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romanoffsbish · 10 months

Text

A Vintage Taste

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!R

Warnings: Red Room Trauma.

Word Count: 5,048

Natasha was a collector, a curator of the finest things the world had to offer. She obtained rare artifacts meant for museums, paintings made by the historical elites, and a very long list of other various means of artistic expression.

If she wanted it, it became hers, even if that meant breaking laws from time to time to secure it. Money is power, so she ruled.

——

One of the things she collected, what actually inspired her to start her life of curating, was a porcelain doll with the prettiest of features. It was given to her by her neighbor friend, Sara, as a way to say goodbye before she moved.

Natasha loved that doll more than life itself, which wasn't hard to believe with the life she'd been dealt. It broke her heart when she woke up in the army vehicle to find it was gone.

Dreykov grinned devilishly at the little girl, he held the delicate antique in his hands, she sobbed openly knowing of her cruel, twisted fate. Tears cascaded down pale cheeks as the man ripped the doll in two, tearing away her far off dream of a full life, taking away her will to fight for that dream; but it didn't die.

It was a long time before she obtained that freedom, and it's been an even longer time since she escaped to chase a new one.

A dream that lead her right to you.

She remembers the first time she walked down the streets of New York with Clint, he'd taken a strong liking to her. A paternalistic need to show her love, and to show her how life could be; the inspiration for his willingness to walk down the streets of a bustling Manhattan.

He was blabbering on about all he'd planned for the day, just to find he'd lost her attention to a little hole in the wall thrift shop. He had jogged back to her, ready to scold her for not stopping him, but he paused at her expression.

Natasha was transfixed on a doll, he'd seen her reflection surrounding it, slightly muffling its features, but he saw the redheads clearly. There was a spark of vulnerability in her eyes that he knew ran deep, it was the first time he'd ever seen her walls fall like this. It was sweet.

Clint shook his shoulders of his trepidation for the sake of the redhead. Superstition had him in a chokehold but he didn't have it in his heart to break hers so he bought the 'creepy' hunk of porcelain for her anyways. Then he silently vowed to take a bath in salt to placate karma.

Years later he told Nat about that feeling, and his noble act of bravery. She then watched in amusement as the Avenger jumped at the sight of five dolls clustered in a corner. Laughing in his face mockingly as she felt truly offended.

His words of misfortune proved untrue, only a year after she found that doll did she find you.

Her precious Y/N, you were the picture of perfection in her eyes that only sparkled for you. Your gorgeous features showed of an equally as tormented upbringing, but your heart radiated with a joy that was unfazed.

You kept your heart, and made her reminisce.

You were undeniably warm, she was shivering. So she gravitated to you without fear, her eyes hopeful, and you took her in without question.

Now Natasha sits in her reading cove, watching the rain pelt against the slanted windows of the roof. Nervously she tapped her short, red nails against the cracked spine of her favorite book as she anxiously awaited for you to return.

You'd only had to drop the kids off with Yelena, which she knows is a half hour trip with your fifteen minutes of silly gossiping at the door.

"Kate Bishop" this and "Natalia" that, she knew the drill, and she wholeheartedly adored it.

But it'd been over an hour now, and you weren't answering any of her texts or calls. Never did she let her defenses fall, retirement for her didn't come with the dream of peace. It came with risks, and to lose her edge over the enemies could be catastrophic for many.

Natasha breathed a sigh of relief, if not for the sudden, and adored sound of gravel crunching beneath tires she'd have called for backup.

"Where were you?" Natasha shrieked as she graciously made her way down the slippery cobblestone steps with an umbrella meant to shield you from the storm. You waited in the drivers seat, a knowing glint in your eyes as she reached for your hand to safely guide you out.

She'd always been so cautious with you, her fragile doll from the very first day you met.

Natasha was enamored by you, and you were just as curious about her. The attraction was instant, and the relationship moved fast.

You shook your head with a silly smile as you looked down to her bare feet, eyes curious as they moved up over her delectable, creamy thighs exposed to the world, and finally over the swell of her breasts to thin camisole straps.

Natasha smirked, then winked. "I'm Russian."

You cackled, head thrown back, the jolt was more than enough to make Natasha's hand move to your back to stabilize you. Effectively pulling you closer, lips hovering over yours as she whispered: "Where were you doll?"

You swallowed thickly, arms wrapping around her neck so you could kiss her swiftly. A failed means of distraction, her question only being hotly repeated into your mouth. You'd wanted to surprise her, but the chance was fading.

"I had to get Lena some groceries," you start, "She agreed to have the kids all week if I only got her enough food to satiate Milo's appetite."

"And her own I'm sure," Natasha teased.

You giggled, "Yeah, when I found fifteen boxes of mac and cheese on her list I realized that."

Natasha rolled her eyes but kept her smile fond. Her little sister was so childish it was adorable, but say that word to the blonde and suddenly it becomes an apparent falsehood.

"Then I had to get another epi-pen for the car for Eli as I gave the actual one to Yelena."

Natasha hummed, her agreement clear in your thoughtful decision. "You're so precious."

Your nosed scrunched and Natasha swooned. You'd always get even more adorable when she spoke so sweetly to you, cherishing you into a state of awkward appreciation. Love abounding in a way that almost felt suffocating, but you managed to settle into the warmth every time.

Her love was a safety net you hardly ever left.

Your lover saw the look in your eyes had hazed over some, she knew you had clear intentions for how tonight's going to go without your four year old son, and two year old daughter here.

"I also got us a few groceries as well," you say suddenly, popping the lust cloud swarming around your heads. Natasha nodded, and then wasted no time passing over the umbrella, and ushering you into the house, saying that she'd grab the groceries from the back seat for you.

You hesitated, but relented. She pecked your lips softly. "Hold onto the railing sweetheart."

"I will mommy," you appeased, purposeful in your chosen phrase as you ascended into the cottage. Lingerie you managed to hide burning the skin beneath your thick grey overcoat.

Natasha was hot on your heels, she tossed your bags of food onto the hardwood table without much consideration to if you'd gotten eggs. Her greedy hands pushed you into the marble counter, but before she could fully pounce your hands pressed to her chest. "You're dripping on my floors Natalia, take a shower, and relax."

You were playin dumb now, Natasha loved it, feigning shock at her movements as if you didn't egg her on with the use of your words.

Natasha acquiesced, leaving you to reheat the borscht you'd prepared the night before, knowing that it's best served reheated. Giving it ample time to steep in a fridge overnight.

While she took an expectantly fast shower you unloaded your groceries, and began to make a half dozen chocolate covered strawberries for a dessert, you then slipped them into the freezer.

You grabbed wine glasses, preparing your wife a glass of white, before topping off your own.

Then you pulled the bread from the oven, the outside was crunchy, and the rest soft. You plated two each on your finest China bowls, smeared them with butter, then lifted them moments later to layer the borscht beneath.

Natasha made it down just in time to see your bare ass before you were taking your seat. She looked you over with disdain for your apron.

You looked her over with your breath caught in your throat. It appears you were no longer the only one teasing, she'd joined, and played well.

The redhead had settled on slipping into a grey, ribbed tank that fit tightly to her body. Her bulky muscles were flexed as she curved her arms beneath her breasts, shifting your attention to them without a stutter in gaze.

Natasha smirked as she took her seat across from you. "Dinner looks great doll, thank you for always taking such good care of me."

"Mhm." You smiled. "I love taking care of you."

Natasha dug into her food, dipping the bread into the stew, making sure to get some of the dolloped sour cream to ensure a well rounded bite. The redhead moaned genuinely as the flavors melded over her tongue harmoniously.

You chuckled, "Do you like it Natty?"

"It's amazing sweetheart, so, so delicious."

"Thank you mommy," you softly giggled, more to yourself as the redhead took a sip of wine.

It wasn't long before she yearned for you in a way that was undeniable. Yearning for you was a constant for her, but this time was different. Natasha could feel the thrum of her heart in her ears, she shook her head and cleared her throat as she felt the sensation trickling down. Landing in her cunt where she felt a pulse.

She eyed the wine in her hand suspiciously now, taking note of the granules you'd failed to dissolve. It was a purposeful choice she's sure.

Natasha saw you grinning over your own glass, you let the tainted beverage slosh against the sides, swirling the cup with confidence as you focused back in on your nearly empty bowl.

Natasha slurped her last bit down, a low groan following the lewd noise and you felt your body tense. The stimulant was working rapidly.

You collected the empty bowls, walking away with a tantalizing sway of your hips. Natasha adjusted her posture, legs manspreading as she focused on your every move. The hem of her boxers digging into her skin as her high tech strap began to harden, bulging the fabric out.

Natasha cursed the forced adrenaline running through her veins. She intended to take her time with you, but now she's not so sure she won't bend you over the counter right now.

You pulled something from the freezer, and returned with a bright smile as you plated the strawberries in front of her. They shined with the help of the condensation on the chocolate. Natasha smiled at the plate, it was sweet, and above all else appreciative—a silent thank you.

You rewarded her manners with a gasp, "Oh my Natty, I'm still wearing my apron..." She shook her head as you turned your back to her, she understood the request, but before untying it she made sure to lavish your backside with open mouth kisses and occasional love bites.

When you turned back around you looked momentarily dazed, then you were back to smiling with a glint of mischief as you lifted the apron over your head and finally let it fall.

Natasha's eyes widened as you became fully exposed to her. There were straps adorning your skin, but fortunately nothing inherently crucial was shielded from her wandering gaze.

In the sweetest way possible you'd dressed up for her. Bridging the line between heartfelt and downright depraved. With your breasts and glistening cunt free of imprisoning fabric she was ready to pounce. She originally thought being able to see your bare backside minus the thong was a real treat. This was her nirvana.

But then she stuttered as she appreciated the way black strand's holding the lingerie over your shoulders and backside change into red when she looks to your abdomen. The emblem of her retired superhero persona covers your skin, with white lace to replicate an intricate web interlaced between the hourglass lines.

Natasha beckoned you over with a slow curl of her finger, you breathed in deep before obliging her as you tried to come down after imagining her doing that inside you instead.

You straddled her lap, legs stretched to their limits as she didn't close hers even an inch. Natasha lifted a strawberry to your lips, you obediently parted them so she could push the strawberry passed them. Nat softly tutted when you naturally tried to bite into the delicacy, "Patience doll, let mommy soften it some..."

Natasha played with you, pushing it passed your lips, only to pull it out before you could manage to taste the chocolate that was melting. Fucking your mouth with a coated strawberry wasn't exactly on her sex bucket list, but when inspiration strikes, she's one to run with it.

"Take a bite baby," she finally whispered, and you bit into the strawberry, the desired crunch of the chocolate ruined by your warm lips, but you didn't mind much when the richness of the melted chocolate bloomed more noticeably.

Natasha used her thumb to catch the juice that ran down your chin, she slid the digit into her mouth with a content hum. Then she wanted more and reached out for you, hand behind your neck guiding you to lean your body into hers so she could capture your lips with hers.

Her tongue slowly slid over yours, hot and heavy breaths being exchanged as she sought to taste the dessert that laid upon your tongue. Natasha moaned as the sweet, tart flavors were able to mix so flawlessly with your own taste.

There was just always something so delicious about you, the redhead could spend hours alone just kissing you until you were out of it.

Normally she'd kiss you until your lips were swollen, and tears were flowing down your cheeks at the desperation you felt for more.

But this isn't one of those times since every single touch from you burned her, with that pleasurable ache residing in her lower belly only growing more prominent as she kissed you sloppily, she knew it was a wrap on taking it slow. It hurt, but she knew that her usual love for devouring your lips would have to be set aside, the kissing becoming shorter.

Especially when you caused Natasha to lose sight of the bigger picture, your pleasure. She groaned huskily into your mouth as your hips instinctually ground down into hers, smearing your wetness all over her cotton boxers.

The moment her strap hardened fully against her boxers you groaned, then began running your slit over it without wavering in the power of your thrusts. This idea that you'd turned her on so much that she already activated the nerve trackers in the strap to make it work made you particularly feral. The overwhelming smell of you as you smeared your arousal all over her boxers left her in the same desperate state.

"Slow down doll," she purred against your neck, her buff arms wrapped around you to keep you from still rutting into her aimlessly. "Mommy needs to eat you out sweetheart, it feels like I might die if I can't taste you soon."

Natasha didn't give you much time to respond, she simply lifted you up onto the dining room table and buried her face between your legs with a sigh of unbridled contentment. Taking what was hers, and holding no remorse. Not that she needed to with the way you were singing her praises. A cocky smirk raising her wetted cheeks as her tongue flicked over your clit and she heard as you forgot how to breathe.

"Fuck, mommy, I'm so close," you cried out as she swirled her tongue within your greatest depths. Natasha drove her tongue even deeper and your back arched off the table, your thighs trembled and you finally drenched her cheeks.

Natasha's eyes found yours within an instant, she slowly lifted her head to reveal an almost predatory smile, her lower face glistened under the soft yellow lights of your dining room, and you found yourself struck by her raw beauty.

No one could ever compare, not to you at least, she was a step above the rest in your eyes.

"What's on your mind doll?" Natasha was now hovering above you with a playful smirk, she could see you lost in something deeper than the haze, it nearly worried her until you smiled. It was goofy, and kind, a reminder of just why she loved you so deeply. "You're so beautiful."

Her heart burst with adoration, every day she found herself falling more in love with you, something she once thought to be impossible.

She never expected her life to be like this. From the mornings spent wrapped up in each other, the soft kisses you two would exchange just before the giggling commenced as the toddler’s came bounding into your bed for snuggles. To the nights like these, where your bare bodies entangled with one another’s more intimately. This life with you was like a dream come true.

Natasha leant down to kiss you, it was softer than the moment initially called for, but it was what you, her sweetest girl, truly deserved. “Thank you baby,” she whispered, smiling against your lips. “But I’m nowhere near as beautiful as the sounds you’re going to make.”

The glint in her eyes read of danger, her lips quirked up as realization washed over you just in time for her finger's to slip inside. "Fuck." Your fingers dug into the muscles around her shoulder blades as the pleasure overtook you, your head hitting the table as your back arched.

Natasha roughly nipped at the stretched skin of your throat as she steadily thrusted into your cunt, your slick was so abundant that it was pooling and leaving behind a polish for the table that was already being rubbed in by your backside that jiggled with every harsh thrust.

Once you came around her fingers with a throat scratching, incoherent scream Natasha pulled out of you against your bodies natural pull to keep her locked in place. You whined, but she pressed her lips to yours, and caught your moan as her strap easily slid inside you.

"I'm going to fuck you to sleep doll," Natasha spoke in a whisper, her teasing breath rushing over the heated skin of your neck enacting a scattering of goosebumps to rise on your body.

You felt impossibly warm, body buzzing with a need, the warmth only intensified as she licked from your throat to your earlobe, seductively whispering: "Then I'm going to continue to fuck you until you cum back to life."

To emphasize the truth in her words she rocked her hips back, then sharply thrusted back inside your dripping heat where she belonged. The anatomically ambiguous tip of her strap hit your cervix, inspiring a delicious mix of pain and pleasure to course throughout your body. You rewarded her with a moan.

Your continued flurry of sounds as she railed you were more symphonic than any of Beethoven's compositions. In moments like these, thick with infatuation and driven almost exclusively by lust, Natasha had found herself concocting devious plans. Like the one where she plans to one day open a museum for you.

One where the walls shook as your glorious sounds reverberated off of them, a continuous loop of your labored breath intermixed with whorish moans and squelching noises from her fucking your pussy so well it was singing.

