughtfully and found you coming down the stairs of the family home, with your sketchbook under your arm. You were staring at the floor, your eyes swollen, and then Aemond felt like a real piece of shit. If you were like this, it was his fault. It's just that he couldn't... he couldn't give you what you wanted... he wanted it too, but he couldn't repeat himself. He couldn't…he watched as your eyes dimmed even more and you looked away even more when you saw him in front of you. He also went up the stairs. Neither of them said a word. You didn't greet each other, you tried not to look at each other, and just at one point, Aemond brushed yours against his bruised hand. He had done it unconsciously, but he…needed you. He wish you would go with him to the shower, He wish you would kneel while the water fell on both of you, he would hold your hair tight. He couldn't imagine a better scenario, he couldn't. You would later heal his hand and tell him again that you loved him, he... he would answer that he loved you equally... he shook his head when he saw how you continued indifferently on your way down the stairs. Those were just fantasies, and that's how they should stay. Inside Aemond's head, buried deep, where no one could find them. He saw you come down the stairs without once looking at him and he continued on his way to his room. He needed a cold shower after seeing you so sad and…pretty.

“This one is super cool” Jace told you as you showed him your sketchpad. The truth is that you did not remember having shown a single one of your drawings to anyone in your paternal family, except Aemond. Jace continued to turn the pages in fascination. He stood in front of the drawing you had made of your mother "This is perfect, huh?" You smiled as Helaena's husband kept looking at him. "She's just as I rememberher" he said with a smile of disbelief.

"It's just that not much she has changed" you said laughing for the first time for real in that place. You saw your father who was sitting next to Jace as he turned the pages again. They were good drawings, though you didn't think they were the best, but you had seen Aegon's face darken at the picture of your mother. You wondered if he missed her, but... it was better that way, she had remade her life. She was going to get married soon and surely she would give you a brother and… she would end up leaving your life just like the others.

"Oh" you saw how Jace blushed and your father cleared his throat looking elsewhere, away from that page of the pad "This... is a very anatomically accurate drawing..." Jace said closing the pad and handing it back to you. He didn't dare turn another page for what he might find. Then you saw that he had come across the drawing that Bryden had made of you. The one he'd drawn from a photo… that he'd taken… on the beach in Starfall. You naked, sitting on his stomach, just before… you blushed and closed the pad.

"That is not mine. My ex... drew it…” you said, setting the notebook down on the coffe table in the garden, and Jace cleared his throat before speaking. You kept seeing your father in a hurry and trying to find something to add to that moment. He was the one who had told Daeron and Helaena to eat together that day with you. Aegon had told him that it was not necessary for him to take Lya with him. He was going to make everything work again. He had promised you and he had promised himself.

"He draws too?" Jace asked you, to end up drinking his beer as if his throat was dry from seeing you like that in a simple drawing. At that moment, Aemond reappeared there, silent, slow, freshly showered. You loved the smell of him. You decided to ignore him again and smiled to talk about Bryden.

"Yes, we met in drawing classes" you commented and then you felt how Aemond sat next to you, throwing his arm over the back of your seat. You could see his hand perfectly bandaged. He only seemed to have bloody knuckles, but you didn't tell him anything. You continued talking to Jace while ignoring him. "We've both been accepted to Sunspear School of the Arts," you said, quite excited at the prospect of studying what you liked, and Jace smiled. You continued talking, but then Aegon looked at his little brother, who didn't dare look at you. He wondered why the hell his hand was like that and why he treated you with such complete and utter indifference. Aemond pouted when he heard you talk about the upcoming academic year and spoke to you.

"So, are you going to study arts in the end?" he said in a stoic tone. He saw him take out a cigarette and light it. "It would be better if you went to the History faculty, here in King's Landing" he replied after taking a puff. You didn't look at him. "It would be better if you stay here, with the family" 'With me, close to me, together' he wanted to finish saying. He needed to tell you. Hearing you talk so happy to be in a place so far away from him and with another guy that wasn't him had horrified him. He needed you.

"Why?" you said defiantly, daring to look at him in front of everyone, lifting your chin. And he just looked at you for a moment, pursing his lips, then looking straight ahead, taking a drag on his cigarette. After what had happened the night before, you didn't think it was possible that anything you had with Aemond could be recovered, but there you were, throwing his reproaches at him, in front of everyone. And if you only reproached him for things, it was because you were hurt, and you were hurt because you were in love with him. You had already confessed to him. You didn't know what else he could want from you. What the hell did he need from you? Haven't you crawled enough?

"(Y/N), why don't you help Jace get some drinks and stuff?" your father told you as he looked at Aemond, who continued to stare at the floor, his face frown. You got up awkwardly and went inside, closely followed by Jace. He looked at both brothers. He knew they were going to argue. It was just that Aegon didn't want witnesses to what he was going to tell his brother. Aegon never dared say anything to Aemond, and if he had ever done so it had been in the privacy of his home or in his office after making sure no one would hear him. "What is your fucking problem with her?" Aegon asked bluntly.

