#still processing all this but I really loved the little goodbyes everyone got before the epilogue

[nosnexus]

Farewells at the End of All Things...

#dimension 20 #d20 #neverafter #neverafter spoilers #mother timothy goose #d20 puss in boots #ylfa snorgelsson #gerard of greenleigh #princess elody #d20 pinocchio #d20 cinderella #d20 scheherazade #my art #still processing all this but I really loved the little goodbyes everyone got before the epilogue #it makes me want to go back and rewatch everything #they've come so far and deserve their happily

[fioiswriting]

Reunion | Sequel

[Part 1]

Summary : After the Battle Above the Gods Eye, Daemon returned victorious. Aemond was presumed dead, though his body was never found. Three years later, you've mourned your former husband and are ready to move on. But it seems that some ghosts from your past have come back to haunt you, and that the dead aren't really dead after all...

Rating : Explicit 18+, MDNI

Pairing : Aemond x Velaryon/Strong!niece!Reader

TW : unprotected sex, breeding kink, mention of characters death, angst, possessiveness, p in v sex, oral f receiving, dom/sub undertones, mention of war, AU where the Blacks won the war, anxiety, Reader has a child, grief, fluff, pregnancy, not proofread. 

Reader is Rhaenyra and Harwin’s daughter so I imagined her with dark hair like Jace, Luke and Joffrey but feel free to imagine her as you want of course <3

Words count : 9150

Author's note : Hello everyone!! Sorry for the wait, I've been very busy, but here's part two of Reunion (or at least the first part two, let's call it part 2.1 hehe). Thank you again for all you kind comments and the love you've given my fanfic omg!! Spoiler alert: this is the happy alternate ending! But I've got another bittersweet alternative ending planned 😈 If you think the first part was good enough on its own and the sequel may break the vibe, don't force yourself to read!! But if you need a happy ending, here it is <3 The plot still doesn't make any sense, but hey, we're here to have fun so enjoy ❤️

English is still not my first (or second) language, so sorry for the grammar mistakes <3

When you wake up, the first thing you feel is the reassuring embrace of his arms around you. You don't want to move, not even when the sunlight tickles your face through the opening between the wooden shutters, trying to make the moment last endlessly. But the growing anxiety in your stomach chases away the illusion of your fleeting happiness. 

You close your eyes a little tighter. Perhaps if you try again, perhaps if you try harder, the world around you can fade away.

Perhaps you can wake up again, in a different reality.

But it's inevitable. You know that now you're awake, it's only a matter of time before the two of you have to say goodbye forever. Your breathing becomes heavier, and you have to fight the tingling sensation at the corners of your eyes.

Why have the gods decided to be so cruel to you? They grant you one last taste of his skin on your lips before taking it from you, again. 

Haven't you given enough? 

Could they not show you mercy? 

You who had forgotten him, you who had begun to turn a new page, to seek comfort in the arms of the cold, far away from the fire and the ashes, why did you have to touch the poison that would once again stain your soul?

Behind you, Aemond buries his long nose in your hair. His hand absently caresses the skin of your thigh, just where the edge of the linen tunic you put on sometime during the night when you were cold ends. The fabric is pulled up, revealing the outline of your bottom, and you can already feel your uncle hardening between his thighs, but you don't move.

If you move, you'll make everything more real. Tangible.

You'll speed up the process of losing him, of him slipping through your fingers. 

How can you let him go, now that your heart is full again, now that you feel complete in a way you haven't felt for over three years?

How can you let him go, now that your body has retrieve the extension of itself in the arms of the man who was the cause of your torment, your moments of joy, your pain and, paradoxically, your happiness?

"I know you're awake."

You hold your breath and Aemond inhales into your hair. His hand moves down the inside of your thigh, along the hollow that joins it to your groin. He doesn't venture any further. 

His thumb rests there and brushes your skin, trying to arouse the desire in you with gentleness.

Subtly.

 He doesn't want to hurry, he doesn't want to rush you.

Not when he's been harbouring the impossible fantasy of waking up with you in his arms since the day he nearly died.

He presses harder against you, as if he doesn't want to let you go, as if he wants to be one with you again, and you feel him pulsing against your buttocks, under the linen cloth that has been pulled up a little higher. He says nothing, but he is pleading, needy, in his gestures, which is rare for him.

Something has changed, after all, and perhaps something has changed in him too. 

"I am awake, indeed, " you whisper in a voice that is still half asleep. The lump in your throat betrays the feeling of anxiety gradually creeping into your body, and Aemond seems to notice. Under your tunic, his hand moves up along your belly until it nestles against your chest, close to your heart. His thumb draws small circles, once again trying to bring you back to him.

Trying to calm your mind.

"Let us forget for a little longer," he whispers, his clenched jaw resting over your head. "Please." 

And you know he never begs. 

Aemond takes and doesn't ask.

Aemond believes he is owed everything and never gives in return.

Hearing him beg breaks something inside you, because this is the first time he does so.

Usually it was you, it was always you, begging for peace, begging for more, begging him not to leave you.

Part of him is as desperate as you are; part of him also dreads the moment when you will have to part again. Forever. It's comforting to know that his feelings are sincere, just like yours.

" Make me forget, then." You reply, moving your lower loins back against him, giving him tacit permission to explore your body once more. His fingers move down to your breasts, which he covers softly with his hand, his thumb skimming over a nipple to make it hard. You let out a gasp between your parted lips.

His hand slides lower, his palm flat against your lower belly, his fingertips brushing the light patch of hair at the top of your mound. You feel the familiar warmth growing between your thighs, in your core.

He sighs against the back of your skull, his head tilted forward. His lips search the skin at the nape of your neck, behind the long hair that has become tangled during the night, while his fingers intimately explore the secrets of your body that he knows all too well. The remnants of last night's lovemaking still smear the insides of your thighs and folds, but it doesn't matter; his fingers easily find the little bundle of nerves that they tease until you close your eyes, until your hand grips the damp, shabby sheet that covers the ragged mattress in the inn where you've spent the night.

Just the both of you, in the comfort of anonymity. 

"Let me taste you". His voice, still husky, tickles the back of your neck and you feel him shift behind you. When you feel the warmth of his bare chest, against which you're nestled, leave your back, your body automatically tries to move back against him. You still need him. You still need him to chase away the lump of anxiety in the pit of your stomach and the voices that keep reminding you that you're only postponing the fateful moment. Your hand slips under your white tunic and wraps around his wrist to force him to stay there, to hold his fingers against the source of heat spreading from your core. Your hips are demanding, grinding against his hand. "On your back," he insists, and stands up on his forearms.

With reluctance you turn over. You obey, lying on your back, your hair spilled around your head on the flat, uncomfortable pillow on which you slept badly. The white tunic that serves as your nightgown is pulled up, crumpled, just above your crotch, which it barely conceals. 

Aemond has swung over your body, silvery strands loosening from the braid that holds his hair behind his head and sliding down his shoulders, falling in loose loops on either side of his face, tickling your cheeks.

His lilac-tinted blue eye glows with a predatory gaze, a ray of light catching in the sapphire he hasn't removed from his socket. 

He captures your lips with his own, begging for access. Aemond marks your jaw and throat with light kisses, sucking at your collarbone to make the violets of possessiveness with which he likes to adorn your body bloom. His lips travel down your chest, playing with one of the two small nipples raised by the cool air and by desire, and continue their journey past your navel. 

Your heartbeat quickens as he settles between your legs, spreading your thighs to admire the part of you he covets so eagerly. At the same time you bend your legs, your gaze falling on him, on his unravelled hair, on his eye that locks with yours. He is so close to you, so close to your warm centre, and you know that between your folds the sweet nectar that your uncle longs to taste is already flowing.

But his lips trace the inside of your thighs instead, where the skin is soft and tender, and gradually they reach the hollow that connects them to your most intimate part. He takes a malicious pleasure in building up the tension, in savouring every millimetre of you like a fine delicacy, with only the tip of his lips brushing against your skin.

His thumbs spread the tender flesh of your womanhood and then he places a chaste kiss on the very centre of you. His tongue is shy at first, tracing the slit that connects your entrance to your little knob, collecting the evidence of your desire.

As his tongue wraps around your nub, your hands grip the sheets, knuckles white. 

Aemond drinks from your essence like a thirsty man, his nose buried between your folds, rubbing your pearl.

The tip of his tongue catches what drips from your opening, and then the flat of his tongue tastes your slit, working its way up to the little nub gorged with desire. 

He maintains the same rhythm, revelling in the moans that escape from your half-open lips. Soon his middle finger begins to draw circles against your entrance, the first knuckle sliding inside, then the whole finger. Your head is thrown back and immediately your hand buries itself in his silvery hair, gripping his braid in a messy bun behind the top of his head. Forcing his face against the most intimate part of your body, forcing his lips to work on your wet warmth, you seek more contact. 

Aemond adds a second finger. He can feel you tighten around him as he searches for that particular spot, as his tongue continues to play with your bundle of nerves.

As he devours what is his, utterly his.

His fingers, the ones that aren't buried inside you, close around the flesh of your hip in a possessive grip. "Come for me," he whispers against your womanhood, his eyes lifted to you. "I know you can do it."

Your breathing becomes more erratic, faster too. You tighten the grip of your fingers in his hair, your thighs pressing either side of his face, and he collects the sweet taste of your release on his tongue with a hum. 

You feel like you're floating. The waves of warmth still wash over you, less and less intense, your breast rising and falling as you catch your breath. 

Your hand tucks a lock of his hair back behind his ear as Aemond lifts his face towards you, and you rest your hand against his cheek. His parted lips still glisten with your desire smeared across the lower part of his face. He stares at you without moving, his deep, regular breathing the only sound to break the silence that has followed your release. You stay like that for a moment, his gaze burning into yours. At any moment he might pounce on you. At any moment he might close the tiny distance separating your mouths and press his lips against yours like the starving man he is.

It's you who makes the first move. You taste yourself on his lips and your tongue entwines with his in a fiery, demanding kiss.

Straightening up, Aemond creeps between your legs, his hand on the underside of your thighs, holding them apart. He is still completely naked from the night before, he has not bothered to get dressed after your lovemaking, so you can catch a glimpse of his erect manhood, slightly curved. He wraps his hand around to guide it towards your still sensitive wet entrance.

He slides into you easily, in one slow movement. The haste of the night before, the urgency of the reunion, has given way to the tenderness and laziness of the early morning, and Aemond rocks inside you slowly. His hips undulate, punctuated by long, deep thrusts, in an illusion of domesticity. 

But the damp sheets, rough against your skin, the discomfort of the hard mattress beneath your back, remind you that your lovemaking is anything but domestic.

For Aemond is still the enemy, for Aemond is supposed to be dead.

For your family is probably looking for you at this very moment, worried that you have not returned home for the night.

But you push those thoughts away. The weight of your uncle's body on top of yours soothes the knot that forms in the pit of your stomach at the thought of time slipping away, at the thought of having to leave him again, at the thought of this being the last time you will taste his lips, his skin.

Aemond is gentle, and that is rare enough to be worth mentioning. He has never been so gentle, so soft, in the limited time that you have been married.

Between you, there had been the devouring, consuming passion, the power play that in your submission had granted you dominance.

Between you it had been raw and devastating more than gentle and tender.

His fingers run the length of your body to your core, combining his slow, deep thrusts with the movement of his fingers against your clit.

There are only few words exchanged between you, as if you were both afraid to break the grace of the moment.

His panting, noisy breath echoes in the silence, skimming the skin of your throat, then mingling with yours as the shadow of his lips brushes against yours. He rests his forehead against yours, your hand cupping his cheek, sliding behind his neck, and you are transported into a cocoon of intimacy where nothing else exists around you.

There is only his body against yours, warm and reassuring.

There is only him inside you and the slow movement of his hips.

There is only your breathing, blending in the space that separates your mouths.

"Do you know how much I've missed you?" He whispers against your lips as you close your thighs around him. "How much I dreamed of this tight little cunt?" You swallow his words. Your hips meet his as he pushes against you. He is reaching deep inside you. Despite the intimacy of the moment, his body oozes power and darkness, and you can't help but be drawn to that side of him that complements yours so well. 

You can't stop your body from aching for him. 

"You could have been my queen," he says as his movements grow stronger. He won't last long, but neither will you. He's inside you, where you like to feel him, and your walls clench around his member. "And I would have set the whole world on fire for you." He thrusts. "Burned it to the ground" He thrusts again. "All for you." And again.

The old wood of the bed creaks with each of his movements.

You seek out his lips, just to brush them against yours. 

Without sealing the kiss.

"And I would have accepted," you answer with a whimper. "I would have been your queen, qybor." In another life, you think you would.

In another life, in another universe, you would have been his queen.

A grunt escapes his lips and lands in the hollow of your ear. Aemond straightens on his bent elbow, right next to your head, and he plunges into you one last time, with more power, more vigour, just as his new position allows.

You close your eyes. 

A second wave of warmth is about to engulf your body.

And you wait for it, you welcome it.

"Look at me when I come inside you," he growls hoarsely as his seed pours deep inside you, into the most intimate part of your body. "Look at me as I fill you up."

Your eyes lock with his, fiery as ever. A final moan escapes between your lips and you seal them to your uncle's in a feverish, wet kiss. You hold him in your arms for a moment longer, as if to allow yourself the luxury of illusion for a brief instant. 

You delay the fateful moment a little longer, fighting the minutes that inevitably slip through your fingers.

"Stay inside me just a little longer," you whisper, burying your head in the hollow of his neck where you can feel the rapid rhythm of his pulse. His arms close around you, holding you tight against him, and you hear him purr against the hair on the crown of your head. He rocks you gently.

The silence welcomes you both into its embrace and you savour it like a treasure. Your body aches in the sweetest way, your insides throbbing around his softening manhood. 

And around you, nothing exists anymore.

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** 

"I've changed, you know." His hoarse voice vibrates against you, but you refuse to meet his eyes. You keep them closed. 

You're not sure if Aemond has really changed. Aemond is ruthless, cold, brutal, calculating, merciless. Cruel. You're not sure if Aemond can ever change, but he shows unusual tenderness, and maybe, just maybe, you allow yourself to doubt. You indulge in the illusion. 

Perhaps Vhagar's death has broken something in him. 

Perhaps it's true, perhaps he's not the same man anymore.

He's not sorry for what he has done. He never will be. He's too proud, even if you can catch the glimmer of remorse that colours his icy eyes when he is not looking at you.

Does he think of your little brother? Is he haunted by the memory of him, as you have been for so many years?

Does he think of the innocents he killed without flinching, the blood he spilled in the Riverlands that now stains the burned grass? 

Is his sanity slowly being eaten away by the atrocities he has committed with his own hands? 

He has changed. You are not sure if he's changed for the better or for the worse, but he has indeed.

Daemon has changed too. So has Rhaenyra. So has Jace.

You too have changed.

For war changes people, war makes them weary and wary, it shatters something in the body that will never be the same again. It hollows out the roundness of the cheeks, it deepens the dark circles under the eyes, it fades the sparkle of childhood that remains in the eyes.

Aemond seems to be waiting for an answer, but the words remain stuck in your throat. I know, you want to whisper, I know, but suddenly you've forgotten how to speak. His thumb draws the soft line of the underside of your breast.

The future terrifies you more than ever. You had made peace with your past, you had come to a conclusion that, even if it pained you, had given you some respite. 

Seeing your uncle alive had reawakened your demons. 

Spending the night in the embrace of his arms had revived everything you had buried deep, deep down. 

The past had returned, creeping towards you, gnawing at the corners of your heart and at what remained of your sense of stability and certainty. 

Now you are plunged into doubt. 

Just as you were a little over three years ago, when you were informed of his death, when you had to learn to live with the choice that had never really been given to you.

Just as three years ago, when you noticed a familiar lilac-tinged blue in Rhaegar's eyes.

Like when you had to live with the memories that haunted you, that were slowly eating away at what little sanity you had left.

Like when you finally decided to leave for the North.

Aemond seems to sense your anguish, because his fingers get lost in your hair. 

"What are we going to do now?" 

Finally, you dare to utter the inevitable words that have been hanging on the tip of your tongue since you woke up, words you've swallowed so many times this morning. You immediately blame yourself. 

Saying them only makes them more real.

They tear at something in the imaginary cocoon you've built for yourselves. You bury your face against his skin, breathe in his scent, as if you never want to forget him.

For you know how fleeting memories can be.

