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didhewinkback · 12 days

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thirty, flirty and thriving

a something old blurb for the birthday boy. 2 and a half months late but who's counting

word count: essentially 3k, warnings: none

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He can feel tears prick his eyes the second they all start in on the song. All of his favorite people in one place, just for him, gathered around the cake you’re holding up. Suppose he’s someone who cries at birthdays now.

He’s just…bloody overwhelmed. Perhaps it’s all the tequila flowing through his veins but it feels like more than that. Thinking about how you somehow managed to surprise him with all these people to celebrate his birthday, that his friends - some of whom he hasn’t spoken to in ages, ranging from the lads from school to the friends he made in LA when he was 22 - all made the trek to London to be with him tonight. How he’s often the youngest in his group of friends and how it feels like just yesterday that meant being 19 in a group of 30 year olds and now it's being 30 in a group of friends on the other side of 40.

He’s fucking thirty.

It should send him into a spiral about where the time has gone and how it went by so bloody quick but right now, he’s just grateful for where it’s landed him. Right here. Surrounded by his favorite people on the planet, his arm wrapped around the shoulders of the woman he’s going to marry, his best friend in the entire world. Ten years ago, he was getting monstrously drunk at a club with Grimmy and their mates, feeling both on top of the world and more alone than ever in ways only an incredibly famous 20 year old can. But here and now, he feels settled. He feels good. Like he’s lived a thousand lifetimes but also like he’s just getting started.

“....happppy birthday to yOouUuUou” everyone sings, all eyes on him as they wait for him to blow out the candles. He places his palm to his chest, trying to lock eyes with as many people as humanly possible, trying to say thank you with a look, doesn’t want to do a speech, not now. He just loves these people, he loves this life, he loves his birthday and –

He feels an elbow in his side and looks over at you, your face aglow from the absurd amount of candles you’ve squeezed onto the cake - he’s 30, not 87, thanks - your eyebrows raised in expectation.

“Cake’s fucking heavy, mate” you say and he throws his head back in laughter, smacking a kiss to your head before looking back out at the party.

“Sorry - know the wax ‘s getting everywhere, but just wanted to say -” he says, taking a deep breath, vision blurring a bit. “‘M so lucky and feel so grateful to you all for being here. Thank you’s never going to be enough. But you’ve all made me into the man I am today ‘nd I wouldn’t be me without you. So thank you and I love you, I love you, I love you.”

And with that, he takes a deep breath, squeezing you close and making a wish, wishing for every birthday to feel just like this, for the ability to make everyone in this room feel like they’re making him feel now as he blows all the candles out in one swoop. The party erupts in cheers and whoops and he barely has time to press another kiss to your cheek before he’s pulled back into the fray, bombarded with an endless stream of hugs, kisses, people rubbing his head and pressing glasses of tequila into his hand. He just feels like he could burst, is the thing. A room full of people who know him and love him and don’t want or need anything from him, just want to celebrate him for who he is. They’ve turned the music back on and he sways his hips and stomps his feet as he knocks back another glass, letting the beats wash over him as he gets lost in the crowd of friends.

It’s later, he’s tucked in a booth with the lads as he takes in the room around him, though it’s spinning a bit more than it was before. Tom’s got his arm around him and is telling the 18th embarrassing anecdote of the night, trying in vain to bury the fact that just moments ago he got a bit teary when he spoke about the first time they met. And that’s when he sees you across the way, laughing about something with Johnny. His eyes trace the line of your neck as you tilt your head back, the curve of your jaw, and then, as if you can sense him, your eyes lock with his.

It never gets old, this. It feels like electric currents are buzzing through his system when you smile at him, that just for him smile, as he tilts his head towards the doors leading out back, once, twice, three times, topping it off with a dramatic roll of his neck until you’re smirking, already making your way up to stand. He taps Tom on the thigh before sliding out of the booth and making his way over to where you’re waiting by the doors, instantly wrapping his arm around your waist and burying his face into your hair, breathing you in as the two of you duck outside.

It’s cold, but the heaters and fire pits around the patio help and he wraps himself around your back, matching you step for step as you head over to the corner railings, away from any prying eyes. You lean against the railing, looking up at the night sky, what you can make of it from the city lights. He wraps his arms tighter around you, nuzzling his face into your neck.

“Y’ cold?” he asks and you’re shaking your head but he feels you shiver against him and that’s all the answer he needs, already pulling his suit jacket off despite your protests, and holding it out for you to put it on. “C’mon, ‘s my birthday wish.”

You shake your head and snort, sliding your arms into the jacket and turning around, wrapping your arms around his waist as you smile up at him. He shuffles you a bit closer to the heater, pressing a kiss to your cheek, brushing his knuckle along your jaw.

“Good birthday?” you ask softly and he’s already nodding, can’t believe you’re even asking.

“The best,” he says, “Can’t believe you did all this.”

“You really had no idea?”

“Surprised the shit out of me.” he says. “Y’ always get stressed when we’re running late for dinner so that’s the only reason I thought y’ were being jumpy.”

“Oiii–” you say, slapping him lightly as you laugh. “Not my fault you took ages to get ready. Man’s early for everything but the second you tell him what time to meet at a restaurant, he moves in bloody slo mo.”

“Heeey.” he whines, but there’s no heat behind it, pulling you closer and laughing when you do.

He can hear the party raging on from out here and he still just can’t wrap his mind around it. That he’s 30. That he’s gotten to live the life he has over the last ten years and he has all those people in there to thank. He’s bowled over, the love in that room radiating through his every pore. Not sure he ever knew he could be this loved.

He can feel your eyes on him and knows you’re letting him gather his thoughts, content to just stand there and patiently wait until he’s ready. Letting him do what he needs to do. Never pushing, or prying. Just knowing him. And loving him. And there’s just something about that, isn’t there?

“‘M just like…” he starts to say, stopping himself when he feels emotion clog his throat. “I cried 10 times already. Bloody Cal is here.”

“Easiest party planning of my life,” you say back softly, tightening your arms around him. “Everyone said yes immediately, they were so excited to celebrate you. Everyone in there really, really loves you.”

His breath gets caught in his throat at that, blinking back the tears that seem to permanently reside in his eyes tonight. He rests his hand along the side of your face, dragging his thumb along your jaw. Not sure what he did to get nights like this, to get you looking at him like that. He’s so, so lucky.

“I really, really love you.” you say softly and he just - he can’t explain the noise that escapes him as he crashes his lips against yours, tightening his grip on your jaw as he kisses you the way he’s been thinking about all night. You sigh against his lips as he pulls you impossibly closer to him, lips not daring to leave yours for a second, kissing you over and over again.

He could stand here forever, kissing you like this, but he has to breathe, eventually. He pulls back slowly, kissing along your jaw, cheek, temple before burying his head into your neck. You slide your arms up his back, hugging him around the neck and pulling him close, your hand coming up to rest at the nape of his neck, scratching at the short hairs there. You just stand there for a minute, wrapped up in each other and this may just be his favorite part of the night. There’s something about knowing he’ll always have this. Your arms to fall into. And that’s the greatest birthday present a lad could ask for.

“Thank you so much for all this,” he mumbles into your ear. “Best birthday ever. Proper birthday.”

His heart skips a beat when he hears your delighted laugh, pulling back to get a glimpse of your face, the way your eyes are glowing as they stare back at him.

“I can’t believe you remember that.” you say with a laugh. “You were pissed and burning your mouth on a cheese toastie almost a decade ago when you said that.”

“Mmm, a cheese toastie,” he says, giggling at your eye roll. “Course I remember it. Think it every year. ‘S not a proper birthday unless you’re there. I love you so, so much.”

“Thanks for being born,” you say softly, leaning into his touch. “Greatest thing to ever happen to me. You.”

“Baby - ” he breathes out, but can feel emotion clogging his throat again, trying in vain to blink away the tears your words made spring to his eyes. His thumb brushes over your cheekbone, hand shaking not just from the cold. A lifetime of knowing you and you still make him weak at the knees.

“Y’ make every day feel like my birthday, y’ know that?” he says softly, feeling like he’s found the right words for the first time tonight. “This party ‘nd this night is incredible. But nothing - nothing - compares to getting to go home with you every night. Greatest gift I ever got.”

He can see the words hit you, the deep breath you take as your eyes rake over his features, smile twitching at your lips as you look at him with such love in your eyes he feels his heart skip a beat. You’re looking at him like you always look at him, really, really seeing him with nothing but utter love in your eyes. God. There aren’t words for that, are there?

You pull him in, kissing him hard, like you’re trying to pour every ounce of love from your mouth to his and he’s more than happy to drink it up. Drink you up. Drink you in. His favorite taste, his favorite mouth, his favorite person on his favorite day.

His hands squeeze you tighter, living for the way you lean into his touch as it rakes down your back, settling on your bum. He could lose himself in this, in you. But you both seem to become aware of your environment at the same time, deep kisses slowing into gentle pecks before you drag your lips up his jaw, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek as you pull him close, hugging him tightly. His arms wrap around your waist as he sinks into your hold. He nuzzles his head into your neck, breathing you in, as he slowly sways the two of you, the party mere background noise to the sounds of your steady breathing, the feel of your hands carding through his short hair.

It’s a while before he moves, slowly, begrudgingly, pressing a kiss to your neck and tightening his arms around you before mumbling, “I’ve got a crazy idea,” into your skin.

He lifts his head to look at your face, can see your eyes twinkling, already bracing yourself for what he’s about to say, already in on the joke. It’s a bit he’s been doing every few weeks at this point, ever since you set the date.

“Oh yeah, what’s that?” you ask, unable to stop the smile growing on your face as you slide your arms down his shoulders, resting your hands on his biceps.

“Was thinking - since y’ did such a good job planning this party… what do y’ say we throw another one? Like, end of June maybe? Right after your birthday?” he says, pretending to actually mull over those dates, trying to remain deadly serious while your lips twitch into a smile.

“Hmm. I think I could be down for that.”

“Yeah? Same guest list, bit more of your friends. Some family maybe. Could do it in Italy, near the house.” he says, trying to keep up the bit but the reality of what he’s saying is catching up to him, the familiar tears making an appearance again as he chokes out his next words. “Y’ could wear white.”

“And you could wear a suit.” you say softly, eyes never wavering from his. “Maybe get a new ring.”

“Yeah. You’d like that?” he asks, bringing his hand up to your face when you nod. “You wanna marry me, baby?”

“I really, really do.” you say, the look in your eyes making his heart beat out of his chest.

“Four months,” he says quietly, almost in disbelief of his luck, his life. “You’re gonna be my wife in four months.”

He can’t tell who moves in first after that, both of you clutching on for dear life as you just about snog the living daylights out of each other. He’s never wanted to ditch a party more in his life. Just wants you, your bedroom, and several hours to even begin to express all he’s feeling right now, all he wants. It’s you, it’s you, it’s you.

You softly moan into his mouth and he just about loses his mind, thinking about he’ll have a lifetime of getting that sound out of you, just for him. He pulls you impossibly closer as he drags his tongue over yours, keeping your jaw in a tight grip. He could die here, actually. He’d die a happy man, being slowly taken apart by your mouth.

“Oiii!!!” Johnny’s voice through the open door has the two of you springing apart in shock, though he doesn’t let you get far, burying his head in your neck as he moves his hand off your jaw to flip Johnny off.

“If you’re both done rubbing against each other out here –”

“Oh grow up, Johnny!” you shout at the same time Harry lets out a “You wish!” that has you smacking him against the head as he laughs.

“The Holmes Chapel lot did promise Hometown Hero over there a birthday shot.” he slurs and Harry begrudgingly pulls away from you to twist towards the doors, pulling your back into his chest as you both face Johnny, his hands resting on your shoulders. “And we’ve been waiting bloody ages –”

“So bloody dramatic,” you huff and Harry laughs, pressing a kiss to the back of your head.

“We’ll be right in,” he says watching as Johnny rolls his eyes, holding up a hand to indicate “you’ve got one minute”, as he turns back inside and closes the door behind him.

“Suppose we better go in,” you say, turning to look at him over your shoulder and he all but swells with pride at the look of you, the swollen lips and slightly messy hair. He tilts your chin a bit more towards him and kisses you once more, squeezing your shoulder before taking a step back. You shrug out of his jacket despite his groan, handing it back to him as you bring your hands up to attempt to smooth down your hair.

“Let’s go, old man.” you say and he squawks, sliding the jacket back on before giving you a cheeky smack on your bum, which you try in vain to dodge before reaching for his hand, interlacing your fingers and heading back into the fray.

The night spirals from there in the best possible way and while he may not remember every conversation he had, every song he danced to, every shot he took, he’ll always remember the way that room made him feel, the love radiating towards him, overwhelming him, inspiring him, fortifying him. He’ll always remember the feeling of your hand in his, the way your body felt against his own, and later, the taste of you on his tongue. Feeling like he could do anything with you by his side, your love making him feel like the greatest version of himself. Like the best is still yet to come, if that's even possible.

Proper birthday.

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a/n: the way i literally had 3/4 of this written on february 1st and then could not get myself to finish it. but here we areeeee baby. hope people are still interested. i really like it and couldnt let it go. let me know what u think love u mean it

taglist:@tobesolovelysstuff, @louyoursins, @daydreamingofmatilda, @jojo-blog53, @marzhshaim, @devilsqueen722, @just-happiness-only,@lomlhstyles, @feestyles, @spock4presidnet, @sunshinemoonsposts, @indierockgirrl, @jerseygirlinca, @kissitnhekitchen, @goldnrry,

#something old #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles birthday #friends to lovers #hbd 2.5 months late i guess #sorry to all the angels in my inbox who requested a lot of other things and definitely not this #ur girl couldnt give this one up #lmk what you think plssss oh pls

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 7 months

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AITA for "causing" someone's ED? (massive TW obviously)

so i (18x) have a pr0ana sideblog. i say this in the LOOSEST sense of the term; while i interact with pr0ana tags and content, i don't make any myself, and my "platform" is nonexistent. i primarily use the blog as a way to feel less alone since i can't talk about my ED in real life. it's a vent blog. i don't have the name of my sideblog anywhere on my main blog, and vice versa.

a few weeks ago, my good friend (18x) found this sideblog and decided not to tell me. over the next few weeks, we had several conversations about my ED and their dysmorphia (though according to them not a full-fledged ED), all started by them. at one point i promised them that i would try to get just a little better every day, and i do! i do try that constantly! but about ten minutes after saying that i posted something on my sideblog about how paranoid i was about calories or whatever, because yeah i'm trying to get better, but that doesn't mean i magically stop struggling. i also told them i was NOT on pr0ana tumblr or interacting with that sort of content, because i wasn't comfortable sharing that about myself. i didn't know my friend knew about the sideblog at this point.

they dmed me a while after this post to ask why i had lied to their face, or as they put it in a vaguepost on their blog, "made a promise and then turned around and immediately broken it." i got very very frustrated, since i think what i do on the internet is my business, as is my mental health. this definitely reflected in my tone, so i think i was definitely TA, at least initially.

during this conversation, though, they basically said that i needed to talk to them about my emotions and stop hiding them, and that i had to take the hand they were extending. here's where the main problem started. they then said that they considered contacting my mother or friends but decided in the long run it wouldn't be beneficial. my mother is emotionally abusive, which this friend knew, and would absolutely involuntarily hospitalize me if contacted about my ED.

i became extremely angry, both that my friend would have my mother's and friends' contact information in the first place (we met through tumblr and have only met in person ONCE -- i do not, clearly, have their parents' contact information or even their names, and this was not information i volunteered to them) and that they would use it as an ultimatum. at this point i became extremely furious and basically told them to leave me alone because no one who genuinely cared about me would do that, and i didn't understand why my mental illness was seen as something i HAD to overcome if i wanted to avoid getting literally hospitalized by my mother. at this point they told me that i was refusing to accept help and that i was "aestheticizing killing myself." they then blocked me. i was still fucking angry. i never blocked them from my main, but i did block all their accounts from my sideblog and change the url.

they later unblocked me and we tried to remain civil. we never stopped interacting with each other's posts or whatever. they initiated contact a few times, which i ignored. the first instance they initiated contact was sending me a poem they'd written about the situation, which made me feel like shit, and the second time was just saying "hey." i didn't respond either time because i didn't know how.

i saw a vaguepost that they made on their blog yesterday that basically said they were fucking angry that, after an entire lifetime of struggling to avoid developing an ED, the "person they used to be in love with" was the reason they were developing one. it was clearly about me and i felt a rush of shame so overwhelming that i didn't really know what to do with it. i dmed them to tell them that i loved them and i was sorry, that i didn't mean to hurt them, and that i didn't want things to end like they did. reading back over the message now, it feels very "woe is me" (i was crying while writing it), but basically it just involved me apologizing a million times.

i woke up this morning to their response, which was: "are you saying this because you miss me or because you don't have anyone else left? i don't want to be your last choice." i hadn't gone into the conversation with the intention of regaining their close friendship because, frankly, i don't want that. i hadn't gone into it with a goal in mind. a problem i've had with this friend in the past is that they seem to view a lot of interactions and relationships as almost transactional in a way that i don't (demonstrated by their insistence that i had to talk them about my mental health in the first place). i told them this, and told them i just wanted to apologize and that i loved them. they said that they were sorry, too, but that the timing made them "suspicious," i assume because they know i've been extremely depressed and lonely lately (i just moved to college without any of my best friends and have been making vent posts about it on my main personal blog).

i know it wasn't the intention, but it made me feel like they were using my mental illness against me yet AGAIN, and i stopped apologizing. as i'm typing this i'm trying to decide whether to block them. but i feel like shit about the whole thing, because i was responsible for the formation of their ED, and i feel like i should be able to handle whatever anger they have towards me for that without getting my feelings hurt and being petty. i don't know. AITA?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole #eating disorder cw

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sweetcarrotsandroses97 · 8 months

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~ Bonded by a Ring | JJK

Pairing: CEO!husband!Jungkook x writer!fem!wife!Reader

Warnings: arranged marriage, fluff, a bit of angst. (This is a light chapter tbh, I can't think of anymore triggering content. Let me know if I missed anything!)