"Nothing," Aemond replied, looking at his brother intently at him, as if that was all he wanted to talk to him about, because he really didn't want to talk to his older brother about you. He didn't want to talk to anyone about you. With absolutely no one. He had made a fool of himself by going to look for you in that bathroom last night, like a jealous boyfriend. He needed you, but he couldn't share it with anyone. They would all look at him as they had looked at Daemon. "I only want the best for her," he lied, and hated himself for lying. He didn't want the best for you, he wanted you to be with him. The price didn't matter. He had realized it by saying 'I love you' while he was fucking Alys. He couldn't get you out of her head. He needed you. He needed you to stay in King's Landing, to be with him… without feeling like a true monster. He wanted you only for himself, in a selfish way that perhaps now kisses and caresses could enter, but never sex. You couldn't fuck, but he wasn't going to let you belong to someone else either. It couldn't be. He was exhausted and tired, but he needed you.

"If you wanted the best for her, you wouldn't treat her like that..." Aegon began, almost aware of everything that surrounded him in his relationship with his daughter after his ex-wife's row. But then Aemond sneered. The only smile that he knew how to sketch perfectly.

"Yes, the absent father is going to tell me how to behave, to me, who I've always been there" he blurted out, leaning back in his chair, looking at him with his cold and emotionless eye, ready to fight with his older brother if necessary. Aegon had never listened to you, and now he came up with tales of being the responsible adult for both of them? “I want her to have a bright future”

"And she will," Aegon replied. "She draws well and she is almost as disciplined as you are in what she sets out to do." Your father defended you and Aemond gave that superior smile again.

"Of course, yes. Of course ”he said ironically, taking another puff and blowing smoke out of his nose “She has to be realistic. You can't have everything you want in this life,” Aemond replied. They could tell him. Anyone could tell him. He had loose an eye by a bastard. He had given up his doctorate to help out in the family business when they were on the brink of failure. To him… that he couldn't get the girl he was in love with. You… you, for him, should have started to be realistic about what you could or couldn't do in life… but, really, it was just selfishness. He couldn't let you go with a fucking bastard, to an arts school, where he'd fuck you between classes. All of this paid for with the money that Aemond had worked so hard to get… he was the one who deserved to be between your legs, damn…. He closed his eye tight. “Do you want her to come out like a spoiled child?”

"Of course not," Aegon said gruffly, as if Aemond and his ex-wife thought alike. He remembered hearing the same words from your mother on that call and that was how he had come to the conclusion that you needed just what he had come up with. "I... I know I'm not the best father in the world..." he began confessing to his brother and Aemond cut him off quickly.

"No, you're mediocre" he answered annoyed, looking elsewhere, terribly angry at the decision you had made, why did you go so far from him? If you went to Sunspear, he couldn't protect you there… although, perhaps you just needed to be protected from him, and Aemond hated himself again as Aegon began to speak, hurt at his brother's words.

"I'm a mess, but, she... she needs you like before" he confessed and Aemond looked at him raising an eyebrow in an arrogant way, as if he was really enjoying that drop of his pants that Aegon was doing in front of him. Aemond would always feel superior to Aegon and here was his older brother confessing it. “And her mother and I have talked…”

"Has the Dornishwoman had an idea for once?" Aemond asked, flicking the ash from his cigarette in a swift motion. He would always despise Aegon's ex-wife… Aegon ignored him and kept talking, nervously looking at his hands, trying to ignore Aemond's provocation.

“The fact is that it occurred to me that she could work in the company this summer. According to her mother she needs to do things and get out of the house, and I…I had thought…” Aegon continued to speak and Aemond stood there, shocked at Aegon's request, but…what the hell? By the seven, did he want to put you in the dragon's mouth? "Like when you were Daemon's assistant..." he continued speaking, but Aemond was no longer listening to him, he only had a face dominated by an incredulous grimace at what Aegon was asking of him. "... To work with you..." With him? But was Aegon listening to himself when he spoke? Aemond was still listening to bits and pieces of the conversation. His head was not there. He was no longer anywhere. He couldn't get the idea out of his mind. Have you a whole summer completely controlled... at his mercy. He cleared his throat and crossed his legs... The idea of fucking you on his table had crossed his mind, as he had done so many times with Alys, unconsciously thinking of you... "What do you think?" he ended up asking and Aemond just gave him a scowl. “I think that way you would recover your relationship. She needs it… and so do you…” Aegon said. He had thought about both of you and had come to the conclusion that you needed Aemond, but Aemond needed you too. Last year and his change of attitude were proof of that.

“Aegon, if I want a coffee, Alys brings it to me. If I feel like reading the newspaper, Elia runs to get it, to the kiosk across the street... if I want to be flattered, I called Rickon, the accountant... I already have the whole circus..." he replied, trying to sound neither attracted nor excited by the idea of having you at his complete disposal. He couldn't have you. He couldn't have you. He couldn't have you… but there was his older brother, offering you almost with a little bow as a gift.

“I would help you. It is what you need…” Aegon pleaded. He just wanted you to smile like before, for Aemond to pay you the same attention... he wanted everything to go back to the way it was before for you, but he didn't know that after what had happened in the bathroom that night, You were never going to be the same again.