You remember how his face faded with each passing day.

You don't know if you'll ever be able to experience it a second time.

"We could leave," Aemond replies, as his fingers venture to your jaw, caressing the line of your cheeks with the back of his knuckles. 

He's so pragmatic, as always.

Even in this situation.

Even now.

It makes you want to shake him.

"We could run away," he says again. His gaze, fixed in the distance, falls on you at the same moment. "To Essos. Pentos. No one would know who we are." You close your eyes, and let his hoarse voice lull you into silence. "To start our own family, the three of us."

You know he is not serious. Even though he looks at you with such insistence, with that flame that flickers in the centre of his iris.

You relish his fantasy, this impossible dream. 

But you can't leave your family; Essos is not Winterfell. There, they knew where to find you. They knew you were safe. They knew you were sheltered between the walls of the northern castle, under the heavy furs, under the protection of Cregan Stark.

Essos is the unknown.

You cannot let your mother lose her only daughter, not after everything she has already lost. 

The itch is familiar, tickling at the corners of your eyes. There was a time when you thought you'd lost that sensitivity. When you thought the war had left you cold, incapable of feeling anything. Incapable of crying.

"You know I can't." Your nose rubs against his milky skin, made clammy by sweat. You keep your eyes closed because you feel the weight of his cold gaze on you, his furrowed eyebrows as he stares at you blankly, his lips pursed in a long, thin line. You don't have the courage to meet his accusing gaze, let alone the wounded look on his face as you crush all his illusory dreams into dust. 

When did you become the more pragmatic of the two? 

When did you become the one responsible for bringing Aemond back to reality?

It used to be you, the one who filled your mind with unrealistic dreams, the one who dreamed of stories and fairy tales, back when you could still dream. "They need me, you know that."

A sneer stretches across your uncle's lips as he swallows a chuckle that sounds more like an ironic growl. You feel his whole body tense against yours, a sign that he's holding back his annoyance. 

A sign that he has something to say, that he's upset, but doesn't quite know how to put it into words. 

"Like they needed you back then?" he replies scathingly, bitterness on the tip of his tongue. "When they used you as a bargaining chip to achieve their ends, hm?"  

Your red cheeks burn with shame, as if he'd slapped you. You don't move, merely swallow hard. You know there's something right about what he is saying, but you don't want to admit it. 

You've done your duty.

You've done what is expected of you as a daughter.

It was not a question of them using you. It never was. 

It was your duty, only your duty, what you were always meant to perform, wasn't it?

And yet a small voice in the back of your head had already given you a similar speech, a few years ago, but you had tried to silence it.

You refused to let Aemond admit it. You refuse to allow him to do it. He had no idea, no right to criticise your family when he'd acted like that.

When he has done what he has done.

He has no idea what it is like to be a daughter.

You don't answer, and silence falls between you again.

You wish so desperately that he could go home with you; that he could tell them that he's sorry.

You wish it were easier. 

There is no one left to wait for Aemond but you, but his son, you know that. His family has been decimated, as has yours in some ways, though you still have your parents and your older brother.

For your uncle, there's nothing left but the shadow of his existence, the shadow of who he once was, long ago.

You let your hand trace the side of his throat, your nose buried against it, your lips hovering over his skin. You lean against him, your body on top of his, pressed together as if you were afraid to let him go.

"You could come with me instead," you whisper, but you refuse to meet his gaze. There's something shameful in the words you've just spoken aloud, something naive, and your burning cheeks are proof of your embarrassment.

Almost imperceptibly, he clenches beneath you, holding his breath. This is a bad idea and you feel stupid. Naive to have dared to suggest something like this.

His voice purrs in a hm that vibrates against you. He's about to say something. He searches for words. "You know that -"

"I know." You cut him off sharply - a little more than you would have liked, your eyes raised to silence him.

You know what he thinks.

He thinks that Rhaenyra will never be his queen. He thinks he will never bend the knee to his eldest sister and her authority, which he doesn't recognise.

He thinks that with the death of Aegon, with the death of the children his brother fathered with Helaena, the throne belongs to him.

And you are aware of his ambitions. You know how perfectly the conqueror's crown fits his head. You know how it sets off the sapphire embedded in his eye socket. You remember the look of greed in his eyes every time he stared at the Iron Throne, you remember the look of pride on his face every time he scorned anyone who dared to question his decisions as Prince Regent.

You know how mercilessly he made the soldiers at Harrenhal kneel, forcing them to contemplate their impending deaths. You know the terror he has sown throughout the Riverlands.

Even in the Seven Hells you could have found more mercy than at the hands of Aemond Targaryen.

Aemond may have changed, but you're not sure he's changed enough to put aside the pride that is consuming him from within.

You take a deep breath. "You don't really have a choice, qybor." 

Fearing his reaction, you curl into a fetal position, your back to him, your knees drawn up to you. You close your eyes. You wait for his frustration.

You wait for his sentence.

You know that he is aware that he has no choice. 

He has only two options: swallow his pride or sink back into the abyss, disappear into the dark meanders of oblivion.

Rhaegar needed his father, of course, but you found him a father in Cregan Stark. 

That was a sacrifice you were willing to make.

There was no way you would give up what family you had left.

For Rhaegar needed his grandparents and his uncle even more.

Behind you, you feel your uncle's hand slip under your tunic and around your body, pulling you against him. He presses his bare chest against your back, tucking your head under his chin. His hand caresses your stomach, then his fingers brush the base of your breast.

"You know she will never be my queen. You know the throne belongs to -" But he lets the words drop without finishing the sentence, the knowledge of what he was about to say hanging in the air between you. 

As long as he remains alive, will the embers of war never truly be extinguished? 

You don't know, but you accept the risk. 

You close your eyes, as if you're about to jump into the icy depths with both feet.

"The rest is up to you, Aemond," you whisper, barely audible. "And if you have truly changed, then you will know how to make the right choice."

He says nothing. 

You savour the last few minutes of illusion you have left.

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** 

The fear of making the wrong choice never really leaves you, but your mother chases your fears away, as she so often did when you were a child, tucking one of your dark curls behind your ear. She has her distinctive little smirk on her lips, the one that pulls the corner of her lips up towards her nose.  

The same one Lucerys had, you think sadly. 

You still miss him, even after all this time, and sometimes you wonder what kind of young man he would have become.

"You're a clever girl, my sweet clever girl," she whispers against your forehead as she cradles you in her arms. She's as beautiful as ever, as gentle with you as ever, despite the years, despite the wear and tear of war that has hardened her features and hollowed her cheeks. "And I know you have made the right decision." She lifts your chin with her forefinger to look into your eyes, and you feel like you're turning back into that shy, insecure girl who disappeared somewhere in the violence of the war all those years ago.

 "And if it should turn out that you were wrong... Daemon will be there to intervene. You know he is just waiting for that." You roll your eyes at her attempt at humour, and she plants a kiss on your forehead. 

For a split second, you truly are that carefree little girl again.

But behind your mother's humour lie fragments of reality that make your laughter bitter.

The news of your husband's survival remains a hazy blur in your mind. Sometimes you're not sure if this conversation really occurred or if you're dreaming.

You're not sure if what's around you, if the night you spent in Aemond's arms, is real or an invention of your sick mind.

Sometimes you're not really conscious of the events or how long they lasted, the lump in your stomach grows back, and once again you're destined to carve half-moons marks in the palms of your hands to soothe the tension in your body.

You told your mother first because you knew she'd be more understanding. As a mother, as a woman, she knows the meaning behind certain silences, the weight of words, the unspoken words that float between sentences. 

You know she can understand your pain and your doubts, but also your love and your compassion.

She was shocked when you told her that her younger brother was still alive. She smoothed her dress, paced back and forth, then took the time to sit down, her eyebrows furrowed, her eyes riveted to your face, looking for clues that would betray what you were thinking, what you might be hiding. She was afraid that he had hurt you. She was afraid that he would rip you away from her, just as he had once ripped your little brother away from her.

Her fingers had gently taken your hand and her thumb had drawn little circles on the back of your hand to comfort you. She listened to you first as you confessed everything. 

Where you were that night when you didn't come home. 

Who you were with.

And then she took you in her arms. She reassured you. Soothed you. 

You had been so afraid of disappointing her, of disappointing all of them, that the tension paralysing your body had finally loosened and you burst into tears.

Things had proved more complicated with Daemon. When he learned that his nephew was alive, that he wasn't forgotten forever in the deep waters of the lake near Harrenhal, he refused to believe you. He was furious. He said he had seen him fall, that he was the one who had taken his life, tearing the sky apart.

You didn't know where to look, and it was in your mother's eyes that you sought support, comfort, anything in the face of your stepfather's rage. You could feel on you the look of disappointment of your brother, Jace, as he held his shoulders up and his chin high. He wanted to prove that one day he would be a good king. With his jaw clenched, he said nothing, looking at you as if you were suddenly so foreign to him. He probably didn't know what to say, for fear of being clumsy, for fear of unintentionally hurting you, even more than by his lack of support. 

You know it wasn't his fault. 

He simply couldn't understand.

The words stuck in your throat and you found yourself unable to speak, pearls glittering in the corners of your eyes while you waited impatiently for the final blow.

The final death knell that would seal your disgrace in everyone's eyes.

After all you'd endured.

Daemon stood before you, his eyebrows furrowed, his eyes hard. He was staring at you as if you'd committed the ultimate treason, and you knew he was controlling himself to keep his anger from exploding. "You're going to bring him to me," he had hissed, his hand closing over your shoulder. 

" You will lure him here and he will be put to the sword." His tone left no room for argument. With the tension growing in your stomach, you sought your mother's compassionate look to calm you. You could see the fury in your stepfather's eyes, and also a mixture of fear and feelings of betrayal. You knew that, deep down, he was afraid for you because he considers you his daughter. Because Baela and Rhaena are like sisters to you. 

It was his reaction you feared most, not your mother's. His fingers dug into your skin, the floor slipping out from under you, the room swaying dangerously, and your mother had come to your rescue, trying to calm things down with her usual diplomacy.

You can't quite remember the words your stepfather said; in anger he muttered something that sounded like are you really thinking of becoming his whore again? and the words hurt like hell, but you tried to swallow the pain.

 Endure, hold your head high. That was what you had learned.

Your mother had suggested you go back to your room or spend some time with Rhaegar, her fingers gently stroking your dark locks, and as soon as you left the throne room you could hear their voices echoing through the door. 

They were arguing.

Over you.

Because of you, again.

You took a deep breath and returned to the gardens, where your two stepsisters were making your son laugh by playing with him. They had fun running around in the damp grass to the applause of Baela's little daughter, who clapped her little hands in delight.

Your fingers were still trembling when you joined them.

In the end a solution was found, for your mother feared losing you a second time. 

She remembered what had happened to Laenor, your father, when he had grown tired of the court.

She remembered what had happened to Helaena, your sweet aunt, when she could no longer bear to suffer.

It was her worst nightmare to see you torn from her again, now that she had the chance to hold you in her arms every day, to protect you again, to see you grow again.

It was her worst nightmare to see her only daughter, her only daughter and the second of her only surviving children, taken from her. 

You and Jace were all she had left of her own blood.

After long negotiations with Daemon, you had managed to bargain for your husband's life in exchange for strict conditions; increased surveillance, no bonding with a new dragon, no carrying of weapons, and the assurance that he would be executed if there was the slightest doubt about him. You proposed that you and he leave the capital, with your son as well. To return to Dragonstone. To start over on a new, blank page in a book that was already too damaged.

For you, it was also a way to ease the tensions between your family and Aemond, and perhaps find a more intimate life with your husband and son.

Rhaenyra had declared that this was the best solution: a guarantee for her to have you by her side again, a guarantee for her that you would be there.

You had been afraid of Aemond's reaction, afraid that his ego would not bear it; that he would refuse, that he would rather sentence himself to his own death than to an existence as a prisoner within his own family, condemned to live as a shadow of the man he had once been in exchange for seeing his son grow up. 

But in the end, wasn't he doomed to live as a shadow of the man he had once been, anyway?

He would never be the rider of Vhagar again.

He would never be the ruthless Prince Regent again.

He would never again be the second in line to the throne, the second son greedily waiting for fate to turn in his favour.

He hadn't been all of that for a good three years, lurking in the cold, gloomy corridors of Harrenhal like a lonely monster.

And if he went back, if he rejected your proposal, he would have condemned himself to eternal solitude at the side of a witch you would rather forget.

He had no choice, for he would never be that Aemond again. 

When you joined your husband at the meeting place, you were relieved to see him swallow his pride and accept. It was difficult, but you convinced him. 

For Rhaegar, for his son.

Aemond had suggested that you run away, far away from everything, and you almost hesitated. Running away would have allowed you to forget, of course. 

But your deepest wounds had begun to heal. You had begun to be able to face the ghosts that haunted King's Landing, the ghosts that haunted Dragonstone.

To stop there was tempting, and yet so frightening at the same time. 

The unknown terrified you. You needed familiarity now, something to fall back on, for you were so tired. 

Now you can't help bringing your thumb to your lips, nibbling the skin at the corner of your fingernail with the tip of your teeth as you walk away from Rhaenyra. A handmaiden brings you Rhaegar, and you struggle to breathe. 

You inhale.

You exhale.

The thick tuft of brown hair makes you smile. The sight of your son is enough to give you the courage to walk with a more confident stride. It's as if you were filled with new strength, for you know that he needs you more than anyone else. And for him, you've promised yourself to stay strong.

As soon as you reach him, you kneel and plant a kiss on his plump cheeks. 

He's growing up so fast that sometimes you wish you could stop time.

"There's someone who'd like to meet you, sweet boy," you explain, and you can recognise your mother's inflection in your own voice. Sweet boy. Rhaegar looks at you with big, round, questioning eyes, and you wonder if he senses your anxiety, because he takes your hand between his tiny fingers.

"Who, muña ?" he babbles, striding down the cobbled path in the middle of the gardens, hopping on his clumsy little legs, and you smile at his carefree attitude. He stops to watch the bees foraging, bends down to pick up a flower and gives it to you. He's always so curious, so full of life. He's a ray of sunshine that brightens your dull days. You finally understand your mother, the agonising fear she has of losing you. You finally understand the horror she experienced when she lost her four other children.

You also finally understand why Helena threw herself from Maegor's Holdfast.

The thought of what Daemon did still revolts you, and you can't imagine anyone hurting your boy like that.

You turn around. Rhaenyra is still there, in the distance, her crown on her head, her hands crossed in front of her on the heavy fabric of her dress, watching over you. She won't move, a comforting, discreet presence.

A stone bench awaits you by the fountain, on which two cushions have been arranged. A dessert buffet has been set up under the gazebo and you immediately spot your favourite cakes, the strawberry one, the blackberry jam one, and you look down at your son. He hasn't noticed them yet, or he would have already run over, dipped his finger in the whipped cream and stolen a blueberry from one of the tarts, his innocent expression on his face. 

He is definitely a lot like you. Mischievous and clever. An angelic air. He is an easy-going child who never throws a tantrum.

Who understands quickly, too. 

"I love you. I love you more than anything, you know that, don't you, young boy?" your tone is soft, and you kneel down in front of him, your hands on his small shoulders to emphasise the seriousness of your discussion. You search for your words, hesitating. How do you tell a three-year-old that his father, his dead father, is back from the dead and about to meet him?

Of course, Rhaegar knows that his birthfather was valiant, that his birthfather rode the greatest dragon in the world, that his birthfather died in battle.

But there is so much he doesn't know, so much he will inevitably learn as he grows up, and it is precisely that future that frightens you. You hug him as if you're afraid of losing him.

"Princess."

The deep voice of your sworn protector echoes behind you, and you straighten your skirt. 

You know he is there. 

You know you will see him the moment you turn around.

Your heartbeat quickens.

Aemond Targaryen stands behind your sworn protector, surrounded by two guards. His hands are bound in front of him. 

It is so strange to see your uncle in this vulnerable position. He who for so long has been on the other side, he who for so long has been the one who bent others to his will. He looks at you harshly, and you almost feel the need to apologise.

But you know it is a matter of caution.

You know that Daemon, you know that Jace and even your mother would never have agreed to bring him in if such precautions hadn't been taken.

You admire his resilience, his determination. You admire his ability to hold his head high, to be confident, despite the fact that he is being treated like a common prisoner, about to be sentenced to death.

You struggle to swallow the lump that has formed in your throat. 