Summary: We take a look at your life as Mrs. Jeon, wife of the rich heir to Jeon Enterprises, Jungkook. He was a handsome gentleman who you were able to call your husband yet the relationship between you both was entirely political and civil. Could feelings begin to sparkle between the cracks of marriage?

Word Count: 2.8k

A/N: This was supposed to come out yesterday on Kook's birthday but I was busy and I couldn't edit it but here it is! I'll continue writing this small drabble series when I find the time while also working on other fics I hope to be able to publish soon.

Let me know your thoughts on this one in the comments, please! Drabbles are open for this au in case you want to request something my inbox is open!!💜

It was dark outside. Dusk had settled a while ago and your husband was still not home. You worried for him, for his health. He worked so much and rested too little.

You were sitting on the couch, your laptop rested atop your folded legs. Glancing at the clock you noticed how it was nearly midnight. You sighed. This was not new for you. For Jungkook to always come home late, seldom were those times in which he dined with you.

Rarely did you ever go to bed together as you often found yourself curled in the large mattress without him to keep you warm during the night.

You and Jungkook have been married for some months now. A marriage that was arranged by his parents. A marriage that was of advantage to you both for he needed to have a wife and an heir to inherit his family's company and you, well you needed his name.

As an author who had published her first novel, you became really popular in the world of words and books and you could thank it all to your husband's marketing team.

There was no love between you two. But you didn't hate him either. The relationship between you and Jungkook was a polite one, he was ever the gentleman with you and in exchange he obtained your respect.

You cared for him to a certain extent. You always made sure he never left for work on an empty stomach and had ready some light dinner for when he came home late. You always made sure his shirts were ironed and his shoes polished.

And in return, Jungkook always gave you anything you could possibly need. Do you have an appointment with your editor? He'd make sure his chauffeur would drive you there. Do you need some new clothes? You could always use his credit card. Do you want to get Bam a new toy? He’d made sure to bring you the best catalogues he could find for you to choose what to buy for the spoiled dog who had earned your heart too quickly.

It was a balanced relationship. He respected you, you respected him. Jungkook had his life, you had yours. But to the public, you both were a happily married couple. While inside closed doors, you treated each other as an old acquaintance of another lifetime.

Your attention got stolen by the sound of the electronic lock as the front door opened and in came Jungkook. Even from where you sat, you could see the tiredness in his body. The exhaustion.

You put the laptop aside before standing up and walking towards him. You took his coat from his hands and presented his slippers to him.

If Jungkook hadn't been that tired at that moment he'd have thanked you with a soft smile.

"I'm glad you're home, do you want to eat something? I can heat you up some dinner if you'd like?"

He let out a sigh, the stress, problems and frustration from work were getting on his nerves. And to even think that he had to go back tomorrow...

"No, I'm fine, (y/n). I just want to sleep."

You nodded, placing his coat in the hanger while putting his shoes in its place. The scent of his cologne invaded your senses and your touch lingered on the heavy robe he previously wore for longer than needed.

Your eyes followed his figure as he disappeared in one of the hallways and into the bedroom you both shared. You have never minded sharing a room with him, let alone the bed. The other two rooms in the large flat were transformed in your study while the other was his personal gym.

Walking back into the living room, you saved the draft of the story you had been working on for some time now before you powered off your laptop.

For a moment, your eyes lingered on the city lights. They looked so close yet so far at the same time. The large glass windows that reached from the floor up to the ceiling allowed you to see such a beautiful view.

You felt a sudden sense of loneliness wash over you. Something that felt strange in you, something you couldn't describe, let alone place its source.

With a sigh you turned around, your arms were hugging your figure as you approached the couch once more. You placed the laptop on the coffee table before walking towards the bedroom, turning the lights off on your way.

Jungkook was already lying down on his side of the bed, his back facing you. With quick and silent movements you approached the other side of the bed and sat down before getting yourself under the covers.

You assumed your husband was already asleep as deep breaths could be heard in the quietness of the place. You turned on your right side, facing his back as you shut your tired eyes after having been in front of a screen for too long.

"Goodnight, (y/n)."

Those whispered words reached you before you fell into your deep slumber. You mumbled the words back as you succumbed to the tiredness in your body.

"Goodnight, Jungkook."

Little were you aware of the fluttering in your husband's heart at your words. Of the small smile that graced his lips at the little attentions you always gave him. By the way you were slowly entering his heart without you having the slightest idea.

Jungkook was woken up by his noisy alarm and he cursed under his breath before turning the frustrating noise off. With a sigh he sat up, one of his hands ruffled his hair before he stood up and went to the bathroom as he needed to get ready to go to the company yet again.

After taking a shower and getting dressed, Jungkook stepped out of the bedroom, closing the door behind him with a soft noise that nearly echoed in the overly silent apartment.

"Bam, stop it. You already had breakfast."

He heard your voice from somewhere in his large home as the smell of coffee suddenly hit him. His feet carried him over the hallway and across the living room until he entered the kitchen that faced the dining area.

Jungkook saw how you had prepared a plate filled with fruit and some yoghurt as well as a cup of coffee. He couldn't help the smile that grew on his face, the moment itself was precious as if gotten out of one of the dramas he had caught you watching from time to time when you needed inspiration to write or to simply pass the time.

His stomach fluttered when you lifted your gaze from the large yet cute dog who stole your attention to look at your husband. A smile on your own was painted over your lips.

Time seemed to stop when your eyes met his, Jungkook didn't know for how long the both of you stayed like that. As if trapped in a loop of time of perfection. Almost like a real married couple did.

He broke eye contact and cleared his throat, as if snapping himself from some kind of spell. A spell only you conjure over me. The thought crossed his mind before he could stop it. Your smile disappeared from your face as you looked aside, your cheeks heating.

"Did... did you sleep well?"

You asked after a moment or two of silence. Even Bam stopped moving by your side as if somehow the canine felt the subtle tension rising in the kitchen.

"Yes, thank you."

Then it was awkward again. You didn't know what to say. He wasn't moving, neither were you. He didn't seem to want to lift his gaze as it was placed on the white floor beneath his feet. As if it were the most interesting thing in the world.

"I made you some breakfast. It is not healthy for you to leave on an empty stomach, Jungkook."

He hummed, walking toward the stool before sitting down, his breakfast resting on the marble counter.

"I'm going to take a shower."

You excused yourself and left the kitchen, not allowing your husband to say anything as the next second you were already walking down the hallway.

A sigh left your lips as you leaned on the closed door of your shared bedroom. What just happened? You thought to yourself while pressing the back of your hands up to your cheeks to try and cool down the skin that felt suddenly too hot.

You decided a cold shower would help you clear your mind so you didn't waste another minute to grab your clothes and hop into the shower, allowing the cool water to run down your body and refresh your mind.

Jungkook sat at the stool, spoon in hand as he ate the last of his yoghurt. His cup of coffee was already half empty when you emerged from the bedroom, your hair was wet and you were wearing fresh clothes.

The scent of your shampoo hit him and there it was, the fluttering in his heart, the soft churning of his stomach.

He emptied the bowl with his breakfast and downed the remnants of his coffee before he stood up.

"I have to leave now."

Your hands picked up his bowl and cup as you placed them on the sink.

"Have a nice day, Jungkook."

He didn't know what was happening. Everyday you woke up and prepared some breakfast for him, sometimes he ate it at the flat other times he took it with him to eat it at the office.

Why was he feeling so strange right now when what you were doing was completely normal?

You turned to look at him with a warm smile over your lips, ignoring the way your heart sped up a little by the mere sight of him or the way you felt your palms begin to sweat due to the nerves of being with him in the same room.

He mirrored your smile and you swore you had seen Heaven. You loved his smile. You had always found it pretty. It suited him. Not that you had ever told him that but it was a thought you had had since you first met.

"Don't forget to have breakfast, (y/n). I'll try to come back a bit earlier today."

Butterflies fluttered in your stomach at the thought of him coming home at a decent hour from work.

"Oh, that's good. Have a nice day, then."

You mentally face-palmed yourself. You already wished him a good day, idiot! But he chuckled, walking away from the kitchen and toward the front door. You watched him like every other day, you watched him put his coat on as well as his shoes.

Jungkook turned around and smiled at you before he was out of the door, the soft click of the lock echoed so loudly in the now nearly empty flat.

You sighed, going back to the kitchen to prepare something to eat for yourself. Just like Jungkook told you. The promise of his early arrival set a smile on your lips once more. Wanting to be with him again, even when he had just left not even five minutes ago.

The reason for this new feeling? You didn't know. But you couldn't say you didn't like it either. Jungkook was your husband after all, it was only natural to want to be close and spend time with the person one marries, right?

"Jungkook, are you listening?"

His head turned to look at the side only to spot Jimin, one of his close friends and co-workers already looking at him with an expectant and curious expression over his delicate features.

"Sorry, what?"

Jimin sighed, a hand running through his blond hair.

"I was saying that we need to close the deal with Mr. Cha as soon as possible. It will help us increase our sales."

Jungkook let out a deep breath as his thumb kept clicking and clicking the pen that was in his grasp.

"I know. I'm sorry, hyung. I have a lot on my mind right now."

Jimin clicked his tongue as he put some files aside.

"Yeah, I figured. I'll ask Hoseok to look into this and bring you the contract for you to sign."

"Thanks, Jimin-ssi."

The latter smiled, more than smirked and said, his hands tangling in front of him over the table.

"Now tell me, what is bothering you?"

Jungkook knew his friend was going to ask that question sooner or later. He leaned back on his chair and said, fidgeting with the pen in between his fingers.

"It's (y/n)."

If Jungkook had been looking at his friend, he'd have seen how Jimin's eyes widened at the mention of your name. He had met you on a couple of occasions, one of them being your wedding with his younger friend, that's why he grew surprised when you were the centre of Jungkook's current state of mind.

"What happened? Did you two fight or something?"

The doe-eyed man shook his head, placing his pen on the table before his eyes locked with the curious gaze of one of his closest friends.

"What? No, I don't think I could ever fight with her."

Jimin hummed, allowing him to continue.

"It's just that... man I don't know. I can't sleep, I can barely eat. My mind is always racing with the mere idea of her. This morning I saw her smile and... I just thought of how beautiful she looked while smiling. I want to make her smile like that, you know? I want her to be happy and to smile at me like that everyday, Jimin."

There was a moment of silence between the two men. Seconds tickled by, the silence stretched. Nearly swallowing the younger man with his own thoughts and racing heart.

"What? Don't you have something to say, Jimin-ah? You are always teasing me and when I tell you something serious you stay quiet."

The blond haired man seemed to snap out of his own mind. The only thought in his head was the one of Finally!

"You like her."

Stated Jimin. There existed no ounce of hesitation in those three words.

"What?!"

Jimin rolled his eyes, if anyone had seen the scene they would have thought it to be comical.

"Shhh, don't shout like that. I simply said that you like her. You like (y/n), Kook."

Jungkook swallowed. The possibility hadn't even crossed his mind. Did he- did he truly have feelings for you?

"But how?"

Jimin refrained himself from smacking Jungkook on the back of his head. Perhaps they were both speaking as friends right now but the blond man had to remind himself that Jungkook was technically his boss too. At least his future boss.

"Jungkook, it's completely normal. She is your wife, she's been living with you for months now. It actually surprises me that this hadn't happened before considering your one year anniversary is in two weeks."

The heir to Jeon Enterprises was too stunned to speak. Jimin had revealed a reality his heart already knew but his mind rejected to accept for he couldn't deny his friend's statement. He liked you, he really did. And now, he saw his situation with way more clarity than before.

"What do I do now, Jimin? Should I tell her how I feel?"

The older man laughed a bit. His eyes closed with the motion.

"See? You didn't deny it! You really like her, huh?"

Jungkook rolled his eyes, not liking the teasing from his friend.

"You didn't answer my question."

"Aish, you are totally clueless when it comes to romance, aren't you? Listen, Kook, first you have to know if she likes you back. Don't just open your heart where there could be a field of thorns, gift her things and see her reaction, do things for her and pay attention to her words, if she gets flustered or not. And if she doesn't show any signs, well then you have to win her heart."

Jungkook still had so many questions, so many things he wanted to know in order to act on the feelings his heart was treasuring. You were his wife, wasn't a marriage supposed to be sweet?

What he had with you wasn't bitter, but he found himself craving as of lately that sweet love of the heart.

He wished to be with you like a husband loves his wife, not only bounded by a ring but by sentiment too. To be tangled in the web of feelings that threatened to blossom in his heart with every thought of you, every single memory of you.

And he was going to do just that. To fight for your love. To win your heart or claim it if his name was already written in your soul for him to live in such a sacred place.

Bonded by rings, destined by fate. Claimed by society, yearning for a life by your side.

~Masterpost

Sept/02/2023

☕Caffeinate me so I can keep on writing! ☕

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weirdmageddon · 8 months

Text

yesterday i wrote a scene where jade wasnt a plot device and was left the hell alone in A6A5 because this being dave and jade’s last proper conversation in years made me sad and i wanted to see them reunite properly. i mixed a bit of narration in too even though it was rare around this point in the comic but its just to paint a better picture. also i wouldnt mind feedback on character voice (it’s important to me that the dialogue sounds believable)

[3 years are over, everyone is in the new session. The prospit ship is on LOMAX, as is everyone who arrived on the meteor, safely warped by Jade onto LOMAX as well. Jade has banished B2 Jack to the Furthest Ring already. She hasn't seen her friends in 3 years, not to mention she never met the trolls in person yet.]

[Jade teleports to LOMAX where John was talking with the meteor crew. Her eyes widen when she sees the trolls, giving everyone a greeting. Jade waves to the trolls.]

You’ll have time to catch up with them later. First you want to reconvene with Rose and Dave.

> ==>

Dave... Oh my god! DAVE!!! That’s right! The last time you saw him, he died in your arms after Jack redirected the bullets from your gun into his body!

JADE: dave!!!! DAVE: hey DAVE: this has been three years coming hasnt it DAVE: cmere

> ==>

[Dave hugs Jade with a slight grin on face. He notices her… sniffing him?? but doesn’t even bother to question it.]

JADE: it is so nice to hold your body when its not a corpse :) DAVE: ok DAVE: weird thing to say DAVE: actually who am i kidding who gives a shit DAVE: i almost forgot how much i missed the enigmatic riddlefuckery that is your phrasing DAVE: fortunately i have context for this so i know what youre saying DAVE: humor me for a sec and imagine that i didnt DAVE: but first DAVE: are those dog ears JADE: yes! i am part dog now JADE: because i prototyped my dreamself with becsprite JADE: jadesprite became part of me! and so did her doggy traits from bec DAVE: got it DAVE: oh yeah john mentioned that on the back of his dumb poster inside that bucket that appeared out of thin air DAVE: right before we had to haul ass out of there before jack caught up to us DAVE: karkat had a complete fucking meltdown over that btw i wish you couldve seen it DAVE: damn it feels like so long ago now JADE: heheheh i remember JADE: john realized it at the last second but it was too late! DAVE: of course it was johns idea only he could do something that gooberish DAVE: you know what this means though JADE: yup!! woof woof DAVE: it means youve done it harley DAVE: youve finally done it god damn it DAVE: the evolution of humankind is finally upon us DAVE: the scientists said it would never happen in our lifetime DAVE: but look what we have here DAVE: before me stands mans first legitimate furry subspecies DAVE: homo canis DAVE: as the name implies theyre gay as fuck btw DAVE: its too bad all those scientists are dead and cant witness this phylogenetic breakthrough DAVE: rip to the science community yall wouldve lost your collective shit DAVE: hey jade lets pour one out for the science community for being real ones

> ==>

You are still nestled into Dave’s shoulder. He’s taken a sort of protective position over you. Your perceptive barkbeast ears can hear his formerly bullet-riddled heart beating a mile a minute with the regularity of quartz beneath his time-branded pajamas, all the while he continues to ramble to you about certifiably dumb shit. You can tell Dave is psyched to see you again, even if he expresses it in his OWN bizarre way, which means extended metaphors and topical tangents. What a hypocrite, calling YOUR phrasing perplexing! You sure missed this guy.

You realize you started tuning him out while thinking about all this.

DAVE: jade JADE: umm homo is the species name JADE: so wouldnt that mean were all gay? :p DAVE: yeah that sounds about right DAVE: anyway enough of this bullshit

> ==>

[Dave motions to retract his arms since he doesn’t want it to get too weird, but Jade squeezes tighter. Dave immediately yields to the movement]

DAVE: jesus wow ok DAVE: really happy to see you too DAVE: like if you had a tail it would be wagging so forcefully youd be knocking over all the fucking furnishings in the room DAVE: just slapping it so hard on the owners thigh that it feels like theyre being flogged DAVE: talk about getting bitch slapped JADE: :D DAVE: so howve you been JADE: really really excited to see you guys all again!!! JADE: and to meet the trolls! DAVE: yeah theyre pretty weird DAVE: and im still not used to it DAVE: but it gets more manageable the longer youre around them DAVE: by the way JADE: ?