There'd be photos scattered on the walls, in many forms such as: polaroids, like the one of you with your eyes crossed as she fucked her strap down your throat, or the ones of your tits. The visual possibilities would be endless.

There would also be film strips from sex tapes. They'd be raunchy stills, in sepia, scattered on a wall that surrounds a boxed off area with a single oak door meant for walking through.

Natasha would guide you in with a corrupted hand on your lower back. There'd be an old timey projector, and you'd watch with your mouth agape as videos you'd never seen before broadcast just how filthy you two can get.

Then she'd recreate those scenes with you as they played in real time, never letting your eyes stray away from the screen. Just so she could see your face when it turns into a livestream of the both of you. She imagined you'd clench around her fingers as you saw the screen, she can picture the look of surprise that would soon fade to embarrassment before bliss.

The idea arouses her to no end, especially because she knows you'd melt at the gesture. Natasha was nothing short of romantic, she made it her mission to never stop wooing you.

This would be a personal project of course, never opened to the public because Natasha doesn't much believe in the sharing is caring mantra. No, she believes instead that since she fought through thick and thin just to have you that you would be hers alone. It was only fair. You felt the same about her, whenever anyone ever came close to her in your younger years you'd send them home shitting themselves.

Possession in relationships could be rather daunting, most times it became overbearing. But with each other, it's a peaceful process, it's the only way the two of you know how to exist. More to the point, was that this was wanted.

Natasha stayed true to her promise, she always did. It was after you'd cum for her three times, with this brutal pace being set, and she'd had you teetering on another edge of unforgiving bliss that it began to become a reality.

Her first, and likely only orgasm was intense as she felt herself clench around her end. Sharp teeth sinking into the skin at the juncture of your neck and shoulder as it tore through her. Thus activating the finale you’d anticipated.

On your end you felt as the strap externally warmed, and twitched as if this was a real sequence. Then her warm, genuine semen filled the stretched space between the walls of your quivering cunt, in toe curling abundance, it even came sloshing out onto your thighs.

A silent scream echoed through the vibrations against her lips on your neck, no sound left you, but she knew. The way your body trembled beneath hers was fascinating, but it was when you completely slumped against the table that she felt her movements become feral.

“Fuck, I love it when you do this,” she grunted, her hips continued to fuck the strap into you, her arms holding up your limp legs, causing her to reach your furthest depths, and ensure her cum made it deep into your barren womb.

Natasha admired your raw beauty, your face calm, but occasionally twitching from pleasure. All too suddenly she added that extra bit of pressure to your neglected clit, and in seconds your upper body rose off the table with a shriek as you were overcome by pleasure, what’d put you to sleep had also been like an alarm clock.

“Mommy, please, no more,” you cried, as your hands tried to push her away, but it was never of any use when you did that. You knew what to say to make her stop, but you never did, because you both knew you loved this feeling.

All you ever did while weakly protesting her lust was create red lines on her chiseled biceps that she’d look to fondly the following morning as the hot water from your shared shower makes it sting. “It’s okay, let mommy make sure her seed is gonna stick doll, just a couple more seconds and then it’ll be over, I promise.”

A couple of seconds turned into a minute though, as she lazily kept up the rocking of her hips. The sloshing sound of your cunt slowly became drowned out by your whines from the overstimulation. Natasha knew you couldn’t handle another intense round, so she stilled, not wanting to work herself back up either.

The drugs had officially worn off, her urge to devour you was now back to her average, which was still high, but there’s always tomorrow. For now you needed rest. “See doll,” she purred, tongue tracing over the bruising mark she’d just left behind on your neck. “We’re all done.”

Natasha pulled out of you, slipping the plug she’d already had with her inside of you, her lips peppered your face with kisses as she too worked to calm you down. Natasha hated to see you in pain, but she wanted to ensure the third and final addition to her family took.

This was it, the last of her scientifically engineered seed, what gave her the chance at motherhood that was once torn from her, and she didn’t want to have to ask Tony, the smug man, or Bruce, the jealous ass to make more. Fortunately, with her super soldier serum in the mix the cum was potent, it’s never failed.

When you whined again, she shushed you, “It’ll be okay love, we just have to be secure.” You nodded tiredly, eyes fluttering open again as your body had regulated some. You smiled up at the redhead in a dopy, lovesick fashion. “You're always so good to me," you sighed dreamily as you met her lips for a perfect kiss.

Natasha smiled genuinely. "You're my most prized possession, you deserve cherishing."

"You're mine too," you sheepishly admitted, and the woman's eyes shone with tears that you quickly kissed as they slipped down her cheek. "My entire life is you and the kids."

At the mention of your kids, your unending love personified, Natasha grinned widely. Her hands caressed the skin of your stomach. "I hope it works." She kissed your tummy then she smiled up at you shyly. "For good luck."

"Yeah?" She shrugged then swiftly moved back up to kiss your lips with uncontainable passion. "Mhm." Her arms wrapped around your body, and she stood up with you with far too much ease. "Now let's go get you cleaned up love."

Her strength was truly mesmerizing, even after all this time with her you were still amazed that she could carry you. Especially when she still stayed so gentle after the rough sex. Natasha could break you with ease, fortunately, she never would. You were like a fragile doll, but you’re one that would never be made to break.

The redhead cleaned you both up as quickly as she could before slipping off to make a snack for the two of you to share. She settled on some carrots with ranch, and a PB & J to split, she even threw on a few chips for your happiness. After scarfing down the food, she made sure you had an entire bottle of water before she settled you onto the mattress with care.

Natasha laid behind you on her side, her arm wrapped around your waist protectively. She had you pulled into her, back pressed to her front without much space between your bodies. Every time, without fail, after a passionate night together you'd find yourself like this. The both of you cherished these sweet moments.

"I love you," Natasha whispered as she kissed your bare shoulder, breaking the peaceful silence that had settled over your bodies.

You momentarily turned to face her, kissing her lips tenderly. "I love you too Natty."

The redhead kept you there a moment longer, lips lingering over the marks already forming on your throat until she returned to your lips.

"Get some sleep doll," she softly commanded, then she retook her rightful place behind you.

The both of you were physically exhausted, but your minds were racing with the excitement of what just took place. Hope for life reignited in ways that left you restless and wide awake.

So you watched the rain run down the window, multiple lines in a race of sorts it seemed, you'd silently placed bets on the winner. "I think the one on the right is gonna win," you yawned, Natasha chuckled, "The what is gonna what?"

"It's too late," you yawned again, "I was wrong because they met in the middle and merged."

Natasha snorted, "Go to sleep now doll, you're clearly losing it." She pulled you in closer as you grumbled a hey in protest. Then you rolled over so you could lay with your face in her neck and place a few gentle kisses to her collarbone.

"Goodnight Natty." Natasha stayed up for another hour after you, simply relishing in the way your body felt so close to hers. How perfect you were under the soft casting from the moon, the subtle rise and fall of your chest a reminder that you're alive, and this love was indeed real.

Her tired eyes flitted around the room until she found the tattered doll she once adored. The one she repaired in secrecy, and that looked just like you, her wildest dream come true.

Reminiscent eyes fell back to you with ease. “Moya krasivaya kukla.” She’d smiled softly before pecking your parted lips. Your nose scrunched adorably, but fortunately you had remained fast asleep in her arms, the corner of her eyes crinkled in response. “I love you so.”

(My beautiful doll)

Natasha was once a collector, but it seemed that after she found you the thrill was gone. Expectedly so, there was no longer a need for it; she'd curated her standalone masterpiece.

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librarycards · 4 months

Note

hello! i apologize in advance this is probably something that you get asked a lot. but do you have any recs on literary magazines to submit to? im a trans poet, ive been writing for over a decade but never shared anything and ive been wanting to try to send my stuff to get it published somewhere. obv ive been google searching but theres so many big and small publications and i was wondering if you have ones you like especially and/or tips on how to choose a magazine/journal to submit to. thanks a lot! <3

no worries, thank you for reaching out!! i've been publishing for like 8 years + an editor for almost 4, so i always appreciate the opportunity to help people new to the world find ethical publications that will treat their work with the care it deserves.

first and foremost: there are going to be pubs out there that are awesome and i don't know about. you may be the one to discover them for yourself! one aid in finding the best mag for your work is the wonderful, writer-created chillsubs. it's a fantastic platform that keeps a huge list of mags and presses and their relevant stats, and lets you create an account and bookmark those you're interested in. everyone i know uses them, and it's very worth it given the sheer volume of mags out there.

i also have some recs of my own, ofc. i'm going to list them below. if they pay (which i prioritize) I'll mark them with a $. some are trans/queer focused and some aren't, but all are pubs i've either edited and/or published with and can confirm their ethics + respect for writers.

manywor(l)ds - my mag! i'm co-founder and eic. break genre _ shapeshift with us. ($)

Sinister Wisdom - old, well-regarded lesbian+ lit mag, now open to everyone who is/loves a dyke. I'm guest-editing an issue on Madness with them, now open for submissions!

fifth wheel press - run by a beloved friend and comrade of mine. i've published here. excellent transparency, care, great for first-timers. ($).

kith books - headed by trans literary icon kat blair. a mag/press/community centered around bodymind non-conformity and noncompliance.

Honey Literary - QTPOC-centered, unabashedly pop-culture + social justice oriented. the vibes are simply immaculate.

Whale Road Review - not queer/trans focused, more oriented toward....'grown up' poetry/prose/pedagogy papers. Katie Manning (eic) is a fucking gem.

Graphic Violence Lit - just had my first experience publishing with them, and their care + consideration for the whole writer is amazing. they publish boundary-pushing work.

beestung - one of the brainchildren of Sarah Clark. nb/gq/2s SFF. I just edited a few guest issues w them and have published with them. amazing work. ($)

A Velvet Giant - genrequeer work. the editors are experienced, enthusiastic, and amazing at promoting writers long after publication. it's a family! ($)

Ethel Zine + Press - handmade with love by Sara Lefsyk (as you can see, trans/nonbinary/2s sarahs dominate indie publishing, as well we should :3). Sara is a sensitive and care-full editor and bookmaker whose every publication is a work of art.

Protean - pro- as in proletariat. awesome left mag with a mix of politics and culture and everything in between. they take reprints! ($)

Mudroom - publish your work along with a picture of your mudroom/shoe rack. very responsive editors who will hype you tf up. ($)

The Institutionalized Review - for psych survivors. the editors concreteness of vision and dedication to their community know no bounds.

Just Femme + Dandy - queer and fashion-focused! led by the inimitable Addie Tsai. They pay *handsomely*. ($)

In addition, there are also some "big" mags I have had excellent experiences publishing with and wanted to shout out. These are harder for a beginner to break into, but worth keeping on your radar + have been fantastic to me as a writer.

Electric Lit

Split Lip Magazine

The Offing

Nat. Brut

Santa Fe Writers' Project

Bodega

New Orleans Review

Augur Magazine

I hope this is helpful to you + others! the literary world is ever-changing and this is just a snapshot. Hopefully you find some that you like!

#ask #anonymous #writing #literary magazines #lit mag #call for submissions

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axelsagewrites · 9 months

Text

Aemond Targaryen*Poloraids

Pairing: modern! Aemond x f! Reader

Word count: 2373

Part Two at bottom

Warnings: nudes, talks of sex, phone sex, sex toys, nipple play, dom Aemond, slight bratting, teasing, smut 18+

A/n: wrote this on my notes app and posting on mobile cause I can't sleep so pls forgive formating errors till I can check on my laptop tomorrow but for now enjoy desperate Aemond phone sex

Masterlist here

You had only been apart from Aemond for a mere three weeks but in that time you missed him more than you could have imagined. He was off to his dream college while you packed up to go to your own dream school. Aemond would never even think of asking you to follow him or potentially ruin your dream and had insisted you would survive the distance.

He was only a four hour drive away but being in your freshman year you barely had time to sleep let alot drive four hours one way to see your boyfriend. Maybe after the first semester it would be easier but for now you had to be content with late night phone calls and the letters he sent.

Yes Aemond had insisted on writing letters. You both wrote a letter to each other the last night you spent together before he left for college and mailed it out to the others dorm. You usually got two, sometimes three letters a week and of course you always returned his mail.

While you kept each other up to date on life and school over the phone the letters were a more personal touch, romantic even. Aemond did his best to write you poety even if English was not his strong suit. You just new he was blushing as you read his poems all those miles away. He'd sometimes send small packages with the letters. This ranged from books he thought you'd like to a sweatshirt from his college that he had worn for a week and covered in his cologne.

You almaot made sure to put just as much love into your mail. Your letters rambled on for pages about what you missed about him and the life you would build after university. He'd gifted you a Polaroid camera and a stack of film before you had left and you made sure to include pictures of you in your dorm, your campus, and the sights around you. Aemond had sent you a snap of his desk set up with your poloraids pinned around his reminder board, a picture of you unpacking your dorm with a cheesy grin right beside where his laptop would sit.

However while you knew you would miss him you hadn't even thought about how much you'd miss his touch. And not just his hugs which always warmed your heart but for gods sake you had never been so horny. Your roommates boyfriend was only a building away and you were jealous every time she came back with hickeys covering her neck and mascara smudged under her eyes.

"Don't worry you'll see your precious Aemond eventually," Sara joked after you had admitted to you jealous states, "then he can fuck your brains out so you're not so tense,"

"I'm not tense," but you were. So fucking tense.

It was one night when you caught Sara taking suggestive pics out the corner of your eye did you get the idea. Your eyes fell to the poloraid camera on your desk. So far you had never sent Aemond any kind of explicit pictures like that. Sure you did your best to look good when you snapped him but he'd never asked for a nude and you had never thought of sending them. But maybe if you started it, like the mail, he would return the favour.

When Aemonds latest letter came in the mail Sara happened to be out the dorm and staying the night at her boyfriend jaces frat house. After reading the letter your eyes fell to the camera. You racked your mind for a few moments, wondering if the reason why Aemond had never asked was because he never wanted them. But what guy would turn that down, you wondered. Plus it wasn't like you and Aemond hadn't done stuff in the past. He was always sneaking into your house to get his hands all over you.

Fuck it, you thought. You quickly rummaged through your drawers, finding the few nice lingerie pieces you had brought with you before you settled into wearing Aemonds boxers and a sports bra religiously.

You quickly slid into the black lacey bra and thong set you had convinced yourself you would wear to a party for a confidence boost and never had. It had been one of Aemonds favourites before you left for college. You did your best to straighten the sheets and hide your clutter as you set up for the first photo.

You took a few moments trying to get into the perfect pose before snapping a picture of your chest, sticking your tits out to make them pop. And boy did they look good. When you saw them printed on the film you couldn't help the ego boost when you saw yourself dolled up. You moved the camera lower, taking a picture of your hips and thighs, twisting your body into the poses you'd seen on dirty magazines.

You took a couple more in that set, trying the recreate some tiktok recommended poses you'd seen, when you suddenly really started to feel yourself. You changed quickly into another set, a dark red body you had bought for the first time Aemond would visit you. You were sure he wouldn't mind you wearing it without him when he saw the results. This time you made sure to capture your ass perfectly, loving how it looked in the angles you tried.

Then came your last idea. Your eyes fell to the sweatshirt he had sent you. You quickly stripped off the lingerie and tugged on a more simple thong that still looked amazing on. You slipped into the hoodie, letting yourself emerse yourself in his smell. This time your pictures were you sat at your desk, set up as if you were studying but you lifted the camera to a high angle so he could see your bare thighs. Next you lifted the shirt, giving him a show of your underboob and waist. Then finally one last pic of you bent over the desk as if you were waiting for him.