"Who's that, muña?" Aemond's eyes leave you and immediately drop to the small figure that has appeared beside you, reaching for your hand, huddling against your leg, shy and worried. 

Immediately, your husband's icy gaze, his lilac-coloured eyes, soften.

"Thank you, Sir Rowan. You may leave us."

Despite the worry on his face, your sworn protector nods, unties his prisoner's hands and walks back to your mother, accompanied by the other two guards. You watch them leave, and a strange silence fills the space between you and your uncle.

He doesn't look at you; his eyes are riveted to your son, whom he observes with wonder. He looks as if he is admiring the most beautiful and fascinating discovery he has ever seen. You look down to see Rhaegar's reaction, and he seems as intimidated as he is hypnotised by that gaze, by that blue and purple eye so similar to his owns, by this man looking at him as if he were one of the most marvellous things in the world. 

"Gods, he's perfect," Aemond murmurs as he looks up at you, emerging from his trance. He comes closer to embrace you. And for once, there is something other than his usual brutal possessiveness and ferocity when his arms close around you.

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** 

Aemond is shy at first. Awkward. 

He's shy and amazed as he follows your son's every move with his good eye. From time to time, his gaze rests on you, as if to make sure he's not dreaming. As if to make sure he is doing right, seeking your approval.

Rhaegar is shy too, at first.

When he sits on your lap, he snuggles up to you, buries his face in your neck, one of your locks curled in his chubby little hand and he rubs it against his nose. From time to time, he turns to give his father a curious look, recognising his own eyes in the unfamiliar face before him. 

Aemond's expression grows gentler, a softness never seen in his features before.

Once he has tamed the stranger, the little boy pecks at the blueberries in the tart in front of him. He shakes his legs, hitting your knees in painful little jabs, and your arm wraps around his body to hold him down.

Rhaegar loves cake, and the sugar may be coaxing him, for he's regaining his appetite for talking.

"He really does have my eyes," Aemond whispers incredulously, and his voice, still foreign to his son's ears, causes the little boy to lift his head.

" It is definitely the only thing he has inherited from you," you reply, teasing him with a small smile at the corner of your lips.

Soon Rhaegar finishes the blueberry tart, the cream smeared over the bottom of his face and the tip of his nose.

"He inherited that from you, that is certain." Aemond grins, pointing with his long chin at the boy's voracious appetite for cakes and pastries.

You have to pinch yourself to make sure you're not dreaming. That your husband is really standing in front of you, with your son, like a normal family. 

That he was truly trying to tell a joke.

This form of domesticity is so alien to your relationship, and yet so pleasant, that you find yourself thinking that perhaps you have made the right decision, indeed, if every day can be like this. 

"Your muña deserves some cake too, what do you say, little one?"

Rhaegar giggles. Aemond cuts a slice of your favourite cake, the one with the strawberries, and puts it on your plate. 

You blush. After all these years, he hasn't forgotten which one is your favourite.

You can't even really whisper a thank you because this apparent domesticity, this feeling of completeness, this interlude of happiness makes you uneasy. Anxious.

You have the feeling that at any moment you'll be plunged back into the horror of what you went through all those years ago. 

You have the feeling that at any moment the Gods will be cruel and snatch away this happiness that you've barely been able to taste, leaving only the memory of its sweet taste on your lips.

You breathe in and out, as you often do when you feel your palpitations rising in your chest.

"Do you... do you want to take him on your lap?" you ask your uncle with shyness, your hand stroking Rhaegar's thick brown curls. Aemond looks at you as if you have spoken in a foreign language. Lips parted, he is about to say something, but not a sound escapes his lips. His lonely eye travels from you to your son, from your son to you, in silence.

"I don't know if -"

You can hear the doubt in his voice, and it's almost touching to see him lose his confidence in front of his own son, to see him so nervous and unsure of himself.

You let out a little laugh, not in mockery, obviously, just full of tenderness.

You know what he's thinking.

He's afraid of frightening him.

He's afraid of harming him.

"You won't hurt him, Aemond."

He answers nothing. He still doesn't like to look vulnerable, unsure, and you know it has to do with his childhood. With all he has kept bottled up inside him all these years. He will need time.

Your eyes fall back to the little boy sitting in your lap, and you draw his attention to yourself by stroking the curls on his forehead.

"Do you want to go to Aemond for a while? To kepus?" 

you correct yourself immediately, and Rhaegar nods in agreement.

You are amazed at how easily he slips off your legs to run to his father, to pull himself onto his lap, when only a few hours ago he was so intimidated by the presence of this stranger with the eyepatch.

Your uncle automatically puts his arm around his waist to make him feel comfortable, his new role taking root in him. His fingers reach for the cloth on the table, and he wipes Rhaegar's face, who can't help but burst out laughing at his father's clumsy gestures.

For a split second you are lost in contemplating the horizon, the stillness of the sea. You taste the sea breeze on your face.

And then you turn your head towards the cobbled path where the guards and your sworn protector are still stationed. 

Your mother is no longer there, and you notice that you have not at any time felt the need to seek comfort in her presence. 

You smile, for in the end you know you've made the right decision.

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** 

Dragonstone, 6 months later.

When you walk the corridors of the place that saw you grow up, you are no longer haunted by the ghosts and their incessant cries. A kind of peace has settled over you, a return to the pleasant familiarity you've waited so long for.

You still think of Luke, of course. Of Luke and Joff and little Aegon and Viserys, your brothers you will never see grow old. 

But you no longer feel their disapproving glances at every step you take. You are no longer kept awake by their cries, by their tears, by the remorse that twists your stomach. 

You no longer blame yourself. 

Perhaps you've finally learnt to make peace with yourself.

The heavy door of the bedroom you share with Aemond is half open, and you slip your head into the doorway, piqued by curiosity.

Snuggled on your husband's lap, Rhaegar is staring at the pages of a large book, the corners of which you can guess are horned, the cover worn, from being carried everywhere. You can imagine the jam stains that mark the paper with children's fingerprints. You know exactly which page is missing, the one you and Aemond accidentally tore out and hid so the Septa wouldn't notice, so many years ago. 

It is a book about dragons, the very one the two of you used to read hidden under the table when you were so young and innocent, long before the torment of war.

Without a sound, you lean against the doorframe and contemplate for a moment the perfect vision before you.

You don't have the cruelty to disturb them.

 "This one is Vhaegar!" shouts Rhaegar, and you hold your breath, searching Aemond's face for any hint that might betray his reaction. The mention of his former dragon is still a sensitive subject for him, you know it.

"Yes, that's Vhagar." he pauses. "She was brave."

From the corner of his eye, Aemond spots your silhouette in the faint glow of the corridor, and his attention lingers on you for a moment. He's almost embarrassed to be caught in such a vulnerable, intimate moment, but you smile tenderly to encourage him.

"And big!" the little boy adds, energetically raising his arms to the sky to emphasise his words.

"Yes, and big." There's a suspended moment of silence where the words hang in the air, and then your husband gently ruffles his son's hair. It's a tender sight to see them bond like this, and your heart fills with happiness.

Taking a step forward, you step into the light of the room and Rhaegar expresses his joy at seeing you. You smile back at him and approach the chair where Aemond sits, your son on his lap.

Your uncle's hand instantly rests on the curve of your belly, which he still stares at with the same protective instinct, the same fascination, as the day you told him the news. His eyes sparkle.

"Your daughter is restless today."

He looks up at you, not without lingering for a moment on your breasts and their new shape.

"My daughter?" he asks, one eyebrow raised inquisitively.

"I'm convinced it's a girl. You reply, smiling wryly, and take a seat in the armchair next to the one where Aemond and your son are sitting, facing the fireplace. "And she took after her father, given her temper," you tease him, your hand on the top of your rounded belly to soothe the baby growing there. 

Rhaegar's eyes close slowly. Nestled against the chest of the man who, just a few months ago, was still a stranger, he fights sleep, he fights to stay awake, but tiredness quickly overcomes him. And then he falls asleep, his mouth half open, the movements of his breath making his chest rise and fall rhythmically.

Aemond finally gets up. You follow his movements with your eyes as he approaches you, the child in his arms, and he plants a kiss on the top of his head.

"I'm going to put him to bed. I'll be right back." He straightens and lowers his voice.

"I wouldn't fail in my duty and neglect my wife." The heat rises to your cheeks, turning them red at the implication of what awaits you tonight. You're already wet between your thighs at the thought. 

But you nod in agreement and watch him walk away. 

You are left alone in the silence of the room. The only sound around you is the steady crackling of the fire.

It's strange, you think, to be back on Dragonstone, in the familiarity of the stones you've spent most of your life between, after getting used to the idea of not surviving the war.

To the idea of dying from a broken heart.

To the idea of dying, the umpteenth victim of the vicious spiral of conflict that has torn your family apart.

And yet here you are.

With your own family.

For once you have hope for the future. You hear the cries of your little brother, lost in the storm so long ago, but they are quickly replaced by the laughter of a happy memory. 

And finally, you have the absolute confirmation that you have made the right decision.

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

Thank you so much for reading!! <3

Tag list : @minttea07 @queenofshinigamis (I'm tagging you since you asked for it ❤️)

#aemond x reader #aemond targaryen #Aemond Targaryen x reader #aemond x you #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen fic #aemond x y/n #aemond x fem!reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond x niece!reader #aemond targaryen fanfic

[lvrcpid]

imagine being neteyams twin and dying along with him.

includes: gn!reader. they/them pronouns. neteyams death..AGAIN! getting “shot”. blood. death. grief. the afterlife. neteyamxreader (platonic!) i totally pulled this concept from my ass so if it doesn’t make a lick of sense i am SO SORRY. ANGSTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT mwah love y’all.

in na’vi culture it’s unusual to carry twins. the na’vi body isn’t really meant to carry two babies at one time. but somehow your mother did it. although the pregnancy was difficult, she powered through and gave birth to two babies. neteyam and (y/n). you had come out a little bit after neteyam, making him the oldest. watching the two newborns sleep cozily in their moms arms made jake well up with tears. his little family was starting.

another thing in na’vi culture which goes unsaid is when a twin dies. the other one dies as well. they feel and see eachothers pain too. one time when neteyam got cut, you also felt the pain of his cut, the gash leaving a scar on both of your bodies. in the same place.

the na’vi people don’t understand this predicament. it just happened. the one thing they couldn’t understand. while jake and neytiri were happy and felt blessed by this, they also worried.

if we lose one kid. we lose another.

your parents had informed you of this many times while growing up with your brother. sugar coating it seeing as though you two were still too young to understand the concept of death. all you knew was ‘if neteyam gets hurt. i get hurt too’ vise versa.

you both did a relatively good job keeping eachother safe until the sky people arrived and that fateful day struck your family, tarnishing their hearts forever.

—————————————————————————————

you felt a sharp pang in your chest, a feeling of dread and sluggishness consumed your body like the plague, brushing it off as something minor. but when you couldn’t shake the feeling. something hurt but you didn’t know what. you knew something was wrong.

“(y/n)! come quick it’s neteyam!” your youngest brother, lo’ak called to you frantically, he knew since neteyam was hit that you were as well. you stood up from your seat and immediately felt dizzy, feeling a substance trickle down your chest and down your back, sending chills down your spine. you were bleeding. there was a coin sized hole that wasn’t there before. that’s when it hit you.

neteyam had been shot.

neteyam was dying. and so were you.

panic sky rocketed through your body as you stumbled out to your family, your mother quickly scooping you and laying you next to your brother. your health declining rapidly as blood began to pool your mouth.

jake stared in horror. there was nothing he could do for his kids. he knew this would eventually happen. but he didn’t think it would happen this soon. the sight of you red at the mouth with a wound, ironically matching your twin, made him cringe. this was unfair. he couldn’t process one. now he’s being forced to process two upcoming losses just because it was the way of the na’vi people.

you leaned into your brother as everything was moving. so fast. just a few minutes ago you were making bracelets for everyone. now you’re on the rocks dying with your brother. you cursed eywa in your head, cursing how this was unfair to you and neteyam. you couldn’t even give proper goodbyes first.

neteyam turned his head over to you before letting out a weak smile “im sorry..”. you opened your mouth to speak but was quickly silenced by the spew of blood that erupted from your throat, neteyam feeling the warm metallic substance cloud his throat.

“mom im scared..” you turned to your mom while you faintly heard neteyam whisper something to your father about wanting to go home. then..

there was nothing.

—————————————————————————————

“(y/n)!” you shot up in a panic. it was white. everywhere. when your sight adjusted you saw your older brother in front of you. “neteyam..where..” he quickly shushed you and brought you to a glowing figure, her warm smile filling your body up with the warmth of a mothers embrace.

it was eywa.

you and neteyam quickly bowed before she let out a small hum of approval. “you both have strong hearts. one soul. but very strong and different hearts” her voice was smooth like honey against your ears.

one soul? you always knew you and your brother were attached at the hip but not like this. ‘one soul?’ you thought to yourself but the goddess in front of you was quick with her response. “yes. one soul. you both have one soul. soulfully connected. if one part of the soul leaves..” she looks over to neteyam “then the other has to go along with it.” she looked over to you.

oh.

after the conversation, you and neteyam walked hand in hand in the afterlife, admiring what eywa has to offer. “(y/n) im sorry.” neteyam spoke , breaking the comfortable silence. “it’s okay..it’s not your fault. let’s just spend the rest of eternity happy okay?” neteyam giving a small nod before pulling you towards a river, pushing you in.

life isn’t fair. you know this. but at least you have your brother.

how everyone reacted. (part 2 ish)

a.n // y’all probably hate me after this but OH WELL. i just wanna say thank you for all the love and support on my most recent stories. your comments and reblogs truly make my day 10x better. i plan on doing a lot more so thank you again - sae 🥹🫶🏾

#avatar #avatar x reader #neteyam x reader #awotw #jake sully x reader #kiri x reader #loak x reader #neytiri x reader #sully family x reader

[d0youc0py]

Prompt: no way… you’re actually jealous?

He was a man of many emotions. Yet he was also a man of self restraint- only letting himself fly off the handle when he felt it was necessary.

All of that flew out of the window with you.

Was this a necessary time? Absolutely not. In fact it was admittedly childish and embarrassing that he felt such angst rising in his chest.

It was time for the weekly Price family dinner. His older siblings Phoebe and Frank, his younger brother Ralph and of course his parents- Mr. and Mrs. Price all drove an exhausting ten minutes to your house for dinner. Normally he didn’t mind having his family close by especially while he was away, but right now he was one more wine pour away from kicking all of them to the curb.

He had just gotten back this morning from a month long mission and he still hadn’t gotten his you fix. The two of you should be curled up, you mumbling about all the things you did while he was away against his skin. God he could practically smell your shampoo. He wanted your cold hands to crawl up under his shirt searching for the warmth you’ve been denied for far too long.

Instead he was pressed against the firm wood of the dining room chair watching as your attention was constantly being caught by different stories. Something about Phoebe’s car, Frank’s kid is doing shite in school, and Ralph discovered he quite likes golf. He didn’t have the mental power to keep up, his ears only perking up when he heard you speak.

His arm was draped over the back of your chair and it took every ounce of strength to not tug you closer. He couldn’t stop his fingers from reaching out and brushing your cheek though. He almost purred when your soft skin tickled his fingers. Your eyes flickered up sending him a soft sleepy smile.

That’s all it took.

“Goodnight everyone.” John nearly demanded standing up abruptly. The conversation halted everyone looking at you for confirmation that they were really getting kicked out of your house. You looked up at your husband with wide eyes before sending a sheepish smile to your family.

“Johnathan?” His mother questioned. You always giggled when she used his full name.

“I’m tired, alright? I’ll buy us all dinner next week, yeah? For cutting this one short.” That seemed to satisfy them enough. Each of them gave you a kiss goodbye- sending him a glare in the process. “I’ll clean up, love.” He insisted taking the dishware out of your hands.

“It’ll go faster if we both do it.” You yawned pecking his cheek. “You alright? You were quiet all night. Still have some battle skits?” You hummed, causing a small chuckle to escape him. He was always skittish a few days after a mission- understandably- so you had affectionately named it battle skits.

“I missed you.” He whispered. You didn’t know if you wanted to giggle like a child or cry.

“Oh, John.” You sighed, waving him off. You tucked yourself under his arm and he reciprocated by holding you tight against him.

“Everyone was hogging you.” He grunted, inhaling your scent. “Didn’t get enough time with you before the circus rolled in.”