> ==>

DAVE: sorry you had to go through that JADE: through what? DAVE: seeing me die and stuff again DAVE: except that time right in front of you JADE: .... DAVE: when we were gathering up all those frogs i knew jack was going to appear DAVE: i was waiting and waiting to play it out DAVE: mentally rehearsing my fucking torso getting turned into swiss cheese and knowing you would have to watch on top of it DAVE: i had to make sure it happened to protect the integrity of the alpha timeline DAVE: but if you knew this was going to happen you wouldve tried to prevent it and created a doomed one DAVE: and so i didnt say anything DAVE: i couldnt DAVE: so DAVE: sorry for putting you through that JADE: oh..... JADE: dave D: JADE: well im here JADE: if you ever want to talk about it DAVE: its cool DAVE: you just deserve to know what happened there DAVE: but thanks DAVE: so am i JADE: yeah i know JADE: i guess i should be glad you did that then... JADE: even though i was freaking out when it happened ._. JADE: otherwise you wouldnt be here will us now dressed in your red god tier time pajamas DAVE: yeah these magical rags really are comfortable arent they DAVE: and they stay like perma clean JADE: they are! i would wear mine over and over for days on end JADE: id take a nice shower and put it right back on JADE: and you know how much i love cycling my outfits through my wardrobifier JADE: by the way dave your cape is sooo cool! :o DAVE: thanks DAVE: yeah i love it its hella soft DAVE: its like ive got a portable snuggle blanket with me in case i ever need to drop to the floor like a tired sack of shit and get my snooze on DAVE: ive got a permanent personal reservation at club bed featuring dj pillow and mc blanky JADE: heheheh JADE: can i touch your cape? DAVE: of course go nuts JADE: yaaaay!!

#hs #homestuck #davejade #dave strider #jade harley #my hs dialogues

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callsigndragon · 1 year

Text

Desperate times, desperate measures | Ch. 2: Till death do us part

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x fem!writer!reader (Most of the times, she will be called Page)

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: mentions of death, angst, Jake and Page fight for the first time, and the wedding-

A/N: THANK YOU ALL FOR ALL THE COMMENTS AND FEEDBACK I'M GETTING FROM Y'ALL. It's absolutely wonderful to see the amount of love i get from you guys, i love you all so much.

It's okay if you like it and all, but please... a comment is also welcomed and if you reblog it? I'll kiss you on the forehead.

Masterlist

When the lawyer leaves the room, you remember that there’s someone important that you haven’t called and who will be suffering as much as you when she knows that Anne is dead.

But so many things happened yesterday that you completely forgot to call your other best friend.

“Heeeeeeey, how’s my favorite writer doing?” Gabby says, and the background noises make you guess that she is at a Starbucks at the moment.

“Gabrielle, can you go to a quieter place?” You tell her, sitting down and bracing yourself for what’s about to happen.

“Holy shit, that serious? Okay, okay, let me go to my car.” It only takes her a few seconds, but it feels like a lifetime. “Okay, in the car already. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Luke and Anne got into a car accident yesterday, they died, and they wanted me and Jake to be Emma’s legal guardians in case something happened to them, but Jake’s work is really dangerous, and I’m ‘too young’ to be a single mother, so the only way we can get Emma’s custody is by getting married, and I can’t get married to fucking Hangman, Gabby, I can’t!” You let it all out before you even realize that you’re just rambling and rambling, and that probably Gabby hasn’t understood a thing and she’s going to freak out.

“Luke and Anne are… dead?”

“Yeah… they’re gone.”

She starts sobbing, and you want to punch yourself for the way in which you delivered the news. “Send me your location, I’ll go get you.”

“Don’t worry, Matt is here with me. I’ll go to your house.”

“I’m… I’m staying at Anne’s.” You clarify, wincing when you hear her swearing with a shaky breath.

“Of course you are, Emma needs all the stuff that’s in that house. I’ll see you in 20.”

Just wait until she finds out that you two cannot get Emma from CPS until you accept to be her legal guardians... and you can only do that when you get married.

“....And Hangman just went to get a marriage license because apparently it's faster and easier if you’re a member of the military.” You finish the story, watching how Gabs' knuckles tighten when she grabs the mug with force.

“Man, life couldn’t get more complicated even if it tried.” She sighs, wiping her face with a tissue. “How are you holding up? We all were best friends, but you’ve known her all your life, honey… And now you have to take her place, and raise her daughter.”

You nod, eyes unfocused as you drift away, remembering a conversation from a few weeks ago, in which you told Anne that you ‘envied the life she had’. A life that now was yours.

Yesterday, when you woke up, you were a single writer who had just published a new novel. You had good friends, you had a good life, a good house, a good car. It was everything you ever wanted, and you worked so damn hard to make it happen.

When you wake up tomorrow, you are going to be a married woman and a mother. You’re going to have to give up your car and your house. You’re going to have to reschedule all your promotions and the release of your new book. It’s going to take a few months before you settle down and manage to find time for yourself and time to write again.

How much can a life change in one day, huh.

“With a man I hate. This feels like shitty fanfiction written by a teenager.” You scoff, letting your head hit the back of the sofa while you close your eyes.

“Honey, you started with shitty fanfiction written as a teenager.” Gabby says, making you chuckle.

“I hope that nobody ever finds them.”

The main door opens, and you see Jake, followed by all the members of his squad. “Hey, Gabby.” He greets your friend.

Gabby only answers with a nod, turning her head towards the rest of the aviators, noticing that Nat is between them. Gabby may or may not have a tiny crush on her. But she knows that this is not the time to be a teenager with a crush.

“You got the license?” You ask Jake when he sits next to you, taking a deep breath and nodding.

“Yeah, it was easy. I called the squad to act as witnesses; I thought Gabby was in Texas working on her next movie.”

“We’re switching locations, and they gave me a few days off. I have to call them and let them know that I have to attend a service.” She grabs her phone and goes to the kitchen, probably to call her agent.

Sometimes you forget that you met Gabby a few years ago, when one of your first books was turned into a movie, and you went to the studio every day to help Anne, who was the director. Gabby was cast as the main actress, and soon the three of you turned into the bestest friends.

Gabby and Anne were always ready to listen to your craziest ideas and plots for upcoming books, even if that meant staying up until 3 AM and chatting on a video call. Anne used to prepare her pitches with you and Gabby, so it was perfect whenever she had to meet the producers or studio executives. Gabby prepared her scripts with you two, getting ready for her next audition.

It was the perfect team. You wrote. Gabby performed. Anne directed.

The three of you were preparing to work together soon, as you had written your first screenplay not long ago. Anne insisted on you giving it a try, because your books ‘felt like movies most of the time, so it’s not that different’. And you did, finding that it was funny and really entertaining. Auditions are being made at the moment, and the only thing you know is that Gabby was the hilarious best friend of the main character.

It made you sad, though. The amount of times she had performed that role over the years... And even after she won not only a Grammy but was nominated for another one! Why is she still getting these roles? Gabby said that, in this film, she felt more connected to that character than to the main one, so she was not mad about it.

But you’re getting tired of Hollywood’s hypocrite ass. They always talk about inclusivity and giving more opportunities to other actors, but you don’t usually see a black actress in the main role of a big movie. That’s Hollywood for you.

“I guess we’re going to the courthouse now.” You question, observing as all the members of the squad, some of whom you can consider friends but others whom you don’t know as well, are standing in their dress uniforms.

“In a bit.” Jake clears his throat. “Look, we only have to pretend until the caseworker approves us. Then it’s all over.”

“Oh, so you want me to get a divorce as soon as we get a seal of approval?” You retort, turning your body in his direction.

“What, you want to be my wife?” He scoffs, looking at Javy, who is shaking his head, as if he was telling him to stop with the jokes.

Jake should listen to Javy sometimes.

“I’m a public figure, Jake. Once I get married, everybody will know! And if I get a divorce in three months, right after CPS gives us their blessing, people will know too!”

“What do you mean? Do I have to play the doting husband for the rest of my life?” He raises his voice, and you can see from the corner of your eye how Rooster takes a step in your direction, but Bob and Payback stop him.

“This was your idea, Jake. Don’t yell at me.”

“Then tell me, what was I supposed to do? Let a bunch of strangers take my goddaughter away?” You can see the unshed tears in his bloodshot eyes. He had been crying, too. Probably even more than you and Gabby.

There’s a different level of connection between people who risk their lives together. It’s unsimilar to everything you've seen. The stronger the connection, the bigger the loss.

“I think that you took the only option we had. But we’re gonna have to fake being in a marriage for longer than you initially thought.” You get up from the sofa, moving to the kitchen, only pausing midway when he asks his next question.

“How long?”

How long? Well, that’s a good question. Long enough for them not to suspect. Long enough so they forget about you two.

How long is that?

“A year.” You proclaim, feeling as if your words echo all over the house.

“Do you have any cute dresses in your suitcase?” Gabby says, rummaging through the small suitcase you packed for the three days you were supposed to stay away from the city.

“No, I don’t have anything appropriate for a fake wedding.” You groan, sitting on the bed.

“Maybe we can go buy something before we get to the courthouse?”

“I don’t think we have time for that, Gabs.”

A soft knock on the door makes you tear your gaze away from your friend, waiting for the newcomer. Nat’s head pops up from the other side, eyes closed. “Are you girls visible?”

“Yeah, we’re trying to find a dress.” Gabby says, checking her reflection in the mirror before Nat opens her eyes.

Rolling your eyes, you see that the pilot has a bag in her hands. “What’s that?”

“On my way here,” Nat starts, walking into the room and handing you the bag. “I thought that maybe you didn’t have anything to wear. So I bought you this.”

You get the dress out of the bag. It has a vintage air to it, and it’s white. The skirt stops over the ankles. It’s the kind of wedding dress that was used for civil weddings. Just like yours.

“It’s beautiful, Nat. Thank you. You didn’t have to.” You hug her, trying to understand how a beautiful soul like hers is friends with Jake.

“Me and Bob will take you to the courthouse. Take as much time as you need.” She nods in Gabby’s direction and leaves the room.

You start crying as soon as you realize that your best friend will not be attending your wedding.

The ceremony isn’t long, and you’re grateful for that. Because you’re not sure how much time you can hold Jake’s hands on yours, while faking to be madly in love. Jake plays the part like a champ, even telling the officiant that he didn’t want to rush this wedding, but he’s going to be deployed soon and wants to marry the love of his life before he has to leave for a few months.

It takes all your strength not to take off your high-heels and throw them at his head. But the shoes are Anne’s, and you don’t want to damage them. It’s something borrowed. The sapphire earrings are an heirloom given to you by your grandma. It’s something old, and something blue. And the dress, bought for you by Nat, is something new.

You didn’t care about these small traditions because this wedding wasn’t real, but if you’re going to be married to this idiot for a year, at least you’re going to do it right.

“The future promises many happy days ahead,” says the officiant, making you take a deep breath to avoid laughing at his face. No, there are no happy days ahead for you. “filled with unique opportunities, adventures, and challenges. It is through trust, love, and the unfailing support of each other that you will meet these inevitable ups and downs.”

You and Jake look at each other, feeling the weight of the words on your shoulders. There will be adventures and challenges, and as much as you hate to admit it, the only way you are going to survive this year, is by supporting each other.

“Do you, Jacob Seresin, take Y/n L/n to be your spouse and to live together as partners, to treat them her love and respect, and to build a marriage that grows stronger and more loving as time passes?”

Jake doesn’t even blink when he answers. “Yes, I do.”

“And do you, Y/n L/n, take Jacob Seresin to be your spouse and to live together as partners, to treat him with love and respect, and to build a marriage that grows stronger and more loving as time passes?” The officiant repeats the same words, but they don’t feel as the ones he said to Jake. They feel heavy. Like a doom.

“Yes, I do.”

“The wedding ring represents the promises and potential of marriage. It has no beginning and no end, and is a timeless symbol of the love and commitment you have pledged. As you wear your ring, let it remind you of the love you feel here today.”

Love. The only thing that you don’t feel towards your soon-to-be husband.

“Jacob, place the ring on Y/n’s finger and repeat after me.”

Javy gives Jake the ring, that is soon placed on your finger. It’s cold. A coldness that burns your skin.

I give you this ring as a symbol of my love and devotion, as we join our lives together, today, tomorrow, and for as long as our love shall last.

Those are the words that Jake and you have to repeat, each of them damaging your soul and leaving behind small crecives that you hope time can heal.

The officiant’s next words make you cry, but he believes that you’re just an ‘emotional bride’.

True marriage is more than just a ceremony or a piece of paper – it is a lasting bond that joins two lives and two hearts.

You don’t want him near your heart.

Marriage is love.

You don’t love him.

Companionship.

He will spend most of his time away.

Trust.

You don’t trust him.

And Respect.

The only thing you respect is his job and his dedication to Emma.

May you always find strength in each other, laugh with each other, and find safety and comfort in each other’s words and company.

What strength? What laugh?

May you celebrate many joyful seasons together, support each other when days are difficult, and continue to learn and grow closer together with each passing year.

Only four seasons with him. Nothing more.

“You may kiss!”

And when he kisses you, Jake doesn’t know if the saltiness in his lips is because of his tears or yours.

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#top gun maverick #top gun x reader #top gun maverick fanfic #top gun fanfiction #hangman x reader #jake hangman x reader #hangman seresin #hangman imagine #top gun #jake hangman fic #jake hangman x fem!reader #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin x reader #hangman x you #top gun hangman #jake 'hangman' seresin #hangman fluff #hangman fanfiction #hangman top gun

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winchesterandpie · 1 year

Text

Not a Lie After All

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x fem!reader

Word Count: 3710

Warnings: Some angst, but mostly fluff!

A/N: So I wasn't planning on posting this quite so soon, but the other part (It was all Just a Lie) didn't show up in the tags, which was kinda disappointing. I'm hoping this part will show up! But anyways, the funny thing is I actually wrote this part first because I couldn't bear to write the sad stuff without fluff. So here's some *FIC SPOILERS* reunion fluff because surprise(!) he didn't actually die *END SPOILERS*

Anyway, please excuse the kinda bad time breaks and jumping back and forth, I tried to keep it somewhat clear what's going on and when.

It had been a year. One whole year since Maverick had delivered the worst news of your life. It was… odd. You felt you had aged a decade, yet also like it was just yesterday that you had kissed Bradley goodbye before that fateful mission.

When you opened your phone in the morning and saw the date, the grief hit you like a truck all over again. You set the phone back down and turned your face into the pillow, trying in vain to shut out the day. You gave yourself a minute before sighing heavily and forcing yourself to sit up.

Gently, you picked up the picture frame from your nightstand. It was a shot Maverick had taken of you and Bradley on the beach, laughing at something you couldn’t remember. There was nothing you wouldn’t give to have him look at you like that again.

“I miss you, Roo,” you murmured softly.

If you closed your eyes, you could almost hear his bright laughter as you held the frame to your chest. When you felt the tears gather and start to fall, you didn’t stop them. Today, of all days, you could allow yourself time to cry.

With a watery smile, you set the picture back down and picked up your phone again.

As you could have guessed, you had several texts from the Dagger Squad pilots, one from Mav, and even one from Iceman. Hangman’s text was particularly insistent that if you needed anything, you were to let him know. It made you chuckle a little as you brushed away the tears that had fallen.

They had felt like family to you even before Rooster’s death, but they had really taken you under their wings after. The first couple of weeks, there had always been at least one of them with you, making sure you ate, slept, showered, and generally looked after yourself. Even when you pushed yourself back to your metaphorical feet, they were there supporting you every step of the way.

You stopped when you saw the text from Penny. She had offered you a job at the Hard Deck after everything, and you had taken her up on it. At first, it had been just a way to keep busy, but you’d grown to really love working there. You didn’t want to miss a text from your boss, so you opened that one first.

You chuckled and shook your head at the message. She told you to take the day off. The second message from her clarified that she wasn’t asking. You sent off a quick response, even though no thanks would ever quite be enough.

Over the course of your morning, you worked through the other texts, other debts of gratitude you could never repay. They would insist otherwise if you asked them. So you were quietly grateful, and you did your best to make their efforts worthwhile.

You knew you needed to get out of the house, at least for a little while. It was exhausting, sometimes, to be your own zookeeper, but it had to be done. You could sigh, then make yourself get dressed, and get out the door without too much fuss by now.

Today, you didn’t hesitate to pull Bradley’s favorite Hawaiian shirt on over your tank top, leaving it unbuttoned. You had worn them often at first, slowly easing yourself out of them as time went on. The shirts stopped smelling like him a long time ago, but the feel of the fabric on your skin still brought you some comfort.

A lifetime ago, it had been commonplace for Bradley to tug one of his shirts onto your shoulders in the evening. He had always said they looked better on you. Then, he would take your hand in his and lead you to the beach, where the two of you would walk as you caught up on each other’s days.

Today, you found a secluded little cove where you sat and watched the waves. You weren’t sure if he could hear you, but you began to tell him about your week all the same.

**On a ship, somewhere in the Pacific**

“I still can’t believe that stunt of yours.” Maverick shook his head at Rooster as he came out of the sick bay. “I take it you’re all clear?”