Aemond smirked and told Aegon the terms. His brother accepted them all, and Aemond looked like a winner. He was going to have you this entire summer just for him. The voice of reason seemed to be starting to fade and he was succumbing to his dark desire… but, he had rarely faced a woman like you…

Your father told you the great news with a smile after the meal, when the two of you were alone. Sitting near the pool. You saw Aemond sitting on the porch, scrutinizing the two of you. You sighed and played with the grass as your father told you what a great idea he had to put you to work with Aemond. It would be good for your economic independence and you and Aemond would recover the relationship. Again like old times. Your father finished speaking and you looked at the ground sadly, both sitting under that tree, on top of that towel.

"I don't know if I want to" you told him, braiding some strands of grass. You didn't want to see yourself in the same room with Aemond for a whole summer. Before, the prospect would have amazed you, now you loathed it with all your might, why had Aemond accepted this? you looked at him. You saw how he kept smoking in the shade, as if everything that had happened that night hadn't affected him in the slightest, but you had no idea what was about to happen between the two of you.

“You will have a good time. It will be like old times” your father told you again, and you looked at him. Nothing could be like the old days. Nothing could be the same because too many things had changed. “Do you remember when you used to go see us when you were little? Well, it will be similar… ”he told you excitedly.

“When I was little, I would paint at Aemond's table and then have lunch with him. It's not going to be the same at all, Dad,” you said in defeat, remembering the happy days of your childhood when you'd come over during the workday to see Aemond. Cole would take you there and you would spend your whole day with Aemond, making Daemon Targaryen's helper forget everything else… but, you weren't a girl, and Aemond was now the CEO of the company.

"Well, now you can help Uncle Aemond and we can have lunch together, you and me," he said happily, as he tried his best. But he couldn´t. Aegon was never going to be ready to be a father, and you always paid the price. He tapped you on the shoulder, as if he were trying to cheer you up, and you smiled sadly, but Aegon's face lit up at the sight of you. He thought you were happy. He wasn't going to have lunch with you for a single day. He was just pushing you into the jaws of the dragon.

#aemond x y/n #aemond smut #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen modern au #aemond modern au #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x fem!reader

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angelsunoo · 10 months

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A BAD BOY AU — Y.JW one shot

PAIRINGS badboy!jungwon x fem!reader(reader's last name is Choi)

GENRE romance, fluff, bad boy au, slightly suggestive, short.

wc.

WARNING slightly suggestive, kissing, swearing, pinning, weird grammar, and probs spelling mistakes ykyk not proofread sorry²(i think that's all!!)

a/n: hi!! Chapter 5 in stay with me fic will take longer than expected,,, i wanna just post this bcs its been in my drafts for quite a while 😵‍💫

"L-let go." You say, as you try to pry open from his hold. He playfully smirks, and his grip tightens.

"Why would I, when you seem to be enjoying this, Ms. Choi." He teases, pinning your wrists on the wall.

"Enjoying this?!" You whisper-yelled in disbelief, "you jerk! You must think that all girls are in to you!" His eyebrow raises in amusement.

"Well you're wrong!" You screamed at his face.

"What makes you think I'm wrong, Ms. Choi?" He pushes further against you. He's now closer. You feel his hot breath fan your forehead. You feel heat start to radiate from your cheeks.

He wasn't as tall as his friends, but tall enough to tower over you. He made you feel so small under him.

"Because....Because I'm not into you!" Pfft. Y/N, are you sure? "I'll never be!" You added. What you said seemed to amuse him more.

"Oh really? That's not what your eyes said earlier..." Amusement lacing his tone, he chuckles, angling his head to your ear. He whispers, "Admit it." his breath tickling the sensitive skin of your ear.

"Fuck, eyes don't talk— just let me go!" You squirm from your position.

"Ah-ah. Where's my 'please'?" His finger lifts your chin up, letting go of your other arm.

"Ugh! Yang Jungwon, I don't need to say please— mmmph!-" you were harshly cut of when you felt his lips press to yours. You shut your eyes, feeling the soft flesh of his lips come in contact with yours. He pulls away, "you taste sweet, Ms. Choi... Do you use flavored lip balm?" He casually asks you, as if he didn't literally kiss you seconds ago.

"What...." you mutter out in utter shock. What. The. Fuck. Was. That.

"Yang Jungwon, what the hell was that?! Why would you- why would you kiss me?! What if someone saw us—"

"Ms. Choi." He says,

"What?"

"Shut up, will you?" He rolls his eyes at you and walks away, leaving you utterly shocked.

You frown, slowly lifting up your fingers to caress your lips.

Did.... Yang Jungwon.... Just kiss me?

"He did what?!" You friend's voice echoes throughout the whole café.

"Shh! Lower it down will you?" You scold your friend. Looking around to see if anyone was looking, most likely annoyed. "Yeah. All of what I said is true," you sigh, wishing it was all a nightmare that you had to wake up from.

"Then that idiot casually asked me if I used lip balm after he..." your face cringes, you shook your head, unable to say the word 'kiss'. "Anyway, can we stop talking about this? We literally have to finish this." Placing your hands once again on the keyboard.

Your friend nods slowly, stifling a laugh seeing your serious face. Lips tightly clasped together, and furrowed eyebrows.