As you snapped the last pic you heard Sara's key in the lock and quickly sprinter to jump under your covers, trying to look as innocent as possible as you put the printed Polaroids under the covers.

The next day you finished writing your letter and slipped in four of the nine poloraids you had taken. You made sure to sit them behind the letter in the envelope since you didn't need his roommate getting a private show. You posted the letter and did your best to act casual over the phone with Aemond but you couldn't help feel anxious about his reaction.

Two days later your phone rang as you were sat in bed finishing an essay on your laptop. "Hey baby," you greeted as you read over your list of spelling mistakes.

"Don't hey baby me," Aemond said, catching your attention and making you move your laptop to the side, "You think trying to tease me is funny?"

"Tease you-" you said as you sat up properly in bed trying to figure out what he meant when it hit you. "Did you get my letter?" you said not able to hide the smirk in your voice.

"Oh I got your letter alright darling," Aemond said darkly and you could just imagine him pacing his dorm room while his roommate was out. "and the pictures,"

"Did you like them?" you said with a light giggle as if you had been transformed back to the start of your relationship. "I thought you mightve been getting lonely over there. So far away," you said with a fake pout, loving the affects you had already had on them.

"Are you kidding me?" Aemond said with a dark chuckle, "You look positively fuckable in these doll. I don't know how I'm supposed to contain myself till I see you,"

You felt your stomach go light like butterflies were dancing in it at his words. "I've got more if you'd like," you said as you twirled your hair like a school girl.

"God's you really are a little minx aren't you?" Aemond groaned making you giggle, "You won't be so cocky when I get there. No you get all shy don't you? Like a good little girl,"

"Maybe I don't wanna be a good girl," you teased as you discarded the laptop onto your bedside table, moving to lay down as you spoke.

"You know what happens when you don't behave doll," Aemond warned in the same voice he used when he used to hold you by your jaw, forcing you to meet his eye.

"Whatcha gonna do about it?" you grinned as your hand searched your bottom drawer for the vibrator you had stashed away for nights like this where all you wanted was Aemonds touch. "You're not here to make me do anything,"

"Just you wait doll," Aemond said as you heard him crash down onto his bed, "When I'm there you'll regret being such a brat,"

"I don't believe you," you teased as you slipped the vibrator between your legs, slowly running it up and down your folds before it was even on.

Aemond was silent for a moment and you wondered how good he must look right now with that stern look on his face," You're touching yourself aren't you?" he said making your actions pause.

"No I'm-" you started to stutter out only to be interrupted by Aemonds chuckle.

"Oh baby girl you really are that desperate aren't you?" he said, his smirk evident in his voice, "trying to get off by just my voice. Bet you could as well love you're that desperate," you tried to argue but Aemond kept talking, "Turn it on doll. I know you're using that pretty little vibe of yours aren't you?"

"maybe," you said, your voice shaky as you reached for the button.

"So predictable," he chuckled, "God's you looked good when I would use that on you. Turn it on doll and go slow. I want you to earn it if you're gonna be such a tease,"

Even from so far away Aemond still had a control over you which made you switch the toy onto it's lowest setting and slowly run it up your folds, gasping as your ran it over your sensitive clit." that's a good girl, "Aemond praised when he heard your noises through the phone. "I'm just looking at these pics love," you heard him say as you moved the vibe to slowly circle around your clit, "Such pretty pictures," he said, "almost as good as the real thing. Almost because it won't be long till I bend you over that desk of yours. You'd like to that wouldn't you? Me fucking you over your desk in my sweetheart,"

"Yes," you whimpered but Aemond tutted over the phone.

"Yes what?"

"Yes sir," you correct yourself, moaning as you felt a knot bubbling in your stomach.

"Good girl," Aemond praised and you could swear you could hear him jerking off on the other end, "now turn up the vibe baby and slip it in,"

You whined but did as instructed, the soft silicone easily slipping into your wet pussy, "It's in," you said, your voice whiny.

"Good. Now tighten your thighs to hold it there. You're gonna need your hands love," he said, a slight groan in his voice as he stroked his member.

"Okay," you stuttered, doing as he said but also laying your phone next to your head on speaker, "now what sir?"

"Now I want you to squeeze those perfect tit's of yours," he said, his breathing more rugged, "they look so good in that red little number of yours. Can't wait to tear it off you,"

"Thank you sir," you moaned as you followed his instructions and wishing it was his hands.

"Now pinch those perky nipples of yours," Aemond said which you gladly complied with, rolling them between your fingers, "Miss kissing those perfect tit's of yours. Gonna cover them in hickeys next time I get my hands on them. Might even take a picture for good measure. You'd like that wouldn't you?"

"Yes sir," you whined as you felt your body start to jerk at your already approaching climax.

"You gonna cum baby?" Aemond asked, his breathing shaking as he approached his own edge.

"Yes," you whined, greatful your roommate had left for the night, "Please sir can I cum now please?"

"Fuck," Aemond gasped, "Yes baby cum for me. Be a good girl baby don't hide any of those pretty noises. Think I might just cum from hearing them," he said.

You couldn't even say anything else as your body began twitching, your legs shaking as you felt your orgasm rip through your body. You didn't try to hide your moans and it wasn't long till you heard Aemond mumbling curses and praise through the phone. "Fuck," Aemond gasped as he started to catch his breath.

"Did you..?" you asked, your voice trailing off.

"Yes darling," he said with uneven breath, "All over these pictures love. Is there any chance you could send some more?" he asked but this time his voice was far more shy.

You laughed lightly as you rolled onto your side, snuggling into your pillow now suddenly tired, "of course baby. How come you never asked before?"

"I didn't want you to think I'm some kind of pervert," Aemond confessed now far more sheepish than his sexy persona.

"You're not a pervert Aem, you're my boyfriend," you laughed, imagining how his cheeks would be flushing right now. "Of course I'll send some more baby you'll just need to be patient," you teased.

"I'm sick of being patient," Aemond groaned like a toddler who had been told no, "I'm driving up to see you Friday after class no questions, no excuses,"

"Aemy that's a long drive are you sure?" you asked, worried how he'd be able to get all his work done if he was so far from college.

"More than sure baby. I need to see you and besides. I have a few new ideas of what you could do with that camera,"

Part Two here

Taglist: @clairacassidy @valeskafics @starkleila

#aemond x fem!reader #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #Aemond Targaryen smut #Aemond smut #house of the dragon headcannons #house of the dragon imagine #house of the dragon x reader #House of the dragon smut #HOTD #HOTD smut #HOTD imagine #HOTD x reader

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digitaldiarystuff · 4 months

Text

Age Doesn’t Matter (or does it?)

hi it’s me again and I’m soo happy about all the likes my stories have been getting, I would also love some requests maybe if I can picture them in my head like maybe descriptions and players, I actually have an idea in my mind for a long ass angst that deals with cheating but I don’t know who to write it for :( Also, enjoyy!

summary: You meet a boy at a club on a night out but realize he looks younger than he says he is

pairing: Pablo Gavi x Y/N

genre: fluff

————

“Come on Sara, we’re late!” you yell up the stairs while tying your shoes. This is a night out with the girls because the 4 of you are single for the first time and it was Annie’s 24’th birthday.

“Ok ok I’m ready.” she says while putting on her earrings and running down the stairs.

You arrive at the club soon after and pay the taxi. You get in and try to find your friends but soon Sara pulls you to the bar.

“We’ll eventually find them let’s take shots!” she scream and you join laughing.

It is like 5 or 6 shots in at the moment and you don’t even have a good sense of self. You laugh uncontrollably with her and your other friends and have the time of your life until you really have to use the bathroom. You know it’s unsanitary but you can’t care right now.

The line for the women’s bathroom is excruciatingly long and the mens’ is empty and you decide nothing’d happen if you just use that one instead.

You open the door without knocking and shocked to see a guy who is washing his hands looking at you with the same shock.

“Can I help you?” he asks not sure how to feel.

“Um, the line for the women’s is long and I really have to pee.” you admitted not caring if you look desperate, you are.

“Oh, okay let me just step out and you can use it.” he said and left.

You are so intoxicated but you still realize this boy looks incredibly hot, you smile and thank him.

After you’re done and washed your hands, you step out to find him still standing there.

“You didn’t leave?” you ask curiously.

“The door, uhm, it doesn’t lock so I didn’t want someone to walk in on you.” he admitted shyly scratching the back of his head. Before you thought he was cute but after seeing his arm muscles, he was hot and so were you.

“That’s so thoughtful, thank you. I’m Y/N.” you extended your hand and he takes it with a heartbeat.

“I’m Pablo.” he just said.

“So Pablo, it was nice sharing this bathroom story with you but I have to get back to my friends.” you said because every second you were getting more and more aware of your surroundings and wanted to find your friends.

“Oh okay.” he says sounding down. “Let me walk you to them.”

You walked together and he helped you get through sweaty dancing bodies around you. He was a true gentleman but as the lights of the club shined brighter, you saw his features and realized he may even be younger than you expected him to be.

You introduce your friends to him and watch them interact for a moment before he decides to get back to his friends at the booth, he invited you all but you didn’t know him that well to accept this invitation.

“So I guess I should go.” he says but you can tell he doesn’t want to. His arm is around your waist still from walking you. You noticed some girls eyeing you and giving you glares, thinking maybe they also liked Pablo or knew him from somewhere but to be honest, you were too drunk to care.

“Or maybe you could dance with me.” you suggested and even in the club setting, you can see his cheeks heat up.

He smiles and takes you to the dance floor holding you close, you’re both smiling and your arms around his neck. His hands slowly made their way to your hips and your foreheads pressed together, your bodies moving to the rhythm. It’s like electricity’s coursing through your bodies and everything else didn’t matter but as he’s leaning in, you just have a question.

“How old are you?” you ask completely ruining the mood but this was a pet peeve of yours, you don’t date younger guys.

“I’m 22” he says without thinking and since you’re 23, that’s not too bad. He must be one of those guys who’s babyface like JB. You shrugged it off.

“Can I kiss you now?” he asks wanting to create the moment you ruined back.

You smile and he leans in to capture your lips with his, it’s the best kiss you’ve had in a while. He guides you and uses just enough strength, still holding your body slowly dancing. He puts his hand on the hem of your dress slowly inching up and you gasp in surprise, he uses this opportunity to push his tongue inside your mouth and deepen the kiss. Your hands pull on the hairs on his neck as you felt over the moon, Pablo was too good with his hands and lips.

You pulled away after a few minutes, trying to catch your breath as he smiles at you. You smile back hoping this was as good for him as it’s good for you. Just as he’s leaning again and proving it was as good, Sara ran up to you saying she has work tomorrow and she has to leave. You know you can’t leave her alone in this drunken state and considering she’s your roommate why bother with 2 ubers when you can leave together but you weren’t exactly ready to say bye to Pablo.

He looks at you with piercing eyes, trying to read if you’re really leaving but you pout your lips as you explain it to him, he’s not happy but doesn’t do anything to stop you and slowly takes his hands off of you meanwhile the three of you are walking outside.

“Can I at least get your number so we can finish what we started another day?” he asks in a suggestive tone. You look at him and know you’re dying to do it so pick his phone off his hands and write down your number. He smiles and presses one last kiss to your lips before letting you and Sara get in the car and drive off.

You smile to yourself at how everything went down tonight, Pablo is nothing like you’ve ever been with before and he’s so refreshing you hoped he would text you, even if it’s totally sexual. You normally never do this, this is not you but his soft brown hair and those eyes looking into your soul made your knees go weak and you mind go numb. You wanted to see him again.

And your prayers are answered after you go into your room and had a quick shower to wash off the club scent off your body. He texted you.

“Did you make it to home safely?” he just said and you smiled to yourself at how thoughtful he is.

“Hello to you too Pablo, yes don’t worry. What about you?” you asked

“Me too, just in.”

You talked for a few minutes back and forth until his replies stopped and you figure he’s fallen asleep.

You decide to watch some reels before falling asleep yourself, going on insta and while going through some stories, you come across with suggested profiles, including Pablo’s. Your mouth fall to floor as you see his picture with a Barcelona shirt on and click on his profile, discovering he’s a football player for the team and realize what those looks at the club for. They weren’t because those girls wanted him, well maybe it was but it was also because they were shocked to see a footballer with a girl. You never cared about football so it’s natural you didn’t realize he was the Pablo Gavi but he didn’t mention it either.

You decide if he didn’t want you to know, you shouldn’t pry in his life further. Maybe he liked not being recognized so you go to click off his page until you see a birthday post he did in august. You smile at how happy he looks and read the caption about thanking everyone wishing him a happy birthday until you see a hashtag.

#19

You send him a final text before your eyes close and you drift to sleep.

“Really, you’re 19???”

#pablo gavi #pablo gavi imagine #pablo gavi x reader #pablo gavi x y/n #pablo gavi x you #pablo gavi oneshot #pablo gavi fluff #football x y/n #football #football imagine #football x reader #football x you #fc barcelona

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sapphire-writes · 9 months

Text

Our Last Summer (modern!HOTD)

part 6 of 10 || series masterlist || previous part || next part

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Reader

summary: A girls night with Baela, Rhaena, and Helaena is infiltrated by the Targaryen boys.

word count: 4.7k

rating: Mature/Explicit/18+

warnings below the cut!

warnings: language, substance use (reader is smoking and drinking), p in v, slight exhibitionism, kissing, titty sucking, riding, neck kissing, ANGST

note: hope you enjoy my loves!! pls don't hate me

dividers by the lovely @firefly-graphics

as always, comments, reblogs & likes are appreciated but not expected

“Looking good Luke!” Rhaena calls from the shore.

You can spot Luke’s small frame aboard Seasmoke, and see him frantically wave as he continues out into the harbor. His brown curls blow wildly in the breeze. It’s a windy day, perfect for testing Seasmoke’s sails.

He’s been doing well so far- well as far as you can tell. Though you’ve spent nearly every day aboard the sailboat you still know very little about sailing. Luke had tried to explain it to you but became frustrated rather quickly.

Rhaena takes a picture with her phone, “For Jace,” she informs you.

“How’s his trip going?” you ask, knowing Rhaena talks to Jace more than Baela.

“He says it’s been cool so far,” Rhaena says with a shrug, “He doesn’t think he’ll be back for the gala though.”

“I thought he wanted to go to that?” you ask.

“He did, but he’ll definitely be back for the regatta,” Rhaena promises, “He won’t miss that, he knows how important it is to Luke.”

You smile, shading your eyes with your hand as you watch Luke on the water.

“He sounds like a good brother,” you comment.

“He is,” Rhaena says, “I know Baela has probably told you some shit about them, but they’re not all bad. It’s nice having brothers.”

“I think she just misses your mom,” you tell her.

Rhaena smiles sadly.

“All the more reason she should talk to Dad,” she tells you, “He misses her the most.”

Baela and Helaena are currently swimming, diving under water only to emerge moments later gasping with laughter.

“She’ll come around,” Rhaena says, more to herself than to you.

You sit next to her, letting the warm sand press between your toes.

As Baela and Helaena exit the water they run over to you, falling dramatically to the ground.

“We have the best idea,” Helaena says, grinning impishly, “My mom’s gone for the night. I propose an EGOSP.”

Rhaena gasps, clapping her hands together and you look around, confused.

“What’s an EGOSP?” you ask and Helaena narrows her eyes.

“What is an EGOSP?” she asks, horrified, “An Epic Girls Only Slumber Party of course.”

“Iconic,” Baela adds.