“All clear.” Rooster nodded before pulling the older man into another embrace. “It’s good to see you, Mav.”

“Good to see you too, kid.”

Both men tactfully didn’t point out the matching damp patches on the shoulders of their shirts. They stuck together as they made their way out to somewhere they could talk.

“I wasn’t sure it was going to be you,” Mav said quietly when they found somewhere to sit. “How’d you manage to get in contact after a year?”

“It’s a long story. Short version, I got really lucky and found some friendly people.”

Maverick reached out and squeezed the younger man’s shoulder, as though reminding himself it was real. Rooster leaned into it--he’d missed familiar faces. After a minute, the younger man swallowed, bracing for the question he needed answered.

“How is she?”

Maverick didn’t need to ask who he meant. He remembered every expression that had crossed your face when he delivered the news a year ago. He remembered how you had shaken as you cried. “She thinks you’re dead. We all did.”

“She doesn’t know?” Incredulity and anger warred on Rooster’s face.

“We weren’t sure it was you until we picked you up.”

“So what?”

“What if it wasn’t you? Would you have wanted us to get her hopes up only to crush her again?” Mav’s voice was calm, steady, and placating.

“No,” he acknowledged reluctantly. Rooster’s jaw clenched, his face scrunching up as tears built up in his eyes, unshed. His heart broke imagining what you had endured the past year.

“That considered, she’s… okay. We’ve all been watching out for her.”

“Thank you,” he managed to say.

**That evening, outside the Hard Deck**

“So she’s in there?” Bradley asked as they pulled up.

“Should be. She’s usually on the closing shift today.”

He was off the back of the bike the second it stopped moving, jogging up to the door of the bar. He stepped inside, scanning the faces for yours. It took a moment, but then the Dagger Squad saw him. They were on him in a heartbeat, cheering as they pulled him into a massive group hug.

He finally untangled himself with a laugh, shoving Hangman’s shoulder lightly.

“Where’s she at? Mav said she was working here now?”

“I gave her the day off,” Penny interjected, stepping away from the bar. “It was a year ago today, I knew it would be rough.”

Bradley was off like a shot, calling a quick “thank you,” over his shoulder.

“Does he know she moved?” Penny asked, a beat after he was gone.

Maverick, who hadn’t been far behind him coming in, cursed under his breath, then ran back out the door after the younger man.

Rooster had gone too far already to hear Mav calling after him.

Half an hour later, he was back, having reached your old apartment and found that you no longer lived there. Despite having been assured that you were alright, Mav could see the edge of fear on his face as he returned.

“You gonna run off before we can get a word in edgewise again?”

Bradley ducked his head sheepishly, chuckling a little. “So she’s not at her old apartment anymore.”

“No, she bought that house you two had been talking about getting.” Maverick stood from where he’d been leaning against the bike, motioning with his head for the young aviator to get on. “She moved a couple of months after you…” He cut himself off, just nodding rather than speaking it out loud.

“She really got that place, huh?”

“She’s fixed it up pretty well.”

**A little earlier, at your house**

You had returned home later than you had planned, but once you reached the block, you hurried in without looking at the outside of the house. Looking at it today reminded you of the time you’d spent with Bradley deciding on the perfect place to move in together.

You were grateful you had had the foresight to pick up a container of Ben and Jerry’s at the grocery store yesterday. You had needed the time to really remember him--which of course came with really missing him. Today was a day you could allow yourself to feel all of it. But that added up to you feeling rather drained as you pulled out the ice cream and settled onto the couch.

After one show ended, that damn movie came on again. You swore it was your personal bad omen. When you saw Betty White in the train station on the screen again, you searched everything within your arms’ reach, but the remote had disappeared among the cushions and blankets. The first flashback they showed returned you to that moment a little over a year ago when you said goodbye to your naval aviator, and you resigned yourself to the rest of the movie. It wasn’t like there was worse news you could get at the end of it this time.

By the end, you were bawling again, holding a blanket around your shoulders like a cloak. The weight of Bradley’s absence was crushing again as you watched the last memories of Caroline and Neal. It felt too much like your own memories. You set the empty ice cream container on the side table so you could pull your knees to your chest.

The doorbell rang, but you ignored it. You didn’t want anyone to see you right now.

It rang again, and this time you reluctantly pushed yourself up and swiped the tears away harshly. You left the blanket around your shoulders, though. Anyone who wanted to see you today would just have to be grateful you answered the door.

You paused for a moment, brushing the remnants of the tears with the corner of the blanket. Then you opened the door.

“No,” you said when you saw who was there. “No, that’s not possible.”

Bradley Bradshaw stood in front of you--or at least he appeared to. He said your name softly, and the tears started again.

“How can you… you’re…” you stopped yourself before the sob in your throat could bubble out. “You can’t be real, you’re dead.” You must have finally lost it.

Shaking your head, you took a step back, away from the mirage of him.

“Sweetheart, it’s me, I’m here.” He reached out for you, his hand catching yours on the doorknob before you could retreat.

His hand was solid and warm against yours and your gaze snapped to the point of contact before trailing back slowly to his face. If you could feel him, he had to really be there. Right? Could you really dare to hope for it?

“Bradley?” Your voice was small, barely above a whisper.

He swallowed hard when you asked, a stab of guilt flashing through his eyes. Then he nodded, a tiny motion, but it drew you a hesitant step toward him, lifting a hand to his cheek. Bradley leaned into your touch, his eyes slipping shut as his breath caught in his throat.

You were sure, now, that you weren’t crazy, so you didn’t hesitate another moment to throw your arms around him. He returned the hug fiercely, clutching you to him. You were crying again, shaking like a leaf in his hold, but you didn’t care.

“You’re alive,” you mumbled, repeating the words like a prayer.

“I’m okay,” he reassured as he tangled his fingers in your hair to hold your head to him.

“I thought--” your voice broke on the word.

“I know. I’m so sorry.”

“S’not your fault, Roo.” You pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes. Oh, how you had missed those eyes. “I’m just so glad you’re here.”

“I promised, didn’t I?” His smile was blinding and you couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m sorry it took so long.”

“I don’t care. I don’t care,” you repeated, still more than a little shocked by everything. “You’re really here.”

His hand slid around to the side of your face, tilting your forehead to meet his. Bradley swept his thumb back and forth across your cheek, brushing away the few tears that still fell as your breathing slowly eased. He was crying too, evidenced by the way his face glistened in the light from behind you. You reached up to hold the back of his neck, pressing yourself upward to kiss his cheeks.

He laughed, a broken, watery sound that held so much relief. It made you laugh too, the broken pieces of your heart fitting back together at last as his warmth softened their jagged edges. The rest of the world faded around you. There was nothing but him and you, wrapped up in the joy of being reunited at last.

You weren’t so caught up in him that you missed the sound of a motorcycle pulling away from your driveway. Twisting enough to look past his shoulder, you saw Maverick turning to leave. He returned your wave with a salute and a grin.

Bradley turned with you without releasing you, pressing his lips to your temple as you watched Mav drive away.

“Do you want to come in? I can give you the whole tour,” you offered, nudging him with your shoulder.

“I’d like that.” He let you lead him inside, closing the door behind the two of you. “I can’t believe you got this place.”

You worried briefly that he was upset, but you glanced up at him to see only adoration and softness in his eyes. “It felt like a way to keep you close, y’know?” You dropped your gaze, forcing a chuckle in an attempt to dispel the wave of emotion that rose in your throat.

“It looks good,” he murmured, squeezing you more tightly to him. He traded the arm around your shoulders to take your hand in the hallway.

As you walked through the house, you wondered what he thought about all the pieces of him scattered about. There were pictures of him and of his parents in several places, sure, but there were other mementos too. His old set of dog tags was in the nightstand by your bed, his clothes hung in the closet, and even his aviators sat on the kitchen counter.

“Mav kept a lot of your stuff,” you explained quickly when you saw his eyes start to glisten at the photo from the beach. “Including the Bronco. We can work out how to get it all back--”

“You kept all this?” he asked suddenly, the words sounding like they were punched out of him.

You shrugged, feeling a little sheepish. Was it silly to have kept so many of his things? Maybe you should have let Maverick take more of it out to the Mojave, but you just could never bear to let it go. You couldn’t ever let him go.

He said your name, and you saw a tear leak from the corner of his eye. You tried to smile. He pulled you into his arms again, and you wrapped your own around him tightly.

“I missed you so much,” he said, choking the words out. “Every day I was out there, all I could think about was coming home to you.”

“And you did,” you assured firmly, though you were sure you were nearly crying too. “You’re home now, Bradley. You’re safe.”

“I’m home,” he repeated, burying his nose in your hair.

You weren’t upset at the reminder that he was home either.

“I love you,” he said, and you started crying again.

You had gone over a year without hearing those words from him. Hearing them now, in his voice, as he held you, was something you had thought you’d never get again. But here you were. You had gotten the miracle that not even Hallmark, in all its cheesiness, had dared to give their characters.

“Oh, my darling Bradley,” you barely breathed the words. “I love you too.”

Bonus:

“A round for the resurrected pilot?” Penny offered when you and Rooster made your way up to the bar the next night.

“We certainly won’t say no.” You winked, leaning against the wood counter.

“It’s on the house,” she said as she handed you two drinks. “Good to have you back, Rooster.”

“Thanks, Pen,” he said as you took the drinks and headed for the pool table. Maverick, who was sitting at the bar, patted the younger man on the shoulder as he passed.

The Dagger Squad was gathered around the pool table like always, their playful banter making you grin.

“So he found you after all,” Jake teased as you came over. “We were worried when he ran out so fast we couldn’t tell him you moved.”

“Is that so? You didn’t tell me you got lost.” You grinned, raising your eyebrows at your pilot.

“What can I say?” he paused to return your smile, “I was excited to see you.”

“I can’t fault you for that.” You tilted your chin up.

He took the hint gracefully, closing the distance to kiss you. You sighed contentedly against his lips. Bradley’s arm slid further around your waist, tugging you closer amidst the wolf whistles. You drank in the sensation of him filling all your senses.

“Alright, get a room already,” Hangman groaned. You guessed he was rolling his eyes.

Rooster deepened the kiss, just long enough to make a point, before pulling away and leaving you both breathless. You chased after his lips for another brief kiss, then you let him go, mostly to spare Jake. After all, Bradley had been guaranteed a few weeks off, and then several months before his next assignment away from you. You would have plenty of time to monopolize his attention.

The two of you were never far apart on a normal night at the Hard Deck. Tonight, you were practically joined at the hip, which you both needed.

At one point, Bradley went to get refills for the two of you. Somewhere in those few seconds, you looked over from your conversation with Hangman and didn’t see him. You tensed, searching the packed bar for his face.

Had you imagined his return? Had the pain of a year without him simply been too much for your mind to bear last night? It was entirely possible that your friends were humoring your delusion for today, hoping you would soon return to your senses. Bile rose in your throat as the thoughts raced faster.

Jake noticed your breath shortening almost immediately, and his steady hand on your shoulder pulled your attention to him.

“He’s right at the bar,” he reassured gently. He turned you so he could guide your gaze to Bradley, who stood alive and well, chatting with Penny while she got out your drinks.

You muttered a quick apology after a long breath, but he brushed it off lightly. The tightness in your chest eased only slightly as you tried to remember how to breathe.

When Bradley turned back, refills in hand, he saw your still wide-eyed expression and ducked toward you through the crowd faster.

You were attached to his side the second he was close enough, only relaxing when his arm settled around your shoulders. He tugged you into his chest without hesitation. With your face pressed into his shirt, you sucked in a lungful of air.

Hangman reassured and explained in Rooster’s ear, though you were too busy to listen for what he said. He gave your arm a quick squeeze before he returned to the game, giving the two of you your space.

Bradley had set the drinks down so he could wrap both arms around you, tucking his chin atop your head. Your fingers closed on a fistful of his shirt, as though if you let go, it would all have been a dream. He murmured hushed reassurances in your ear, words you didn’t process.

Truthfully, you didn’t need the words themselves. It was the sound of his voice and the solidness of him against you that brought you back. The scent of him filled your nose, and finally, you could breathe.

It hadn’t been a dream or a delusion of your yearning heart. He was really there, holding you. He had kept his promise after all.

Bradley held you until you pulled back, wiping at your eyes. He cupped your cheek, brushing gently under your eyes. You dragged your gaze to meet his and the concern you found there nearly broke your heart.

“I’m sorry, Roo,” you said quietly. He had just come home after what you were sure was a very trying year. He shouldn’t have to deal with you breaking down like this. Your apology, however, made his face scrunch as he shook his head.

“Hey, no, it’s okay. I can only imagine how hard this year was for you.” He pressed his lips to your head for a long moment. “That’s not going to change overnight, I know that. Just promise me you’ll talk to me.”

“I will, I promise.” You nodded, taking in a slow breath of him to ground yourself. “I’m good now.”

You might have felt bad that your friends got your and Bradley’s refills for the rest of the night if weren’t so caught up in having him beside you again. Even when you were brought into separate conversations, his arm stayed around you, reminding you that he was there, alive with you. You spent much of the night just looking at him and hoped your friends understood why you weren’t paying hardly any attention to them. They did.

Inevitably, the jukebox got unplugged and Bradley made his way to the piano. He was a little rusty, but the way he sang, you knew it was something he had missed. You sat happily on his lap as he played. He kissed your shoulder, as he always did, and the last piece of you slotted back into place. Everything felt right at last.

Top Gun Taglist:

@malindacath @army24--7 @mads-weasley

#bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster x reader #rooster bradshaw #top gun #top gun maverick

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jenning-fcb · 19 days

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I was thinking of a Clegen au with reincarnation, but like

Before they meet, John starts having dreams about Gale, but at first they aren't very clear dreams, he keeps dreaming about his eyes and his voice. And he can't get this person that he doesn't even know who is out of his head. Until Gale transfers to the college that John attends, and although he is a little different, younger, with longer hair, and even though John had never seen his face clearly in his dreams, when the His eyes meet Gale for the first time, John is sure he is the one he dreams of.

And John is very confused by this, how is the person in his dreams a real person? And why does he keep dreaming about him? He even thinks about going to talk to him, but soon discards the idea knowing that he would seem crazy.

But shortly afterwards John remembers everything. He remembers what Gale meant to him, and who he was to him. Who he still means and is. And the first thing he feels is such intense pain, almost like mourning, for the love they couldn't have in their past life.

The night John remembers everything, he cries like he thinks he's never cried in his life. He remembers that all they had were stolen moments, that at that time they could never truly be together. He remembers as if it were yesterday, not a lifetime ago, the feeling of having Gale sleeping in his arms, even though it had only happened once in his other life, but the memory seemed so recent that he could almost feel him in his arms again.

But after the grief he felt for his past self, John also feelt hope. They were no longer in 1940, and it was no longer a crime to love another man. He still feels lost and doesn't know how to approach the blonde, since he's almost certain that the other doesn't remember anything. So he only plans to get closer little by little. But every time he sees Gale, his heart fills with love, and he knows that it won't be easy to act around him as if he doesn't know him, as if he isn't his entire world.

But John would do it, because he knows that if it were necessary, he would still wait Gale for another 10 lives more.

So, Gale and John start having study sessions together. Well, John knew that Gale attended these study sessions and signed up just to get closer to him. And as Gale always stayed alone in the library after each session, John started to stay too, and during those nights they started talking and getting to know each other. In fact, Gale got to know John, as John knew him better than his own face.

These nights were John's favorite parts of the day, but also his personal torture. It was so hard to be in front of Gale without being able to pull him into his arms, without being able to tell him how much he loved him. Pretending he wasn't agonizing to touch him.

In one of these conversations, John discovers that before returning to the USA, Gale was attending college in Brazil. And to try to impress him, he tells him that he knows a little Portuguese and how beautiful he thinks the language is. One of his favorite words is Saudade. A word that only exists in Portuguese, which has no direct translation into any other language, but which means the feeling of missing someone, the longing or yearning.

Gale agrees with him that it really is a nice word, but he prefers the expression: eu sinto sua falta. And John asks what the translation is, and then Gale explains that many translate it to ''I miss you'', but if you translate it literally it means: I feel the lack of you.

I feel the lack of you. Never had a sentence described so much of what John felt. He felt Gale's absence in his soul every day of his life. Even though Gale was still in front of him, still not quite… his Gale. And he felt so alone without his Gale.

But John would still live for Gale, even if he wasn't his Gale, he would accept any space in his life that Gale was willing to give him. He would take what he could have.

#masters of the air #mota #mota hc #clegan #bucky egan #buck cleven #gale cleven #john egan #It wasn't supposed to be sad #I don't know what happened while I was writing this hc

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thewalkingwillowtree · 1 year

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His Fierce Flower

Series Part Listing Found Here

BF2L, Slow Burn - Neteyam x Original Na'vi Female Character

Summery: Neteyam and Enyu, childhood best friends are both obliviously in love with each other. This is their story.

Important to note before reading:

Some characters have been aged up. Neteyam is 23.

En'yuna or Enyu for short (pronounced as N Yunna or N U), is my own creation.

Full recognition, rights and credit is given to the owners of Avatar.

Warning: This Contains Angst and Suggestive Themes

PART 9 - Addiction

Two days had passed since she confronted Neteyam Sully.

Two days since they were no longer friends.

Two days that felt like a lifetime.