“Someone’s jealous.” You teased, wrapping your arms around his neck. The Captain never got jealous. He was fiercely protective, but he loved to show you off- always being so proud of you.

“Yeah.” He agreed, making your mouth to fall open. His brows furrowed at your reaction. “What?”

“No way! You’re actually jealous?” You sputtered. A cheeky grin spread across his face and he quickly captured you in a kiss.

“Don’t get cocky on me now sweetheart.”

Prompt: do you ever ask why I get this way? Maybe it’s because- Y’know what, nevermind

You hadn’t meant for things to escalate to this level. You had noticed he was a little jealous after your office party, a few of your coworkers getting a little mouthy from the drinks. You thought it was funny. Your devastatingly attractive boyfriend flushed in the face at the thought of someone like your dim witted coworkers having a shot with you.

“Si, you’re powering down again.” You sighed, tracing over his knuckles. He looked around the almost empty tram, his body pointed away from you. “You still upset?” You hummed, resting your chin on his shoulder. “You know they were just being aholes.”

“But they felt comfortable enough around you to do it.” He snarled. The warmth left your body and you pulled yourself away from his shaky form.

“What do you mean by that? You’re blaming me for the way they were acting?” You moved to the edge of your seat so you could face him.

“Have you ever asked yourself why I get this way? Maybe it’s because”- he cut himself off when he heard your breath hitch. He knew that if he caught sight of those teary eyes he would never say what he wanted to say. You sniffled. “Nevermind.” He grumbled, rubbing his jaw.

“No.” You pressed. “You obviously have something on your mind so say it.”

“Y/N-”

“Simon.”

Using your formal names made both of you sick. You were always sweetheart and he was always Si.

“You have a habit of being overly friendly.” He stated finally. His eyes were trained on the aisle.

“Overly friendly?” You emphasized. He shut his eyes tightly, but slowly nodded his head, agreeing. A light chuckle left you. It wasn’t one of humor, but one of utter shock. Shock that this was even a conversation. “Well not everyone finds a smile as offensive as you do, Simon.” You growled slouching back in your seat.

He didn’t say anything.

Without warning you stood up at the next stop, brushing past him.

“Y/N.” He huffed. His heart pinched at the way you so coldly moved away from him. “Y/N.” He repeated, following you down the aisle.

“I want to be alone.” You didn’t mean for your voice to hit the level it did. People on the tram peered up at you from their phones. Without waiting for a response you hopped off the tram.

He followed.

“I want to be alone.” You affirmed. He slowed his footsteps, but kept you in reach. His towering frame lurked over you like a rain cloud. You turned abruptly on your heels.

“Not lettin’ you walk home by yourself.” He explained.

“I want to be alone.” You growled.

“Well I don’t want anything to happen to you.” He growled back. Only Simon could pull off aggressive affection. “You can be alone a few paces ahead of me.” He nodded his head forward.

“Fuck you, Simon.” You hissed. The way his face fell made you freeze. “I’m sorry.” You said quickly. He waved you off.

“I deserve that.”

“No you don’t.” You insisted. “You hurt my feelings but I shouldn’t have spoken to you that way.”

“Fuck off Y/N.” He teased airily. “I don’t know why I snap like that.” He admitted, shoving his hands in his front pockets.

“You don’t trust me.” You stated. He disagreed with you.

“I think it’s other people I don’t trust. I mean what if I wasn’t there tonight, yeah?” He questioned, his face curling. You hadn’t thought about that. Your co workers were so free with their flirting even with Simon there.

“I understand that.” You sighed, bringing a hand up to rub your headache away. His hand reached up wrapping around your wrist, giving it a soft squeeze.

“I shouldn’t have blamed you sweetheart, I’m sorry.” He molten eyes were nothing but sincere. Your bottom lip jutted out slightly at his apology, and you moved forward wrapping your arms around his middle. Usually public affection embarrassed him, but the way his body craved you outweighed any embarrassment he felt. Plus he obviously needed to do a better job at showing people who you belong to.

Prompt: What is your problem?

He had no right to feel this way. Yet his stomach was burning so hot the steam was clouding his judgement.

He thought he had made it clear. His silent claim on you since the very moment you had stepped foot on base. He knew it was a horrible and outdated way of thinking, yet the way your eyes sparkled when you met him for the first time- or the way your hand fit so perfectly in his when you introduced yourself was all the proof he needed to justify his feelings.

Obviously the new recruits didn’t get the memo. Being the nicest person on the Task Force caused everyone to flock to you if they needed something making you build relationships fast.

Too fast.

They didn’t know you well enough to wrap an arm around your shoulder, or put a hand on your waist to move past you. They definitely didn’t know you well enough to make you laugh so hard. The huff and grumbles that escaped him gave the rest of the team so much free entertainment, their eyes darting between you and the nearly seething man like it was some kind of soap opera.

“Think we should get the hose ready?” Soap snickered, taking in Gaz’s flushed appearance. Ghost hushed him, something inside him telling him Gaz was about to snap- and he wasn’t going to miss it.

The bomb finally went off when someone’s hand extended towards you in a fit of laughter, their palms spreading wide across your arm. “That’s not fucking happening.” He spat. Gaz’s chair flung back and if it wasn’t for Price it would’ve screeched against the floor.

“What is your problem?” They gasped, his broad strides quickly catching everyones attention.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you to keep your bloody hands to yourself?” Kyle snarled. Going against his own words he wrapped an arm around you, practically dragging you back to the teams table. “Kindergarten drop outs.” He huffed, holding out a chair for you to sit in, pushing it in for you. Even in his anger he always managed to be a gentleman.

Prompt: woah, where are we going?

He had sucked down three shots trying his hardest not to loose his cool. He knew he was reactive and the last thing he wanted to do was say something to hurt or embarrass you. Yet no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t push down those feelings. The feeling of jealousy that he couldn’t be the man you obviously wanted. He watched as your pretty eyes sparkled at the other guests of the dinner party he had begged to come to. He should’ve stayed home. He remembers the look on your face when he basically invited himself.

“Jo, I don’t think you’ll like these people.” You winced, giving his hand a squeeze.

You were right.

He didn’t like these people in the slightest. They absorbed all your attention and made him feel like a brute. He had lost track of the conversation when it turned over to politics, even though he probably knew more about what goes on in the world than anyone sitting at that table.

Once dinner was finally over everyone was invited into the living area for tea- how formal. You had turned to him in that moment ready to tease him about what type of tea he was going to choke down, but his hardened face stopped you. He had never been the best at hiding his feelings and you resisted the urge to lean over and kiss him so hard he would have no choice but to smile.

“Actually Johnny and I have plans after this.” You offered a polite smile. His ears perked up, looking at you like a savior.

“That’s too bad.” Your friend sighed giving you a quick hug goodbye. You repressed a giggle when you heard Johnny growl after someone had kissed you on the cheek as a farewell.

“Dinner was lovely.” You smiled over your shoulder, heading out the door. Johnny grabbed your coats sending a quiet thank you their way.

“Thank you.” You whispered, as Johnny wrapped your coat around you.

“No, thank you.” He huffed, tugging you against his side. You wrapped an arm around his waist your other hand tangling itself with his as you walked down the dim streets.

“Woah.” He gasped, when you began pulling him past the car. “Where are we going?”

“I could tell you were upset.” You hummed, your footsteps naturally syncing with his. His nose scrunched.

“Sorry”-

“You don’t need to apologize Jo.” You assured, pressing yourself closer. He gave your hand a squeeze.

“I didn’t have anything to add to the conversation. Felt like I was a wee one listening to my parents talk about shite I couldn’t understand.” He sighed. “I’m not daft.”

“I know.” You said quickly. “They’re all just repeating things they’ve seen on TikTok anyways. Doubt any of it was original.”

“You enjoyed it though?” He half asked. You looked up at him with curious eyes.

“I had a good time tonight if that’s what you’re asking.” You said. His baby blue eyes searched around your face like you had the words he was looking for written on it.

“No. I mean you wish you had someone to talk like that with more?” He said slowly. Your face fell in realization.

“You mean, do I wish you talked like that? No Tavish.” You smiled at him. “Plus you’re talking like we haven’t had deep conversations. You know more about me than anyone- and I’ve told you things I’ve never told anyone. That’s worth more than anything.”

He pepped up, his shoulders broadening once again.

“You don’t mind that I can’t quote poems off the top of my head?” He questioned, raising a playful brow at you.

You rolled your eyes, nodding your head in a agreement.

“You never told me where we’re going.” He reminded.

“I know you Jo and I also know a salad is not going to keep you full.” You snickered patting at his stomach.

“It was hell tryin to choke that things down.”

Check out katz-chows page right: here

If anyone else wants to join in this little collab or you just need some writing ideas here’s the prompt list:

#d0youc0py #doyoucopy #cod #cod men #cod mw2 #cod x reader #cod mwf2 #fluff #sfw #simon ghost riley #johnny soap mactavish #captain John price #Kyle Gaz Garrick #ghost x reader #soap x reader #captain price x reader #gaz x reader #gn reader #collab

[lindsey-laufeyson]

Saying Goodbye

Tom Hiddleston x wife!reader oneshot

Your husband just finished filming season 2 of Loki, thus concluding his long journey as the God of Mischief, but as a stunt double for The Marvels, you’re stuck doing a reshoot on the night of the wrap party when all you want to do is be there for him.

Warnings: angst, fluff

A/N: After watching the Loki finale, as well as Tom’s interview on Jimmy Fallon, I guess I wrote this to process my own grief (and be a little self indulgent)…

When you walked into the wrap party, you spotted your husband immediately, talking to Ke Huy Quan across the room by the bar. Tom’s dyed black curls were slightly disheveled and he was gesturing wildly with his hands, clearly very passionate about whatever the topic of conversation was. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself as you watched him, until you were pulled from your thoughts by a familiar voice.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in,” Owen Wilson greeted you, pulling you in for a hug. “Glad you could make it!”

“And just in time, evidently,” you added as you pulled out of the hug. “Is he doing any better?”

Owen shook his head and sighed. “He’s not doing any worse, I can say that much.”

The two of you walked over to Tom and Ke, and you slid your arm around Tom’s slender waist. “Sorry to interrupt,” you told them both.

Tom’s eyes lit up when he saw you. “Darling! You made it!” he said excitedly, standing up from his seat at the bar and quickly giving you a hug and kiss before addressing the entire room. “Y/n Hiddleston, everybody!” he shouted, pointing at you as if you were the big surprise guest for the night. Everyone played along and cheered while you waved bashfully at them all before turning back to Tom.

“How are you doing, my love?” you asked him, concerned, as you cupped his face in your hand.

“I’m wonderful,” he assured you. “Why?”

You glanced at Owen apprehensively. “Owen said you were sort of… spiraling.”

“What?” Tom looked at Owen confused. “You said I was spiraling?”

“You’ve been spiraling a little,” Owen said quietly from behind you. You and Ke proceeded to watch the two men bicker back and forth.

“I think I’d know if I was spiraling.”

“I mean, it’s a subtle spiral, but a spiral all the same.”

“Is there even such a thing as a subtle spiral?

“So you’re admitting that it’s not subtle. Good!”

“No, I’m saying there was no spiral to begin with.”

“Oh my god! If either of you say the word spiral one more time, I’m going to start spiraling,” you shouted abruptly.

“I promise you, darling, I’m fine. Really.” Tom attempted to reassure you as he pulled you close to him. You looked over your shoulder at Owen briefly who held up his hands in defeat.

“Alright,” you conceded, before turning to Ke. “I’m so sorry, Ke! I didn’t mean to interrupt your conversation.”

“It’s okay,” Ke said cheerfully. “Tom was just telling me about how I shouldn’t get too attached to anything because everything ends eventually.” You and Owen both gave Tom a look.

Tom chuckled nervously and then clapped his hands together. “Shots anyone?” he asked, as he turned to the bartender. “Another round of Loki shots, please! And add one more for my beautiful wife!”

“No need,” Owen called after the bartender. “She can just have mine!”

“Oh no, I’m good. I’m driving,” you chimed in, shooting a glare at Owen.

“That’s fine. I’ll just have both of theirs,” Tom said nonchalantly.

You quickly stepped between Tom and the bar. “Hey, maybe we should forget the shots and have a little fun of our own at home.” You gave him a playful wink, hoping to distract him.

“But you just got here,” he protested. “Please, let’s stay for a while and celebrate the end!”

The way he said ‘celebrate the end’ sounded excited and happy, but you could tell it was forced. Still, it was his night tonight (though he would never accept it if you told him that), and you didn’t want to be the one to spoil it, so you obliged.

You, Tom, Owen, and the rest of the ‘Loki’ cast and crew spent the next couple of hours laughing, dancing, and sharing stories (most of which ended up being about Tom), and it seemed like maybe Tom was handling things better than you had originally thought. There was a moment when he reprised his rendition of ‘Very Full’ from the first season of the show, and you thought for a moment, during the slower part of the song, that he was finally letting his feelings to the surface, but as the song picked up again, so did his demeanor. It wasn’t until people started to say their goodbyes for the night, that you really began to see his happy exterior fade.

“I think it’s time to call it, boss,” Owen said to Tom as the last few cast members departed, leaving only the three of you along with a couple of closing staff in the venue rented out for the night’s festivities.

“I suppose so,” Tom agreed with a sad smile.

“We’re still on for lunch before your flight leaves tomorrow, right?” you asked Owen as he hugged you and Tom goodbye.

“I wouldn’t miss it,” he replied. And with that he left.

You then turned to your husband and held out your hand. “Come on, love. Let’s get you home.”

The two of you spent the car ride reliving the fun of the party, and were laughing as you walked in the front door of the house. As you set your purse down on the buffet in the foyer, Tom wrapped his arms around your waist from behind and nuzzled into your neck.

“Thank you for coming,” he said softly.

You placed your hands over his and swayed back and forth. “Of course, baby. But I want to ask you one more time…” You turned around to face him, putting one hand on his shoulder and the other gently cupped his face. “Are you alright? Because it’s perfectly okay to not be okay right now. You just closed a huge chapter of your life and no one expects you to just take it on the chin.”

As you said this, Tom’s eyes slowly welled up with tears as he finally let go of the mask he’d so tirelessly upheld all night. “I’ve said goodbye to Loki before, and I thought I could do it again” he began, his voice cracking slightly. “But it’s only that much harder now. He changed my life. He’s become such a deeply rooted part of me over the last 13 years. How am I expected to just move on from that?”

A tear fell down his cheek and you brushed it away with your thumb. “No one expects you to, sweetheart,” you replied in a soft, comforting tone. “You’re allowed to grieve.”

Tom squeezed his eyes shut, causing more tears to fall as he hugged you tight, burying his face in the crook of your neck. You held him there for a moment, stroking his hair while he quietly cried.

“But, Tom,” you continued, taking his face in both hands, lifting his head, and looking deep in his eyes. “Even if Loki’s on-screen journey is over, it doesn’t mean he’s gone. You said it yourself that he’s a part of you. Even if Kevin Feige never calls you up again— which, let’s be honest, is never out of the question at this point—” He let out a small chuckle. “As long as you’re around, so is he, and that’s because you put your heart and soul into that character, much like everything else that you do. It’s one of the many reasons I fell in love with you.”

Tom smiled at you through his tears before leaning down to kiss you tenderly. When your lips finally parted he leaned his forehead against yours and sighed. “Thank you, love,” he whispered.

“No, thank you Tom,” you replied, tears forming in your own eyes now. “Thank you for giving us Loki.”

…

One year later:

#tom hiddleston #loki #original content #loki laufeyson #tom hiddleston x reader #Tom hiddleston x wife!reader #tom hiddleston fluff #tom hiddleston angst #loki spoilers #tom hiddleston x y/n #tom hiddleston x you #owen wilson #loki season 2 #loki series #tom hiddleston one shot #tom hiddleston fanfiction

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

Pt. 1 | Pt. 2

Shorter Part 3, sorry y’all 😭

“Does this have to do with the rose?” Dustin asks them as soon as they are alone in the car. ‘Damn,’ Steve thinks, ‘I should’ve dropped you off first.’

“What do you know about the rose?” Steve asks, trying to sound nonchalant.

“I know it’s from his secret admirer.”

“You know about that?”

“Of course I do, Steve, he tells that story to everyone who will listen.” Dustin says as if it’s common knowledge.

“So who are your theories? I know you’ve got them.” Steve says

“I have no clue.” Steve looks at him confused “I really don’t. I even told Eddie that we could figure it out if we saw the note but he just shook his head and went back to grinning that goofy grin he had.”