The next day arrives, you do your usual routine. Wake up, take a bath, brush teeth, change clothes, go to school, and go to your rightful class.

Except that today... you were not in your designated class. You were with Jungwon, getting cornered on the wall of the school's storage room. Memories from yesterday start to flood your brain, causing your cheeks to flush.

Will..will he kiss me again?

That little echo in your brain annoyed you to the max.

Thr reason you ended up here was because of that stupid little note. With a heart. And a smiley face. You assumed that he wanted to apologize for being a fucking tease yesterday(and for kissing you), however truth hit you like a truck. You knew Yang Jungwon wasn't one to apologize, so you should've known better.

But, if you knew that it wasn't his intention to apologize, what made you go anyway? Did you perhaps enjoy the kiss...?

"You came." He says, his voice containing a hint of playfulness. As if he was saying that there was a different meaning behind his words.

"I did. What did you wanna tell me?" You ask him, straight to the point.

"Straight to the point." He throws his head back, chuckling. And he looks back at you with that mischievous glint in his eyes.

"As always."

"Jungwon, what do you want?" You say firmly, not wanting to waste anytime. It was only exactly 27 minutes left before class starts. And your never late to class.

Great job, Y/N. You shouldn't have went.

"Heh. I like the way you say my name." He smiles, his thumb slowly making its way to your cheeks, " Can I call you by your name, Ms. Choi?"

Your breath hitches, feeling his thumb rubbing your cheeks slowly. "I.. I— No!"

You slap his hand away, obviously flustered.

"I'm serious, I'm going to be late if you don't stop this bullshit."

"So impatient." He sighs, voice growing deeper, "leave then." He nudges his chin to the direction of the door.

You glance at the door.

#enhypen x reader #enhypen angst #enhypen scenarios #enhypen #enhypen smau #enhypen fluff #jungwon x reader #jungwon ff #jungwon fanfic #angelsunoo #yang jungwon

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lemoncrushh · 12 days

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The Entertainer II - COMING SOON

Summary: What if it wasn't the end? What if Sky did actually see Harry at the Forum in the early 80s, and he saw her too? What if fate took hold of them both, and they realized their journey was not over? Set in 1981, Harry and Sky's story continues with more music, more romance, and a few more twists and turns.

Author's Note: This was originally going to just be a few chapters, like "bonus tracks", but it ended up being a full fic, even longer than the original. Hard to let these characters go; they're such a part of me now. As always, you must be 18+ to read. This fic will contain lots of sex.

COMING SOON

Updates will be weekly, Mondays at 4:00PM CST.

Please let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist.

Read The Entertainer

Sneak Peek:

Who was I kidding? It couldn’t be him. He was probably overseas in London or some exotic place I’d never heard of. I’d learned that Wildfire broke up earlier that year, so most likely he was resting somewhere - anywhere but Los Angeles. Still…

One more sneaky look out of the corner of my eye, but someone was blocking my view. With a sigh, I listened to Steve finish the song before the band gave their fake goodbyes, and I waited with the rest of the crowd for their encore.

The audience went wild during Journey’s last two songs, and their enthusiasm returned my focus to the reason I’d come. By the time the lights came on in the arena, I’d just about forgotten about him, or whomever the mystery man had been.

That is, until I turned the corner in the hallway after leaving the restroom.

“Sky?”

The sound of my nickname in a crowd full of strangers was odd enough, but the familiar voice threw me for a loop and back in time five years. Turning slowly, I wondered if my mind was playing tricks on me again, but when his handsome face came into view, my thoughts were confirmed.

It was him. And he was standing right in front of me.

tagging: @daphnesutton, @fkinavocado

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the-ace-with-spades · 6 months

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A tiny little scene from way further in my trans! Bradley fic - chapter 14/15 o (sometimes I feel) like a monkey pilot, we're currently on chapter 5 - featuring Uncle Slider

For context, Bradley came out after a mental breakdown and reunited with Mav and Ice less than two months before this scene. tw: slight misgendering (one slip-up)

March 2013

It was a big day — Bradley had been asked by Maria to meet someone else from the family as his therapy homework and Uncle Slider was selected as the one to fulfill that assignment. Out of the whole family, it was just him and aunt Sarah that lived in San Diego, and only the two of them knew that, well, that Bradley wanted to be called Bradley now and that he’d come out in the worst circumstances possible.

At least Ice said he did know — he was the one to tell Slider when Bradley moved in with them and he hadn’t said more than he was a little confused but he’s okay when Bradley asked how it went. He still didn’t know if Ice didn’t tell him more because he wanted to protect him or if it was truly all the reaction he had from Slider. He hadn't talked to many people since he came out and even the people he did talk to were strangers who Bradley would usually either never see again or could avoid seeing again. Family seemed like an entirely different category, one that made him freeze and tense with dread.

Hopefully, by the end of the day, he’d still be Bradley’s uncle.

He and Mav had just finished kneading the dough for the ravioli they were making when the front door bell rang. Ice, who was just watching them from the other side of the kitchen island, let his book fall down next to the fruit bowl and walked to the foyer.