If those two days taught Enyu anything, it was that she was an addict- at least if she was remembering what she heard correctly. She first learned all about “addiction” from Spider’s human science friends years ago and suffice to say it was one of the many reasons her grandmother never liked her hanging out with the then human boy.

Enyu realized that maybe she was addicted to Neteyam Sully, purely due to the fact that she was having what seemed like “withdrawal” symptoms. Moody, irritable, miserable, just to name a few. Not to mention, she craved his presence.

When she returned to camp the night she laid crying her eyes out in the forest, she was scolded by one of the Na’vi warriors on patrol duty. She was given a warning for returning to camp way past curfew- not that she cared really, then headed straight to one of the on duty healer tents.

Enyu purposely avoided Mo’at's tent, seeking another healer to request one of their strongest sleeping tonics. She snuck into her shared tent and had slept the entirety of yesterday away.

When she woke up this morning however, she didn’t even feel well rested at all, she was also no longer numb and the memories and pain from the day before were just as fresh.

“Hey are- are you okay?”

She peered up and saw Hvatia looking at her worriedly. Hvatia, one of her roommates, was a soft spoken and anxious Na’vi. Given her nervous demeanour however she was quite a fierce warrior and it seemed she was the only other female home at the moment.

“Fine,” Enyu croaked, rubbing sleep from her eyes, then yawning widely.

“It’s just- well, you were missing for some time. Well and- and you slept for like almost eighteen hours straight I think? Maybe more? And- and you had a lot of visitors as well. Are- are you in trouble or something?” Hvatia was wringing her fingers nervously and kept glancing at the tent's exit.

“What?” Enyu asked, blinking slowly at her. She was still a bit drowsy and it was taking her some time to process the sudden conversation.

“You had some visitors but- but you were out of it completely. Lo’ak came looking for you the day before but we didn’t know where you were and then it was past curfew and you still never showed up. He came back again that night too. He stayed a long time waiting for you outside our tent. We thought something bad happened but then when we- when we woke up you were just…there. Sleeping.”

When Enyu didn't say anything to that, the skittish woman continued.

“Then Kiri and Neytiri, the chief's wife-” she said, as if it were some kind of scandal, her eyes widening, “came by yesterday morning. They shook you a few times but- but you didn’t wake up...I think they found your sleeping vile and realized they couldn't wake you. F’valii said the chief came by a few hours ago, he said to come get him when you woke up. I was just about t-”

“No!” The rambling Na’vi froze at Enyu’s shout. “I- I’m sorry. It’s just- you don’t need to get him, it's fine,” she rasped.

“But it’s the Toruk Makto, he gave us a direct order.”

“Fine!” Enyu snapped. “Then go get him. I won’t be here though.”

Getting up a bit too quickly, a dizzy spell hit her. She really needed to eat but leaving was her current priority. She quickly popped a piece of cleaning bark into her mouth and chewed on it while she grabbed her satchel, then made a beeline for the exit of the tent as she ignored a blubbering and nervous energized Hvatia.

Avoidance. Enyu didn't want to bump into any of the Sullys right now, she could only imagine what her roommates must have thought about the whole fiasco. And technically she knew it was not Hvatia's fault for wanting to go get Jake, so she made a mental note to apologize for her behaviour when she got back later that day.

Enyu made her way over to the Harvest Chief Official to make her apologies for being late and got her instructions for that day’s harvest and which group to meet with. “Oh Enyu I almost forgot. Yaćksön is official now. He decided to go through with his trial and passed his test with flying colours yesterday. Great job with the tutoring.”

Enyu’s eyes widened at the news. “That’s great! Um- wow. So, sudden. Has he been assigned to a group today?”

“Yes, today's his first day out on his own without you. He said to give you his thanks. Said you were patient and understanding the entire time. Well done.”

Thank Eywa for that!

Making her way towards the forest and feeling a minuscule amount better from the news she was just given, she tensed when she heard her name being called.

“Wait up would you! Oh Eywa you walk fast- give me a second.” Väriä was a few steps away hurrying towards her and panting heavily. She flicked her long beautiful hair back and looked at Enyu now with a grimace, obviously disgusted by what she saw.

"You look terrible."

"Wow, thanks. Good talk, bye-"

"No, wait!" Annoyance clouded face her roommate's face before she schooled it into faux pleasantry. “En’yuna.”

Enyu raised a suspicious bow at her. “Väriä.”

What's this about?

“I’m sorry about taking advantage of your time- skipping out on my work I mean, and palming it off on you. It was wrong of me and it’s not going to happen again.” Väriä spoke as if she’d practiced saying the words a few times. “Unless necessary of course,” she added flippantly.

Enyu frowned. Wait was Väriä apologizing to her?

“Well?” Väriä snapped. “Aren’t you going to say something? I just apologized to you.” She said it as if she’d given Enyu some kind of wonderful gift.

“Oh. Um, thanks I guess.” Pushing her luck a bit she asked. “If you don’t mind me asking, why did you?”

Väriä eyed her for a bit before deciding to answer. “Honestly? I’m terrible at it. I hate it. So I thought why not just give it to someone who does like it and you obviously do.” She shrugged.

Not exactly what she meant. Enyu was actually wondering why she apologized in the first place.

Still baffled by the entire conversation they were having, Enyu said, “You know I don’t mind tutoring you in it a bit more, if you want-”

“Okay stop! I was just supposed to apologize, that’s it. I did it, I’m done now. You can pass the message along.” And with a flick of her hair, she was gone.

Well that wasn’t weird at all. The day had just started and already it was too eventful for Enyu’s liking.

Enyu spent the entire day out- staying in more secluded areas just in case anyone came looking for her, collecting yovo fruit. She munched on a few when she heard stomach growling loudly, reminding her to feed it.

She spent the day like a ball of emotions that was lost in thought.

When her grandmother had died, the Sully parents really stepped up for her. She stayed with them for two weeks during her time of grief. They comforted her and shared their own stories of loss. Neytiri told her about her father and Jake told her about his twin brother.

Jake had said that there were five stages of grief. Enyu tried to remember the order the stages were because that was what was happening right now- she was grieving. She figured she was currently in the denial stage or maybe depression? Probably both. She stopped a couple times to cry for a bit or cry a lot, she cursed Neteyam’s name and felt sorry for herself, before returning to her task, only to do it all over again.

She stayed out as long as possible, even after the horn called for the groups' return. That was another thing too, technically she was breaking the rules by going out on her own. Neteyam would have been furious if he only knew- but that was before. She had to remind herself that he wouldn't care now. So she could do as she pleased.

On her way back she picked a few soap berries that were usually processed to make cleansing balms and stopped by a nearby hot spring. She was filthy. Enyu washed her loincloth first and laid it on a warm stone to dry while she soaked in the spring.

Unbraiding her hair and combing her fingers through the strands she stared up at the changing sky. Night was drawing near and she really did not want to return home. With a sigh, hearing the last warning horn, she rang out the excess water from her hair, got dressed and made her way back to High Camp.

She moved quickly, delivering her harvestables and made her way to one of the looming tents. Under guise, Enyu asked to stay behind to practise on a personal piece and they left her to it. She didn’t want to bump into any Sully’s or have any visitors as Hvatia said.

In the middle of the night, tucked in bed now, Enyu was once again wide awake. She could hear the occasional screech of an ikran or the cry of a fussing baby. Her roommates were all asleep but every now and again someone would snore or toss in their bed. Meanwhile Enyu just numbly stared up at the tent’s ceiling, willing her mind to still and for sleep to come.

Very suddenly a large, warm palm slid across her mouth, muffling her scream. Her eyes grew wide with fear then instantly calmed when familiar glowing, gold eyes peered over her. Making him out in the dark clearly, she saw him press his finger to his lips then gesture to the tent flap. She frowned and fury bubbled at her chest.

Gripping his wrist she tugged his hand away from her face roughly and sat up with a whispered hiss, “No, go away!” She pushed his hand away from trying to grab her again.

“I need to talk to you. Please,” he pleaded. ‘Oh, now he wants to talk? Not a chance.’ She thought. “We don’t talk anymore, remember?”

“Flower, ple-”

“I said no! You're not even supposed to be here. Go. Away!” She hissed as angrily and quietly as she could, flicking her tail harshly at him.

The clan had a rule that male Na’vis weren't allowed to be in the female encampment after certain hours, vice versa.

She turned over in bed, putting her back to him. He apparently couldn’t take a hint because he leaned over and whispered in her ear. “I know you hate me right now, believe me I hate myself even more. But I really really need you to hear me out, just this once and then you can go back to hating my guts. Please Flower. I’m begging you. We’re leaving soon and I would hate f-”

“Would you two SHUT UP!” F’valii hissed. “Some of us are trying to sleep and it seems like you obviously don’t care about that. I’m sure you know well that you aren't allowed in our tent after hours. And guess what? It’s after hours! You being the Chief's son doesn't make you an exception to the rule. So take your stupid lover’s spat outside right now or I’ll report you both!”

Not wanting to piss F’valii off anymore, knowing fully well that she would actually report them and fed up with the pestering male next to her, Enyu immediately got up and walked out of the tent. He followed her quickly and tried to take her hand but she snatched it back as if his touch burned her. His ears lowered with guilt.

Without a word or glance his way she turned and made her way through the quiet camp, toward the same alcove Jake had caught them at last time. He followed her like a scolded child, his ears, head and tail dropped low.

Within the privacy of the alcove now, she turned to face him, folding her arms across her chest.

Eyes roaming, they took in each other fully for the first time in days. He looked even worse than the last time she saw him.

He looked extremely pale and seemed as if he would collapse if she shoved him even a little. There was no life in his usually expressive eyes, they were red as if he’d been crying for days and the bags under his eyes were darker. Thankfully all his cuts and bruises from before seemed to have healed fine. Kiri must have used yalnabark on him. He did however have a fresh new split lip, as if he’d been punched.

He took in his fill of her just as openly and from the expressions that flashed across his face she knew she probably looked just as bad- maybe even worse. Her hair was dry but still loose from her bath earlier- she hadn’t bothered to braid it. She hadn’t been eating- and let’s just not even mention the sleeping issue.

She felt naked under his attention and glanced away not wanting to see his eyes any more. “You have two minutes to say your piece and then I’m gone.” She bit her lip trying to keep her emotions in check, she refused to let him see her break again.

Tears instantly welled up in his eyes and he pulled at his hair in frustration. “I don’t even know where to start,” he said, choking on his words.

Swallowing a sob he looked at her and clutched his chest. “I hurt you. And I don’t know how to fix it. I’m never going to be able to forgive myself for what I’ve done. What I’ve put us through- put you through! It hurts so bad. Right here and it makes me ache everywhere. You, being gone, it’s killing me Flower.”

Enyu’s ears rang at his words, she felt ice cold and goose pimples broke out all over her body at his chilling words- because that’s how she felt too.

“When you asked me what was wrong, I just want you to know right now, it was never you. You were never the problem, you did nothing wrong. Nothing!” His hands clutch at the back of his neck, his tell that he was guilty or nervous or both.

“Something terrible happened and- and then I’d gotten some news that made everything worse and I didn't take it well and instead of trying to process it or find a way to fix it, or- or even tell you about it, I- I just bottled it up. I got scared and I pushed you away and took my anger out on you. I hurt you. I hurt you because- because I knew- what was going to happen in the end. And I’m so sorry if they just sound like excuses but I promise they’re not.” He shook his head and rubbed his eyes.

She remained silent and bit the inside of her cheek. She didn't know what all of that meant but seeing him so distraught- it was hurting her. Norm, Jake’s scientist friend, had once told her jokingly that Neteyam was her “kryptonite”. This moment right here was showing her how right he was. Neteyam was her weakness. His pain, his anguish, it hurt her. And she ached to fix it.

“If I could take back everything I said I would. You have to believe me. I was cruel and I know that I don’t deserve your forgiveness but please. Please!” He was fully crying now, and it broke her heart just a little bit more. He walked closer to her begging now, bending on his knees, looking up at her. “Tell me what to say to make it all better. Tell me how to fix us. Tell me how to get you back. Tell me what to say to make you love me again,” he pleaded, sounding desperate.

She let out a shaky breath. “I swear to Eywa I will do everything, anything you ask of me for as long as I have life left in me but please please please forgive me En’yuna, please,” he pressed his face into her stomach, forehead crushing into the space between her breasts as he squeezed the sides of her thighs, sobbing fully. “Please please please.”

Her own tears were falling freely now. She gripped his shoulders in an effort to push him away but he didn’t budge. “Neteyam let go,” she said softly, her voice cracking.

“No! No no no. Enyu please. I’ll die if I do. If I let you go right now, I know that I will die. Please don’t leave me, please don’t go. Just love me again. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry Flower.” He cried and groaned as if he were in pain, clutching her closer, refusing to create any space between them. “Oh Eywa, please don’t take her away from me!”

Her resolve broke, she wasn’t strong enough. She didn’t want to be. Mustering as much strength as she could she pushed his shoulders back slightly and he whimpered, thinking she was leaving him. She sank to her own knees and cupped his anguished face between her palms and pressed their foreheads together. She wrapped an arm around his neck to bring him closer and whispered, “I fear that I might die too.”

His shoulders sagged in relief at her actions, his legs gave out and he crumpled to the grass beneath them. Neteyam tugged her onto his lap needing her close and her legs straddled him and gripped his waist tightly. He tethered his fingers in her hair, holding her firmly as he pressed his face into hers, almost as if he wanted to crawl inside her skin. Enyu hugged him just as tight, winding her both arms around his neck now, feeling his tears roll down her neck.

They stayed wrapped up in each other's arms for a long time, just holding each other and weeping.

A ray of sunlight roused Enyu from sleep. Squinting at the offending light she tried to turn away but realized a heavy weight was preventing her from moving.

Memories from last night flooded her mind as she noticed the hand anchoring her body. They were laid out on their left sides, on the patch of soft grass.

His chest was plastered to her back as her head laid on his outstretched left arm. With their legs tangled together- his leg trapped between hers, his right palm was tucked under left breast, spanning her ribs, thumb stroking her skin softly. She could feel him everywhere and she blushed at their extremely intimate position.

As if sensing she was awake she felt him lean in to nuzzle her neck, his nose tracing the expanse lovingly. “Hey, did you sleep well?” His voice sounded rough, and sent a tingle down her spine.

She couldn’t help but smile at his affection. Oh goodness was she really that touch starved?

Tilting her head back to eye him she nodded and stretched as much as he’d allow her. “Sooo well, even if it was only a couple hours. I haven’t slept that well in- I can’t even remember,” she said giggling a little.

“Me neither,” he said, smoothing his palm down her stomach. She shivered. He tugged her to face him fully now. Keeping her close by slipping his leg back between hers and tugging her thigh onto his hip, his tail wrapped securely around her ankle to keep her in place and he pressed a small kiss to her shoulder- the same one Väriä had knocked the other day. It was an apology she realized.

Enyu was basking in all the attention honestly and she gripped his back when he pecked her shoulder one last time. Neteyam pulled back his head to kiss the tip of her nose now. Hand holding the back of her neck still, he then kissed her cheek, chin, jaw, under her ear. He kissed his way down her neck, small pecks really but at a certain spot on her neck he nipped it lightly, his tongue darting out quickly to soothe the sting.

Her eyes rolled in bliss, biting her lip as she sighed against his ministrations. She knew this type of touch was different. It was new. Exciting. She should really be questioning it but she didn’t want to. Enyu was drunk off his touch- not having it for days, so what if she was a little greedy right now. She was right though. She was an addict. So with a little breathy moan, she titled back, allowing him more access as she encouraged his affections.

The spot that connected her neck and jaw was especially sensitive- which he found out very quickly and couldn’t help sucking it lightly, groaning appreciatively when he heard her gasp. Her fingernails dug into his back muscles as his palm moved down the curve of her spine, across her hip and back up along her waist, spanning her ribs, thumb stroking just under the curve of her breast. Her hips jerked once against his touch but Neteyam was quick to hold her hip still- she couldn’t help but be a little bit embarrassed at her body’s reaction, she felt feverish with want and a bit damp between her legs.

Enyu heard him wince slightly when he had sucked a little harder on her skin, so she tugged on the braids at the back of his head to halt him and bring his face back in front of her. She shivered under his hungry gaze.

“What happened here?” She asked, smoothing her thumb over the cut on his lip. He licked his lips unconsciously and it grazed against her thumb, she bit her lip at the contact.

“Lo’ak,” he said, taking her hand to kiss her palm instead. “Beating some sense into me.”

He looked sadly at her and tucked an offending fly away hair behind her ear. She felt a little emotional all of a sudden, here she was in his arms, feeling so safe and so loved that she’d forgotten about their fight- too consumed and caught up in the moment.

As if reading her mind and worried that she was about to flee, he pulled her closer- as if that were even possible and tilted her chin so she’d look at him.

“I know we have a long way to go and I have a lot of explaining to do...but...are we okay, for now?” He asked, staring straight into her soul.

Rubbing a finger over one of his dark circles, she nodded. “We do, still have a lot to talk about, we didn’t really talk at all last night…but yes, we’re okay for now.”

Neteyam looked like he wanted to cry all over again but this time from relief. He closed his eyes and rubbed his nose against hers and whispered, “I missed you Flower.”

“I missed you more 'Tey.” She said, stroking his back softly.

“Not possible,” he chuckled.