“…And that’s bad?”

“Well no, I just figured he’d want help figuring it out, but that’s not the weird part about it all. He didn’t even have everything set up when we got there.”

Steve gives Dustin a confused glance, trying to keep his eyes on the road in front of him.

“Eddie normally gets there super early to set everything up, but even by time Lucas got there just before we were about to start, all of Eddie’s DM stuff was still in his bag. Literally only the tables and his throne were pulled out where they were supposed to be. He just kept staring at that damn rose with that lovestruck look on his face.”

“Hey, language! But yeah, that is weird? What? Don’t look at me like that, I’ve been around you all long enough to know that’s out of character for him..he loves that game.” Steve chuckles to himself, thinking about the party’s collective confused faces at Eddie’s soft one. “Alright, doofus, this is you. Tell your mom I say ‘Hi’.”

Dustin rolls his eyes and shuffles out the car door and up the drive.

Steve waits until he’s safely inside before backing out, and heading home.

‘holyshitholyshitholyshitholyshi—‘ Steve’s brain played on a loop, his face splitting into a grin.

——————

The (now) third time Eddie "hears" from his secret admirer is definitely not when he was expecting. It kind of makes sense, if his secret admirer really is into him still he'd know that Eddie plays at the Hideout on Tuesday nights. But if he's being honest with himself, the rose flung up on stage while they were still drowned in spotlight was the second most surprising thing of the night. Actually, make that third.

First was the size of the crowd. Being accused of a ritualistic murder does have one benefit then, it has a tendency to make you seem more metal than you might actually be (especially within the metal community). The dingy little bar was actually packed tonight. So many people were there to see Eddie and his bandmates that it was the start of his nervousness. And Eddie never gets nervous about playing, it’s like breathing to him.

Secondly (and the second reason for Eddie to be nervous that night) was that Steeeeve Harrington himself was there to see him play. Him along with Buckley AND Nancy Wheeler had even dressed up for the occasion, pulling out as much black and grungy looking pieces from the backs of their wardrobes as they could find. Eddie swears Wheeler is wearing one of the old band tees Robin stole from him and Steve is wear-holy fuck. HOLY FUCK. Steve Harrington is wearing his (His! Eddie Munson’s!) battle vest. How the fuck he managed to keep it is beyond him but…yep. Eddie’s vest looks just as good on Steve now than it did in that upside-down hellscape.

Only a second had gone by in the time it took Eddie to process all of this before the lights go down and the spotlight is blinding him to everything beyond the stage.

“Get your head in gear, Munson, you’ve got a whole bar full of people to blow away… shit” Eddie mumbles to himself before stepping up to the mic.

And of course, no matter his surprise or nervousness about anything (or anyone) in the crowd that night, the show goes off without a hitch. He’s saying his goodbyes to the crowd as they cheer, holler, and whistle for them, some people are even throwing things. A couple of coasters with phone numbers scrawled on them are frisbee’d onto the stage around him, one (1) singular pair of panties (wtf this is insane), and from his right, just before the lights come back up in the bar, a single red rose tied with a black ribbon.

Time slows down. That’s the only way he could’ve snatched it out of the air the way he did.

He catches it and the crowd lets loose a few wolf whistles. Eddie grins so wide his face hurts. “Thank you guys so much, we’ll be here next week!” he jeers and lifts the rose in his hand in the air like he’s showing it off. The lights finally come up, and Eddie looks directly toward where the rose came from, trying to see if he recognized any of the faces. The only face he recognizes is Steve’s, off a good bit to the left from where the rose came at him, and who is also looking around for who it would’ve come from. Steve looks up at Eddie, and shrugs, he didn’t see anything either.

‘Of course he’s going to act like he didn’t see anything if he’s the one who threw it.’ Eddie’s brain helpfully supplies.

Nope. NOPE. Not going there, that’s so impossible. Steve was a good friend, even if he was blissfully unaware of the affect he had on Eddie.

Eddie shrugs back at Steve before turning back to the guys and helping them pack up their stuff.

“What does this one say?” Gareth asks him when they’re lugging the last of the equipment off the stage.

“Ermph durnup.” Eddie mumbles around the rose stem in his mouth. He sets the amps he was carrying at the back door to be loaded into his van (Which Steve was so graciously helping with). Eddie spits the rose out into his hand as Steve comes back into the doorway. Now ALL of them waiting on Eddie to read out the note. Even Robin and Wheeler have come backstage to watch them work. “Haven’t read it yet.”

“What’s happening now?” Nancy asks, confused. ‘Was she really never around during any of the re-tellings of this story?’ Eddie thinks to himself

“My secret admirer threw this to me as we were wrapping up our set.” Eddie waggles his eyebrows at the older Wheeler “I tried to see who it was, but by the time the lights came back on and I could actually see past the stage, the crowd was already thinning out.”

“They probably didn’t want to be recognized just yet? Even I looked around as soon as I could see again, but yeah, everyone had started dispersing.” Steve chimed in from the doorway he was leaning against, arms crossed across his chest. Damn were his arms always that huge?

“Uh_uh yeah, I do love a guy with a flair for dramatics.” everyone chuckled at that

“Of course you do Munson” Steve smiled at him “Now hurry up and read it!”

“OK, OK, this one says ‘You alone can make my song take flight’.” Eddie sings the line softly, redness creeping up his cheeks as his friends react around him.

“Ew, that’s so gross I’m gonna barf.” - Robin

“That’s so sweet!” - Nancy

“You’re going to be talking about this for weeks aren’t you?” - Gareth

Various well-meaning eye rolls come from the rest of his bandmates as they take care of the amps Steve had been neglecting.

And Steve, Steve was looking at Eddie with the warmest, fondest smile he’d ever seen.

Hmm…

____________________________________________

Pt. 4 will be here! Thank you for reading!!

Now on AO3! Several Notes of the Most Amiable Nature

Tagging everyone I can!: @manda-panda-monium , @destielinimpala , @ilovecupcakesandtea , @maya-custodios-dionach , @thefreakandthehair , @youmakemyhearthowl , @phantypurple , @kerlypride , @hagbaby420 , @yes-im-your-mom , @tinydragonhuman , @beeing-stuupid , @ineffablecolors , @m00gl3ness , @background-noise-headache , @jojobeaner , @bitedownonmydestiel , @orangeandthefairroadkill , @llamaoftheinternet , @captain-daryn , @undreamingscatworld , @britishmysteries , @sharpbutsoft , @funnymagicman-named-dandy , @allbymyselfexceptformycactus , @wearelosersyoudumbfuck , @itsthebeckyzone , @thegingervulcan , @urmomification , @wonderingglances , @calciferousoai , @csinnamon-fox , @straight4joekeery , @alex-axolotl , @nitro502 , @whorenerdking , @skeletoneddie , @eddiehashands , @prosedumpofmaya , @werewolfpeterparker , @bigboyandmetalhead , @stevethescareington , @xxbottlecapx , @starkdusk , @legitcookie , @withacapitalp

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #mine #secret admirer au #secret admirer #phantom!eddie #phantom of the opera #stranger things #st #st s4 #st fillet #stranger things ficlet #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #pt 3 #1500 #several notes of the most amiable nature

[marcspectorstannie]

ᰔPrank Wars ᰔ (Steve Grant x Reader)

This is kinda long and I did not mean for it to be and i don’t even like it. So uh yeah. Enjoy

A/n- this is very very VERYYY old and my very first moonknight writing☠️So if this is bad I apologize,I've made some edits so it's not too terrible hopefully. Also dropping this bc I've been putting off that Ken fic😞

✧❁❁❁✧✿✿✿✧❁❁❁✧✧❁❁❁✧✿✿✿✧

You and Steve have been dating for a while now, and one day you decided to catch him off guard one day. He was getting ready for work when you took his name tag the night before while he was asleep and put it in his bathroom cupboard. "Love, have you seen my name tag? I can't seem to find it." You hid your smile as you shook your head. "No I haven't, maybe check on the table? " He nodded lightly as he turned away confused. You began to think you went a little far since he can already barely process things well. A few minutes of thinking went by when you heard a voice in the bathroom. "Love, why is my name tag in the bathroom?" He came out and saw you chuckling. "Did you put that in there?" He smiled slightly. "You cheeky little devil." He walked over and lightly kissed your forehead. "Goodbye love, I'll see you later."

Steven is finally home but you left to go the store to buy some more food. It's pay back time. He takes your slippers and hides them under that bed. You hide his tag, he hides your slippers, it's only fair,right? You're finally home, tired from carrying bags and of course you would wear shoes that hurt like hell after too long. "Steven, can you help me out here?" He rushes to the door to help you, grabbing a few bags from your hands. You aren't thinking about anything but getting your uncomfortable shoes off and slip into some much more comfy ones. "You alright, love? You don't look too sharp." Steven asks placing the bags down.You sighed, ploping onto the couch and peeling your shoes off. He watched your relief as you began to search for your slippers. "Sweetheart, have you seen my slippers? It would be today that I can't find them" He shook his head no and quickly turned away from you. You quickly caught onto his act and played along. "Really? They're usually right here." You pointed to the empty spot in front of the couch. You glanced at the bed, seeing the pink fur peaking under the mattress. "Steven,love,I can see them under the bed." His smile slightly drops and awkwardly plays with his hands. "Well I tried, I'm not that good at.. pranks.. and stuff like that." You walked over to him and leaned on his shoulder. "It's ok, not everyone is a prank master like moi." You kissed his cheek, grabbed your slippers and walked away.

You and Steven went on a small date to have some time to yourselves. You were holding hands when Steven felt your grip slip away. He figured you went to go look at something else so he wasn't too worried until a couple of minutes went by and you didn't come back. He texted you asking where you were and still had no answer. You only weren't answering him because you wanted to end the prank war once and for all.

'Hey love, where are you?'

'Love,are you alright?'

'I'm getting worried where are you :('

' :((((?'

He was so scared you went missing when you were really just on the other side of the store. You quietly snuck up behind him and blew into his ear. He quickly jumped and covered his ear. "Bloody hell! Christ, you scared me." You stifled your laughter as his face relaxed after the sudden adrenaline rush. "Bollocks, I thought I lost you. I didn't know where you were." You looked at his shaky hands and grabbed them. "I'm sorry I got you scared, love. But this war had to be settled one way or another." He looked into your eyes, relaxing his breathing, knowing you're safe. "Yeah, you win this one. "

✧❁❁❁✧✿✿✿✧❁❁❁✧✧❁❁❁✧✿✿✿✧

#steven grant x reader #steven grant headcanon #steven grant #moon knight #moon knight headcanon #moon knight x reader #mr knight #oscar isaac #moonknight #marvel

[kickthecan-revolution]

I picked my sister up from the airport as I was processing the reality that I’ll now need to work through my vacation. Am I bummed? A little bit but I’ve hardly been working since Peach has been here and it’s an incredibly cool once in a lifetime project, so it’s fine. it will be good.

We ordered salads for dinner - she immediately went to meet Peach in his room, and he was so scared and shy. That broke my heart a little but she quickly recalibrated her expectations, and within a couple of hours he was still hiding, but accepting pets. She and I have such similar energy and voice, even Minnie (pictured w my sister) was wanting some pets which never happens. It was so good to have my sister here, validating the drama that is Minnie. She could not stop laughing.

We went to Stevie Nicks and was great though I did realize that I’m a Fleetwood Mac fan first, Stevie second. She told a lot of stories, and referred to herself in the third person to which I’m always like, OK, simmer down, rockstar.

I slept with my big boy last night, and woke up to nibbles on my arm. The sister and I took a long walk to the market and then sat in the sun and talked. Before I knew it, it was time to head to the airport, so I went to his room and said my goodbyes to Peach, thanking him for this experience. I cried and she just hugged me. I love that they’re still going to call him Peach.

We gave him a bit of gabapentin and I just dropped them off at the airport. She was really nervous about security so we got there a little early and thankfully we did because there was a pretty big line. Mostly she was just concerned about him not being stressed. A family who travels with two cats were right in front of her and the mom said, oh my gosh I definitely have experienced this. Please go in front of us and I’ll tell you exactly what to do. Security made her take Peach outside of the carrier and he was such a good boy. He just sat there quietly in her arms

When I first gave Peach to the foster couple, I was mainly relieved but I did have a note of concern in my heart. Now, he’s going to a place where everyone is so excited for him to get there and my sister is already completely in love with him. He’ll get to cuddle my niece all day long, it feels like he’s going home.

And now I want to take a big giant nap, eat some Mitchell’s ice cream, and then figure out what I talk about and think about now. Lol.

[punklorde-hunter]

So 2.1, just like the previous patch SO much happened, and To no one's surprise, It blew everything we saw in 2.0 out of the water! And since i did something similar during 2.1, I'd thought it make sense to do the same for the next part. So without further ado!

Spoilers under the Cut!!!!

Of course the start of 2.1's story has to end right where we left off, in the room where we found Robin's dead body O_O. But i like the direction they go, where after we split off form Aventurine and meet with the Express, we get to see multiple POV's, kinda like how they did with Dan Heng on the Luofu but more complex. And man did it work wonders!

While I know there were people meming and a bit disappointed Duke Inferno never got to appear in game, I did like that Acheron at least remembers his last stand. Man stood by his principles and went out fighting (even if he' prob won't be playable)

I also like how they handled Acheron & Welt together. Like I said before never got to play Honkai Impact 3rd, but I did get to read a lot of the supplementary material like Second Impact, so it was nice to see that side of Welt from there. And that's while Acheron isn't his Mei it's nice they shared a kinship

What a fun Greek Myth ref to match the HI3 Ref

I got nothing to add to this the sand pit was hilarious as hell! The NPC walking into walls and clipping into floors made me lose it. The devs had way too much fun in that area lmao.

Siobhan give em one more chance 🥺

the straight Up Pikachu ref sdjaldsadkklds

The little detail of Aventurine's & Dr. Ratio's shoes was pretty cute, the lil' spades on Aventurine's sole and Ratio's sandals, it's nice!

Nice Unlimited Blade Works ref there Star Rail

This next parts more on the serious side, so I'll give a little heads up that rest of the post is prob about to touch on really dark topics like Enslavement, genocide, su1c1de, and not so nice things like that so be warned.

So,

Aventurine / Kakavasha's backstory....

there's so much I could say but they really did a excellent job fleshing out his character. From how he was "lucky" from birth but everyone he ever loved wasn't so lucky, how his reckless gambling with his life was there even as a kid, him feeling he's never been truly free only going from one master to another, mans got trauma and it's no wonder he thinks everything comes at a cost.

I haven't seen a lot of post about the part where Kakasvasha says his last goodbyes to his sister, right before the Narration explains that the small rebellion ended in the Avgin clan's extinction (it's vague if the Katacins survived, but considering how the story paints them, not many people are gonna miss them). over 6,000 deaths and over ,000 casualties, all on a planet that was barely survivable. And while his sister sends him off after one final prayer to Gaithra Triclops, it left him alone with no one, and we know how he ended up afterwards.

Not to mention the fact even when Aventurine killed his old master by STRANGLING HIM WITH CHAINS, he would've been arrested by the IPC had Jade not taken an interest in his bet. Man has been through it. No wonder he recklessly bets his life in gambles, it was either that or he dies.

Speaking of reckless gambling, the entire sequence after Sunday does his Harmony suggestion we get that oh so nice interactions with the young Aventurine and his shadow the true self other Aventurine that rags on him the rest of the way. The shadow Aventurine lays it in him that underneath that bravado is a man whose so scared to lose more and yet doesn't care if his own life gets taken in the process since all he has is that. Not even with all the money in the universe. Dr Ratio's "betrayal" was supposedly an act, but he still thinks on some level the doctor hates him and it was real, he has no one to confined in or anything.

But with the younger self it's different. The way his young self still has light in his eyes, how in the hallucination he's at the theme park with his family, who are dead. First he denies that there are any Avgins since they were all dead right? But then he shows a kinder side he would never show to anyone, much less himself. And it accumulates in the scene where he decides to live on a bit longer and says a final prayer to his past, to Kakavasha. I was choking up all through that final part.