Ice and Slider talked in the foyer for a minute, tones too quiet to hear the words, before Bradley heard their footsteps and Slider's voice broke through the door to the corridor, “So, where’s the wayward son?”

Ice sounded a bit exasperated when he replied but Bradley could still hear lightness to his tone as he said, “In the kitchen with Mav."

He tried not to worry. Tried to take it as a good sign and not to have the worst case scenarios flash before his eyes.

He turned away, back to the kitchen island and the entrance, looking at his hands, still covered flour from the dough. He saw Mav's concerned gaze in the corner of his eye, but he only shrugged, trying not to worry him.

It all should be fine. Even if Slider didn't react well to actually seeing Bradley as Bradley, it wasn't going to be the end of the world.

Mav pinched the bridge of his nose, a sigh that could be only directed at Uncle Slider leaving his mouth. Bradley turned around.

First thing that caught his eye was a giant baby blue balloon, floating around Slider's head, the It’s A Boy! text in a darker shade of blue in semi-cursive.

Slider himself didn't look much different than the last time Bradley saw him in 2006, right before he retired from the Navy. He already had grating hair back then, now they were almost completely gray, there were a few more wrinkles around his eyes and he seemed to have lost some muscle from around his shoulders but he still mostly just looked like Bradley's Uncle Slider.

“Hey, kid,” he said, like he had always been. “I didn’t want to come empty handed but Shay is at a conference in LA and she’s the one who chooses gifts usually so… There was a shop next to the girls' school and I thought it would be, you know, fitting.”

Bradley hadn't been in contact with them when Slider and Sarah's second daughter was born — he had only heard about her from Ice, a couple of weeks ago when they tried to catch up on all the family matters he had missed in the years he was away.

“The youngest is six now, isn’t she? Sof, right?”

“Almost seven,” Slider replied, sounding quite proud. “Tells us to call her Sofia now, because she is too big for Sof. Well, unless you’re her Uncle Mav, then you can still call her Sof.”

“What can I say? Kids love me,” Mav quipped, right from behind Bradley.

“That’s because you’re a big kid yourself,” Ice supplied, rolling his eyes.

Now that he wasn't standing right behind Slider, watching him for any wrong moves or words toward Bradley, he had moved back towards the high chair on the other side of the kitchen island.

“He’s as big as a kid you mean,” Slider said, one hand making a little measurement gesture, cutting the air right below his shoulder, where the top of Mav's head would reach.

Bradley couldn't help it — he snorted.

Slider used the moment to step closer, pulling on the balloon's string, and handing it off to Bradley.

“Thanks,” he said. When Slider opened his arms, the same way he used to do whenever he wanted a hug from Bradley, his voice cracked as he added, “I’m covered in flour.”

“Come here anyway,” he told him and Bradley did, stepping into his arms. It had been a while but it also didn't feel any different — Slider was still the only person from their nearby family who was taller than Bradley, still would just wrap his long arms around his back and bring him close enough that he'd be sinking into his chest, put Bradley's face in the crook of his neck and say into the curls behind his ear, “You gave your folks quite a scare.”

“I know,” he whispered into Slider's shoulder.

“Good to have you here with us, buddy, really good,” he said and Bradley tried to soak in the moment, but at the same time not to put his dirty hands on Slider's nice black polo.

“Now, is any of you going to roll the dough for me or are you just going to stand there?”

Bradley let go of Slider, still not completely sure this day wouldn't become a disaster, but a bit more relaxed.

“I thought you finally bought him that pasta machine,” Slider said, mainly toward Ice as he took a step back toward the kitchen island.

“Oh, I did,” Ice said, with an accusatory tone to his voice. “Put it in the back of the cupboard right away and never used it.”

“My mamma didn’t need a fancy pasta cutter, I don’t need it either,” Mav said and it sounded like they'd had that discussion at least a couple of times. “Baby, can you roll the stuffing for me?”

“Yeah, just let me wash my hands again,” he replied, giving Slider one last glance over his shoulder as he moved to the sink.

Mav, satisfied now that Bradley was within his reach, turned to Slider with a glare. “What? If you’re not going to be useful, get out of my kitchen.”

Slider raised his arms and backed out, sitting down next to Ice at the other side of the island. Bradley could feel his eyes on him, following him all the way inside the kitchen but not adding anything.

Mav stepped next to him, bumping their shoulders — or his shoulder and Bradley's elbow, really — and asked close to his face, “You doing okay, baby?”

He turned on the tap, trying to gather his thoughts. “Yeah, I just—”

“I can still kick him out if you want,” Mav offered, way too eager. “In fact, I’ll take great joy in kicking him out.”

“You invited him,” he reminded.

“No, we invited him,” Mav corrected. “If it’s too soon—”

“I can’t live behind closed door forever, as much as I want to,” he noted because that was the truth. The past almost two months now, Bradley'd been seeing his parents and the healthcare professionals that were taking care of him and then almost no one else. At some point, he had to start living again, even if it was scary, being in the world and out and not in the safety of his parents house. Most of the time, he still felt a bit like a fraud, calling himself Bradley, telling people to use he and him when talking about, that he was guy — almost like he didn't deserve it until he looked the way people expected him to look.