“Usually infiltrated by the inferior sex,” Rhaena adds.

You giggle, digging your feet deeper into the sand.

“Well, we have to let Egg hang,” Helaena muses, “He’s my plug.”

Baela groans.

“Relax, I’ll kick his ass if he misbehaves,” Helaena assures.

“What about Aemond?” you ask, and Baela shares a smirk with her twin.

“Do you want Aemond to crash?” Helaena asks, a smile tugging at her lips.

“Well…I mean, I just-”

“Chillax,” she assures you, “I’m just pulling your leg. I’ll tell him to hang around.”

“You don’t have to-”

“Of course I do,” she teases, “Besides he likes you, I can tell.”

Warmth pools in your chest and floods up to your cheeks at her words. Baela pokes you in the side, her fingers cold from the ocean.

“My bestie, getting a little summer romance,” she teases.

“Stop it,” you beg, flushing more with embarrassment.

Baela, of course, has never been one to listen to a command and keeps teasing you until eventually you chase her back towards the water’s edge. You spend the rest of the afternoon on the beach, watching Luke sail and bathing in the sun.

You make your way back to Driftmark later in the day to change and pack an overnight bag. Helaena and Rhaena made it their mission to pick up dinner at the Wolf Den and convince Sara to join in the EGOSP shenanigans.

You had quickly changed into a red two-piece bathing suit, one you brought specifically for the way it accentuated your ass while also making your boobs look phenomenal. You’d thrown on a cover-up and flip-flops before waiting for Baela at the foot of the stairs.

Rhaenys walks in from the living room, clad in a periwinkle colored floor length dress, her reading glasses propped on top of her head.

“Hello darling,” she greets you with a small polite smile.

“Hey,” you tell her, returning her smile.

“Shit!” you hear Baela call from upstairs, followed by the sound of something crashing to the floor, “I’m okay!”

You can hear her footsteps and watch her appear, shoving things into her bag, silver curls spilling over her face.

“Your father is coming over for dinner,” Rhaenys tells Baela as she hurries down the stairs.

“Won’t be here!” Baela says, grabbing a bag, “You ready?” she asks, noticing you’ve finished packing your things before her.

“Baela!” Rhaenys says, sighing, her voice tired.

“What?” Baela says, feigning innocence, “Look he should’ve told me earlier! We’re going to Helaena’s.”

“You can be back in time for supper,” Rhaenys insists.

“Sleeping over,” Baela says with a wince, “Girls' night. Making memories, you know?”

“Baela your father wants to see you-”

“He can Facetime me then!”

Baela is out the door before Rhaenys can say another word. She left so fast even you were left behind. Rhaenys sighs, looking towards the floor and you give her an apologetic smile. You can’t imagine how hard this has to be for her. You’ve seen pictures of Laena. Baela could be her twin.

The Targaryen-Hightower house is vibrating with music when you arrive, as though it should be a house party. But when you enter it’s just Helaena and Rhaena, jamming to the music, singing along.

“Where’s Sara?” Baela asks as Helaena wraps her in a hug.

“She’s covering for Cregan,” Helaena says, moving to embrace you.

“Boooo,” Baela says, as Rhaena pulls out a paper bag.

“But look what we got,” she says, pulling out a bottle of tequila.

You spend the beginning of the evening taking shots and eating the food Rhaena and Hel had picked up, before transitioning to the hot tub. Slightly buzzed, you can’t help but crane your neck, looking for the noticeably absent Targaryen brothers.

“They’re coming,” Helaena says, sparking up a joint, “Egg had to make another run.”

“I wasn’t even looking,” you argue.

“Cut the shit,” Helaena says, inhaling the sweet smoke, passing the joint to Rhaena.

You take turns as the sky grows darker and the automatic lights come on in the hot tub, pool, and yard. It truly is magnificent, and you can look out at the sea from where you sit, spotting the lights of Dragonstone and Driftmark.

The sliding glass door opens as if on cue and Aegon and Aemond enter the backyard.

“Wassup ladies,” Aegon calls, stripping off his shirt and immediately easing into the hot water.

Your eyes are on Aemond, and you straighten your back, shamelessly angling your chest out of the water.

What? A girl’s gotta do, what a girl’s gotta do.

Aemond’s eye flickers toward you and he nods politely at the others. He grabs the hem of his t-shirt with one hand pulling it effortlessly over his head. You try your best not to ogle at his defined abdomen and chest, but you can’t help it. Can’t help but follow the little trail of silver hair that disappears below his waistline, directly centered by the v of his hips.

And that stupid chain he wears with the silver coin, that dangles in your face while he-

Aemond slips into the hot tub across from you, leaving his arms stretched across the sides. The jacuzzi is huge, it could probably fit twelve people if they wanted it to. Aemond catches your eye and you hold his gaze.

He looks down briefly, so fast you almost miss it, but it was definitely an appreciation for your suit. Your mouth waters looking at him. You’re not sure what kind of spell he has you under, you’ve never wanted someone so much before.

“We should play a game,” Helaena says, passing the second joint of the night to Aemond.

You raise an eyebrow as Aemond takes a drag. You don’t know why, but you hadn’t pictured him as someone who dabbles in recreational drug use. He notices your expression and raises an eyebrow right back at you. It’s almost playful. You fight a smile as the joint continues to make its rounds.

“Truth or dare,” Aegon says, “Bae, you first.”

“Truth,” Baela says, through a cough, “I’m not stupid.”

“Boring,” Aegon teases, “Alright, last person you had sex with.”

Baela thinks for a moment, but you know the answer and start to snicker.

“Ali Martell,” Baela says, smiling at the memory, “And it was fucking great.”

She fails to mention how she broke poor Ali’s heart after leaving her on read a few weeks later. You smile at your best friend and she turns to her twin.

“Truth or dare?”

The game continues for a bit, back and forth between everyone. You’re made to hold tequila in a shot glass between your breasts for Aegon to take, Rhaena has to text her ex-boyfriend and Aemond tells all about the time he made Criston Cole cry during a tennis match.

It’s all good fun, everyone giggling and sharing secrets. Aegon ends up being dared to jump from the pool house roof into the pool, which he does so willingly. As he climbs out of the pool and back into the tub he turns to his brother.

“Truth or dare,” he says.

“Truth,” Aemond answers immediately.

“Again?” Aegon groans, “I’m giving you a tough one. It’s the witching hour now.”

Aemond shrugs, unfazed by his brother’s threat. It’s like Aegon can tell. Something changes in his bloodshot eyes like he’s turned into a predator going in for the kill.

“Tell us about Alys.”

The entire mood shifts. Aemond’s face hardens and he gives Aegon a warning glare.

“I’m not talking about that,” Aemond says cooly, trying to play off how tense he’s become.

You can see it in every muscle, as if he moves too quickly he’ll snap. Helaena is the one to move first, grabbing Aegon by the ear causing him to cry out.

“You’ve ruined the fun!” she tells him, as he swats his hand away.

“It’s a game, c’mon!” Aegon whines, but Helaena shoves him.

No one else speaks. You watch Aemond’s face, watch his cheeks flush with quiet rage.

Alys.

The game and conversation fizzled out after that. Aegon is first to leave, retreating back towards the house. Rhaena is next, claiming she’s hungry, and is followed by Helaena. Baela glances between you and Aemond, before giving you a wink and heading back inside.

“Take your time bestie!” Baela calls, closing the sliding door behind her.

You watch them in the kitchen for a while, before the three girls head upstairs, leaving the lower level in darkness. Aemond still hasn’t spoken.

He’s just watching you, his violet gaze observing you carefully as you stretch your hands toward the sky and arch your back. You can feel the tiredness in your bones, only accentuated by the heat from the jacuzzi.

The hot tub continues to produce numerous bubbles and you bring your hands just below the surface, giggling as you wiggle your fingers. Maybe it’s because you’re high, maybe it’s because the hot water feels so nice against your skin or maybe it's the way Aemond’s looking at you from across the hot tub; his head tilted slightly, the corner of his mouth quirked upwards in a small smile, his violet eyes sparkling.

You address the elephant in the room since Aegon had spoken nearly an hour ago.

“Who is Alys?”

The corner of Aemond’s mouth falls slightly, just enough that you notice before he tears his gaze away from you.

“No one important,” he says, the lie evident in the way his jaw clenches, the way his nostrils flare.

“Mhmm,” you hum softly, still swirling your fingers over the surface, “I love the water.”

Aemond flicks his gaze back to your face, watching you smile as you let the water slip through your fingers. You watch your fingers for a moment, the path they make like flying fish. Or dolphins. The thought of dolphins for fingers makes you giggle and you meet Aemond’s violet eyes once more.

“I was in love with her,” he says the words slowly as though it pains him to do so.

The smile begins to slip from your face, melting like a popsicle on a hot day.

“You were in love?” you ask.

Aemond holds your gaze, the intensity making you tingle from the top of your head down to your toes.

“A long time ago,” he says.

Curiosity crawls up your throat, and forces you to speak.

“Who was she?”

“A professor,” Aemond says, and your eyes widen, “I didn’t start at Citadel University. I spent my freshman year at Harrenhal University. But transferred out.”

He’s quiet for a moment, mimicking your movements, letting his long fingers cut through the surf.

“You slept with your professor?” you ask, voice sounding very small.

“Mhmm,” he says, “And fell in love with her. Like an idiot.” He looks up at you for a moment before glancing away and clearing his throat, “Anyway the school found out. Asked her to leave. And I never heard from her again.”

“Oh Aemond,” you whisper.

“I was a stupid kid,” he continues, “And I let it distract me from my studies. It made sense. The sex. That’s all it was. That’s all it ever is.”

“I don’t think so,” you argue, and he looks up again, “Not always. There are people who-”

“Who what?” Aemond interrupts, “Look at my mother and father, look at Daemon and Rhaenyra.”

You wince at the implications.

“What’s love good for, anyhow?” Aemond says, leaning back and looking over his shoulder out towards the sea, “Nothing.”

You watch him for a moment, admiring the sheen of sweat that coats his torso; he’s nearly glowing in the lights of the hot tub and pool. You want to keep prying, keep pulling apart bits and pieces of who he is. What Alys meant to him. But you decide to explore the safer route.

“Were you in love with Floris?” you ask, dipping lower into the hot tub until your neck and head are the only parts uncovered.

Aemond glances at you, his melancholy expression fading to one of amusement.

“What do you think?”

“I don’t know, that’s why I asked,” you tell him with a shrug.

“Come here,” he says, motioning you forward with two fingers.

You float towards him as though he has a string connected to your ribs, pulling you towards him. You stop when you’re directly in front of him, and he pushes away from the wall. Aemond brings his hands underwater, gripping you by the thighs and pulling you to straddle him as he sits. You wrap your arms around his neck, grinding down against the hardness between his legs.

Your heart flutters with anticipation as he strokes your thighs, moving up to caress the skin of your waist. His fingers tease the strings of your bathing suit bottoms, slipping underneath them.

“Floris and I had a similar arrangement,” he tells you.

You nod, eyes roaming over his face. He’s so beautiful, you don’t know where to look. Aemond notices your staring. It’s the weed, you know, it must be the weed making you think this way, feel these feelings.

“Are you worried I loved her?” he murmurs, and you roll your hips against him.

“She’s very pretty,” you tell him, your voice more breathless than you wish it was.

“So are you,” he tells you, “You’re a lot of things Floris isn’t.”

You cock your head to the side.

“What?” he questions.

“Is that a genuine compliment from Aemond Targaryen?” you ask, bringing your hand to your chest, “Never thought I’d live to see the day.”

“I’ve complimented you plenty,” he argues.

“You’re getting soft, Targaryen,” you continue to tease, “I think I’m growing on you.”

“You are not,” he insists.

“I am.”

“Are not.”

“Oh, yes I am!” you sing song.

“Shut up,” he insists, though there’s that smile again, tugging at the corner of his perfect mouth.

“Why don’t you shut me up?” you challenge, not sure why the threat poured so effortlessly from your lips.

Aemond smirks for real this time, looking almost predatory as his eye trails down your throat to your breasts then back up to your face.

“I think we both know that’s possible,” Aemond tells you, fingers ghosting the front of your bathing suit bottoms, “Our fun the other night get you all excited?”

Your breath catches in your throat as he drags a finger across your clothed center, pressing firmly against your clit.

“I think it got you excited,” you murmur.

“Oh yeah?” he asks, the smirk growing across his face.

“Mhmm,” you say, catching your lower lip between your teeth, “I think you were jealous.”

There’s a shimmer of something in Aemond’s eye. Something possessive. His grip on your thigh tightens.

“I told you, I don’t share,” he says with a shrug, “You seemed to enjoy yourself.”

“I did,” you tell him.

Aemond leans forward, placing a kiss on your neck, dragging his lips up to your ear.

“Everyone is just inside,” he murmurs, “But you want me to fuck you right now, don’t you?”

Your eyes flutter shut, hands fisting the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Don’t you?” he repeats, lightly nipping your earlobe.

“Yes,” you breathe, “Please-”

“No need to beg tonight, baby,” he assures you, moving your bottoms to the side, “C’mere.”

You lift your hips as he frees himself from his swim trunks and you waste no time sinking down on top of him. You shudder against him as you take him completely and he rubs soothing circles on your hips with his thumbs.

You gingerly lift up, rolling your hips against him, circling his cock, and causing some water to splash over the edge. You glance at the house; most of the windows are dark except for some small lights that cast shadows around the kitchen. You desperately hope everyone is in bed as a wanton moan slips through your lips.

“You look fucking gorgeous in this,” Aemond says, bringing his hand to stroke the strap of your bathing suit.

You smile, throwing your head back at your success. It’s true, it’s a miracle suit. Your breasts, barely covered by the red material, pressed together making your cleavage oh-so inviting.

“I wanted to kill Aegon,” Aemond groans, leaning forward and pressing his nose against your cleavage, “Fucking kill him.” You know he’s referring to the dare where Aegon took the shot from between your boobs.

He turns his head, kissing the side of your exposed breast before turning to do the same to the other. His hand snakes around the back of your suit, pulling the material from your body and letting it float away from you.

Aemond brings his mouth to your nipple, suckling at your wet breast, kneading the other with his hand. Sparks of pleasure dance down past your navel with every tug he affords your hard nipples.

“Yeah?” you ask, more of a whine than a question as you keep grinding your hips against him, desperate for friction against your aching clit.

Every roll of your hips has the head of his cock mercilessly rubbing against your sweet spot, pushing you closer and closer toward the edge. Your entire body feels like a live wire, and his hands caressing you only adds fuel to the flames. It’s like every sensation is heightened, every flick of his tongue, his lips.

“Mhmm,” he moans, the vibrations only adding to your pleasure causing you to cry out.

The sound echoes in the quiet night and Aemond pops off your breast, capturing your lips in a sensual kiss.

“You’re all mine,” Aemond says against your mouth, lifting his hips to meet your thrusts, “Keeping you all to myself.”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you chant, as he brings his hand between your legs, nimble fingers rubbing quick circles around your clit.

“That’s it, pretty girl,” he murmurs as you begin to shake, falling apart against him.

“Sh-shit,” you say, trembling against him.

Aemond continues rocking his hips up into your tightening pussy, dragging out your orgasm and propelling you towards another one. His jaw is slacked, pupil dilated with lust as he watches you shake on top of him.

“I can’t, holy shit, I’m-” You bite your lip, eyes screwing shut in sheer ecstasy.

“Fucking hell,” Aemond says, calloused hands gripping your hips, “Squeezing me so fucking tight.”