I know the patch mostly focused on Aventurine, but even what we learned of Acheron is also sad. She's not really a Galaxy Ranger, because her status as an Emanator of Nihillty, a "Self-Annihilator," is tragic enough, means she'll forget precious memories, senses, untill there's nothing. So it's sticks out to me that Acheron is the one to give Aventurine the nudge to live on, she she also has lost so much but chooses to walk on in life. Plus Dr. Ratio's note to Aventurine was very Ratio, no-nonsense but also wants him to live on despite their differences. The Aventio fans are eating it up but it's still a nice gesture from Ratio.

Speaking of Sunday, I said I wanted him to get his revenge as a treat but I wasn't counting on him almost killing Aventurine with whatever Harmony power he put on him. Sure the man lost his sister to an unknown murderer, and the light cone memory of them of a simpler time is sad. There's still a few unanswered question about him and Robin's relationship, like if Robin's fondest memories of are the pretend concert between her and Sunday, why is ti as adults she only just got back to Penacony, and why the Harmony isn't in sync anymore that caused her voice to lose it's tune. Also Sundays controlling attitude and his raven bird watching in every scene he's in makes me think the once closed siblings may not be as close anymore

Also with the reveal of what "Gallagher's" role in the story is, the drink he made for my Trailblazer fits a bit TOO well. I don't completely believe he's working alone, but his association with the Something Unto Death meme has me excited for his role next patch. Let my chill bartender man be a bit shady as a treat. Truly the "most normal human in the game of werewolf" (Thanks Shaoji)

Also to no one's surprise, Sam & Firefly are one in the same. While I am interested on how the last Stellaron Hunter is gonna be like and what their deal is, it's a shame most people like em were spoiled by the twist since it makes Firefly and Sam SO much more interesting.

But overall 2.1 has been AMAZING in terms of characterization and with 2.2 being set to be the "climax" of Penacony's Story I can't wait to see what they do with the plot threads they have been cooking up.

#honkai star rail #spoilers #hsr spoilers #hsr 2.1 spoilers #my post #txt post #long post #spent a lot of typing oop

[castawaycat]

The Tales of a Little Tiger: Chapter 13- This Little Light of Mine

Summary: Y/N Says goodbye to her grandparents and they return home. Yelena and Natasha have a heart to heart and discuss their childhood trauma as well as their fears for the future. Wanda has a conversation with Nat about her own trauma.

Melina hugged her daughter Nat as she fought hard to keep her tears at bay. “Do you really have to leave?” She loved having her family back home, especially now that she had a granddaughter to spoil. 

“We will be back before you know it. Besides you and dad still have to come to Y/n’s first birthday party in a few months.” Nat said as she hugged her mom. She had never seen her adopted mother look so sad to see her go. It was a strange feeling, but one that she could get used to. 

Alexei was taking it a lot harder than Melina as he didn’t want to let you go. He was currently holding you and giving you kisses on your rosy pink cheeks. His long beard was tickling your face which caused you to erupt into a fit of sweet giggles. “Don’t you forget your Dedu and Babu.” He said to you as he chuckled softly when you wrapped your little hand around his pinky finger. 

“Dad, it’s going to be okay. Believe me Y/n isn’t going to forget you or mom. Look, her birthday is in two months and you can come stay with us and help us set up her party. Now, can I please have my baby?” Nat asked in a playful tone as she motioned for her dad to hand you over to her. 

Alexei sighed sadly as he hugged you before handing you over to your mama. “I’ll see you soon, malen’kiy.” He then turned to Yelena and Kate who were saying goodbye to his wife. “So when will my youngest daughter have children?” 

Melina’s jaw dropped as she gave her husband the scary “shut your mouth” look. “Alexei!” 

“What? I'm Dedu now and I want more grandbabies to spoil.” He said as he shrugged his shoulders. 

Nat and Wanda couldn’t help but giggle as they watched Kate and Yelena’s faces turn beet red. They found it adorable that both Melina and Alexei had slipped into their grandparent roles so easily. 

Kate was the first to speak as she had finally found her voice. “Yelena and I actually have an announcement to make.” The brunette felt like her heart was going to beat out of her chest from nervousness. Some of her anxiety slipped away when she felt Yelena squeeze her hand reassuringly. “Yelena proposed to me last night and we’re getting married! We also are looking into fostering. After the incident with Y/n we realized that we do want to have children but we have a lot to learn before we adopt.” 

It took a few awkward minutes for everyone to process what Kate had announced. Once everyone processed the wonderful news the room filled with love and congratulations. Yelena and Kate were squished in between Alexei, Melina, Wanda and Natasha who was still holding you. 

You got lots of hugs and kisses when you clapped your hands excitedly even though you didn’t understand why everyone around you was so happy. 

Once everyone settled Melina looked over at Kate, “wait. What incident with y/n were you talking about?” 

Yelena’s face turned white as she locked eyes with her mom who had the, “what did you do to my grandbaby?” face. 

Nat came to the rescue as she placed you in your Babu’s arms. “Nothing to worry about now. I think Y/n wants to give her Babu a kiss goodbye.” 

You placed a slobbery wet kiss to your Babu’s cheek as she hugged you tightly. 

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------

The drive back home went smoother than expected as you had slept most of the way home. The rest of the time that you were awake you spent watching baby educational videos that your auntie Kate put on her phone for you. 

Wanda sat in the backseat with you and Kate, as Natasha had insisted that her and Yelena could take turns driving home. 

Natasha smiled when she turned to look in the backseat and found that you, Kate and Wanda had all drifted to sleep. Honestly it was a miracle for anyone to be able to sleep while Yelena was driving. 

“So you and Kate are ready to tie the knot?” Nat asked as she made small talk with her sister. She was happy that Yelena had found an amazing woman who loved and cared for her. 

Yelena’s cheeks blushed slightly as she nodded her head, “we are. I love her and I want to spend the rest of my life with her. She’s amazing in every single way… I just hope that I can be just as amazing for her.” The blonde bit her lip nervously as she gripped the steering wheel. 

“You’re both made for each other. You will be a great wife and mother, sestra.” Nat said as she placed her hand reassuringly on her sister’s shoulder. 

Yelena nodded her head, “I hope so. The last thing I want is for my trauma to seep into those that I love. I’m scared that my childhood trauma is going to affect me as a wife and mother one day.” She paused as she focused on driving. She was thankful that there weren’t many people out on the roads this late at night. “I mean… I forgive mom and dad, but what happened to us was… abuse. What if I ever hurt Kate or our children? Sometimes I have nightmares that I’m still a mind controlled assassin.” Tears fell down the blonde’s face as she felt her lips tremble. 

Nat felt her heart break for her sister as she also shared the same thoughts and fears as her little sister. “Yelena. I’m sorry. I wish I could go back in time and rescue you from the Red Room. I should’ve gone back for you.” Natasha dug her nails painfully into her thighs as she felt her own tears fall down her cheeks before letting out a sigh. “I can’t change the past. We both can’t. But one thing that Wanda and Y/n have shown me is that I have the power to choose my present. We’ve both had so much taken from us, let’s not let Dreykov take our future away from us too. All we can do now is learn how to heal, and hold the ones we love close. I love you, sestra.” 

Both sisters cried silently as they held each other’s hands in understanding. “I love you too, sestra.” Yelena said in a quiet whisper. 

Wanda smiled to herself as she had woken up in the middle of their conversation. She was thankful that Nat and Yelena were knocking down the walls of their childhood trauma and getting closure. 

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Wanda carried you into your nursery as you had just finished breastfeeding. She laid you on the changing table and changed your diaper. “Y/n, I love you so much sweet girl. You are bringing so much healing and love to this family. I don’t think I’ve ever seen your mama and her family so happy before. We are so lucky that you are our little tiger.” She said as she rocked you in her arms. 

Natasha walked into the nursery and wrapped her arms around Wanda’s waist from behind. She loved watching Wanda be so loving and nurturing to you. “Thank you for loving me and Y/n.” 

“I’ll always love you and Y/n.” Wanda said as she gently lowered you into your crib before turning and facing her girlfriend. “You both complete me… Nat there’s something I need to tell you… it’s about my past.” 

“Whatever it is Wanda. I promise I’m not going anywhere. Come let’s go talk in the living room, I’ll make us some tea.” Nat said as she held her girlfriend’s hand and led her out of the nursery. 

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Wanda sat on the couch crisscrossed as she sipped her tea carefully. She felt nervous to finally reveal her own trauma to the love of her life. 

“I’ve always wanted to be a mother and there was a time in my life where I went to great lengths to have that possibility. After I lost Vision my heart felt dark and empty. We had talked about getting married, buying a house and having children. We dreamed of having twins… twin boys;  but as you know Vision died before we could make our dreams come true.” Wanda took a shaky breath as she sat her mug of tea on the coffee table. She didn’t want to spill it due to her hands shaking. 

“When Vision died I went to the town where we were supposed to build our life. I used my chaos magic and I created a fake version of the life that I had wanted. I created a fake reality where I was married to Vision, became pregnant and gave birth to two beautiful baby boys. Billy and Tommy had become my whole world and I loved them with every fiber of my being. The thing was that they weren’t actually real. I’m not ready to talk about how I lost them and the fake world that I had created; but what I need you to know is that I’ve done horrible things too, Nat. I’m scared just like you. I’m scared that if something happens to you and Y/n that I’m going to turn into the darker version of myself… when y/n almost died… I felt it. I felt my darker side.” 

Natasha could tell that Wanda had been wrestling with your near death experience. To be honest everyone that almost lost their Little became even more protective of their babies. Since the incident Wanda hadn’t taken on any missions. “Wanda you’re not a monster. If anything ever happened to you or y/n, I would turn into the assassin that Dreykov raised me to be.” She said as she moved closer to her girlfriend and took her shaking hands into her own. 

The stress and exhaustion hit Wanda like a ton of bricks as her shoulders relaxed. Her head hung low as she began to sob. She cried for the life that she had lost and she cried over watching you almost die. She knew that as an Avenger that it was her job to protect everyone, but she didn’t want to lose you or Natasha in order to save the world. She would always go above and beyond to protect those that she loved. 

Nat instantly pulled Wanda into her lap and embraced her. She felt her own tears fall down her face. She hated seeing the woman she loved break apart; but this is what healing looked like. This is what facing your fears and doubts looked like. Darkness grows in isolation. She knew that better than anyone. “Let it out, moya lyubov'. I’m right here. You’re safe, we are all safe and we are home.” 

Both women held each other as they let their walls continue to fall. They opened up and talked about their fears, their broken and fractured memories, and they shed light onto their dark pasts. They both had done horrific things that they weren’t proud of, but opening up about those things and being gentle with themselves was what they both needed. It would be a learning curve for them to fully heal from their pasts, but they weren’t alone anymore. Their little tiger was shedding light, love, and healing onto all that was dark.

Author's Notes:

Thank you for continuing to read this story. I've started to map out where I want this story to go and where I want to take all of the characters. I've decided that I want this to show the healing and character growth of all the characters and not just showcase the reader's journey. I feel that in this story the reader is growing and healing, but she is also bringing light to those around her, and when light sheds on darkness things are uncovered. As for the timeline of things I've decided that it will not follow the true timeline of the movies and shows, and the events that are mentioned will have different endings than the ones we are familiar with. I'm also planning on bringing other characters from the MCU but like I said it won't follow the timelines that we are familiar with. I hope that I won't upset or confuse anyone. I know change is hard, but my advice is to read the rest of this story from a different perspective. What I've found has helped me is viewing this world as an alternate timeline than the one we know and love. 

I will say that this story is far from done and I'm thinking that this story will go on for some time. One of my goals this year is to get better at updating my stories, I hope that in the next few months I will be able to have a set schedule for updates. Again I want to thank everyone for being so kind and patient with me.

#wanda maximoff #natasha romanoff #wandanat x daughter!reader #wandanat imagine #yelena x kate #little reader #marvel imagine #mcu imagine

[fics-n-stuff]

Some Random OBX3 Thoughts and Opinions (full spoilers)

This whole season was on crack. It was fucking wild and I loved it

Put me on Poguelandia. That was so sweet. I want to see what that month looked like, I want to experience that with them

I wanted to see more Wheezie :(

I'm sorry but Big John was so annoying, tryna keep the Pogues out of the loop after they've already been through all this shit

Pope and Cleo are super cute, very sweet relationship. The way she's always teasing him? The fact that his parents immediately love her? Immaculate

What they did with Ward this season was... interesting. I will say though, I'm okay with that being the way he goes out. I'm glad he's actually dead now

Rafe × Barry is alive and well

Topper interlude:

Topper really should have got a clue. Sarah moved on babes, you should move on too

I really thought we were on our way to a Topper redemption arc when he helped them with the train robbery - and I was super happy with that - BUT OH BOY WAS I WRONG

Topper deserved to get his shit rocked by John B. His little snarky comments are absolutely a punchable offence

Everyone was freaking out about John B punching Topper while he was down and I think everyone forgot that Topper literally tried to DROWN JOHN B in season 1

HE BURNED DOWN THE CHATEU!?!? HE WAS PISSED AT SARAH SO HE DECIDED TO ATTEMPT TO MURDER SIX PEOPLE!?!? THAT'S NOT JUST PETTY THAT'S PSHYCHOPATHIC

On the other hand, Sarah should have really just let that boy have some peace and stop stringing him along. Like, I get it it was for the greater good and maybe it was their only option but it was still a bit mean (not that I cared much after Topper attempted to commit SEXTUPLE MURDER BY ARSON)

Sarah was so wrong for kissing Topper. You get in one fight with your boyfriend and you run back to your ex? After everything you've gone through? Weak

When Rafe melted down the cross I died a little inside bro that was so upsetting

SOMEONE GET RAFE SOME THERAPY JESUS CHRIST

Jiara. Was. Great. The looks, the hugs, the lingering moments, the slow build up to the final payoff. Loved it

Jiara's first kiss! Idk if this is controversial but I loved that they had an audience cheering when they kissed, it felt like a little inside joke with the fandom. Like a little "wink wink nudge nudge, we know this is how you at home are feeling rn"

Bit harsh that John B got his dad back just for him to actually die, but at least he got to say goodbye this time

18 month time skip? What happened in that time? What did they do with the gold and how did they get everyone to believe their stories? What happend with the charges Topper filed against John B? How did Rafe react to Ward's death? What about Rose and Wheezie, what did they do? The Pogues are still minors (before the time skip at least) and like half of them don't have legal guardians, I know they're rich now but how did they sort that out?

HOW DARE MIKE AND ANNA SIT IN THE FRONT ROW SMILING AND CLAPPING AS IF THEY DIDN'T TRY TO STOP KIARA FROM ACHIEVING THIS EVERY SINGLE STEP OF THE WAY AND SHIT ON ALL OF HER FRIENDS IN THE PROCESS

ARE WE SERIOUSLY ENDING WITH A BLACKBEARD NAMEDROP?? ARE YOU KIDDING ME!?!? When I say I sat in silence and laughed for a full two minutes after that ending, omg

#outer banks spoilers #outer banks #outer banks s3 #outer banks season 3 #outer banks season three #obx #obx3 #obx3 spoilers #obx netflix #netflix outer banks #obx3 opinions #john b routledge #sarah cameron #kiara carrera #jj maybank #pope heyward #cleo outer banks #rafe cameron #topper thornton #big john #big john routledge #ward cameron #wheezie cameron #rose cameron #mike carrera #anna carrera #barry outer banks #jarah #jiara #cleopope

[foolforharrry]

Strawberries & Memories - Chapter 2 - It's Beautiful Isn't it?

Hi. This is the second chapter of my brand new book. I'm really excited about it and it would mean a lot if you shared it or gave me some feedback on it.

Summary for Strawberries & Memories: Anna went to the Coachella Music Festival to finally see her idol perform in person. Little did she know that would end up changing her life forever in ways she never even dared dream of. But everything comes at a cost.

Chapter index

Chapter 1

I really hope you enjoy this story as much as i enjoy writing it

"You're lying right?"

I shake my head, unable to suppress the massive grin threatening to break out on my face. "I am dead fucking serious, Morgs."

While I wait for her to process, I take in the calming sound of the waves rolling over the sandy beach before retracting back into the ocean again and the warm sun hitting my skin. My sunburnt skin.

I need to start remembering to wear sunscreen when I'm here. Or anywhere with sun and the danger of getting sunburnt.

I did my best to avoid getting sand in my shoes, but the second I stepped onto the beach, that game was lost. Under normal circumstances, I would have been grumpy and frustrated about it until I was back

"You're telling me that the man you've been drooling over since you were a teenager invited you out for drinks...and you said no?" I flinch when she screams the last part, grimacing at the unnecessarily loud volume.