“I know,” Mav said and he didn't seem any happier about it than Bradley, his eyebrows creasing as his hand reached to caress Bradley's cheek gently — he had flour on his hands, too. “I wish I could make the world a better place for you.”

“Thank you, Dad.”

“Promise I’ll kick him out if he says anything,” Mav added, giving his cheekbone a last swap with his thumb and then putting his hands under the running tap.

“I’m pretty sure that if he does, Pops is going to be the one who’d kick him out,” he noted.

They were both standing around, watching their interactions like guard dogs, ready to bite at any slide of hand, and Bradley felt almost okay with it.

Bradley washed his hands and dried it off on the nearby towel. Mav sent him a wink before stepping away, bending down to find the rolling pin somewhere in the mess of their corner cabinet.

Slider called out, louder than he'd been talking to Ice. “Hey, is there a chance you made enough that I won’t have to think what to make for dinner for the kids?”

Ice sounded exasperated again, shaking his head at him and Bradley smiled as he said, “You just came here to steal our food again, didn’t you?”

“Told you a hundred times, brother, cooking well is his only good quality, I might as well milk it.”

Bradley shook his head at the familiarity of the whole moment and said, “You’re in luck this time — we’ve already frozen the first batch.”

“Don’t let him win, buddy,” Ice quipped.

Bradley pulled up the sleeves of his hoodie, taking out the bowl with the spinach and ricotta filling out of the fridge. As he carried it to the counter, the free space on the shelf below the kitchen island, right next to the ravioli dough, he felt watched again. He tried not to pay attention to it, but Slider was suspiciously silent, eyes scrolling over Bradley's mostly flat chest, clad in a binder invisible under his hoodie, and going up to Bradley's military-regulation short hair. He'd been looking like that the past few weeks every day but suddenly, it felt inadequate.

“Since when do you like Dallas Cowboys, kid?”

Bradley didn't have to look down to remember what he was wearing — the blue Dallas Cowboys hoodie he stole from Jake when he left Lemoore. Bradley didn't know shit about football but he used to go to NFL games with Jake whenever Dallas Cowboys were playing and they were in the area, it was Jake's team and Bradley would always wear one of his t-shirt or sweatshirts to blend in with the crowd and, well, because Jake liked when Bradley wore his clothes and Bradley like to wear his clothes. The past four months, the hoodie had been a source of comfort in the situations that made him nervous, used almost as often as the blanket hoodie Mav bought him in high school.

He wasn't about to tell them he missed Jake or who Jake was or anything else. "Can't I just like football?"

“I thought you were a basketball kinda girl—boy—guy—Shit.” It was clumsy but Bradley would give him points for trying. When Ice elbowed Slider into his side, he added sheepishly, “Sorry, Brad.”

“Please don’t call me Brad.”

“Sorry,” Slider repeated, scratching the back of his neck. “I thought it was Bradley now.”

“It is,” he said. “I’m just trying to avoid all the Brad Brad jokes that will come with it.”

“Yeah, you did make your life harder with that name change,” he said and just as he finished the sentence Mav and Ice turned toward him again, glaring. “I meant—”

“I know what you meant, relax,” Bradley told him, somehow feeling the tension oozing out of him now that the first slip had been made. “Mav said my parents had it chosen for a boy, so…”

“That does sound like something Goose would choose,” Slider said, slowly, and Bradley almost laughed at how hard he was trying to avoid his usual speak-before-think mode. “You can always go by your second name. Plenty of people do.”

Yeah, that was not happening. “I think I will just stick with Bradley.”

“By the way, Ron would make a great middle name,” he added. Ice elbowed him again but he didn't seem to mind too much and honestly, Bradley didn't mind the turn conversation had taken — it was all good-natured and so casual that it had almost calmed down most of his nerves. "Simple, traditional, can't be confused with a female name, what's not to like?"

Mav huffed. “Kerner, don’t even try—”

“What? He had a second name before,” Slider cut in.

“The paperwork is done already, anyway, so you’re a bit late,” Ice pointed out.

Mac turned to him this time, frowning. “It is?”

“Ice took me to the courthouse this week, after—after the session,” he admitted. Ice went with him inside and did most of the talking with the court clerk when Bradley couldn't reply to the simple what is the petition you need for question without spilling his whole life history. “I filed the petition.”

“I don’t think we chose a middle name, did we? Did you put one down?”

“I did,” he admitted, not elaborating and hoping they would leave it at that.

He concentrated on taking out the ravioli filling and scooping it into balls

“What is then?”

He only glanced at Ice shortly but that was enough for them to realize.

“Oh,” Uncle Slider only said before his typical shit-eating grin made its place on his face.

Mav didn’t say anything but he stepped closer toward Bradley, his close presence more than words.

Ice didn’t move even a millimeter. He bit down on lip, blinking the wetness out of his eyes and asked quietly, “You went with—with Tom?”

“Thomas,” he corrected, just barely hearable. "It's Bradley Thomas Bradshaw now. Or will, when the petition goes through."

"It's a good one, baby," Mav said, giving his shoulder an approving rub, eyes a bit watery.