He gripped her thigh and rolled onto his back, dragging her with him and drapped her over his chest. “What do you say we stay here and nap all day? Blow off our jobs just for today, hmm?”

“I think we would have a riot on our hands. They’ll come looking and then we'll be in big trouble,” she teased seriously, looking at him with her chin resting on his peck. “But I think I’m willing to risk it. Napping allll day sounds, wonderful.”

Their plans were ruined however when her stomach rumbled loudly. They couldn't help but burst out laughing. Well now she was just embarrassed.

Turning them so that she was on her back now and he was settled between her thighs, he shuffled down lower and pressed a kiss to her growling stomach. “I think we need to have a change of plans,” he laughed, “We must feed you first Flower.”

Enyu groaned in embarrassment, hiding her face behind her hands, still chuckling at the absurdity but then suddenly remembering all the times he’d nag her about eating. Gosh she’d missed this.

She looked down at the Na’vi before her, seeing his smile, hearing his laughter, feeling his touch. Tears misted her eyes and she sat up to take him in a bit better, he looked very comfortable laying between her legs- as if it were his favourite place to be. Enyu blushed and then without thinking she blurted a confession, “I think I’m addicted to you.”

His eyes widened up at her in the most adorable way, mouth agape and then he smiled at her, that smile that he always saved just for her and no one else. Her smile. Neteyam kissed her knee, entwined their fingers and said, “I think I’m addicted to you too.”

All is well again! Well almost anyway. Tey has a lot of explaining to do in the next part.

I hope you guys feel at least a bit better now after the last part seemed to wreck some of you. Sorry again lovelies!

I'm sorry if there were any errors.

Please reblog, like and let me know if you enjoyed it in the comments :)

Take care for now.

@love13tter @behindthearcane @gyuventure @jackiehollanderr @melsunshine @goddesslilithmoriarty @kachowness

#neteyam #neteyam x oc #neteyam x na'vi!reader #neteyam fanfiction #neteyam x omaticaya!reader

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razor-tits · 4 months

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A very long and over due life update.

So, to start this off I guess I need to back up. Let's start in October. It feels like yesterday but also a lifetime ago. Things were...ok I'd say. Boring, routine, the only shake up was my hormones ran out and my job was changing our insurance, so I had to cancel my follow up appointment for bloodwork and a refill. But then I got some bad news from my parents.

My dad had a heart attack and was in the hospital. He was ok, but he needed surgery. First they thought just a stent, but then decided he needed a triple bypass. I have a pretty good relationship with my parents, but we're kind of distant. I live a few hours away and only see them around the holidays but we talk on the phone weekly. My dad can lean a little on the conservative side but both of them are the absolute salt of the earth. They're done so much to help me and I felt powerless to be able to help. I couldn't leave work and felt like there was nothing I could do.

The next couple weeks were rough, my dad was staying in the hospital, my mom was going back and forth staying with him and taking care of my grandma, who is in her late 80's and has a litany of health issues. On a Friday I finally managed to make the drive home and spend the weekend there. Seeing my dad laid up in a hospital gown tied to machines is something i'll never forget. He could get up and move and acted like he was ok. But he's one of those guys you meet and you think he's invincible. The kind of guy that put a new roof on our house with a broken finger and can't turn away a stray animal at the door. Some family members I hadn't seen in a long time came and went over the weekend. Thoughts of our own mortality set in and I realize this could be the last time I see any of them.

I've lost people before. Some of them suddenly and unexpectedly. Others who's death was almost a sigh of relief after fighting for so long. I never got to say goodbye when my friend died and I hope he knows how much he meant to me. I don't want to feel that again, ever.

The day of surgery came. He was in the OR for 3 hours but it felt like an eternity and a second at the same time. A few hours after that my mom and I were able to see him. He was extubated already, which was a good sign. But he was on heavy medication, incoherent, coming in and out of sleep. But he knew I was there and that's all that mattered.

I had to leave and make my way back to my parents to get my dog, and then make the 2 hour drive back to Ohio and go back to work in the morning. At this point I knew my dad would be ok, he just had to get through recovery. But now thoughts of my own health were worrying me. I'm not in the best shape, I don't exercise or work out. I've already had surgery to fix stomach problems. Everyone on my dad's side has heart problems, and everyone on my mom's side has cancer and diabetes. There's not much I do to prevent any of that. I'm in my 30's and I feel it, maybe more than I should.

Over the next couple months my mental health continues to fall. I had a birthday and spent it sick, as I always seem to do. It's always a rough time of year for me. Seasonal depression kicks in, I get older, and another year passes. My dog, my best friend, the reason I kept myself alive, is getting old. I see it more and more every day and it breaks my heart.

The holidays came and went. I saw my grandma for the first time in a few years. Always wondering if it will be the last. Despite that, this year I never felt less in the holiday spirit. I used to love this time of year, now I desperately try to enjoy it, but part of me just wants it to be over. The best part seems to be a few days off work.

At this point it should be noted I have not restarted hormones. My identity has always been more in flux than i've let on, and maybe that needs to be it's own post, but I don't know if I want to start again or not. I don't know what I want, I don't know what my goals are. I don't know who i am. Beyond basic hygiene, I really don't even feel like taking care of myself most days. I pretty much always feel melancholic. I'm not angry, I don't get excited, I don't have much joy. My sex drive is non existent and I have no desire to do...well, anything.

New year's comes and I honestly couldn't care. It feels like another day. My gf and I go out and have an Ok time. I'm just so tired all the time it's hard for me to go out and enjoy myself like I used to.

And then, a couple days ago my landlord calls. We have to move out. Not sure when, but probably soon. I'm heartbroken and panicking over it. We absolutely love our house. We've only been here about a year and a half but it's been wonderful. It has plenty of room, privacy, it's quiet. We can leave our doors unlocked and packages aren't stolen off our porch. We're allowed both of our dogs and all 3 of our cats with no issues. We've invested so much time and money here. My gf is close with the owners and their children, who were the previous tenants. We even thought about trying to buy this house off of them when their other kid moves out of the downstairs apartment. And it's affordable. Anything else like what we have now will cost double and we can't afford that.

Our last apartment was tiny, cramped, dark and ran by an awful property investment company. And now we have to deal with that again. If we can even find a place where we can take 5 animals. We can hide 2 of the cats, but not all of them. We're in no position to buy nor do we have the time to go through the process. My gf said we may have to find 2 different apartments and live separately for a while. Just the thought of that brings me to tears. I can't live without her, I can't live without our pets. We're a family. I don't know what to do.

Since I got the phone call I've done nothing but panic, contact rental agencies and weigh my options. None of them are good. Best case scenario is we move in a smaller, worse place, paying more rent.

Nothing is going right for me. I know this isn't insurmountable and nothing that people haven't gone through before. But...god damn I need a break and I can't get one.

#i just needed to vent #dont reblog

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pain-in-the-butler · 6 months

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Dadbastian Week Day 6/7: Needed Advice and Setting Sun

Happy final day of Dadbastian week, my fellow fans. This was a wild ride, and I had so much fun seeing all the creations everyone came up with to celebrate! It may be the end of the seven days, but you can certainly expect more Dadbastian content from me in the future regardless. Let's keep the party going 😎

This "drabble" was better intended for yesterday's prompt, but I sort of shoehorned in a sunset so that I could post this on the final day. I would have liked to craft a story for each day of Dadbastian week, but sometimes that's life! And at 5.2k, this one's length is basically worth two prompts anyway.

No major warnings needed, but perhaps a small note that this story takes place when Ciel is still only ten years old. He engages in some regressive behavior as a way of coping with his trauma, and Sebastian handles the situation very Sebastianly. So it feels weird to say enjoy but uh... enjoy!

How many souls had Sebastian devoured in the centuries before he met this one?

Two or three hundred, approximately. But how many of them had stood out as especially worthy? Perhaps one or two – and those experiences were not so remarkable. Merely different from the norm. Ask a human every meal they’d eaten over the course of their measly lifetime. Even they would laugh. Impossible! They could scarcely remember what they’d eaten last week. Perhaps a particularly delectable trifle or perfectly roasted guinea fowl would stand out. But would even a hundred meals? Of course not. Don’t be silly.

How old was Sebastian? Perhaps as old as the universe; perhaps as old as the wheel. He was amorphous. Time did not mark him with crow’s feet and gray hair. Time had no power over him at all, and Sebastian did not need to consider it. It was a concept built for mortals. And though Sebastian had a vague idea of how long he had been a greater demon, of the moment he had stopped lapping up other demons’ scraps and began forming contracts of his own, such knowledge didn’t intrigue him. The only span of time that had ever mattered was “soon.” When was his next meal? Soon. Always soon, because humans were easy to please and easy to trick, and Sebastian was well-suited for pleasure and trickery.

It had been over a month since Sebastian had thought the word “soon.”

Today marked the hundredth day of his contract with “Ciel” Phantomhive, a ten-year-old boy who was, without question, the youngest person Sebastian had ever played the shadow of. Ten years old: why, ten years was nothing to a demon. In the amount of time it had taken Ciel to merely exist, Sebastian had done nothing but sit patiently waiting for the right moment to strike, to bargain with just the right human. A hundred days ago, he and his future meal at last crossed paths.

This is the most curious and enticing soul I have found so far, Sebastian remembered thinking that day, and it will be mine in mere moments. For how could a frail, wounded, sniveling orphan possibly take longer to cultivate than a monarch, or a prodigy, or a megalomaniac?

Sebastian denounced them all. They were games, comparatively, to this real test of will he was engaged in now. For yesterday’s orphan was today’s earl, and the guidelines of this contract would not allow for a swift victory. Though Sebastian had never known hunger so intimately before this contract, now he was also getting to know patience – and hunger and patience would work together to transform this soul into a dining experience Sebastian had never known the likes of before.

And yet... often Sebastian found himself thinking, This is the soul clever enough to test my cunning? This is the one?

For the boy was still just that: a boy. And the boy’s childish habits were still so wildly out of control, it was a wonder he had ever been a noble’s son.

“You’ve been picking at your skin again,” Sebastian scolded at bathtime when he noticed the little pink marks freckling those skinny arms. “You mustn’t do that. The areas could become infected.”

“Young master. Are you listening to me?” Ciel’s gaze would often drift to the window in the middle of a lesson. “Repeat what I just said. …Yes, that’s what I thought. Pay attention.”

“Leave that alone,” Sebastian said when Ciel would play with the string of his eye patch.

“You must sit still,” Sebastian said at dinnertime and teatime and any time Ciel was in a chair.

“Rings stay on your fingers, unless you’re sealing an envelope.”

“Look me in the eye.”

“Stop tapping your foot.”

“Sit up straight.”

“No fidgeting.”

“Smaller bites.”

“Don’t yawn.”

“Don’t scratch.”

“And take that out of your mouth this instant.”

That last sentiment was by far the most awful one to consider, and, alas, the most persistent. In the privacy of his own home, Ciel chewed on things relentlessly: his fingers, his nails, his own hair, a pen he might be holding. His teeth, still a subtle mismatch of adult and milk teeth, longed to keep busy. When he wasn’t eating, they sought out other objects to masticate and weren’t picky about what that object happened to be.

“Are you a rodent?” Sebastian asked him one afternoon when he caught Ciel nibbling at his own sleeve.

Ciel blinked at him. “What?”

“Or a teething puppy?”

Ciel blushed angrily. “No.”

“Then I can think of no reason why you should be unable to keep your clothing out of your mouth,” Sebastian said distastefully.

Ciel glowered at him and stopped in the meantime. But the chewing was incessant. He always went back to it as soon as he thought Sebastian’s back was turned.

“I struggle to comprehend,” Sebastian confided to Tanaka one evening, “how the young master got away with such deplorable behaviors while he was growing up.”

Tanaka looked at Sebastian sadly from the servant’s table. The two were in the kitchen, Tanaka drinking green tea while Sebastian stood at the counter, polishing silver. “The young master did not have such persistent habits before you knew him… I believe this developed during that month he spent alone. That month we know so little about.” Tanaka pressed his fingers into the warm ceramic of the yunomi cup, staring into its depths. “There are three empty spaces in his heart now… and for a boy so young, it’s hard to know how to fill such space except with distraction. We must be gentle with him.”

But “gentle” took patience, and gentle took time, and there was no reason to spend it when a smart rap on the wrist would do just as well at a fraction of the speed.

Most of Ciel’s habits had been defeated with a rap on the wrist. The chewing was not so easily thwarted. What was worse, after a week of testing various objects in his mouth, Ciel seemed to have decided that the hems of his sleeves were his top choice. Sebastian’s irritation grew when he saw the state of Ciel’s shirt one evening before bed, the sleeves crimped and wrinkled from what seemed to be a whole day’s worth of suckling.

“This is flagrantly infantile,” he hissed lightly as he gripped his charge by the forearm. Ciel was looking hard at the floor and flushing with defiance. “What should anyone think of an earl with such deplorable attire? You’d do better without teeth than with sleeves like this.”

“It’s not like I do it in front of anyone!” Ciel argued with a heat that came from embarrassment.

Sebastian’s frown quirked. “It is pathetic to defend this behavior. You will stop, or there will be consequences.”

Ciel snorted, smirking now. “Consequences? What are you going to do? Hit my palms with a ruler till they bleed?” It was clear the boy wanted to recover some dignity. “You can’t stop me. I might have a bad habit, but I bet you don’t really know how to stop me from doing this.”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow. “Don’t I?”

“Well then, what are you going to do about it?” Ciel shot back.

The butler hesitated, then started unbuttoning the young master’s shirt up by its rounded collar. “Continue this charade, and perhaps I shall have to decide.”

“When we were younger and Edward would do something wrong, I remember Aunt Francis would take away his pocket money,” Ciel continued matter-of-factly as Sebastian slipped the nightgown over his master’s small head. “But you can’t take my money away from me. And you can’t force me to stay in my room until I repent, like my parents would.”

“No, perhaps not,” was Sebastian’s even answer.

“Well, good luck, then!” Ciel challenged, and Sebastian could swear that just before he extinguished the candle and turned to leave, the rotten brat was bringing his sleeve toward his mouth for a repeat performance.

It was clear Ciel thought he had won. Let him think that. It would only make the consequences of his actions all the more shocking.

▬▬▬▬▬ι═════════════ ☼ ═════════════ι▬▬▬▬▬

In England, the bird pepper was best known for its importance in making the highest quality cayenne. It was a thin, red capsicum that shone as bright as a warning. The human stomach knew no particulars: surely this coloration was nature’s way of advertising danger, but humans were the one species that delighted in spice, cultivated it, and celebrated the flavor of this irritating chemical. Sebastian was not sure if he found this act unnaturally stupid or minutely impressive. But it meant he would have easy access to the drought that would curb his master’s behavior.

Once delivered to the manor, the capsicums promptly had their piths removed and jarred in water to soak for a few days. The water took on a slightly orange quality, but was diluted with a bit more water until it was nearly clear. Finally, that water was painted on the sleeves of one of Ciel’s nightshirts using a basting brush and left hanging for another day until perfectly dry and unassuming.

Between the night Sebastian had decided on his plan and the evening he was able to execute it, Ciel’s habit had somewhat abated, but only somewhat. Sebastian’s warnings had grown sharper, and thus Ciel’s emotions towards the warnings had become more dramatic in response. He would grow absentminded, his eyes glossing over in the middle of a lesson, and then he’d automatically fall into his old pattern. Sebastian would rebuke, “Stop that,” whenever he caught the young master in the act, and Ciel would startle back to reality with a fleeting look of bewilderment. Then the shame and contempt would take over, and Ciel would shoot his butler such a scathing glare that Sebastian felt no sympathy whatsoever for what would soon come to pass.

“I must advise you, young master, not to go about biting your sleeves after I leave the room tonight,” Sebastian said at bedtime as the hands were threaded through the innocuous, soft pajama sleeves with perhaps only the slightest aroma of scarlet truth. “I will know if you have disobeyed; I have my ways. You must understand that it’s for your own good that I do whatever it takes to stop you.”

Ciel’s watchful eyes fell to the floor, and his shoulders slumped. For a moment, he looked just like the child that he was. “I’m trying, all right? It’s hard.”

“Ridiculous,” Sebastian huffed, planting his hands on his hips. “If your sleeve is in your mouth, take it out. This is all that you have to do. You would really have me believe such a thing is hard?”

“As if a damn demon would understand!” Ciel whined, though his face looked red again. “It’s not… Ugh, never mind! I’m trying, so you can stop treating me as if I’m not already!”

“If you really are trying, then I have faith that tonight will be different,” Sebastian said, with just a single thread of slyness stringing together his words as he pulled away the covers and draped them back over the curled-up troublemaker. “And who knows, you may just be rewarded if you manage to follow through.”

“... What kind of reward will I get?” Ciel asked.

Sebastian paused briefly at Ciel’s look of earnest curiosity. The ‘reward’ he’d meant was really ‘a lack of punishment.’ Would a reward actually be a worthy incentive when the boy was misbehaving? “We shall discuss it in the morning, but only if you manage to keep your sleeves away from your teeth all night. That is the first obstacle. Now then, will you be needing anything else before bed?”

Ciel stuffed his hands beneath his pillow. “No.”

“Very good. Then… I wish you luck, and goodnight.”