You’re a trembling mess, holding onto his shoulders for dear life as he bounces you on his cock. You're moaning obscenely as a second orgasm washes over you, a sharp whine leaving your lips at the intensity of it.

"Shhh," Aemond murmurs, pressing soft kisses to your neck, "I got you, I got you."

His thrusts turn lazy, before you feel his hot release, as he heavily exhales against your shoulder. You stroke his hair, nuzzling your face against him as he continues peppering kisses to any piece of exposed flesh he can reach.

You stay like that for a while before peeling yourself from him and grabbing your suit top. Aemond hands you a towel and you quietly make your way back into the house.

Aemond walks you to Helaena’s room, pausing outside her door.

“Goodnight,” you call, softly, placing your door on the handle.

You feel his fingers brush against your wrist, wrapping around it and gently tugging you away from the door. You let out a small squeal of surprise as he pulls you flush against him, connecting your lips in a sweet kiss.

It’s gentle; nice and slow as he parts your lips, slipping his tongue into your mouth and deepening the kiss. A sharp pang of desire throbs between your legs, and butterflies flutter in your stomach.

Oh shit.

Aemond’s hand finds the back of your neck, his other locking on your hip as he backs you against the door. Your back slams up against it; it’s just rough enough to steal your breath as he continues to kiss you.

It’s just the drugs.

He pulls away all too soon, leaving you pouting and leaning forward for more. Aemond smiles at that, stroking your jawline with his thumb.

“Goodnight,” he murmurs, still stroking your face, before reluctantly letting his hand drop.

“Goodnight,” you whisper again, letting your hands fall as well.

Aemond pulls away completely, heading down the hall toward his room.

You exhale the breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding once he’s safely inside. You open the door to Helaena’s room, tip-toeing over Baela who lies sprawled on the floor on top of an air mattress.

“Yo,” Helaena says softly from her bed, a bag of hot Cheetos nestled under her elbow.

“Hey,” you whisper back, hopping onto her bed and stealing a Cheeto.

“What were you doing?” Helaena asks, her brow raised in curiosity.

“Nothing,” you tell her, fighting a smile.

You spend some time snaking and giggling with Helaena before she drifts off to sleep. It’s harder for you to find sleep, your body feels like a live wire; electricity coursing through your veins. You know what this means, even though you don’t want it to be true. But the nerves in your stomach don’t lie, the way your heart flutters against your ribs at the thought of him.

You are in way over your head.

“Wakey wakey!” Baela says, poking your face, “Lazy asses! Let’s go!”

You groan, turning away from her. Helaena rubs her eyes.

“It’s early,” Helaena whines as Baela tosses her a sweatshirt.

“We have to get to Hotpies early or else all the tables will fill up,” Baela argues.

Helaena looks at you.

“Wanna ask Aem if he wants to join?” she asks, smirking slightly as she says it.

There it is, that feeling in your stomach again. Nervous butterflies. You eagerly nod, throwing on a sweatshirt and hopping out of bed. Baela shakes her head at you.

“Girl-” she begins.

“Shut up,” you tell her, cheeks flushing.

You quickly head out of Helaena’s room and down the hall, forcing yourself to walk normally. You take a deep breath outside his door before knocking. It’s ajar, swinging open as you do so. You peer inside the room. It’s airy, the windows open letting in the morning light. His bed is already made and Aemond nowhere to be found.

Aegon opens his door across the hall at that moment, yawning. As he opens his eyes he cries out, pressing a hand against his heart on his bare chest.

“Scared the shit out of me!” he accuses, running his hand through his hair, “Aem’s probably on a run.”

“Wanna grab Hotpies with us?” you offer.

“Sure,” Aegon says, moving across the hall and into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

You hear some noise downstairs and walk down the spiral staircase, hoping it's Aemond back from his run. You smile as you enter the kitchen, spotting him leaning against the counter, a glass of water in his hand. He’s wearing black running shorts, paired with an equally dark tank top; his silver chain is visible before disappearing below the neckline.

“Hey,” you say, coming up next to him, “We’re grabbing breakfast, would you like to join?”

Aemond glances at you sideways, taking a small sip from his glass.

“I’m good,” he says, voice cold.

The smile on your face falls slightly in disappointment. He doesn’t look at you again, just continues drinking his water, taking his phone out of his pocket. He’s got one airpod in and you can hear him change the song.

You stand there awkwardly for a moment, unsure of what to do. Why the sudden change in demeanor? You thought for a moment last night that you and Aemond were finally starting to get along.

Aemond finishes his water, moving by you and placing his glass in the sink. Your eyes follow him. He’s going to continue ignoring you, you can tell as he begins to leave the kitchen.

“Did I do something?” you ask, causing him to pause, turning to you slightly.

“No,” he says, matter of factly, the pout of his mouth dipping into a frown.

You stare at him, not buying it one bit.

“I just thought-”

“Thought what?” he asks.

You continue to stare. The smile has completely dropped from your face at this time, and the butterflies in your stomach suddenly feel like they’re made of lead. You can feel your throat tightening, and will yourself not to cry. That’s the last thing you need, to fucking cry in front of Aemond Targaryen.

“It’s just…last night,” you tell him, feeling foolish, “I thought maybe we were getting on.”

Aemond clicks his tongue before pressing it against the inside of his cheek.

“We get on fine,” he says, pursing his lips, “We fuck, and it’s fine.”

Your stomach feels heavy, and the tears prickle behind your eyes causing you to blink rapidly to stop them from falling down your cheeks.

“I thought we were…”

“What?” he snaps, “Thought we were what?”

“I don’t know,” you admit.

“Look, just because I got high with you and told you some pathetic sob story from uni, doesn’t make us friends. Doesn’t make you my girlfriend. You’re a convenient fuck. That’s all,” he says, clipping the words for finality.

You feel like you’re going to throw up. It’s like the room is spinning like the world has suddenly changed axes and you’re about to fall off.

“Fine,” you force the word out from behind clenched teeth.

You turn around as the tears begin to come, hurriedly moving to leave the kitchen.

“Forget that shit I told you,” Aemond calls, causing you to stop.

You take a deep breath, quickly wiping your cheeks, barely glancing back at him.

“Already forgotten,” you assure him, leaving the room.

Baela, Rhaena, Helaena, and Aegon are hurrying down the stairs as you round the corner, forcing a smile on your face.

“Aem coming?” Hel asks, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

“No,” you tell her.

“Oh,” she says, frowning as you loop your arm through Baela’s hurrying out of the house.

“Let’s go, I’m starving!” you tell them, forcing your voice to sound cheerful.

Aegon and Rhaena follow you, but Helaena hangs back for a moment. You turn your head, watching her frown in the direction of the kitchen.

“C’mon Hel!” you call. Just drop it.

She shuts the door behind her, and you all pile into her car. You take one final look at the house, watching Aemond’s shadow pass by the large glass windows. His tall frame pauses as he watches the car pull away down the driveway.

Rhaena reaches across and connects her phone to the speaker and suddenly SZA is blasting through the speakers. You force a smile as Baela glances at you, and force a laugh when Aegon makes a crude joke.

One thing is certain.

You’re done with Aemond Targaryen.

note: BESTIES ILYSM

OLS Taglist: @talesofoldandnew, @diannnnsss, @aemondslefteyeball, @urmomsgirlfriend1, @castellomargot, @atherverybest, @high-on-darren-criss, @diosademuerte, @padfooteyes, @tempo-rary-fix, @amirawritespoorly, @chainsawsangel, @toodlesxcuddles, @tssf-imagines, @malfoytargaryen, @nina2697, @glame, @joliettes, @yentroucnagol

@grungegrrrl, @moonlightfoxx, @melsunshine, @helaenaluvr

@m1ndbrand, @sahvlren, @muthafuckingstargirl @herfantasyworldd, @sunna-fangirls, @carriellie, @elle4404, @fan-goddess, @jamespotterismydaddy @shessthunderstoms @carriellie @sunna-fangirls @dancingqueen0

bold means tumblr would not let me tag!

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starhoppin · 4 months

Text

pick a picture; how does your crush feel about you?

pile 1 -> pile 2 -> pile 3

disclaimer; this is a general reading! these messages may not fit everyone. please take what resonates and leave the rest.

「 pile one 」

justice (cb: two of cups rv, seven of swords), eight of pentacles (cb: six of cups, wheel of fortune rv), the high priestess rv (cb: queen of swords, three of pentacles)

they feel like there is a disconnect or imbalance in your connection. you might feel as though they're keeping secrets from you, but it looks like they're simply feeling overwhelmed with their responsibilities at the moment. i believe that it's only a matter of time before they come forward and explain their recent behavior. this person wants to work on a relationship with you, but they seem to be holding themselves back. past romantic experiences and/or a negative mindset may be causing this person to feel as though they have bad luck when it comes to love. consequently, they seem hesitant to share their feelings since they're concerned about past cycles repeating. they're feeling confused and disconnected from their intuition. you may not be very expressive with your feelings towards them, and that is causing their hesitancy. they're concerned about whether you'll accept them or not if they come forward with an offer. also, when i was reading, i heard the song burnin' up by the jonas brothers, specifically the opening lyrics "i'm hot, you're cold." that song may resonate with some of you.

[potential initials] J, P, Q, E, U, W

[potential zodiac signs] leo, aries, cancer

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「 pile two 」

knight of pentacles (cb: the devil, knight of wands), page of swords (cb: nine of wands, the fool rv), the emperor (cb: three of cups, the moon, the tower)

this person is working on making you an offer. both the knight of pentacles and the knight of wands appeared so it looks like this person is presenting them as a calm and patient suitor, but i think this person is fighting the urge to just rush into a relationship with you. you may be like an obsession for this person (i'm not seeing it in a negative manner), but they have to tamp down their impulses when it comes to you. you make this person feel reckless. your crush may have had a habit of rushing into relationships in the past and it didn't end well. they don't want that to happen with you. they could be observing you from afar, purposefully keeping their distance and slowly getting to know you better as they work on themselves. this person wants a traditional relationship with you; however, they may be concerned about how they should approach you. because of their passion, they're worried that they'll come in hot and heavy and potentially scare you off. you might actually be friends with this person. it seems as though they feel like they have everything to lose if things don't work in their favor; if they confess and you reject them, they're not only losing you as a romantic partner, but they'll also ruin your friendship.

[potential initials] G, R, J, I, S oddly specific message for someone: as i was pulling these initials, i heard the name "riri." that might be a nickname for you or your person.

[potential zodiac signs] libra, aquarius, scorpio, taurus

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「 pile three 」

the star rv (cb: ten of swords rv, page of wands), the world (cb: eight swords, five of wands rv), two of cups rv (cb: the high priestess rv, ten of wands)

your crush is feeling a bit hopeless regarding your connection. as i was shuffling, i heard the song 1000 times by sara bareilles - i highly recommend you listen to it. the lyrics that stuck out to me were in the first verse "back of the room, looking at you. counting the steps between us" and "in another life, my teeth and tongue. speak aloud what until now i've only sung." something has occurred between you that has caused them a lot of pain. it feels like this person wants to be courageous and pursue something with you, but something is holding them back from taking this leap and confessing. they feel like they no longer have access to you in some way. this person seems to be trapped by this mindset. they feel as though they're biting their tongue and staying silent to prevent an argument or conflict between you two. because of their perception of your connection, this person may be actively trying to repress their feelings but it's taking a huge mental toll on them. they feel like if they can just pretend they don't have feelings for you, they'll no longer feel burdened.

[potential initials] B, J, T, U, R

[potential zodiac signs] cancer, capricorn, virgo, aquarius

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tarot deck used in this reading: cirque du tarot

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maddie7writes · 11 months

Text

HARRY BEING A GIRL DAD

content : mostly fluff, angst towards the end

summary : harry’s relationship will all four of his daughters and how each one impacts his life in extremely different ways but he wouldn’t change it for the world.

when harry and y/n had started to have kids, they weren’t expecting four girls. they wouldn’t trade them for the world, but this left harry in a very interesting situation. playing catch on a beach in italy turned into harry learning how to play volleyball to compete against there oldest, astria . being blessed with harry’s height, she was quickly scouted out in the sixth grade to join the team and she fell in love with it.

y/n busy with her fourth pregnancy and two younger ones, harry took on the extracurricular with pride, even showing off his skills on tour.

“is this a beach ball?” he laughed as a fan handed him a ball with each of his eras on the sides. the fan nodded through her tears of excitement, harry crouched down with a smile to take it. “thank you!” he thanked, before turning around to sara and hitting it her way so she could put it with the pride flag he had for the emergency rip situation. the crowd cheered, harry turned around with a proud smile on his face.

“my daughter taught me that.” he smiled, the crowd exploded with excitement at the small insight of his life.

but that’s all it was, a small insight. because his other three girls required just as much attention in various fields. sage had taken a huge interest in music just like her father, she was constantly around for recording sessions so she could get a real feel for what it was like, she saw the hardships and the challenges of staying in the studio till one just because lyrics were flowing like water. she felt the strain on her relationships, especially between her mom because she spent so much time with her dad, and when dad was gone so was sage. it took so much more then your voice, and harry and sage bonded over that every day.

but where harry had a very strong relationship with sage over music, he felt the disconnect and trust with daphne. y/n was an actress and model, though after her pregnancy’s she only wanted to continue the acting portion of her job, but it only took one sneaking session through old magazines in moms office for daphne to see herself exactly where her mom was. on the cover of vouge.

daphne wanted to get to the cover of vogue, without her dad playing a single hand in her success. she wanted to get there off her talent and her ability, not because her dad was harry styles.

it hurt, seeing daphne thrive and have amazing experiences while keeping harry at arms length due to her determination. part of him couldn’t be more proud for daphne wanting to be more then her parents names, but the other part of him wanted to be there with her during shoots and being in the room as she watches her social media hit a new mile stone.

“she loves us honey, but her dream means it’s hers. and we’re not involved.” y/n massaged harry after a long day in the studio, daphne had just been on the cover of cosmopolitan for her beauty line she hid from them for a whole year till the launch came out. “yeah but family is so important and she doesn’t understand that- without my family i wouldn’t be where i am today. family is everything.” harry began to tense. y/ relaxed him with a kiss to his head. “and she loved her family more then any follower count or magazine. but she’s got your drive lovie. all we can do is support from the side. like i did for the first two years of our relationship.” like daphne, y/n didn’t want harry’s success to impact her own. so y/n built an even stronger brand on her own before they did a PR stunt on a yacht in italy, frames away from x-rated pictures.

just like that daphne came prancing down the stairs and into the kitchen, shooting her parents the million dollar smile there child possessed. “congrats on the cover honey.” harry chirped, daphne lit up as she grabbed a bottle of fiji water from the fridge and walked over to the table with them, only to talk there ear off about how amazing the whole experience was, mentioning here and there how much she missed us but knew that this is what she had to do to achieve exactly what she wanted to achieve. and nothing could replace that feeling of pride.

bridget styles was the youngest of her sisters and by quiet a bit. astria was a senior when bridget was in sixth grade, and due to astria being busy with getting a scholarship from a school for volleyball (determined to not take any of her parents money after she turned 18), sage writing her own album, daphne building fame without needing the last name of their parents, bridget felt invisible. all her sisters had everything figured out, her dad was a international pop star, her mom was a world renowned model and actress. how was she meant to live up to that?

bridget was naturally quiet while astria and daphne did most of the talking, sage was so close was dad it felt impossible to get that kind of relationship, and mom was trying to keep everything in order, she seemed impossible to approach. so she tried to raise there attentions.

she was top of her class throughout middle school, but it didn’t amount to astiras D1 scholarship to go play in america. she joined choir while she could and used her voice for the first time and was quickly the best singer, and while dad and mom were always there, it almost made it worse. her dad had the best make voice in the country, why was hers still cracking, why was she getting teary eyed when she sung to a bunch of parents. her dad sung to millions almost every night, and her mother took photos nude, only her limbs to cover herself for millions of people to look at and judge.

bridget devolved anxiety and mild depression her freshman year as daphne got teen vouge and sages album got released.

bridget decided she wasn’t hungry when astria came over for easter brunch, when in reality she was starving and she knew dad made her favorite blueberry pancakes, but she couldn’t stand it, daphne was on the cover of teen vouge, astria was the number one player in america and the uk, sages first album sold out, and bridget had done nothing.

she was smart, sure, but that isn’t enough when your family are celebrities in their own rights, without needing one another for fame.

bridget slid against her door and let tears flood her eyes as her chest rose and fell. never enough. she repeated in her head over and over. and she believed it. she would never be enough for this family.

harry climbed the stairs with a plate of blueberry pancakes, bacon, and lukewarm tea just how bridget preferred as he knocked on her door. he heard scrambling and whimpers, his eyebrows furrowed. was she hurt? “bridge?” he said carefully, she then quickly pulled the door open, her green eyes pooled with tears, her tanned nose pink, her lashes wet and her lip quivering.