"Jeez. Calm down please.", I plead, deciding to just sit down in the sand. My phone is in my tote bag, probably getting the screen in worse condition than it already is as Morgan keeps scolding me for being responsible and not going out with someone who's virtually a stranger.

"...finally getting some action. You know if you keep not taking opportunities like these, then you're going to end up being the grumpy cat lady who is mean to everyone but her cats."

"At least I would be the cool aunt to your kids.", I point out, expecting her to argue it. But instead, she changes the topic, "So since you obviously weren't busy with a man these last two days I haven't heard from you. What were you doing?"

"I've been getting busy with my laptop."

Margot giggles, "I hope you hear how sad that sounds, Anna. You're in LA and you're couped up in a café and your hotel room with your laptop instead of doing something you can't do back home."

I know she's right. But there isn't a lot I can do about it. When inspiration strikes, I have to use it. Because there is very little that compares to when the block finally eases up and everything you've wanted to get out just flows out just the way you want it to.

"I am outside now. And not at a café. To socialise.", I defend my life choices even though I know she isn't going to change her mind. She rarely ever does.

It's one of the things I love most about her.

"Whatever you say, baby." Morgan doesn't sound convinced at all. "I gotta go. I've got a hot date waiting for me."

"You better tell me all about them when I get home tomorrow night."

We say our goodbyes rather quickly. The second she hangs up; Spotify resumes my playlist. It has an instant calm wash over me when the familiar melody to 'Night Changes' starts. The same way the water does the beach.

I've always had a love for music in general. Not just because music is something truly and undeniably beautiful. It's also the ability it has to make me go from devastatingly sad to dancing with joy in a beat. And vice versa. Or the way it can transport you back to a moment you've tied to the song so effortlessly you don't even notice it until the memory is playing like a movie in your head.

It still feels surreal that I've met the man who's written a lot of the songs that gave me the strength to keep clawing myself back off the edge when all I'd wanted to do was let go.

I'm honestly convinced I had a stroke at some point and these past few days are just a figment of my own imagination while my body is in a coma somewhere. And I have a tube stuffed down my throat and the doctors have decided I'm brain dead and they're about to pull the plug so all my organs can be donated to the dumpsters.

If against all odds, that's not the case, then the last two days I've done a few things.

1. I've found a new favourite café to sit and write at. It has the cutest little stuffed bunnies everywhere and little cookies shaped like seals.

2. I have written at the café.

3. I have talked to Harry Styles.

I still don't fully understand what possessed Harry to actually DM me instead of just unfollowing me the second I left on Saturday. But he did. And I can't say that I have been complaining about it.

I have learnt two things about him.

1. He is genuinely funny.

2. He is also clinically insane.

He would have to be for asking me to meet him. Again.

I threw my phone across the room when the words 'would you want to meet' were in the grey bubble on my screen. From him. I might also have screamed as if I was dying, but that's beside the point.

And what else could I answer him with but, 'Are you on drugs right now?'. And I stand by that. What else was I supposed to say? Something normal?

Like, just say no? Probably would've been the best thing for me to say considering I'm not even half as stable as a normal person should be. But after Harry assured me that he was 100% not on any kind of drugs and promised no one had a gun to his or his loved ones' head, we agreed that he would pick me up here.

I still don't know what or why he wants to see me again, but it's too late to talk myself out of it now.

He told me to meet him here at 3. And looking at the time right now, it's in two minutes.

I'm never on time, but I am for sure not going to be late when I am meeting him.

"Ok, Anna. You can do this.", I tell myself, doing my best to focus on the distant sound of the traffic that's almost completely drowned out by the waves.

Almost.

The beach is around a five-minute drive from the highway. I couldn't see any clear point I was supposed to get out of the taxi, so I just told him to drop me off when he was starting to get a little impatient.

I sent Harry a photo of where I settled on getting out of the taxi. So hopefully he manages to find it.

The taxi driver was a sweetheart though. He even asked me if I was sure I wanted to be dropped off in the middle of nowhere.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?"

With wide eyes, I snap my head towards the sound of the voice. If it had been anyone else, I would've probably jumped out of my skin from someone suddenly sitting down next to me without me noticing until they speak.

I clear my throat, doing the best  I can to push away the nerves that have been bubbling in my stomach ever since I opened my eyes this morning.

Don't say something stupid now.

"Yeah, it is pretty." Ok, that's not the stupidest thing I've ever said. We're good. "Hi."

Harry's smile grows wider, his bunny teeth coming into view as I feel my own smile grow as well.

What can I say? He has an infectious smile.

His curls are mostly pushed back and out of his face by his hands. But a few, short strands have fallen over his forehead and temples despite the comfortable breeze coming from the ocean. The ends of the hair barely brush against his eyelashes. They move every time he blinks.

He must have noticed me staring at it because he lets out a light laugh while pushing the rebel hairs back with the rest, "I forgot to grab my clip, so it keeps falling in my eyes."

"That happens to the best of us. I have a spare hair tie if you want it?", I offer, already rolling it off my wrist. Harry takes it, quickly and skilfully gathering a large section of hair on the top of his head and twisting it around his finger until it's a little ball. That's when he seals it with the hair tie.

"Thank you, Anna." I cock an eyebrow at the way he emphasizes my name. "You're welcome, Harry."

Harry wrinkles his nose a little, his eyebrows scrunching together, "That feels a little weird."

"What's weird?", I ask confused. "No, no, no.", he sits up a little straighter, probably getting more sand on his brown, wide-legged trousers. "I like my name. But all my friends call me H. It's just strange when you say Harry."

I feel like my eyes are about to pop out of my head.

Do. Not. Say something stupid. "You're not allowed to call me A.", I tell him seriously.

I've watched two seasons of Pretty Little Liars. And what I learnt from it is that nothing good ever comes from someone called 'A'. I'm not saying I'm this really great person who only brings good into the world. But at least I don't send encrypted texts and torment a group of teenagers.

"Ok. Deal. I won't call you A and you don't call me Harry." He holds his hand out between us expectantly. His fingers are curled up into a fist apart from his pinkie.

"I might call you Harry. But on very rare occasions." "Deal."

I wrap my own pinkie around his, squeezing it firmly while nodding, "You can't go back on a pinkie promise." "Oh, pinkie promises are holier than marriage, darling."

"Does this mean I'm your friend?", I have to ask to make sure I don't just assume something he doesn't mean. Because he just said his friends call him H. He didn't actually call me his friend. If I just went around thinking we weren't. That would be way too embarrassing. Even for me.

Harry releases the hold his thumb and pointer finger had on his bottom lip, his smile dropping. "Do you not want to be? I- I'm so sorry, Anna. I completely just assumed. But if it makes you more comfortable, we could be sworn enemies or something."

He furrows his eyebrows, scowling at me playfully as if he was actually mad at me while gesturing to his face "I can be angry and scary. Just look at this."

My hand flies up to stifle my mouth to stifle a laugh while he keeps up the 'angry' face. "You look like an angry kitten."

Harry shoves me playfully, "You're a dick." "At least I don't push people.", I roll my eyes at him while brushing off the sand on my left arm from catching myself on the sandy ground.

He points a stern finger at me, "I only push people when they insult my angry face. It is very scary. You've just been around too many scary people to know." He justifies his actions as he stands back up off the ground, stretching his hand out for me to take.

"By scary people do you mean Morgan?", I ask him with a cocked eyebrow. I accept the gesture hesitantly, not fully trusting him not to drop my ass to the ground. He keeps a strong grip on my hand, helping me off the sand with ease as he nods, "She seems pretty terrifying from what you've told me." He doesn't even bat an eye when I thank him with an obnoxiously high voice. He just offers me a soft smile.

If he doesn't run for the hills now, I'll be more surprised than I was when he asked me to meet him here.

"She is pretty great though.", I say softly. Harry hums, "That's great."

He is wearing a white t-shirt with brown and beige stripes tucked into his trousers. It looks immaculate. There should be some kind of law against it to be honest.

I trail after him when he motions for me to follow him.

"So, did you have anything specific in mind. Or did you just plan on walks on the beach and kidnappings?", I ask him after walking in wordlessly for a bit, kind of regretting breaking the serene calm that came from the waves.

If Morgan would be up for it, maybe moving to LA wouldn't be such a bad idea. Or at least to somewhere with beaches like these.

Harry takes a minute, keeping a slow, steady pace as the sand dips beneath our feet. "I was going to ask if you had anything you wanted to do in LA before I suggest anything.", he explains, making a wide grin spread on my face before he adds, "This is your first time here, right?"

I ignore the warm feeling in my stomach from the fact that he remembers that I told him this is my first time in California. Instead, I play it off. "Do you mean at this beach or in Los Angeles in general?"

"Please tell me you're not trying to be funny right now, Anna.", he pleads. "Because that's just sad."

I scoff, pretending to be offended, "It's better than some of the jokes you've come up with." "What do you mean? My jokes are amazing. You just have no humour." Harry turns his nose up and away from me. The sun is making the higher points of his face stand out more and it's getting harder to keep myself serious.

"Sure, H. I'm the one with no humour, Mr. let's start a conversation with the worst pick-up line I've ever heard."

Harry purses his lips, blowing out air in disappointment, "Don't you know that the foundation for every good friendship is a good pick-up line?" I take a second, debating to myself whether or not I should comment on it while also trying not to laugh.

I decide to just agree with him. "Sure, H. Whatever you say. And to answer your question." Harry perks up at that, directing his full attention back to me. "No, I didn't have anything I wanted to do in LA."

"You're fucking with me, right? You go to LA for the first time, and you don't have anything planned other than Coachella?" When I shake my head, Harry walks faster than before, grabbing my forearm to make sure I'm keeping up with him.

I laugh at how much this seems to be bothering him, "I've had a really nice time, though. I've been working. And I'm going home tomorrow anyways."

"If you're leaving tomorrow, we have to get going.", he tells me, changing direction from going straight forward to away from the sealine and to a car parked just where the sand begins.

"Where are we going?"

Harry twists his head to look at me, still nearly speed-walking to his car, "We're going sightseeing."

-

Masterlist

#harry #harry smut #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles blurb #harry styles fluff #harry styles masterlist #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #harry styles #one direction #fanfiction #masterlist #coachella #harrychella

[reallyromealone]

Hey! I have a request! A little bit suggestive but nothing explicit.

Ran who still hasn't fully rid of his hangover was describing how pretty the guy he took home the other night to his fellow executives, but as the conversation went on, the people inside the room including Ran himself is slowly turning their heads to Sanzu, mostly with a surprised and teasing expression.

Because the description of this guy matches his way too much.

But turns out, Sanzu had twin (extremely flirty may I add) who just went back to Japan, he just doesn't know yet.

Ohoooo

Love it love it

Ran woke up and felt like a train hit him as he got ready for the day, unable to get the most beautiful man he had ever seen.

He was everything and more..

He was in a daze as he walked into the office, his brother snapping his fingers as the men sat around, nothing to do quite yet "whats up with you?" Rindō asked with a raised eyebrow and Ran sighed dreamily as he began describing the man he saw the night before, with each discription the men slowly realized....he sounded familiar as they looked towards a smug Sanzu and a cackling Takeomi.

"So you think I'm got eh?"

"Fuck no"

"Did he have (hairstyle)?"

"Uh yeah..?"

"(Name) came back early... Oh he's gonna get an earful!" Sanzu grumbled as the rest of Bonten looked confused "wanna elaborate?" Koko asked confused as hell "you met Sanzus twin brother (name)" Takeomi explained as Sanzu pulled out a picture on his phone of him and (name) last summer.

The room went quiet as Ran processed this information.

That was him.

The man of his dreams.

Whose related to this shit head.

Fuck.

"Tell me everything about him"

(Name) was confused when his twin called him giggling like an idiot and sending him an address, the promise of food and something wonderful left him curious and concerned.

(Name) had left Japan for school was now an accoplished (job title) and was finally back home.

It was barely a week before he went to a party and got shit faced, meeting the dreamiest man ever.

(Name) would be a dirty liar if he said it wasn't the best fuck he's had in a very long time.

Sadly he had to leave the penthouse before the other awoke, having a meeting in the early morning.

Walking into the bonten building his brother collected him in the lobby, practically dragging him up and chewing him out for not telling him he was back before the two laughed and giggled like they always did together.

No matter the distance they knew that they had each other's backs.

The elevator dinged as Sanzu practically dragged him to meet the others.

Specifically Ran.

Now (name) knew exactly what his brothers did and wasn't really intimidated by the men.

After all gang stuff was normal most of this life.

Scanning the room he saw him.

Ran stared starstruck at the beautiful man who smiled at him "hey darling~ didn't expect to see you so soon" (name) said teasingly as he sauntered over to him, everyone watching shocked as (name) had the shocked man wrapped around his finger instantly.

And surprisingly had him stunned into silence.

"Where did you go...?"

"I had a meeting baby"

(Name) gave Ran his number before introducing himself to the others politely "i am sorry to cut this short but I'm supposed to give a lecture at the University of Tokyo in an hour and a half and have to get ready" (name) said politely, saying his goodbyes "later cutie~" he said to Ran before leaving, the lilac man watching his ass as he left.

#tokyo revengers x male reader #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers fluff #bonten x reader #ran x male reader

[kxokiemonster]

Sirius used to flirt with everyone so that way he could feel something. He wasn't shagging everyone like Marlene joked one day in the middle of sixth year, but he was really snogging every single person who gave him attention. Because Sirius felt so unwanted: by his family, by his own brother, by James since he started dating Lily, by James' parents because they sure thought he was annoying and too much to take care of (or that's what he convinced himself of) so he just wants a little love.

By the Christmas of seventh year, Sirius really had shagged everyone in the castle. He had discovered he was gay, but he still flirted or even snogged a bit some girl from time to time when something makes him even more less wanted. He used girls as a way to remember himself that, even if wasn't, his body was wanted, was desired by everyone.

An one night near Easter they all get pissed and started talking. Well, almost everyone talked because Remus was in one couch in complete silence, just looking at him.

"What's with you, Moony?" he asked sitting next to him.

"Just looking at you. Can't I?" Remus dedicated a shy smile to him.

"Of course you can, MoonPie. I'm the most beautiful here" Sirius joked with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

"You really are"

And Remus was looking at him with such pure adoration it made difficult for Sirius to keep looking at him.

"Moony, you're pissed" he let out after a few moments. "Why don't I take you upstairs so you can sleep it off?"

Remus bit his lower lip stopping himself from saying something he shouldn't.

"Yeah" he let out with a sigh. "Let's go upstairs, Pads"

Remus put his arm around Sirius' waist like Sirius was the one who needed the help to go upstairs. Sirius let him with a roll of his eyes. They said their goodbyes although the rest were so into their own conversations they didn't heard them.

The stairs were a task less difficult that what Sirius has imagined. Remus could walk almost on his own if he wasn't putting all his weight on Sirius, like he was melting on his side.

"C'mon, Moony, put on your pj and to the bed" he comanded like a mom.

Remus looked at him with incredulity.

"Padfoot, I'm not pissed" he started slowly, letting Sirius process his words. "I just wanted to be with you alone"

A big noisy red alarm started sounding in Sirius' head. HE WANTS TO SLEEP WITH YOU, IDIOT shouted his brain.

"Oh"

"Yeah. Oh" mocked remus taking a step closer.

They were close. So close that Sirius could see perfectly Remus' scar. He just wanted to touch every one of them with his lips.

He couldn't be trusted when it came to Remus. He had met him when they were both 11. Sirius had got his big crush at 13, before he knew he was into boys. He just knew that Remus was way more amazing than anyone else he had met and he wanted to be with him forever. At 16 he knew for sure that his feeling were more than what you feel for a friend. At 16, too, he realized they were never going to be more than friends so he just shut his feelings under lock.

"Normally now is when you kiss me" he mumbled, his thoughts all over the place already.

"I know" Remus had put his hands cupping Sirius' face. "I will do that in a moment, but first I just want to observe you a little bit more"

When Remus (finally) kissed him, Sirius thought he was going to explode. His whole body was vibrating, his hands trembling from the excitement and his brain melting. It was really happening! Moony was kissing him!

One of Remus' hand was in the back of his neck, playing with his hair and the other had went lower lower until it found his waist. Sirius found out that, for once, he didn't know what to do. He wanted to touch every part of Remus, but he had to settle at the moment for throwing his arms around the other's shoulders.