“Not as good of a choice as Ron, but I supposed you can live with it,” Slider said and just like that, Mav turned to him and tried to hit him with the rag he was holding — he dodged last minute and Mav tried to hit him again, basically crawling over the kitchen island, until Bradley started laughing at them.

Ice was still looking at him, though, still speechless but with the corners of his lips quivering now.

#this will probably be rewritten by time I'm actually going to post chapter 14/15 but yeah enjoy #trans bradley rooster bradshaw #ron slider kerner #bradley rooster bradshaw #pete maverick mitchell #tom iceman kazansky #mavdad #icepops #technically background icemav #and a tiny mention of #hangster #this is from a hangster fic so it should count #(sif) lamp tag #charlie writes #op

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mortifyingideal · 7 months

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Hi, i've only just discovered your and marginalia_device's Loosely Ballroom a few weeks ago, and i've been delightfully savoring every chapter slowly, but then the last chapter came and i realized it wasn't finished yet! Did you guys take a hiatus? Or did you decide to stop writing it? (if you do i understand, and thank you and marginalia_device for this wonderful fic!

hello lovely nonnie!

we are on a very, very, very long hiatus. neither of us consider LB abandoned, but I’ve tried to say when we might be able to get back to writing it in the past, and time and circumstance have made a liar of me every time

we know exactly how it ends, how we get there, every silly number and costume they’re both going to wear before the end — the issue is simply that we (mainly marginalia) has some pretty big and unavoidable career responsibilities of the sort that make it impossible to write it at the minute. SUCCESS…….. TRULY A CURSE

thank you for your kind kind words and I’m so pleased and weirded out (affectionate) that still all these years (YEARS! INSANE!) later, people are discovering it and loving it!

#loosely ballroom #my fic #the loosely ballroom team proudly presents:

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kai-anderson-whore · 10 months

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The man in the long black coat (kai Anderson x fem reader)

A/n: so kai got the most votes on the poll posted last week. this is based on the Bob Dylan song the man in the long black coat. It just gives me huge kai vibes. I'll upload the other two fics this week too I finished one that was a request and almost finished with temptations part two so they will be posted soon.

A/n2: Also I forgot about he's a cult leader so I'll also upload chapter 10 tonight or tomorrow too.

Summary: you were out at a dance hall one night when you met a mysterious man who changed your life. Giving you a decision you couldn't refuse.

Warnings: cult stuff, leaving your boyfriend/ partner, mentions of cheating, running away, sneaking out, and alcohol.

Word count: 1,8k

Taglist: @spill-the-t @iluwmycats @lili-tate @evanpeterswifeyy868 @jademunson @evanpetersfansblog @howtobesasha @lustforeverrrr @fand0mh03

•¤❅¤•.•°˚˚°•..•°˚˚°•.•¤❅¤•.•¤❅¤•.•°˚˚°•. .•°˚˚°

You had been sneaking around behind your boyfriends back to meetings with the cult you were devoted to even more so your leader kai Anderson. Always at night when the crickets chirp in the night sky. Your boyfriend none the wiser.

The soft cotton dress flowed on your frame seeing your divine ruler standing outside waiting on you his long black coat kept him him as you rushed to the house you became familiar with over those past few months. What you didn't know was that when you rushed away from your neighbourhood your boyfriend saw you running with another man.

You had met kai at an old dance hall on the outskirts of town. Something compelling you towards him. You didn't know what it was he had a face like a mask concealing many thoughts and emotions only a stern look on his face. Yet you asked him if he wanted to dance little did you know he had been watching you to let you join the cult.

...

You sat on the chair of a dance hall on the outskirts of the town of Michigan. Sipping on your drink scanning the room. Your friends all too drunk to bother with anyone else.

Suddenly a pair of eyes caught yours. They were a deep brown held no words or emotion. Yet they were all so captivating like they were compelling you to him. He was extremely attractive bright blue freshly dyed hair. Usually that wouldn't your type yet there was something about this man that made you want him despite you already having a boyfriend.

He's also the reason why you were out. You both been constantly arguing back and forth and you needed to blow off some steam. So you got your friends out and decided to have fun and drink your troubles away.

Your eyes locking with this mysterious man his face held no expression like a mask. Keeping his guard up at all times. It made you want him more even though you only just clapped eyes on each other. You wanted to see that mask fall and break those walls he's obviously built around himself.

You sipped on your drink a smirk on your lips as this man watched you closely noticing the way your rudy red lips wrapped around the straw so seductively. You don't know were this Sudden confidence came from but you walked up to him with a bright smile batting your eyelashes at him.

He looked you down not once breaking his demeanor. "Hey" you simply started with he replied with a simple "hi" with furrowed brows pretending like he wasn't just having some sort of eye fuck with you. "Wanna dance?" You then asked waiting on his answer. "Sure" he said you took his hand guiding him to the pile of sweaty body's grinding on each other.

You started dancing with this complete stranger. Not giving a damn that you had a boyfriend at home probably blowing your phone up. "What's your name?" You asked grinding your ass against the man. "Kai, kai Anderson" he said his hands on your hips you were intoxicating to him but he had to keep to his own task.

"I'm y/n y/l/n" you smiled turning your head to him. You danced for a bit before you needed some air. Kai followed behind you. The thought of how attractive he was outside as the moonlight highlighted his features. Before you knew it you spent the night at his place that's when you discovered that he had been watching you for a while and you joined the cult.