“oh bridge-.” he set the plate on the floor and engulfed bridget in a hug. he had always offered to take her to therapy, he loved his therapist and realied on it heavily through this marriage and throughout parenthood, even his career he needed therapy for. but bridget wasn’t the kind of kid who liked to talk about her feelings. instead, she wanted the comforting touch of someone who loved her.

harry’s arms wrapped around her protectively and she hugged back just as hard. “i love you bridge. i’m so proud of you.” he repeated over and over, she shook her head. “i’m not as good.” she muffled into his pink pleasing crewneck. “w-what?” harry couldn’t believe his ears. “i’m not as good.” bridget sniffled.

“astria is a D1 athlete, sage is just like you, and daphne is just like mom. and i’m- im not talented enough to be in this family, i don’t deserve it.” she looked at the floor, harry felt his heart shatter.

“bridget- i want you to listen to me okay?” harry said gently as he took bridget’s hands, she sniffled and looked at the akin green eyes to her. “you. are more then enough, you deserve to be there, you deserve to be a part of this family because your me and your moms kid, and every kid we have is extraordinary. i mean, your grades, are practically perfect!” he laughed slightly with a soft tone. “you’re way smarter than i ever was. and your style? your mom sees you on pinterest all the time! but you want to know what i’m most proud of?” harry asked gently, bridget nodded, harry got on his knees and looked up at her so she could look down and still see him.

“your kind, resilient, loving, and strong heart. you are the kindest, most giving, nurturing, generous person i know and you heart is the most pure and amazing thing about you.” bridget was sobbing, harry was sobbing, and the tea had gone completely cold as it flooded over with love. “i love you bridget gemma styles. your mother loves you, your sisters loves you, and you are more then enough okay?” harry asked, bridget nodded and hugged him again. harry held his daughter as they both cried in each others arms the rest of easter morning, only to return to the family to do an egg hunt.

#harry styles #dad!harry #daddy harry #harry styles x reader #reader x harry styles #famous family #harry styles flufff #harry styles angst #angst/fluff

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stevesbipanic · 1 year

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For our lovely @unclewaynemunson happy birthday 🎈

Wayne Munson had always loved Eddie.

He had loved Eddie before he was even born, back when his brother had called him boasting the good news. He had loved Eddie when Sara had first held his hand to her belly and he felt the little guy kicked beneath his fingertips.

He had always loved Eddie which is why he could never understand why his brother stopped. Losing Sara when Eddie was born had been hard on everyone but Eddie had made it easier.

The moment Wane laid his eyes on him he swore he'd protect that kid against anyone, he just didn't know it would be against his brother.

Wayne didn't get to see Eddie much for the first few years after he was born. With Sara gone, Eddie's father took him on the road with him. Wayne was always thinking of him, always worrying. As Eddie grew older the worries only grew, Eddie always sounded sad on the phone calls they had.

"Hi Uncle Wayne."

"Hey kiddo, where you guys at now?"

"Pa says we're in Ohio right now, does that mean we'll come see you soon?"

"Sure hope so, Eds."

They don't, they never do, always bouncing around Hawkins like it's got a curse. Wayne had thought maybe his brother's truck just never took them close, the real reason would reveal itself soon enough.

It was winter when Wayne saw Eddie for the first time since that first day in the hospital. The boy shivering in the cold despite his jacket, blue lips matching blue marks on his face.

"Mr Munson?"

"Yeah, yeah that's me," Wayne answered the woman but refusing to take his eyes off Eddie.

"I'm sorry this is so sudden but your brother has been taken into custody and there is no other family available for Edward."

Wayne has no questions regarding his brother, all that matters is Eddie.

"Yeah yeah of course I'll take him, come in son let's get you warm."

He doesn't even bid the woman goodbye, there's more pressing matters, like a hot shower and soup to make. Before any of that however, Wayne feels thin arms wrap around him.

"Thank you Uncle Wayne," Wayne hears Eddie's muffled cry and wraps his arms around him.

"No thanks necessary Eds just wish you were here earlier, would've stolen you from that hospital if I'd known."

Later over soup, Eddie's colour slowly returning, Eddie would regale the last seven years to Wayne. The missed school, the bruises, the lying phone calls. In return, Wayne told Eddie about his mom, showed him pictures and tucked him into the first bed that made Eddie feel safe.

Wayne Munson had always loved Eddie, and now he could keep his promise to protect him.

#wayne munson #eddie munson #stranger things #pre stranger things #ficlet #tw child abuse

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magicshopaholic · 2 months

Text

Moving On (Namjoon x OC)

Summary: BTS performs in Amsterdam and Namjoon invites you to the afterparty.

Pairing: Namjoon x OC

Genre: Angst, smut

Word count: 8.2K

Rating: 18+

Warnings: language, angst, sex, nudity, making out, fingering, cumming, arguing,

A/N: Takes place a little over a month after Final Destination.

Tagging: @bbl32, @quarter-life-crisis2, @margopinkerton, @faearchives, @whoisbts, @purpleseoul7, @sumzysworld, @kflixnet (if you want to be added to the taglist, lmk)

Listen to: "where does the good go" by tegan and sara

namjoon masterlist | main masterlist

Joon [13:45] Did you get the email from Big Hit?

Kaya [13:50] Yes

Joon [13:51] The number at the end is their London office. They’ve been briefed already and have additional security available for all European locations.

Kaya [13:54] Okay

There’s a break in the chat here. Kaya stares at the time stamp, trying to picture him scrambling to find something else to say.

Joon [14:15] The company managed to track down the account that uploaded the video. Account has been taken down and they’ve sued for invasion of privacy.

Kaya [14:20] Okay

Joon [14:22] They’ve also offered to add damages to the suit, in case we want that. Do you?

Kaya [14:25] Not really

Joon [14:26] Okay then

Another break. Kaya scans the time stamps again, even though she’s memorised it by now. She remembers the three dots indicating him typing, seeing them appear and disappear over and over again.

Joon [14:40] How are you?

Kaya [14:45] Fine

Joon [14:46] How‘s work?

Kaya [14:48] Fine

Joon [14:50] Kaya I’m trying

Kaya [14:51] Class starting, got to go

He hadn’t responded and she hadn’t expected him to. Four days post break-up hadn’t been nearly long enough for her to let go of her anger but now, four weeks in, it’s only been replaced with an equal amount of sadness and longing.

Every conversation has been exactly this terse and abrupt, the last one being a week ago. It had appeared when she’d been teaching an elective class and it had taken every ounce of her will to not check it until the class ended. As it turned out, she couldn’t even think of a decent response to it.

“How can he possibly think of asking me this?” Kaya mutters, earphones in as she walks home. It’s dusk, a gorgeous time of the day, but she holds no appreciation for it right now.

“Wouldn’t it be worse if he didn’t ask?” Dilara asks reasonably. She’s in her car by the sound of it, a low hum audible of whichever fancy car of hers she’s decided to take out today.

Kaya swallows, pondering this. It might be, but it doesn’t address the problem she’s too embarrassed to voice out loud: it should be harder for him to ask. The thought that he might not be taking this break-up as hard as she is kills something inside of her, as if she’d misunderstood everything in the last three years.

Her strategy to save herself from hearing the truth had been to distance herself from everyone, including Yoongi, who had texted her out of the blue one day to ask her if she was okay (she hadn’t responded); Seokjin, who seemed to skirt the topic altogether and sounded as though he was speaking to someone very sick; and especially Dilara, who Kaya knew would be the only one with the capacity to ask insightful questions that she herself was too afraid to.

“It’s just… strange,” is all she can manage. “He hopped on a flight, shot a few emails, came over and broke up with me and then went right back to his schedule, all in one day. And now he's inviting me to a party?"

“After-party, so it won’t be, like… crazy,” Dilara clarifies. “And the concert before it.”

“I’m definitely not going to his concert.”

“Of course not,” she agrees breezily. “I wouldn’t expect you to. But the party… I mean, it’s a good thing, isn’t it? He doesn’t want you to be strangers.”

Kaya slows down as she approaches the river. She’s taken the long route home today - anything to prolong the commute before another night in her tainted apartment with memories on every surface.

“I don’t know if I want to see him.” I don’t know if I can. “He wants to see me, though, apparently,” she states after a moment.

Dilara doesn’t say anything for a few seconds. “I mean -“ She begins before pausing, then trying again. “I’m sure it’s going to be torture for him to see you. But even that’s better than not seeing you.”

Kaya doesn’t even realise she’d been holding her breath; she exhales as slowly as possible so as to not make a sound, both at Dilara’s words as well as her answering the unasked question.

She doesn’t respond immediately, though. Now that they’re down this route of addressing concerns she’s been harbouring in her heart for weeks, Kaya feels the rest of them on the verge of tumbling out of her mouth.

"You've seen him a bit these last couple of months,” she ventures, lowering her voice and leaning backwards against the railing overlooking the river. “Does it seem like he misses me at all?"

Dilara hums, a little too knowingly for Kaya’s liking. “Of course, he does. He’s not the most expressive when it comes to his feelings but aside from Tae last year, I don't think I've met a more miserable person."

Kaya waits for the swell of happiness or relief at this news, but all it brings with it is a new wave of anger and frustration.

“Thanks.”

"Look, speaking from experience, it's not easy seeing your ex after a difficult break-up,” says Dilara, sighing. “But sometimes you don't realise just how much you needed to see them until you see them, even if it's just to gain some closure."

Closure. It sounds… final. Kaya can’t picture it, being virtual strangers eventually, just bits of each other’s past. Ex-boyfriend, girl of his dreams, the one that got away. She hates all those words because they just don’t apply, not really. They can’t.

She closes her eyes and presses the heel of her palms into them to intercept the wetness forming, not caring that Dilara is still on the other end of the line. She and Namjoon had stood right here, years ago, living in the bliss of a new couple in fresh love. He’d brought her a bunch of tiny yellow flowers from the park, part-cheesy and part-genuine, eyes twinkling and dimples soft.

Kaya squeezes her eyes shut at the memory, terrified at how the edges of it are already blurring.

“I don’t think I’ll go,” she murmurs, opening her eyes to stare at the ground. “I can’t.”

“Are you sure?” Dilara sounds slightly surprised.

“Yeah. Two days from now is… it’s too soon. I’ll either cry or yell or… I don’t know. It’s too hard.”

“Oh.” She’s quiet for a few seconds. “Okay. If you’re sure. Let me know if you want to get together on Sunday,” she adds. “Brunch or something.”

“Yeah, sure. Thanks.”

—

The next day, Kaya is in the library again, grading papers and wishing she could go back to being a grad student who’s biggest problem was a pop quiz. She’s deliberately chosen a table at the back, away from where the students generally sit, which is why she looks up in surprise when someone comes to her table.

“H-hi, Kaya.” The student waves rests one hand on the back of an empty hair and waves hesitantly with the other.

“Um… hi.” Kaya tries not to frown too conspicuously, for she’s sure she knows this girl.

Svetlana. Savannah.

“Elena, right?”

“Yeah,” she answers with a nervous smile. “Um… are you busy?”

Kaya glances at the stacks of papers, books and laptop on the table. “Kind of, yeah.”

“Okay. Well… I just wanted to say hi.”

Kaya nods awkwardly and forces a small smile on her face. “Hi.”

Elena nods, tucking her hair behind her ears. She looks like she’s about to leave but at the last moment, sits down at the table. Kaya feels her smile fade for she really, really wants to be alone right now.

“How - how are things going?” She sounds nervous - extremely so. She seems to be fidgeting slightly and constantly touching her hair.

“Great,” says Kaya shortly, going back to her paper and hoping she’ll take the hint. “You?”

“Not bad, overall. I guess. Classes are hard and mid-terms are coming up as well…” Elena trails off. “Any plans for the weekend?”

Trying not to sigh, Kaya shakes her head. “Not really. You?”

“Well… I’m going to a concert tomorrow,” she answers hurriedly, and it’s clear that she’s been waiting to divulge this information, oblivious to how Kaya’s heart stops. “It should be fun. Do - do you listen to BTS?”

An unexpected notification from this morning floats into her kind. BTS continues their Europe leg by arriving in Amsterdam, ready to kick off the summer in style!

“No,” she answers truthfully.

“Oh.” Elena is quiet for a moment. “They’re really… good.”

There’s some awkward silence during which Kaya deliberately writes comments on the paper she’s grading, scratching the pen on the paper and wishing Elena would leave.

“It’ll be good to get out of campus. The people here are kind of intimidating. The parties are pretty wild, too,” she murmurs after a moment, sounding uncomfortable.

Kaya nods absently, uncharacteristically satisfied with the knowledge that she might be intimidating this unwanted guest. “Maybe you’re going to the wrong parties,” she offers.

Elena lets out a nervous laugh again. “Maybe. I never see you at them, though. There’s one, tonight, in the common room. Maybe you could come,” she suggests lightly. “Bring a friend or - or your boyfriend.”

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” she answers flatly, not looking up.

“You - oh.” There’s a note of surprise in her voice. “Oh,” she repeats, this time seemingly to herself. “Are you sure?” she blurts out.

Kaya’s eyes snap up to glare at her. “Pretty sure.”

Elena’s eyes widen. “Oh, of - of course,” she stutters. “Sorry, that - that was a stupid question. Sorry.” She swallows and looks at her lap.

Kaya closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, immediately feeling guilty for snapping at an innocent bystander in this situation. “Elena, I… I really need to get these papers done,” she tells her, her voice one of forced calm. “So…”

The blonde finally seems to understand and awkwardly stands up. “Okay. Um, see you around,” she says, tucking her hair behind her ear again.

Kaya nods as she leaves, Namjoon’s invitation swimming in her mind tantalisingly. She can’t ignore it anymore, the fact that they’re in the same city, her city. If she’s not wrong, he’ll do the concert tomorrow night, the group will probably stay the night and depart by Sunday afternoon or evening and she will probably never see him again.

She attempts to continue grading the paper she was working on when Elena interrupted, but when she finds herself reading the same stupid sentence for the fourth time without retaining anything, she begins packing up, ready to head home.