The light in the room was snuffed out. Sebastian left and went immediately to the kitchen to prepare the glass of milk. He had no faith the sleeves would remain untouched for very long. Mortals were driven by instinct, even to their own detriment. It was any wonder they managed to exist as a species. They could not go without their little vices. Even Ciel, who was too young and too coddled to have ever been introduced to alcohol or tobacco, had come up with a crutch all on his own. Sebastian snickered under his breath as he poured the cold milk into the teacup from the bottle he’d kept cool in the pantry. A human struggling to escape his own nature, also made to feel guilty for his own nature… Sebastian couldn’t lie and tell himself it wasn’t a positively delicious notion.

And yet… a full hour passed by with no outcry. Sebastian was minutely surprised. He had kept the cup of milk ready to deliver as he went about tidying up the kitchen for the end of the day. But eventually he had to admit to himself that the young master must have fallen asleep without indulging in his habit. Sebastian tutted as he poured the undrunk milk back into its bottle. He hadn’t meant to look forward to it, but it was a little boring to consider that his plan wouldn’t unfold after all… Oh well. Perhaps now was the time for some of the more encompassing chores Tanaka had warned him came with spring. Apparently replacing all of the winter curtains in the manor with a muslin set was only one such nuisance to consider…

It was two a.m. that brought the scream.

Sebastian knew this scream well. It was not the disgusted surprise of a boy who had tasted something unappealing, but the anguish of a soul bursting free from a nightmare. It was a sound all too familiar in this household. Sebastian dropped what he was doing to attend it at once. But perhaps he had been too unhurried all the same, because along the way, an actual summons was issued as well, then again, with all the persistence of a lost little lamb.

The lamps in their sconces flared to life as Sebastian entered the sitting area of the master bedroom. “I am here, young master. There is no need to call for me twice. I can guarantee you will be heard no matter how quiet you must be.”

Sebastian strode to the bedside casually nonetheless. He was never too harried in these cases. They were nearly always the same. Ciel would be hiding in a cave of his own blankets. Sebastian would produce a few whimsical promises for closeness, for security. Ciel would eventually drift back off and never mention their encounter in the morning. But tonight, the script was not being followed.

Ciel was sitting outside of the covers. He was bolt upright and rubbing at his face abrasively with his sleeves. “My eyes,” he said in a voice that was liquid and hollow. “S-Something is wrong with my eyes.”

Sebastian felt his insides give a lurch. Suddenly this was serious.

“Drop your hands at once.” He didn’t wait for the command to be followed. He snagged the little wrists and pulled them away. Ciel stared at him with wide, blinking eyes that were fringed pink with irritation. Sebastian clucked his tongue, disapproving. “Ah, look at this mess… What ever were you doing this for?”

Ciel’s face lit with the terror of an innocent. “It’s not my fault! I didn’t do anything! My eyes just started burning, and they won’t stop no matter what I do!” Ciel struggled in his butler’s grip, desperate to touch and rub and unwittingly worsen the situation. “It hurts, let me go—”

“Settle yourself down. Or am I unable to leave you alone for even a mere moment to retrieve the antidote for your suffering?” Sebastian said sternly. Exasperated, he freed one hand to pull the handkerchief from his lapel pocket. “If you must touch your eyes, do so with this. Your sleeves are the issue, so do not return to them. Do you understand me?”

Ciel was already busy grinding the clean cloth into his eye sockets. When Sebastian repeated himself, the young master immediately whined, “Yes, I get it, just help me already!”

To be so ungrateful when he’s at the mercy of whoever will come to his aid… Sebastian snorted a breath as he returned to fetch the milk from the kitchen. It was serving a different purpose than Sebastian had expected… and though it wasn’t as perfect a solution here as it was for taste buds, it certainly had to be better than that horrid paste of lead sugar and rainwater that other humans seemed to think was an acceptable cure for ocular inflammation. He returned with it and a clean cloth in less than a minute.

Ciel was still pressing the handkerchief into his eyes with both palms as if it would do any good. “Allow me to see now.” Sebastian pulled the child's hands away from his face without waiting. Ciel made a small noise of frustration in the back of his throat and swatted off the manhandling. There was a brief tussle of arms as both fought for control of the situation, but when the cold relief of the milk-soaked cloth touched his lids, Ciel froze beneath his butler's hand. The tantrum became a forgotten thing. All at once, Ciel sat as still and silent as a fawn while Sebastian dabbed at his eyes with salve.

Finally. Sebastian sighed loudly in relief. “There, there we are. Isn’t that better?”

“... What’s wrong with me…?” Ciel’s voice was thin and exhausted, the tension of a crisis at last flooding out of him.

Sebastian put on a wry grin. “If you hadn’t been indulging in your chewing habit, this wouldn’t have happened,” he said as he continued to tend to the site. “I soaked your sleeves in capsicum water a few days ago, so that if you tried putting them in your mouth when I had my back turned, the taste would repel you and I would know what you had done.”

“H-Huh…?” Ciel was half-awake and still working through his fear. “You… You did this?”

“You did this,” Sebastian corrected. “I was only trying to help you with your habit, and now here we are… Ah, but what were you rubbing your face for? This was not supposed to end up in your eyes.” A new, clean section of the cloth was selected and dipped in the milk.

Ciel stared at Sebastian, puzzled, bewildered. “This happened because of you?” His voice was picking up understanding, alongside volume.

“How could I expect that you would touch your eyes?” Sebastian huffed in exasperation. Ciel leaned away when he came at him with the cloth this time. “Young master, honestly…”

“Let me do it myself!” Ciel snatched the fabric away and began treating his own eyes, which were still rimmed in pink and watering in the aftermath. Sebastian watched him, narrowing his gaze. What a pathetic scene. The boy looked as miserable as a child who hadn’t gotten his way at a game and, in a show of disapproval at the injustice of life, let out a great bout of crocodile…

… tears.

“... The young master was having a bad dream before all of this, yes?” Sebastian asked.

Ciel had the entire upper half of his face hidden in the cloth now. “What do you care?”

“You were touching your eyes with your sleeves because you were crying.” No need to ask this time.

Ciel’s shoulders seized up. “Wh-What does it matter why I did it! It’s my clothing! I can do whatever I want with it! I don’t need to explain myself to you…” Then, with his eyes still covered by the cloth, Ciel dug down with his chin, slipped it beneath the collar of his pajamas, and clenched the material between his teeth to begin chewing.

Even after all this drama, he hasn’t given it up.

With nothing left in his arsenal, Sebastian simply observed for a moment in defeat. The boy was pressing a milk-soaked cloth to his face while gnawing the front of his nightclothes and sniveling relentlessly. It was no proud moment for either of them. Right now, they were not Earl and butler at all. They were again rendered the child and demon of their earliest days.

What was left to be done? Shaming his charge hadn’t done any good in destroying the habit, nor had this punishment. It was forcing Sebastian to assess if shame had really ever been useful to him beyond acting as a seasoning for a soul. It hadn’t changed this situation at all. Nothing Sebastian had tried so far had. If he wanted something to change, he had to try a different method. But what method would that even be? And how would that method serve to flavor the soul?

Sebastian did not have a clue. This was entirely new ground.

… Hmm. Something new.

Interesting.

“Let me take a look at your eyes now.” Sebastian nudged Ciel’s hands until they were finally lowered. The irritation was ebbing. Fortunate, but it made sense too: there couldn’t have been very much dried capsicum juice in those sleeves, really. “The skin looks improved. We should flush with water now instead.”

Ciel’s own personal irritation hadn’t gone anywhere. He said nothing, but he radiated anger and humiliation in equal measure from his person. Sebastian rinsed the cloth in the bathroom sink and returned with it still damp to press into the young master’s eyes next. Ciel sat and received this treatment like a kitten with raised hackles being bathed by his mother. This thought warmed Sebastian to the caretaking quite astoundingly.

Ciel let the collar of his shirt fall from his mouth to speak. “You can never do something like this to me again. Such tricks are barbaric and unacceptable for a butler.” His fingers were spread wide and nails clenching into the mattress as his pain was tended to.

Sebastian hummed a laugh. “So I will not. But surely this habit of yours must come to an end either way. How would you suggest I help you if not with force?”

Ciel grit his teeth. “If you don’t know what to do, then don’t do anything! Just leave me alone! If I just do this in private, who am I hurting anyway?”

“Your clothing and your reputation, certainly…” Sebastian mumbled. Ah, right; no more shame. “However, I have noticed that you only do this when no one but myself is watching. Thus, you clearly understand that this isn’t acceptable behavior.”

Ciel lowered his chin. “O-Of course I know… I just keep doing it without thinking about it…”

That was surprising. Sebastian took the towel away. “Really. It is involuntary?”

Ciel blinked starrily in the lamplight. He glanced down at the bed. “Sort of.”

“You do not mean to do it, nor want to?”

“I don’t mean to start…” Ciel furrowed his brow. “But when I notice I’m doing it, I don’t stop either.”

Hmm. “Why do you want to do this?” Sebastian had trouble keeping confusion out of his voice. “It is very unlike you and it is quite unseemly. Lady Midford would have a fit if she knew.”

Mortification washed over Ciel’s expression at the mention of aunt. “I don’t want to do this,” he explained hastily. “It’s just that I can’t stop. It feels good for some reason.” And then Ciel nearly put his sleeve in his mouth again, but flinched away at Sebastian’s warning. “See! I don’t mean to!” he cried, blushing again. He looked at Sebastian helplessly, indignantly, from the tops of his eyes. “I don’t mean to, all right… I don’t mean to…”

Sebastian was very surprised. All this time, the two of them were on the same page. Ciel didn’t like the behavior either. He was simply at its mercy. Was that why shaming him had had no effect? Because it was already a matter of shame, not a matter of pride?

And — granted the previous was the case — if shame removed pride, then would pride remove shame?

There was only one way to find out.

“Let us get you into a new nightshirt,” Sebastian said. Ciel opened his mouth, and Sebastian interjected, “There will be no tricks this time. It is late, and the important thing now is getting you back to sleep so that tomorrow’s schedule isn’t a wreck. If you chew your sleeves tonight, then so be it. We will work out a new strategy in the morning.”

The boy’s posture slumped. “… Mmn. Fine.”

Ciel was subdued as the pajamas were swapped out. He kept touching his eyes, which were improved but likely rather dried out from their ordeal. He looked like he wanted to be angry still but wasn’t sure how to go about expressing it in this circumstance. As usual, he had no choice but to rely on the being that would one day claim his soul, and it likely left him feeling disturbed. Sebastian at least knew that much from prior contracts. What he didn’t know was what their ‘new strategy’ for stopping the sleeve-biting was going to be.

“Would you still want me to stay here until you fall asleep?” Sebastian offered as he walked his charge back to bed.

Ciel climbed delicately onto the enormous mattress that was meant for a married couple, not a single small child. He rubbed his contract eye and glared at Sebastian with the blue one. “Fine. But that doesn’t mean I’m happy with you,” he said at last. “You’re going to make up for this stupid prank. It was cruel. It goes completely against a ‘butler’s aesthetic,’ or however it is you put it.”

Sebastian narrowed his gaze but decided to concede. They shouldn’t fight anymore right now. “… Perhaps you are right. I went too far today.”

“You definitely went too far.” The boy might’ve meant to sound angry but it came out as more of a plea.

Sebastian stood against the wall and waited for Ciel to tuck himself back into bed before extinguishing the light from the room. “Tomorrow, we will discuss a plan. Until then… I hope you are able to dream pleasantly. Goodnight, young master.”

Ciel curled up in bed. He stayed awake for longer than usual, nearly half an hour. But eventually there was a very careful shifting sound, and Sebastian registered that Ciel must be chewing his sleeves again. As promised, Sebastian did not put an end to the behavior, and very soon after the habit started up, the young master slipped off to sleep.

This proved that the action soothed him. It wasn’t just mindless incivility: it served a purpose, even for a half-grown child. How fascinating… and yet, it certainly could not continue. The soul of a wretched little orphan was no worthy meal. If Sebastian wanted to dine on the soul of a confident earl who left childhood behind him and never looked back, it meant Sebastian had to do whatever it took to instill that confidence. Even if that included being kind and understanding — temporarily, of course.

So then: where to begin?

▬▬▬▬▬ι═════════════ ☼ ═════════════ι▬▬▬▬▬

“Oh, goodness… Young master, do hold still for a moment. You’ve just managed to sully your right cuff with frosting.”

At the prompting of his butler, thirteen-year-old Ciel Phantomhive did not hold still. He instead curved his wrist around to analyze the situation for himself. “Oh, blast. Well, I had better not waste perfectly good chocolate.” Assessment complete, the boy unceremoniously opened his mouth and lipped the swath of frosting right off.

Sebastian could not refrain from grimacing. “Young master, must you forget your manners…”

Ciel was undaunted, smug even. “It’s my clothing, so I can do as I like.” He then held out his arm for Sebastian to have a chance at the remaining smear. “Here.”

There was nothing that could be done now though. “I’m afraid yellow soap and a turn at the washboard is the cure for this. We shall have to return to the bedroom and get you a new shirt.”

Ciel waved him off and continued with his dessert. “It’s already after dinnertime, so who cares. The servants won’t. And now I don’t have to worry about eating so carefully either…” Ciel licked the end of his finger almost cheerfully and helped himself to a heaping forkful of amandine cake.

Sebastian wanted to show more disapproval, but a memory stirred that turned one corner of his mouth up instead of down. “Young master, do you recall when chewing on your sleeves used to be a habit for you?”

Ciel swallowed and pinkened slightly with either embarrassment or disdain (probably both). “Are you seriously asking if I remember the night you put a spicy substance on my pajamas and allowed me to burn my eyes with it?”

Sebastian’s smile became sheepish. “Yes, that was the event, wasn't it… I still had plenty left to learn about how to treat children back then. Speaking of which, I don’t suppose you also remember how we came about helping you with your habit?”

Ciel lapped the prongs of his fork as if he were holding a lollipop. “Now I do. You asked me what I thought would be the way to handle it, and I said that you should reward me with dessert for breakfast if I stopped chewing whenever you asked me to.”

Sebastian nodded slowly, affirmatively. “To your credit, it did do the trick. It only took a few weeks for you to give up your habit altogether after that.”

“But there’s no chance you would ever let me have dessert for breakfast now,” Ciel snickered.

Sebastian followed with a chuckle of his own. “As I said, I had plenty yet to learn about how to treat children.” Ciel rolled his eyes, probably sour about being referred to as a child. Sebastian was in opposite spirits. “I don’t believe I ever properly apologized for the way I treated you back then.”

Ciel stared. Behind him through the window, the sun spangled through the tree limbs on its slow descent below the horizon. “You mean to tell me that you’re actually sorry about it?”

“What pride is there to be found, in tricking someone so young and vulnerable?” Sebastian bowed his conciliation. “It was a shameful display. I should like to do better in the future.”

“...” Ciel glanced away after a few moments. “Apologies don’t become you. They only make you look all the more twisted for the things you don’t apologize for.”

“Ah, well, that is probably true.” Sebastian straightened up, feeling a strange sort of fondness.

“Besides,” Ciel made a mischievous expression, all too comfortable heckling a demon, for better or worse, “the old Sebastian was much smarter than the current Sebastian in one way.”

‘Current Sebastian’ tilted his chin inquiringly. “Oh? And dare I ask what way that is?”

Ciel scraped the last bit of cake off of his plate with his fork. “The old you knew that the best way to apologize is with chocolate.”

After a moment, Sebastian raised both eyebrows high. “Hmm, is that so? What a relief it is, then, that you have stated that apologies don’t become me.”

“W-Wait, wait, I only meant verbal apologies. Cake apologies are another matter.”

“Very good. Then I shall be sure to learn a recipe with semolina and chard for next time.”

“Chard? In a cake? Ugh, what a revolting idea. Surely your butler aesthetic would never let you serve that. Especially not as an apology.”

“Then perhaps the young master should not request any further ‘cake apologies’ lest he want to find out for certain. Now, let me clear your plate, and then it’s back to your vocabulary textbooks for a little evening practice. There are only three days remaining until we head out for Germany, and the young master’s pronunciation yet leaves something to be desired…”

#happy dadbastian week!#I just checked the version history and I actually started writing this in 2020 #it was only for Dadbastian week that I decided I ought to finish it. it was a good reason to do so and I'm glad it gave me the opportunity

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lya-dustin · 1 year

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Seasons of my love

Bridgeton!Au! Loosely based on S.2 of Bridgeton where the Male!Reader is Anthony and Aemond is Kate Sharma basically.

It was supposed to be heterosexual, but that felt too basic, so have some gays in love this Sunday instead.

Gif by @gameofthronesdaily

Taglist: @gettheetoanunneryimmediatly

It was heard from the Lonely Light to Asshai by the Shadow that if a man wants to court the princess, he must win her brothers’ favor first. So far, no one has been able to secure Prince Aemond’s blessing.

After Helaena and Aegon petitioned their father to stop Ser Otto and the Queen to force them into marriage, court had been filled to the brim with eligible bachelors.

All simpering fools who have the ambition to rival that of his grandsire and none of the personality nor good nature of Laenor, the last man to marry a princess.

Laenor ---despite his degeneracy--- had been knighted in battle, able to charm birds off trees and, most importantly, a dragonrider.

Laenor had also not given a rat’s arse about what his wife did behind closed doors ---or in the stables as Aemond and Aegon discovered a lifetime ago.

This last part is of paramount importance due to what Aemond knows about his beloved sister.

Sweet Helaena should have been named Rhaena, he thinks as he tries to stop mother from hearing his sister calling Lady Elisa Piper her darling wife.