Sirius tried to deepen the kiss, desperately trying to get more. Remus pulled his hair in a warning.

"Please" he begged against Remus' lips. "I want more. To the bed? Please?"

Remus shooked his head slowly, filling Sirius' cheeks with little kisses.

"Not tonight. We are both a little drunk and James and Petter can come any moment"

"Fuck them" Sirius mumbled, getting frustrated.

"Tonight" Remus continued like Sirius hadn't interrupted him "you and I are gonna cuddle and I'm going to kiss you as much as you want me to. But nothing else"

"Why?" Sirius complained with a little pout that Remus was quick to kiss.

"Why so desperate? I got you for the rest of our lives. I'm sure you can wait a few days. Besides, I get to cuddle you, I couldn't ask for more"

And the next kiss was like a punch in the heart for Sirius. He could feel the nausea in his stomach with full clarity. Remus must have seen it too because he frowned.

"What's wrong? Is this okay with you?" get asked a little worried. "Fuck, I should have asked first instead of just... Fuck. Mary said I wasn't imagining it and I just thought. I'm not sure what I thought" he started to mumble.

"What? Moony, what the he'll are you talking about?" Sirius was growing even more confuse after that franatic speech.

"I fancy you. Well, not. I mean, I fancy you" he corrected himself "but what I mean is that I love you"

Sirius blinked a few times, trying to process it.

"What?" he repeated.

"Yeah, I love you. Why did you think I kissed you just now?"

"To sleep with me?" Sirius asked like it was obvious.

"Well, not entirely. Sure, I want to shag you, but I love you. You... don't?" he asked full of insecurity.

"Yeah" Sirius was fast to answer. "I love you. I fancy you"

Remus looked at him with so much sadness. Sirius wanted to tell him to knock it off, that it should be a happy moment, but the words couldn't make their way out.

Remus had realized what was happening inside of Sirius' brain. Sirius thought he only wanted to shag him while he was in love with Remus, and he was going to do it anyway. Remus remembered all those times he had been jealous of Sirius' one night stand but, in that moment, it only brought him more sadness.

Remus kissed Sirius sweet and slow and the latter felt like crying. The kiss was so delicate, so full of unspoken words. There was no passion on it, only pure love. Remus was telling him with that kiss that he loved him. That he wanted him.

Remus kissed him just to kiss him, not to take him to bed. It was sweetness, it was simple, it was good to know.

#we'll never have sex #marauders era #wolfstar #remus kinnie #remus lupin #sirius black #remus x sirius #wolfstar headcanon #marauders #this was about by leith ross #because it hits too close to home #ups

[magatoki]

Slipping Through My Fingers || PT 2

Character: Oikawa X Reader

Word count: 1727

Genre: Angst, fluff

A/N: I tried my best at making a part 2. Just know I wrote this with my little goblin fingers and posting it and now its everyone else's problem

I looked at the two lines on my grandmother’s face that occupied space around her mouth, more wrinkles had formed around her eyes and her eyebags had certainly darkened. I knew just how much time had passed, but, for some reason, I hadn’t noticed how much she had aged until I had gotten the chance to face-time her for this long. It made me wonder just how much of my life had really passed by since I left. I swiped my hand over my face as I let out a heavy sigh and flopped back onto the comfort of my bed and curled up onto my side. “Take care grandma, I’ll be there soon,” I said my goodbye and let the silence envelope the room. My grandfather had a full life. He lived with no regrets, ate and drank what he wanted, worked hard and had a loving family and a supportive wife.  I thought back to those 5, maybe 6 odd years before I made it here. The people I had left behind, they had changed so much. I wondered if I had changed too.

 A face that I wanted to forget flashed inside my head and I groaned in frustration while rolling onto my back and placing my arm over my eyes, the other playing with the necklace on my chest. “It’s been years Toru. They broke up with you,” I tried to remind myself as I forced myself to pack a suitcase and tried to convince myself that the passing of my grandfather was the only reason that I was going back.

The welcome wasn’t as warm as I was hoping as the harsh winter snow coated the floor. Things felt stagnant for a while after the funeral. I felt twice as empty, staying in the house of the town I no longer wanted to call home. “You look miserable uncle Toru,” Takeru teased and I ruffled his hair in response. “Yeah I’m miserable you’ve gotten so big already,” I tried to joke back. “I’m not gonna stay small forever you know.” He grinned and I shook my head. “What a shame, you were cuter when you were smaller,” I teased right back and smirked at him whining in protest. I made my way to the door, grabbing my coat and putting on some shoes. “I’m going for a walk, tell your mom I’ll be back in a bit-” “Bring back something for me,” He demanded and I scoffed. “You got most of all the things I brought back,” I retaliated as I closed the door. He still had some of his spoiled, childish ways. I guess sometimes old habits die hard. 

Like most things I had noticed, there weren’t many drastic changes to the tiny town we resided in, most if it remained the same, save for the odd color changes of buildings and the renaming of stores. I shivered as a gust of icy wind rushed through the streets, my teeth chattering as I hastily took a step inside the closest store to escape the cold, the chime from the door bringing welcome greetings as I rubbed my hands together. The scent of hot cocoa and coffee filled my nose and as I looked around,  before rolling my eyes at the location. Ofcourse, fate had to lead me to one of the last places I ever wanted to see again in this life. My eyes landed on the all too familiar table that was occupied by a mother and their child, the last memory of being inside the cafe opening up a dark chamber of my mind that I wished would remain shut.

“Toru?” I blinked and I was 18 again and the pain in my chest flaring up and suddenly I didn’t feel so cold anymore. My stare lingered on the figure before me, not knowing how to process the time catching up to me and my heartbeat abusing my ribcage. I guess I never got over it. “It’s nice to see you. It’s been so long.. When did you get back?” They asked and my words caught in my throat. I wasn’t sure what I wanted my first words to them to be. Wasit nice to see them? I pondered for a second too long and they noticed the shock on my face. “A few days ago,” I informed them, forgoing the greeting. I couldn’t decide if it was nice to see them. “My grandfather passed.” That was the only reason I was there. I reminded myself. “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. My condolences to you and your family,” they prattled on as I scanned them. The same voice, the same hair, the same lips, the same cautious kindness that warmed me from the inside. “While you’re here, if you get some time, we should catch up,” they pitched the idea and I considered it for a second. “Are you busy now?” I watched them as they shook their head slowly, the both of us clearly just as shocked as the other. 

‘This is a mistake,’ I thought to myself as we both rattled our brains for something to say to the other. I simmered in the silence as I absentmindedly twirled the warm coffee cup in my hand as I stole a glance at them. They looked nervous. They should be, they were the one that broke me; broken us.

“How are you? Apart from your grandfather? I know how much he meant to you.” They broke the silence first, and I was adamant to not reply and make the conversation more uncomfortable than it already was, but I decided to hold the lava from spilling over. There wasn’t anything that I could gain from erupting years later. “I’m fine,” I replied with a shrug, watching them nod, the eye contact making them shy away from me, their entire body shifting to lean on their left side. “Is this what we’re just going to do? Sit and chat like we’re friends?” I sipped my coffee and they sniffled. “I’m sorry, all those years ago, I was afraid to commit,” They cried softly, using the heel of their palm to wipe the tears, their glasses getting in the way. “And I was just the unlucky bastard back then huh?” I rolled my eyes, trying to not let the sight of them in tears get to me. A part of my heart would always belong to them. “I waited for a call, or a text. I kept hoping that you would eventually show up,” They whimpered and I found it hard to believe. “That’s a bit selfish isn’t it? You broke up with me,” I recalled the incident and they sighed heavily. “Why didn’t you reach out to me? I was hurting so much, I almost got sent back home.” That was the first time that I had ever revealed that to anyone. “I wanted to give you time. You walked away so angry, I didn’t want to make it worse. I mean, could you blame me? We were young and you were going to be gone for a long time and in a foreign place. I was so insecure of myself I didn’t know what to do so I panicked.” I listened to their words and tried to process the truth behind it. “But I’m glad that you moved on and we can still talk like this here today, even if you hate me.” They sobbed softly and I thanked whatever God that was watching over us right now that the cafe was empty.

A thick silence fell upon the two of us as I thought about what I could say next as I watched them dry the tears on their cheeks. “I could never hate you,” I admitted softly and exhaled, reaching into my shirt to tug the piece of jewelry out for them to see. “I wore this everyday since I left.” I sported the necklace with two rings. “You know, I was so angry, I thought I would get over you but, anyone that I saw, they weren’t you. I hated myself for it. I thought about you everyday but I never reached out because I wanted you to hurt the same way that you made me hurt,” I inhaled sharply, my breath ragged as the lava overflowed but, rather than a hot anger, I felt the coolness of relief relax my shoulders. It felt like I was finally letting out a secret that I had kept bottled for far too long. “I never moved on. I can’t move on,” I scoffed bitterly as they eyed the necklace. It then occurred to me, what were we even doing here? What was the point of this entire conversation? For closure or for us to just admit that we were stupid? Or to subject myself to more pain?

“Are you saying that you still love me?” They brought me out of my train of thought and I swallowed the thickness in my throat and nodded. “There won’t be anyone else for me besides you,” I declared and as we both stood, I felt a part of me fit snugly right where it belonged, my face in the crook of their neck, my arms circling their waist, lost in time as I felt like myself for the first time in so many years. As we pulled away I was taken by surprise at the bold press of their lips to mine. They tasted like chamomile tea on a rainy day, the softness of their lips taking me back to us kissing for the first time outside the school gym. I was twice as nervous and kissed them without thinking; good thing Iwaizumi had caught us before the coach did.

A year and a half later, we exchanged vows together in an entirely new country on the beach, our family and friends celebrating by our sides. Slipping away from the noise to get some time to ourselves for the first time that day, we walked along the shore of the beach, the gentle waves rushing over our feet as we strolled. I watched them marvel at the few stars that lined the sky and if I didn’t know then, I knew now; whatever we went through, I would never regret loving them, not now, not ever, especially in this lifetime.

Masterlist

#this is why I don't like writing part 2 of anything #oikawa toru #toru oikawa #oikawa x reader #oikawa fanfic #oikawa angst #oikawa scenario #oikawa fluff #haikyuu scenario #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu angst #haikyuu x reader #toru oikawa x reader #oikawa x reader fanfic #haikyuu x reader fanfic

[khthepowerofmemories]

Sometimes I just need pure, painful angst to process existence. So, here's this:

Title: Just a Dream/Lovely (Companion pieces)(Lovely previously published)

Long after Akio's disappearance and Haru's diving through time to try to find him, both reach their inevitable ends.

Ship: Akio/Haru

Word count: 1263

(Just a Dream (Caleb Hyles and Annapantsu, originally by Nelly)

(Akio)

Akio looked out over Daybreak Town from the clock tower, watching the people go by and seeing the reflection of the clock’s pendulum. One of the rare, quiet times that Akio had beaten Superbia back. He knew it was only a matter of time before Superbia would take back over, but he’d gladly take a few moments to exist in his own body for once. He wouldn’t question it at all. Rather, use the time how he could.

A clock tower. A connection to time. Time that had been snatched out from Akio’s fingers–that much wasn’t anyone’s fault. Superbia made a mess of things as he left, but he hadn’t been the one to pull them back in time. That was fate itself. Sometimes, Akio wondered if he could manage to snatch those strings back and follow them home.

The strings were still there. Just torn and faded…

It wasn’t long before this world was to end–before this ‘Keyblade War’ would occur. Funny, really, that Superbia couldn’t bear to say goodbye to this world that they had made their home under Superbia’s hand. Ironic. That’s why Akio was here, in front. Because it was time to say goodbye to what Superbia loved.

And of course, Superbia had done what Akio had wanted. Left quietly. Left little mess behind.

Akio caught sight of his face in the reflection, one that he didn’t see often anymore. And for once, it belonged to him. Superbia couldn’t bear to see it, and so he never did. Akio, on the other hand…liked visiting the people he knew in his features.

But either way…he wondered how Haru and Tori ended up being? Were they…were they waiting for him? He hoped not.

He realized recently that he wasn’t going to make it home, no matter how hard he fought, how hard he tried. Superbia was right. From the position they were in, it was better to do what they could to make sure that their future came into being. Any thoughts of going home? Nothing more than a dream.

Yet still, wherever they went, Akio saw Haru’s face–would try to chase him down when he was in control, only to find nothing there. Hallucinations got worse and worse as time went on.

Akio had managed to mourn everyone else, everything else, but he couldn’t…he couldn’t let go of Haru. He knew that it was just a dream, but…he wanted to see him again. He still loved Haru with all his heart, wanted nothing more than to see him again, and knowing that he would have to start fresh because he would never meet him as he was now.

He wanted to see Haru again. Tell him about what had happened, why it did. Maybe, given a chance, Haru could help him fight Superbia back into control…but there wasn’t a chance.

Akio put his hand to his heart. If only he could head home…that would be worth everything to him.

“You had your chance to say goodbye?” Superbia’s voice took over.

It’s your world you’re saying goodbye to.

Superbia. “I’m afraid you misunderstand.”

Huh?

Akio felt their body shift and summon a Keyblade. They lifted it, pointed toward themself. 

What are you–

A familiar, searing pain shot through his heart, and Akio felt himself torn away. He watched in shock as his heart left that body. 

Wait!

“I’m sorry, Akio. You can’t handle it. Now you’re free.”

No, wait!

Wait–

He knew he wasn’t heard as he slowly felt himself losing consciousness, weak. 

“I can’t survive this,” he said to himself. “Not again…”

Seeing them again…really was only just a dream, huh?

Maybe someday, somehow, he would make things right. When, or how, he didn’t know. But he hoped…

He hoped that somehow, as his heart fell to an endless sleep…

He would dream of home.

"Well, I hope someday I'll make it out of here, even if it takes all night or a hundred years." -Lovely, Lauren Babic and Seraphim

(Haru)

Haru looked up at the strange city around him. Huge. Sprawling. Very different than his own world, but still rather quaint. There was a quietness to this place, the buildings built in a very unique style. He'd been here for a while now.

Now that he was here...the method of time travel that Yen Sid told him of no longer functioned. Laughable, really—he had been warned not to use it in a certain way, and yet he had. But how could he not. He’d gotten so close he could almost reach Akio, if he could just reach out to his heart and grab his hand—

But he’d jumped through his own memories to reach him one time too many, it seemed—and an eternity here in Quadratum seemed to be what awaited him. He had seen others from the other worlds, but it seemed they could never continue forward. Perhaps, even, they might not be able to die.

But, Haru wasn’t going to give up that easily. No. He had come so close to finding him, so close—entering his own memories to try to reach his heart, if only it would stay still for long enough—

He had to find Akio and bring him home. There was…that was the only choice. He…

He couldn’t bear to keep living without him. It had been so long now. His heart ached at even the thought of his name, but…

He had gone through time, looking for traced of “The Master of Masters”, to no avail. It seemed that even with that moniker rather than a name, Akio was still cautious, still good at hiding.

But now that Haru was here in Quadratum, he could not move through the flow of time, or to other worlds. None of his powers worked. The only thing he had going for him was his Keyblade, but there was nothing that needed fought. It was…

He felt so useless. He put a hand to his heart. He hoped that one day, he’d make it out of here. Even if it took a hundred years—no, a thousand, even, if he lived that long. But…

He shook his head. Such a silly thought to have. He knew he wouldn’t leave this place. It was over.

He had not found Akio. It was too late. He had done too much, reached too far. Made one mistake too many. And so, here he was.

There was no way out of here. Death was the only way. Because maybe…

Maybe if he were someone else, there would be another chance. Right? Maybe, if he was someone else…

That person could find him. Somehow. Even if they didn’t know—

No. But…his death was coming regardless. It seemed he did not have the same immortality of the other people here, and he had been wounded on the way here. His heart had not recovered from the broken Keyblade, and physically…he was failing.

He hadn’t found Akio. The end…

It hurt to know that he had failed. Failed himself, failed Tori, failed Akio.

But…they didn’t have the technology here to properly find all the damage to his body, let alone repair it. They told him he would die. Told him they could make him comfortable. He told them he’d rather die on the streets alone to in a hospital. So…that’s what he would do. That’s where he had gone.

Quadratum. Perhaps it would have been a nice place to live, but…it was a terrible place to die.

#kingdom hearts fanfiction #my writing #oc fanfiction #series: the power of memories #oc: akio #oc ship: akio/haru #oc: haru #oc: superbia (my version of the master of masters)