...

Ever since that day you grew to fall for kai. Obeying his every order you were there hand and foot, his most devoted and most loyal follower. Last night changed everything for you to make a decision that would hurt the people you were supposed to love.

...

Another night sneeking through the living room window meeting your divine ruler. Running to the house through the wild wind that felt like a hurricane yet not quite. Finally making it too kai's house.

"Y/n you made it" kai smiled forcefully you scanned the room with furrowed brows. You expected everyone else to be here yet it was only you and kai. "Yes divine ruler, where are the others?" You asked kai gesturing for you to sit by the table. You know exactly what was going to happen.

"I just wanted to see you privately I have something to ask but first-" holding out his pinky. You mimic his actions locking pinkys. "Now you already know the rules once contact has been made I can't lie to you vise versa" kai summarised you simply nodded your head with a shaky breath.

"What made you become so loyal to me?" He asked a genuine question that had him wondering from the day you both met. You sighed through your nose before replying. "When I was a little girl my mother would take me to church and the preacher used to say at most sermons he gave 'every man's conscious is vile and depraved, you cannot depend on it to be your guide when it's you who must keep it satisfied' and I stuck with that till I met you it was different I can't explain it" your voice almost at a whisper.

Kai listened to every word leaving your lips. "Not even your boyfriend?" He questioned you shook your head. "Not even him he's not like you kai" you admitted. "Do you love him?" He asked you could feel the grip on your pinky tightening as he asked that question. "To be honest kai no I don't I'm miserable when I'm with him" you felt guilty saying that about your partner but it was true you couldn't lie to yourself anymore.

"So why are you with him then" he pushed further. Kai already knew the answer in his head but wanted to hear it from you. "Because I just got used to him being there everything was fine I thought he was the one for me but now no I don't love him anymore but I can't break his heart" you softly chuckled not believing the words coming out your mouth.

"Because you love someone else don't you who?" his voice laced with hope but it was undetected to you. Swallowing a lump in your throat. A shaky breath you nodded. "It's you kai your the one I love" you admitted knowing that you can't lie during pinky power plus kai would see right through you. A grin plastered the blue haired man who's pinky was intertwined with your own.

"I knew it" he chuckled the nerves took over you. You didn't know if he would be mad or upset with you he was unpredictable. But you couldn't help but love him "that's why I'm so loyal to prove myself to you I'm sorry divine ruler" you whispered feeling small. Your hands trembling against his firm grip on your pinky before he let go lifting himself off the chair.

He paced around the room thinking. You swallowed another lump in your throat. Your mouth felt dry "I have something for you to do my little lamb" you could hear the smirk on his face he finally got you were he wanted you all to himself well almost.

"Anything kai" your meek voice broke kai knelt down infront of your taking your hands in his. "I want you to leave him, we could be happy together equal power, I'll be your king and you'll be my queen what do you say?" He asked you looked in his eyes for a hint of uncertainty or if there was a plan behind his eyes for the future regarding your decision.

But all you saw was hopefulness, love and admiration something you never saw all those emotions in those brown eyes before. That's when you made your decision. "Yes kai I'll leave him" you nodded with a smile finally feeling the love you craved so much before. "But how?" You asked you knew that you couldn't just simply tell him to his face you would end up being guilt tripped to stay with someone you don't love. "Simple" he smirked before telling you the plan

...

But there are no mistakes in life some people say. And it's true sometimes if you see it that way which you did. There was no mistake on choosing kai over your partner. The man you been sneaking around with not romantically but in this double life situation he was the one you grew to love.

You waited till your boyfriend was asleep slipping out the bed. Your bag already packed lightly with some basic things. Some money you hid now in your wallet. You contemplated on leaving a note at least to give your soon to be ex boyfriend some closure but decided against it.

The clock struck 1:00am you tipped toed out the bedroom. And out the living room window so you wouldn't awake your boyfriend by leaving through the front door. Kai stood by the driveway grabbing your bag then helping you out the window.

"You ready to go" he asked his black leather coat hugged his body from the cold wind. You simply nodded your head no turning back now this was what you wanted to be kai's and him yours. He grabbed your hand as you both speed off into the night sky.

Your boyfriend had heard you sneaking around. He knew you weren't in love with him anymore. He suspected you were cheated on him. And now he saw you from the window running your hands intertwined with a man in a long black coat and blue washed out hair. His heart broke seeing you run freely.

Not even a word of goodbye, not even a note. She went with the man in the long black coat. He wished you left him a note telling him why you just up and left him. But she never said nothing, there was nothing she wrote.

You finally made it to kai's place. His lips instantly on yours. Even that night you spent at his almost a year ago. He never once kissed you. His lips were like a drug you never wanted to come clean for. If anything you wanted more.

Kai pulled away his forehead resting on yours. Your hand on his arm a smile on your lips. You felt young and free like you could take on the world with kai. "I love you y/n" he finally said a genuine smile on his face. You let out a light giggled wrapping your arms around his neck. "I love you too kai".

You finally gave your heart to the man in the long black coat.

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