—

Joon [18:42] Hope to see you there tonight

Kaya, with a loss as to how to respond to this, simply did not. She can’t imagine he would be texting her during his concert, but she also knows he has before, if the situation was urgent enough to demand it.

She straightens the black dress against her hips and tilts her head at her reflection. It’s a simple dress, plain black, form-fitting and reaching below her knees, but it’s quite possibly the most gorgeous, sexiest dress she owns.

If she and Namjoon were together, she would have worn it tonight with no hesitation because it would have driven him insane. After weeks of being apart, seeing her in this dress would have rendered him incapable of staying in work mode without dirty texts, flirty touches and eyes from across the room undressing her. Even now, with a bare face, her hair tied into a loose bun and no footwear, the dress is a game-changer.

She gives herself a few moments to imagine this paradise, one that might have come true tonight had she never told him about the break-in. Then, she silently unzips the dress and climbs out of the black fabric pooled around her feet. Tucking it back into her closet, she looks for something else.

Dilara [18:50] In case you change your mind, sharing the location here [Location]

Dilara’s text had come minutes after Namjoon’s, and Kaya has to imagine it was a genuine coincidence. Although she’d replied to neither, it was the second text that caused her to change her mind - that, and the lingering fear that if she didn’t go today, she didn’t know how either of them would be able to maneuver a situation to see each other again.

The concert should end in a little over an hour. Her phone pings again and she groans, for she doesn’t think she can take any more of their unsubtle attempts at convincing her to go tonight. It’s not Namjoon or Dilara, though, but Adam Fischer, her thirty-something thesis advisor, asking if she wants to discuss the coming week’s class schedule tonight.

Kaya shakes her head as she types out a reply (Sorry, I can’t tonight. Will set up a meeting for first thing Monday if that’s okay?), a little rueful. Namjoon heavily disliked Adam, despite having no concrete reason for doing so. He’d always suspected Adam of having feelings for her, even though Adam hadn’t said or done anything to make her think he might. Part of her wonders if she could somehow ditch the party for this meeting and still make sure that the news travelled to Namjoon through the grapevine (Dilara), and if that would still piss him off even now.

She immediately cringes at the pettiness of it, however, sending her reply to Adam and heading into the shower.

The party is at the rooftop restaurant of the hotel next to the concert venue, and presumably where BTS is staying while in Amsterdam. It isn’t as crowded as she was anticipating, although the music is fairly loud. It looks more like a fancy houseparty, and even a few seconds in, Kaya can spot a handful of vaguely famous people in attendance. She looks around for a familiar face, preferably Dilara or Yoongi or one of the younger boys, wishing she’d called ahead and trying not to think about the fact that in spite of not RSVP-ing, her name was on the guest list.

She takes another hesitant step in and audibly sighs when she spots Taehyung, who, for reasons best known to himself, has accessorised his outfit with an ascot. He seems to be in an animated conversation with Jungkook, while standing in between them and facing ahead, with loose curls tumbling down her shoulders and looking slightly bored, is…

“Kaya!”

Dilara’s mouth forms her name over the music as she brushes past her boyfriend and his friend and hurries towards Kaya, looking both happy and relieved to see her. “You look hot!” she exclaims when she reaches her.

“Oh -” Kaya looks down self-consciously; she’d settled for a straight strapless top and jeans, unable to justify dressing sexier without seeming like she was trying too hard for her ex-boyfriend. “Thanks. And you look…” She frowns slightly at Dilara’s mini-dress and go-go boots, with a slightly out-of-place gold ring hanging around her neck. “... like Daphne Blake.”

Dilara’s face visibly falls. “I look like a cartoon character?” she asks, wrinkling her nose.

“Well, a very pretty cartoon character,” she adds quickly. “Especially with the headband. But… why?”

She rolls her eyes. “Taehyung picked it - but I’m sure it’s not because of Daphne Blake.” Spotting Kaya’s confused expression, she shrugs sheepishly. “We got into an argument yesterday about who has better taste, so we decided to go shopping at The Nine Streets and pick each other’s outfits for tonight.”

Kaya raises her eyebrows, something seemingly clicking into place. “So the ascot is your doing?”

“M-hm.” She nods in satisfaction before her eyes widen. “Oh, hey! An ascot - like Fred!” She lets out a low whistle at this realisation and laughs, while Kaya nods knowingly, feeling the urge to smile for the first time in what feels like weeks. “Not planned but zero regrets. I wonder if Tae knows that - oh.”

Kaya cuts her off mid-sentence with a hug, suddenly immensely grateful for Dilara. She can’t remember the last time she’d let anyone into her life this much with the exception of Namjoon; but just maybe, when she’d been happy with him and her guard had been lowered, Dilara had slipped in without warning as well.

She tightens her arms around Kaya and rubs her back. “It’s good to see you, too,” she says, sounding part-surprised and part-delighted. “It’s been a while but I promise that we will still - oh, hey.” The change in tone is abrupt. “Incoming.”

By the way her voice immediately lowers, Kaya is sure she knows what Dilara is referring to. Her heart beating a mile a minute, she pulls away from the hug and turns as casually as she can.

Her first thought is that he looks thinner - visibly so. Well, he’s on tour, says a voice in her head but Kaya suspects that’s not the only reason, for he’d been on tour when he’d broken up with her as well.

His hair is a silvery blond, looking almost metallic; dressed simply in a black T-shirt and jeans, he runs a hand through his hair so it falls gracefully around his face as he approaches her, his face unreadable.

“Hi,” he says, and it sounds like all the breath has been let out of him with just one word. He swallows and straightens his shoulders, a small smile appearing on his face, the dimple faintly visible. “It’s good to see you, Kaya.”

Kaya nods, unable to speak and overcome with a sudden urge to cry. “You, too,” she murmurs, glancing at the floor and blinking rapidly before looking back up at him, a bit defiantly.

“I’m glad you decided to come.”

She nods again, her chest twisting at how normal he sounds. He’s standing far away from her as well, as though to make it clear in every way possible that they’re not together.

“Hope you had a good concert,” she ventures, recalling the grad student who’d accosted her yesterday, practically beside herself at attending a BTS concert. “Backstage must have been hectic.”

A flicker of something appears in his eyes for a moment, possibly with memories of backstage. Wishes of luck, last minute hugs, sweaty and passionate kisses fueled by adrenaline. But it disappears instantly and Kaya wonders if she imagined it.

“It was,” he answers, nodding. He slides his hands into his pockets smoothly, leaning back on his heels and his smile widening a little. “But worth it as always. The crew did well.”

Kaya doesn’t even bother nodding this time; all of a sudden, she regrets coming here tonight. Dilara has left, she just realises, and Namjoon is acting like they’re acquaintances at best, making her feel stupid and yet immensely grateful that she didn’t wear the sexy black dress.

At that moment, his eyes flicker to something behind her. “I’m sorry, I just need to go and say hi to a couple of people. But enjoy your night. It’s an open bar,” he adds, smiling and nodding politely before brushing past her and walking away.

Kaya doesn’t move; she doesn’t think she can. Something heavy feels like it’s settled on her chest, the weight of confusion, disbelief and crushing disappointment threatening to suffocate her. She has no idea what she’d been expecting; maybe arguing, fighting, crying together again - but not him not caring. Not this.

Namjoon continues walking in the opposite direction for as long as he can keep Kaya in his peripheral vision, both guilty and relieved when she doesn’t turn around. He doesn’t think he can look her in the eye if she does, witness the pain and hurt in her face that close.

He catches Seokjin’s eye and hurries over to him. Seokjin raises his eyebrows and seems to guess what might have transpired, ushering him over to the other end of the circular bar and out of Kaya’s line of sight.

“How did it go?”

Namjoon rests his palms on the bar and shakes his head, no words coming to him at the moment and feeling like he could throw up. He can’t fathom how he did it, how he stood there before her and didn’t immediately pull her to him, or break down and ask her to forgive him for doing the only thing he knew to do.

“Drink this.” Seokjin slides a glass to him and Namjoon takes it without hesitation, taking a huge gulp and waiting for it to sting his sinuses.

“This is water,” he states hoarsely, frowning at the glass.

“Cold water,” corrects Seokjin. “It’ll help clear your head.”

Namjoon takes another sip and places the glass down, dropping his head into his hands. “I can’t do this. How do I tell her I can’t do this? How do I ask her to -“ But he breaks off here, his mind swimming with the sight of her bare shoulders and exposed collarbones, imagining how they would feel if he held her.

“Okay.” Seokjin exhales through his nose and pauses. “Look, I have to ask. You’ve seen the state she is in. And you’re…” He struggles for a moment “...like this. Are you absolutely sure you don’t want to ask her to get back -“

“No.” The answer is instant, although it’s partly a habit by now. As he does every time his mind tries to convince him otherwise, Namjoon forces the memory of her phone call to the forefront of his mind, the fear in her voice and devastation on her face when he’d entered her apartment.

“But maybe this is -“

“No.”

Seokjin is silent and Namjoon can tell that he doesn’t approve. Please don’t ask me again, hyung. He doesn’t know if he did the right thing by inviting her but he couldn’t imagine not doing it either, not being right here in her city, knowing she was so close that he could almost smell the coconut and vanilla in the air and still not see her in the flesh.

“If you’re sure,” says Seokjin at last. “If you are, then I guess you did well. Just… just be normal around her. Keep a normal distance, talk about normal things and…” He half-shrugs, sounding uncertain. “She’s smart. She’ll understand. If you’re sure you want to do this, then… she’ll get it.”

Normal. Namjoon knows what he means, but he wants to tell him that none of this is normal. Not touching her, not being honest with her, not being with her - none of it is normal.

“She’s talking to Yoongi right now,” he adds, and Namjoon turns to see them near the stairs to the top floor. Kaya’s back is to him, her head lowered slightly and her thumbs hooked onto the back pockets of her jeans, the material hugging her hips and curving down her backside… He swallows and looks away.

“This is your chance,” says Seokjin. “Go and mingle. Let her see you moving on - even if you actually aren’t,” he clarifies quickly. “It won’t be pleasant but it might encourage her to do the same.”

Namjoon isn’t sure of the wisdom of this strategy but ever since the cause of his break-up had been revealed to the older members (and surely to Taehyung at least, by Dilara), he’d almost been relieved that he wouldn’t have to make every decision on his own.

He tries his best to navigate the party after that, making empty conversation with guests, using every bit of remaining energy and willpower to plaster a smile on his face. All the while, part of his attention is constantly on Kaya, registering her familiar figure alone at the bar as she nurses a beer, sometimes with Dilara.

Be normal. Seokjin’s words start holding less and less meaning with every passing minute, especially when he spots Kaya having finished her drink and he’s struck with the sudden fear that she will leave the party. In an effort to be as normal as he can, Namjoon heads over to the bar where she’s scanning the life-size menu half-heartedly, arms folded across her chest.

“Like anything?” he asks humbly. Long Island Iced Tea or a Mai Tai - depends on the flavours. His heart jolts when she shoots him a doubtful look and doesn’t answer, almost as if she’s wary of talking to him. She leans over the bar and gives the bartender a smile that makes his heart drop, especially when he grins back.

“Komt de mai tai in mango?” she asks, half-pouting when he shakes his head. “Een biertje, alsjeblieft,” she says finally, taking her second beer and turning away from the bar.

Namjoon doesn’t remember ever feeling this distant from her. “I’m glad you came tonight,” he tries again, choosing to look at her even though she’s facing away.

Kaya nods, pursing her lips and looking ahead. “Yeah, you said that already.” But her voice trembles ever so slightly, or maybe he just knows her so well that he’s sure it’s not a case of her not wanting to look at him - she can’t look at him.

It’s all on him now. He started this; if there is any hope of them still staying in each other’s lives, it’s down to him to make it happen.

“How’s your dissertation going?” he asks, hoping her work is a topic she might open up on.

She shrugs after a moment. “Off schedule,” she answers shortly. “A lot of variables hanging in the air.”

“Did you get into the research project you’d applied for?”

It’s momentary but it appears: the corner of her mouth tilts upwards. “Yeah,” she admits, finally looking at him, albeit hesitantly. “Guess I’ll have a lot more time to focus on it now,” she murmurs, the hint of a smile fading.

Namjoon’s heart sinks. She’s so angry with him; it’s palpable and not something he has ever been on the receiving end of. Her hand hangs by her side; his own itches to link his fingers with his, maybe tug her to him or lead her out of this stupid party where he can plead for her to just look at him.

“Well,” he says, then pauses. “I’m glad you could get the time off tonight. Must have been hard.”

“M-hm, not really.” She shakes her head. “Adam wanted to meet but I’ll probably catch up with him later,” she adds nonchalantly.

Namjoon nods, his hand tightening around his glass. He can’t tell if she’s trying to provoke him, for they do work closely; close enough that Adam’s intentions have always been a point of disagreement for them. He’d never been able to explain to her just how much he hated the way her advisor looked at her when she didn’t notice, how his hugs always lingered a moment too long or how he insisted on calling her late in the evenings to discuss work.

He’s distracted momentarily by Jungkook, who approaches them while bopping effortlessly to the music and stops in between them, turning to face in the same direction as Namjoon and Kaya. He’s definitely tipsy; the smile on his face is too big and he doesn’t seem to be reading the room at all.

“Dilara is a really good dancer, isn’t she?” he says loudly in English to no one in particular. Namjoon frowns and follows his gaze to see Dilara, Taehyung and Hoseok dancing, before turning back to look at Jungkook. On his other side, Kaya is also frowning at him, tilting her head curiously. Their eyes meet and she raises her eyebrows slightly.

Namjoon fights a smile as Kaya half-chuckles and looks away, his heart twisting with longing at how much he misses her. She looks so incredibly beautiful; his eyes sting when he realises that there’s absolutely nothing he can do about it.

“I’m gonna -“ He gestures vaguely and walks away in the opposite direction, desperate to be anywhere but around her before his resolve breaks.

The next half hour is a flurry of faces; Namjoon distracts himself with every single individual at the party, making small talk and exchanging unfunny jokes and hyper aware of Kaya occasionally glancing at him.

He knows, because he’s watching her, too, doing his best to make sure she doesn’t see him looking. He can’t even help it; it’s almost muscle memory at this point.

“Who are you looking at?” The woman he’s talking to asks him point-blank.

Namjoon flushes, realising he’d been staring at Kaya over her shoulder while she’d been speaking.

“No one,” he answers quickly. “Sorry.”

The twenty-something woman frowns curiously. “Are you sure? I’m not offended.”

“It’s… nothing.” He shakes his head and looks at the floor.

“Ex-girlfriend?”

Ex. Not trusting himself to speak, Namjoon nods.

“Hm.” She hums, somewhat sympathetically. “Bad break-up?”

“Pretty bad.”

“I’m sorry,” she says after a moment. “It’s never easy to be around an ex if it hasn’t ended well.”

“Yeah, well,” he says, desperate to change the topic. “All part of the process, right?”

“Right,” she says encouragingly. “Plus, once you’re past this phase, the one where you constantly want to die, you can begin the drink and eat and hook up as much as you want stage with no judgement.”

He chuckles politely, the prospect sounding horrendous. “Thanks. Feels good to laugh for real.”

She smiles wider and, before he knows it, leans forward and presses a kiss against his lips.

It takes Namjoon a couple of seconds of pure shock before he jumps backwards. “Whoa. What -“ His heart races uncomfortably. “What was that?”

“Sorry,” she says slowly, looking a little confused. “I thought… you wanted to make your ex jealous. Isn’t that where you were going with this?”