Helaena did not care if her husband loved her or lived that long and often could not discern between friend or foe, so it fell on Aemond to be the shield who protects her from the rakes and Androw Farmans in the lists.

Being her favorite brother and the only one who cares about her wellbeing, was not an easy job, but only he could do it.

Aegon just wanted her married so their dear mama could stop trying to annul his marriage to Cassandra Baratheon.

Daeron was too young and believed the choice should fall on whoever Helaena liked.

Only Rhaenyra backed this scheme of his, horribly enough.

The Princess of Dragonstone is known for having a good eye for men, Ser Criston had grumbled bitterly ---not that Aemond cared to ask for context about his acrimonious feelings towards his elder sister.

She and Daemon would host the suitors in Dragonstone ---she was in confinement due to the imminent birth of her sixth child--- and send him the list of those whose characters they considered good enough for Helaena along with more profuse apologies from her brood of Strong Boys.

The one-eyed prince found himself forgiving Lucerys after the forty-ninth letter written about his guilt and wished to offer his own eye in recompense.

“Perhaps, number nine and forty will win your approval.” Helaena had said as they met this man whom their sister gave a glowing recommendation.

He dressed well, was a knight and a lord.

Lord (Y/N) (L/N) was also handsome, charming and not a piece of dragonshit, or so Daemon had assured him in his letter.

Perfect for my sweet Helaena, Rhaenyra had added in hers.

“You said the same thing about numbers one to eight and forty, mandia.” Aemond said as he eyed you like a horse being brought forth by the horse coursers yesterday.

As usual, the suitor takes great consideration in wooing his sister and trying to establish a sense of friendship with Aemond.

Unlike the rest, however, you take in consideration his likes and dislikes instead of assuming he is into whatever Aegon or the other rakes are into.

You are well-read, amiable, religious but not a zealot and, most importantly, you get along with Helaena like a house on fire.

“They are perfect for each other, don’t you agree?” mother tried her best to get Aemond to like you.

Too perfect.

And while he has become fond of you, dangerously fond of you, Aemond knows he is setting himself, no, his sister for a sure disappointment.

So one night Aemond decides it is time for Aegon’s test.

A test that consists on getting you drunk, asking questions and leave you in a brothel while both brothers come to a verdict.

You don’t drink much, but eventually you are drunk enough to sing a rather scandalous version of Seasons of My Love with him.

One where instead of a maid it is boy.

Aemond finds himself drunk enough to kiss you.

A mistake the both of you blame on the wine.

After all, Aemond is a prince and you are courting his sister.

“I apologize for my behavior, my lord, it won’t happen again.” He had said pretending it was just that. “But I see no reason to deny you my blessings to marry my sister.”

The kiss mean nothing, the prince tells himself even after finding out from Helaena that you prefer men over women and finds her as beautiful as her brother.

It means nothing, Aemond repeats even after he begins to remember how sweet it was.

He claims he feels nothing for you except friendship and yet the wedding day comes and Aemond feels pained enough to try and numb it with wine.

He should not have these feelings for you, he can’t, it goes against nature and the gods of his mother.

But he wants you, wants you in a way he has not wanted a woman or man before.

Aemond makes a toast and cannot keep his eyes away from yours, thinking it unfair that all the qualities he loves about you are on you, a man.

Not just any man, the man married to his favorite sister.

A man he has to pretend is merely a friend for the rest of their lives because the moment Queen Alicent finds out, they are dead.

Later that night, you find him absent-mindedly strumming a lute.

It’s your wedding night, and yet the ones enjoying the bridal chamber are Helaena and her Elissa going by the looks of it.

“Do you take any requests, your highness?” you ask coming to sit beside him.

A dangerous proximity, one where he cannot trust himself to run should his desires and feelings for you get the best of him again.

“Only if its you.” The prince said trying to keep his cool.

“Rather enjoyed that Myrish song the other night. I had hopes to ask for an encore.” You say, hiding your meaning well enough.

“Hmm, what would your bride say?” Aemond knew Helaena had given him the freedom to do as he pleases, but Aemond needs to hear you say it.

“She sees no reason to deny me her blessings to pursue you.” You answer and take advantage of his surprise to return the kiss.

This time it isn’t called a mistake nor blamed on the wine.

This time Aemond dares to do more than just kiss you.

#aemond x male!reader #bridgerton!au #this is for the gays #aemond targaryen x male!reader #hotd reader insert

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sequinsmile-x · 6 months

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Stained Glass Windows - Chapter Fifty One

Life was complicated, but they wouldn't have it any other way.

-x-

Hi friends,

As always, thank you so much for your love on this fic! Now we are past chapter 50 it felt like time for another new banner, so I hope you like it!

Also, this chapter of SGW makes my overall word count on AO3 tip over into 1.7 million....which is absurd. That means I am now about 35k words away from having written more words for Hotchniss than there are words in the entire Game of Thrones 'A Song of Fire and Ice' series!! Again...absurd haha

Whilst this chapter, and the next couple in this story, are quite domestic and fluffy....we do have some more drama and hurt/comfort to come.

Please do let me know what you think <3

-x-

Words: 2.9k

A full list of warnings for the fic can be found on the Series Master List and will be updated as we go along.

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Emily blows out a steady breath as she lifts Lily out of her car seat and holds her against her chest.

“You ready?”

She turns to look at Aaron, the understanding smile on his face going some way to make her feel slightly less ridiculous, but not entirely curing the mix of anxiety and guilt swirling in her gut.

It was her first day back at work. The past few months had flown by. The days had been long, sometimes drawn out with very little sleep and a type of exhaustion she hadn’t known existed, but now looking back on it she couldn’t believe her maternity leave was over. Surgery and a traumatic birth she knew she still hadn’t entirely processed felt like they had happened both a lifetime ago and just yesterday simultaneously.

Emily nods tightly, even though she feels anything but, and she watches as he grabs the diaper bag out of the back of her car and then closes the door for her. They’d driven in separately since he had to go straight to the jet once they dropped off Lily for her first day in daycare. Emily had heard something she refused to call panic rise up in her chest as she was making sure she’d packed enough milk for Lily when she heard Aaron’s phone ring. A call at that time in the morning only ever meant one thing - a case, and the thought of dropping their little girl off for the first time, by herself, made her more anxious than staring down a serial killer ever had.

She was sure she’d never loved her husband more than when she heard him say he’d meet the team on the jet, that he had something important to do first. It was one of the moments when she was strangely grateful that she was his second wife, his second chance. He had taken the lessons he’d learnt from the mistakes in his marriage to Haley and was doing what he could to make things right now.

Aaron wraps his arm around Emily, his hand on her shoulder as he guides her into the daycare centre. It was the best one in the state, something that made him feel infinitely better about leaving his little girl here, and mercifully close to work. He knew this was one of the occasions when he had to be the strong one. All of Emily’s nerves and doubts, things that she only let him see, were just beneath her skin, her whole body vibrating with them if he looked close enough. He could push his own feelings down so he could assure her that everything would be fine, that their daughter would spend her day with people trained to look after her.

He smiles as the daycare director approaches them. They’d met her, a kind woman called Jane Martin, once when they came to register Lily. There was an air of reassurance to her, something that seemed unflappable, but Aaron knew that would do nothing to help his wife through the next few minutes.

“Mr and Mrs Hotchner,” Jane says, her smile wide as she walks over, “It’s so lovely to see you,” she turns her attention to Lily, the baby still snuggled in her mother’s arms, “And hello Lily, you somehow got even prettier than the last time I saw you.”

In any other circumstances, Aaron is sure he’d laugh at how his wife holds Lily even tighter, an unnecessary defence mechanism towards the woman they were paying to look after her. He knows now isn’t the time and he clears his throat to cover it, passing the diaper bag over to Jane.

“She ate about 45 minutes ago,” he says, returning his hand to his wife’s lower back, his palm warm through her shirt, “And we’ve labelled the milk up as you instructed.”

Jane nods as she hangs the bag over her shoulder, “I’ll make sure it all gets put in the fridge,” she says, turning back to look at Emily, who was still holding Lily as if she was going to be snatched from her. Jane’s smile turns sympathetic, and Aaron is sure this is something she sees on a daily basis, “Well Lily,” she says, stepping closer, “I think Mommy and Daddy need to go to work.”

There’s a moment of silence, and Emily feels her throat go dry, her heartbeat loud in her head. It was ridiculous, a pull she didn’t understand, but all she wanted to do was run out the front door and take her baby with her. She knew she needed to do this, that her work was part of who she was, part that she had missed in the last few months, but right now, the part of her that wanted to keep her daughter with her at all times was threatening to win out.

“Sweetheart?”

Aaron’s voice and the way his touch on her back gets more insistence draws her back into the moment, and she clears her throat and nods. She tilts her head down to look at Lily, her heart seizing in her chest as her little girl smiles at her. She kisses her forehead and then her cheek, breathing her in like it wouldn’t be a matter of hours until she sees her again.

“Mommy loves you very much,” she says, her lips still pressed against her daughter’s soft cheek, “And I’ll be back to pick you up later, okay?” She kisses her again and pulls back, her lips shaking as she smiles, “I love you.”

Aaron smiles at the sight of them together, something he could never tire of, and his eyebrows start to furrow as he realises his wife is making absolutely no attempt to hand the baby over to either him or Jane. He clears his throat, getting his wife’s attention, “Em-”

“I think you’re going to have to take her from me,” she says, her voice cracking slightly, a sure sign she would lose control of her emotions the second they stepped out into the parking lot, “I…I can’t let go.”

He nods, briefly squeezing her hip to let her know he understood, and then he reaches for Lily, “Come here Lily-pad,” he says, noting the distinct lack of his wife’s chastisement that usually followed his use of the nickname she hates. He takes a moment to hold Lily close, to press a kiss to her cheek, his heart clenching in his chest as she giggles, one of his favourite sounds in the world, “Daddy loves you too, and I’ll be home as soon as I can.”

He smiles at Jane as he passes Lily to her, his fingers twitching to take her back as soon as she’s no longer in his embrace. Instead, he wraps his arm around his wife, holding her slightly tighter than he usually would in a public setting just in case she tried to bolt.

“You have our numbers if you need anything,” Emily says, her eyes fixed on her daughter as she speaks to Jane, “I’ll just be a few miles away, I can come any time.”

Jane nods patiently, once again obviously very used to this, to the difficulty parents had in letting go, and she smiles, “Of course Mrs Hotchner,” she shifts Lily so she’s facing them a little better, holding her tiny wrist up and helping her wave at her parents, “Say bye bye Lily.”

Emily and Aaron say goodbye simultaneously and she feels rooted to the spot until Aaron starts to turn her, his hand gentle but firm on her as he guides her back into the parking lot. As soon as the door is closed, as soon as they are alone, she wraps her arms around him tightly, sinking into the comfort he willingly gives her.

“She’ll be fine, baby,” he assures her, stamping a kiss to the side of her head as he runs a hand up and down her back, “We picked this place because it’s the best, remember?”

She nods against him and sniffs. She pulls back and wipes a stray tear from her cheek, shaking her head at herself as she does so, “I feel ridiculous for crying,” she says, an edge of frustration in her voice. She looks back into the building but she can’t see Lily anymore and she blows out a breath, “It’s stupid but I miss her already.”

“It isn’t ridiculous or stupid,” he assures her, wiping a tear from her cheek as he cups it to make her look at him, “I feel the same way. Do you want to know why?” He asks and she nods, drawing a small smile out of him, “It’s because we’re her parents.”

She chuckles humourlessly, “Does it get any easier?”

Even though she missed Jack whenever he wasn’t around, this felt different. It had always been a part of her relationship with the boy she loved as her own - saying hello and then see you soon, something she was used to. She’d never been separated from Lily for more than a couple of hours at most, and she’d missed her every second.

“No,” Aaron says, wiping another tear from her face, smiling when she frowns at him, “It doesn’t.”

She scoffs, “You couldn’t lie to me?”

He leans in and presses a kiss to her lips, “Never have, never will.”

She hums and leans into him, wrapping her arms around his middle as she rests her cheek against his jacket, any usual concerns about getting make up on his suit nowhere to be found.

“Tell me something good?”

He smiles and cups the back of her head, his fingers tangled in hair she still complained was too short, “In a few hours you’ll go pick her up and you’ll be able to tell her all about how amazing your first day at work was, and how her mommy is a superhero.”

She pulls back and smiles at him, biting on the inside of her cheek in an attempt to contain it, “You’re sweet,” she checks the time on her watch over his shoulder, “And you’re also late.”

He kisses her again, “You’re sure you’re okay?”

She nods, even though she’s not sure, and she kisses him before she pulls back, “I’ll be fine,” she says as she steps towards her car, “Be safe. I love you.”

“Love you too,” he replies, digging his keys out of his pocket, “Let me know how your first day goes.”

She winks at him and blows him a kiss as she gets into her car. She pulls the door closed behind her and spots the empty car seat in her rearview mirror. She closes her eyes and gives herself a moment, blowing out a slow steady breath as she tries to force herself from the mindset she’d been in for weeks into the one she’d had for years.

She opens her eyes and looks at the car seat’s reflection again before meeting her own eyes in the mirror. She was Emily Hotchner, wife and mother, and she had to remember how to be Emily Prentiss, FBI Special Agent all over again.

She just hoped the day would come when she’d be able to feel like both without feeling like she was failing at one of them.

___

Emily is torn from sleep by a familiar sound, her daughter’s cries waking her up what felt like mere minutes after she’d finally drifted off. She struggled to sleep without Aaron next to her, the warmth of his body, the safety of his embrace, allowing her to relax and rest in ways she would have once thought impossible. She missed him when he was away on cases, the luxury they’d once had of always being together when she was still on the team something that was in the past.

Her first day back at work had been good. It felt strange to be part of a new team, to get to know people whose faces she’d seen before around the office but had never spoken to more than polite conversation in the kitchen or elevator. She felt out of sorts and out of practice, trying to balance proving her worth, something her language skills had done almost immediately like when she joined the BAU, and pumping milk in the bathroom before her breasts felt like they were going to explode.

The relief she’d felt at the end of the day when she’d picked Lily up was palpable. A tightness in her chest that had only loosened the second she saw her little girl, when she held her in her arms. Aaron had called at the time he knew they’d be getting home even though he was busy with work trying to pin down a spree killer in the midwest.

Emily groans as she sits up, blearily rubbing her eyes as she looks at the time, noting it had only been about 90 minutes since she’d last checked it. She smiles at Lily as she leans over the bassinet and picks her up, shushing the infant by instinct, her lips against her forehead as she settles back onto the bed with her daughter on her chest.

“Mommy’s got you, sweet girl,” she says, whispering even though it was only the two of them in the house, both of them now awake despite the unsociable hour, “What’s wrong, huh?” Lily continues to cry, one of her tiny fists in her mouth as she turns her head towards Emily’s chest. Emily chuckles softly as she adjusts her hold on the baby, unbuttoning her pyjama shirt so she can start to feed her daughter, “Daddy always says you’re like me,” she says, shifting Lily so latches on, the sensation, although still painful at times, was something Emily was used to now, the strangeness that had once existed with it long gone, “But he’s always hungry just like you,” she says, stroking Lily’s cheek, “And you both have a thing for my breasts.”

She leans back against the headrest and lets out a yawn, her eyes fixed on her daughter as she eats. When it was just the two of them like this she couldn’t help but wonder about what it was like when she was as young as Lily. If her mother had woken up in the night with her, or if the nannies Emily remembered from her earliest memories had always been around. There were so many gaps in her knowledge of when she was a baby, questions she’d never been able to ask her mother, their relationship not one that allowed for queries about whether she’d been breastfed or not, whether she’d been fussy or slept through the night. It was hard to imagine either of her parents getting up with her, impossible to picture them exhausted as the baby who turned out to be their only child kept them up all night.

She couldn’t picture them looking at her the way she looked at Lily, awe and love and adoration seeping out of every pore no matter the time of day or night.

She knew her parents loved her, that there must have been joy somewhere along the line. Excitement when they realised they were having a baby, relief when she was born safely despite her slightly early arrival, but that knowledge made everything worse. They’d both chosen something else over her, whether it be a new life completely or alcohol, and she couldn’t imagine ever doing that with Lily or Jack, or any other children that she may have. They would always be her priority, and she would spend her whole life making sure they knew that.

Emily sighs as she feels the guilt from that morning return, the burning feeling in her chest she was sure she would get used to. A phantom sensation she’d only ever realise was there when she paid attention to it.

“Mommy loves you so much,” she says, smiling at the sight of an increasingly sleepy Lily, the baby milk drunk as she pulls away from her mother’s chest, seemingly full for now. Emily lifts her so she's against her shoulder, gently patting her back as she kisses her temple, “I hope you never doubt that for a second.”

She smiles as her response is a burp, and she kisses Lily’s temple again before she sits up, placing her back in her bassinet. Emily yawns as she re-buttons her pyjama shirt unevenly, not caring enough to start again, and she lays back down. Her phone vibrates and she picks it up, squinting at the bright light as she reads a text from her husband on the screen.

Hope you are asleep. We got the unsub, I should be home with you by morning. Love you.

She smiles as she types out a quick response, locking her phone and placing it down on the nightstand before she snuggles back into the covers, breathing in the scent of her and her husband on their sheets.

Love you too. If you wake our daughter up when you open the front door we’re never having sex again.

-x-

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