“No,” he clarifies immediately. “No. Absolutely not. I don’t want to - no.” In the midst of his minor crisis, he notes how the woman looks almost mortified.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to -”

“It’s fine,” he cuts her off, suddenly feeling horribly guilty. He looks up out of habit and sees, unmistakably, Kaya leaving the restaurant, her long dark hair and the shimmery dark blue of her top disappearing out the door.

—

The night has gotten chillier in the last couple of hours and the cool wind hits her bare shoulders the moment she steps out, but Kaya barely feels it. She’s not thinking right now; thinking is what’s got them here, thinking about everything and overthinking to the point of fleeing a restaurant.

“Kaya!”

Her feet increase their pace automatically the same time her stomach flips, but he’s taller and faster and he reaches her before she can even reach the elevator.

“Kaya,” he repeats hurriedly, reaching and grabbing her elbow. “Wait, please. I’m sorry -”

“Why did you even invite me here?” she asks, cutting him off and turning around to face him. She’s so tired; she didn’t think break-ups could be this exhausting. “You’ve barely said anything to me. Was it to show me in person how you’re moving on? Because if that’s the case, then… message received.”

Namjoon shakes his head immediately; he looks exhausted as well, and Kaya is once again struck by how much thinner he is, overcome with a mixture of empathy and frustration at him.

“That was not - I didn’t plan that,” he says, sighing. “I don’t even know who she is. She kissed me and it wasn’t… come on, does it look like I’m moving on?” he asks, raising his arms helplessly.

Kaya stares at him and then sighs, shaking her head. “Why did you invite me here?” she asks again, less defensive this time.

“Because I wanted to see you,” he says at once.

She stares at him. “Well, you’ve seen me,” she says, sniffing. “Can I go now?”

“Kaya…”

“What?”

Namjoon runs a hand through his hair, looking lost for words. “Please don’t -“ He breaks off abruptly before taking a step closer to her, his height both large and comforting. “I don’t want you to be sad. I’m sorry.”

Too late. “You’re not supposed to care how I feel. Not anymore.”

He lets out a humourless chuckle. “What?”

“We’re over.” She can hear the tremble in her voice as she crosses her arms across her chest again. “You said it yourself. You’re not supposed to care how I feel.”

“Really?” He narrows his eyes at her. “You think this break-up had anything to do with how I feel about you? You know as I do that it didn’t.” When she doesn’t answer, he sighs. “I did this because I care.”

“If you say so.”

He pokes his tongue into his cheek. “Are you deliberately trying to provoke me or something?”

“Provoke you into what?” she blurts out. “What - what is that you want, exactly? What do you want us to do? Just circle around in each other’s orbits for the rest of our lives, while still being - while still feeling the way we do?” she asks, avoiding her almost-slip of tongue. “We’re just supposed to stay not be together and still stay in each other’s lives? What - what do you want?”

Namjoon opens his mouth but falls silent; it’s clear he hasn’t thought that far ahead - or he can’t say it out loud. “I want…” He begins, before pausing and starting again. “I want… you to be happy,” he says eventually. “And safe.”

She scoffs and he bristles.

“I’m serious. I -” He breaks off when someone exits the restaurant, his gaze following them until they’re out of sight before he turns back to her. “This is hard for me, too, you know? Why is it so hard for you to believe I might want you to be happy?”

Kaya exhales but doesn’t answer, because it isn’t hard to believe, not even a little bit. It’s unfortunately the most believable thing he’s ever said to her which means she can’t even fight it.

“How?” she asks finally. “By moving on, like you were pretending to do?”

Namjoon bites his lip and his eyes glaze over, and she knows he’s picturing it. His eyes fall to the floor but he nods slowly anyway. “Yeah, I guess. As long as I don’t have to watch it,” he adds in a mutter.

It’s really over. Kaya feels her eyes well up. “Fine,” she answers quietly. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go find someone to move on with tonight.” She turns to leave but feels him stop her again. “What?” she snarls.

“Kaya, I -” The lift opens and a handful of people tumble out, holding merchandise and talking loudly. Namjoon’s eyes widen and he immediately grabs her arms and walks her back into a corner, just as the group turns into their corridor and towards the restaurant.

“What are you -”

But the second lift opens just then and they hear the sound of a second group of voices. Namjoon swears under his breath and pushes open a door behind her, walking her back further into the tiny dark room and letting the door swing shut behind him.

“What is wrong with -“

“It’s press,” he hisses, and she falls silent.

He peers out into the corridor through the small window in the door; there’s no light except for the bit through the window and from a skylight in the ceiling. Kaya can smell something vaguely citric that she decides is floor cleaner; they are in a janitor’s closet.

She and Namjoon are frozen in place, his hands still on her arms and hers on his torso to keep from losing her balance. It’s been a long time since they’ve been this close; it takes Kaya a few seconds to realise that the voices outside have disappeared, but he still hasn’t moved away.

Almost as if he’s subconsciously heard her, his thumbs stroke her arm once. The simple touch makes all the anger crumble away for a moment, especially now that it’s just them with the rest of the world shut outside. Kaya hesitates for a moment, then gently rests her forehead on his shoulder. Namjoon stiffens but a moment later, she feels his fingers tighten above her elbows, followed by him loosely enveloping her in his arms.

It seems cruel, almost, that the target of her anger and source of her comfort lie in the same person. It isn’t even a hug; it’s a moment of weakness at best, borne from his almost subconscious need to protect her. For the first time, Kaya wonders if she’s being unfair to him.

Resisting the temptation to wrap her arms around his waist, she steps away from him with difficulty, her back touching the wall. His arms fall from around her reluctantly, his expression resigned. It’s dark but she can see him more clearly than she has all night.

“This is a terrible idea,” she murmurs, echoing her words from a month ago. “The worst you’ve ever had.”

Namjoon exhales shakily but doesn’t argue. “I meant everything I said in that note,” he says, not even trying to hide the tremble in his voice anymore. “And I really do want you to be happy.”

The note. The one he’d kept on her bedside table when he’d left her apartment while she slept, the only thing of his that was left when she’d awoken, naked and alone. She’d only had the strength to read it once before she’d broken down and tucked it deep into her drawer, knowing the words would be etched in her memory.

“You know what will make me happy,” she whispers, looking at the ground. She feels him come closer to her, one hand hovering by her side as though unable to decide if she’d want her to touch him.

He finally rests it lightly on her waist, moving it slightly upward as she looks up at him, her heart twisting at how he’s unable to meet her eyes. She places her hands on his face, thinking vaguely how much she misses seeing his dimple.

“Joon,” she whispers, waiting for him to nod once. “Look at me.”

Namjoon visibly swallows, gaze still fallen. “Kaya, I…”

“No,” she interrupts him. “Look at me.”

With what seems like an enormous effort, he meets her eyes. This is hard for me too, you know?

She knows. Kaya strokes his cheekbones with her thumbs, her touch feather-light. “Kiss me,” she whispers. She touches her forehead to his and closes her eyes, hoping he’ll give in, for she can’t go further than this.

His hand tightens around her waist, pressing her into the wall. Their lips brush momentarily and he shivers.

“Do it,” she urges, her voice barely audible now. “Kiss me.”

She feels his lips before she even registers him moving against her and she leans into it, feeling like she can breathe for the first time in weeks. Come back to me, she thinks desperately. Come back to where you belong.

It’s like he can hear her. Namjoon pulls away, one hand on the wall beside her face for support, the other holding her.

“Fuck,” he whispers, and it sends a jolt of anticipation through her heart. “I love you, Kaya,” he adds, voice full of emotion. Kaya nods, unable to speak, wishing he would meet her eyes. He moves his hands to her face and touches his forehead to hers again, swallowing.

Look at me.

But he doesn’t. “But you have no idea,” he continues, every word sounding like it's costing him effort, “how I felt when you called me that night. The things that went through my mind…” He sniffs, and Kaya’s heart sinks. “I can’t let that happen again baby. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry…”

She can feel her face start to contort and she drops her hands from his shoulders, for she knows this part by heart. “Goodbye, Namjoon,” she mutters thickly, sliding out from between him and the wall. She pushes open the door and hurries out, leaving him behind.

—

When she hears the knock on her front door the next morning, Kaya is just about to step into the shower. She freezes and sighs, for she really, really needs this shower. She considers ignoring it but the knock sounds again and she groans, abandoning the activity of tying up her hair and letting it fall loose instead.

Grabbing the old, threadbare robe hanging on the back of the bathroom door, she pulls it around herself and shuffles to the front door. She peers through the peephole and her heart stops for a moment, but she steels herself and opens the door.

Namjoon stands before her, hands in his pockets and shoulders slightly hunched. “Hey. I just wanted to - oh, God,” he switches abruptly, his expression changing from vaguely apologetic to shocked, and he slips inside the apartment.

“What?” Kaya asks, taken off guard and stumbling backwards.

“You really opened the door wearing that?” he hisses, shutting the door behind him. “I could’ve been anyone!”

“I knew it was you,” she argues, tightening the belt around her waist and realising, for the first time, how short the robe is. But she isn’t about to admit that to him, especially not when he’s turned up unannounced and decided to begin his visit by berating her. She folds her arms across her chest. “What do you want, Namjoon?”

He hesitates, almost as though he’s just noticing how displeased she is. “Sorry,” he mutters, looking a bit ashamed. “I didn’t mean to… anyway,” he says quickly, wringing his hands and slipping them back in his pockets. “How are you?”

Kaya shrugs suspiciously. He looks remarkably different from where she’d left him last night, almost breaking down and apologising to her. Right now, he seems almost… calm. She can almost imagine that last night had been a slip-up of emotion, possibly due to tiredness and an open bar, whereas in the light of day, he’s back to being the responsible ex who’s fulfilling his obligations by checking up on her each day.

“I’m great.”

He nods after a moment, clearly not believing her. “Well, I came here because…” He sighs and a glimmer of last night’s emotion appears on his face. “I thought about what you said last night. And you were right.”

The jolt in her stomach is almost painful, but Kaya hangs on. If he was talking about what she thinks he is, he would be delivering it far more differently.

“We can’t keep doing this. I can’t expect you to keep doing this,” he adds. “Staying in this limbo, not knowing…” He bites his lip and lowers his gaze, removing his hands from his pockets. “You have every right to move on. I want you to - to be happy.”

Kaya licks her lips slowly. “This,” she says coldly, “could’ve been a text.”

“I didn’t want to leave things the way they were last night,” he tells her, his voice softer. “You’re, uh…” His voice breaks off for a moment. “You’re the love of my life. And we were together for a long time and I… I loved every moment of it. I just want to say goodbye the right way.”

Her throat hurts holding back the rush of emotion that threatens to overwhelm her.

“Are you sure?” She can’t resist asking, in a whisper. When he nods and lowers his eyes, she feels the heavy, heavy anchor of acceptance settle in her stomach.

Namjoon hesitantly reaches out with one hand but when she gives him a look, he nods and steps forward, and they meet in their last hug, three and a half years after their first last hug in her apartment.

Kaya hugs him tight, no longer caring about hiding how she feels. There isn’t enough time to try and memorise everything so she doesn’t even try; she just goes higher on her toes and presses her nose into his shoulder, revelling in his scent one last time.

Namjoon doesn’t seem to be doing much better. He’s holding her tight, so tight that it doesn’t seem like he’s ever intending on letting her go. His face is in her hair and his arms stroke her back in small movements, his go-to movement to comfort her since they met.

Just a few more seconds. The sensations increase now; the feel of his shoulders, his chest touching hers - and she’s suddenly conscious of the thin robe being the only thing separating her naked body from him.

At the same time, his hands move to her waist - out of habit, she knows, but she can’t help but be extremely aware of it. His hand stops just above the curve of her hips, quickly and abruptly.

Her mouth feels dry, but her legs press together. Then, as though he can read her mind and the direction her thoughts are invariably leading in, against her hip, she can feel his body react.

She lets out a soft gasp and feels his body stiffen around her. This is goodbye, a voice reminds her, urging her brain to focus on the matter at hand. But it’s slipping - fading, almost, as a physical urge struggles for dominance.

Her lips brush his neck as she pulls away - she has to pull away - but it doesn’t matter in the end because somewhere along the way his lips find hers and all thought disappears, replaced by touch, feel and hunger.

Namjoon sighs into her mouth like he’s breathing for the first time, pulling her close. Her robe starts to loosen and he tugs at the belt, groaning when his hands touch her bare skin.

“Fuck, are you really not wearing anything under this?” he murmurs, his voice so low and reverberating so deep inside her that she shivers.

The robe is off; it’s cool and sudden air, a moment where his hands fall from her waist and then their back but this time, it’s skin against skin. It’s lips and sighs and tight grips, the feel of denim, her fingers moving out of habit as they unbutton and unzip - and then there’s pride and relief when she feels his desire for her, still the same as ever, no matter his words.

There’s something solid against her back; somewhere, dimly, her mind registers that her dining table is rickety and has her laptop on it, and then she’s leaning forward and he’s behind her and his chest is against her back and he wants her just as much as he wants him.

“Are you -“

“I’m still on birth control,” she confirms tightly, the next moment feeling his fingers on her hips and then he’s inside her again, after so long. She could almost sob at how good it feels, how right, the lips on her shoulder and his scent and touch.

But it’s over too soon. She gasps and falls forward, her ears ringing and heart hurting at the same time as her heart races. He’s getting close, too; she tries to memorise it now, the exact moment, but then he pulls out. It’s sudden, the emptiness, but the next moment, she feels wetness on her back.

It takes around ten seconds, ten seconds when she’s frozen before she finally hears him sigh and take a step away. A moment later, she reaches across the table and pulls the tissue box towards her, reaching behind and wiping her back.

Kaya turns slightly to see him pulling on his T-shirt, jeans buttoned already. She picks up her robe and pulls it on hurriedly, suddenly not wanting to be naked for even another microsecond in front of him.

Something feels wrong. It’s not the first time he’s finished on her; he’s done it before, on explicit request and without, none of which ever made her feel… like this. Self-conscious. Bare.

Namjoon clears his throat. “I -“ He meets her eyes, still panting slightly. “I still want to… do this right,” he says, sounding almost formal. “Goodbye, Kaya.”

He starts to take a step forward but pauses. “Maybe we shouldn’t hug,” he murmurs, offering her a small smile. Kaya watches as he hesitantly offers her a hand.

This is goodbye. Kaya can’t remember ever feeling this uncomfortable around him. The momentary loss of her sense of reason feels like it’s returned in full form, and she tightens the robe around her. She starts to reach for his hand but then stops.

“This is what you meant?” she asks quietly. “When you said you wanted to do it the right way? You wanted to see if you could squeeze in one last fuck before you closed this out like a business meeting?”

“What?” Namjoon’s eyes widen. “No! I didn’t - I didn’t want that to happen! I mean - you know that’s not what I meant,” he adds quickly. “I didn’t plan this. You and I both -“

“You planned our break-up and I had no idea,” she cuts him off, the shame and embarrassment creeping up her throat. “I really don’t know anymore.”

He scoffs, but his eyes flicker like he’s been stung. “Is that what you think of me? We were both here, Kaya. It wasn’t just me - you wanted this just as much as I -“

“I slept with Adam.”

Namjoon freezes. He swallows and his eyes flicker again, rapidly this time. “You’re lying,” he whispers.

Kaya shrugs, holding his gaze with every last bit of willpower in her. “You were the one who told me to move on last night,” she reminds him, watching his expression crumble and doing nothing to stop it.

After what feels like several minutes, or maybe even hours, Namjoon nods slowly. Then, without another word, he turns around and opens the door, walking out of her life and shutting the door behind him.

—

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