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seunmong-in · 1 month

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🌅Sunsets in Sydney🌅

Genre: Fluff, childhood best friend to lovers, Idol! Felix x Reader, Humor, slight cursing, she fell first but he fell harder.

Words: 2.1k

Summary: After being on tour for a whole year, Felix is finally back in Sydney for a well-deserved break. While he is ecstatic to be with his family again, there’s one person who he wants to see most. His childhood best friend and crush, Y/N.

A/n: Okay, can I start this off by saying, Holy crap… Thank you to all who like or reblogged my first fanfic with Han!! ( click his name if you wanna read it ! ) I honestly thought it wasn’t that good since I wrote it in a very sleep-deprived state, lol. But y’all proved me wrong🥹❤️‍🩹 That said, I hope you guys also like this story with Felix! Like always, if you have any feedback or want to make a special request just DM me!! Here’s also my latest one with Seungmin as well 🫶🏼

P.S Does anyone else have “that’s not very nice” stuck in their head too?

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365 days.

That's how long Felix has been away from the place he calls home. And no, he doesn't mean his actual home back in Sydney. He means being away from his childhood best friend, Y/n.

Felix and Y/n have been best friends since grade school. They have always been there for each other, from performing in talent shows to caring for each other when one falls ill. They are like two peas in a pod; wherever one goes, the other is sure to follow.

On the day Felix had to tell Y/n that he was leaving Sydney to become an idol in Korea, he broke down crying. He was worried that being thousands of miles away from his closest friend would strain their relationship. As he was about to board the plane, he turned around to see Y/n waving goodbye to him with tears streaming down her face, and he couldn't help but cry, too.

Surprisingly, Felix and Y/n's friendship didn't end after that day. Instead, their bond grew even stronger. Y/N would constantly update Felix through text or calls, sharing the details of her day and making sure he didn't miss out on anything important. While Felix enjoyed receiving these updates, what he loved most was the pictures his mom would send him of Y/n with his family on small family trips. Seeing her smile and taking selfies with his sisters always warmed his heart.

He had already surpassed the stage of simply developing feelings for Y/n. Felix adored her. He loved her. Whenever he watched a video of a couple on TikTok or Instagram, he imagined how to recreate the same videos with Y/n by his side. His heart skipped when Y/n surprised him at one of his earlier concerts with Olivia and Hannah, Chan's sister. The memory of her dancing his part of God's Menu while Hannah danced Chan's part on the big screen was something he would never forget. Since that night, Felix had been planning to confess his love to Y/n, and he decided to do it under the sunset in Sydney.

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Under the hot summer sun, Felix's freckled face is lit up with a big smile as his family rushes to greet him. Olivia is the first to embrace him, screaming, "Oh my God, do you even know how I miss you, Lix?!"

Felix laughed, embracing his youngest sister and repeating, "I miss you more." He noticed that Olivia had grown a bit since the last time he saw her and that her hair was now dyed at the ends. Noticing her brother staring at her hair, Olivia mentioned that Y/N did it a few days ago at one of their usual girls' nights. His mom and dad were the next two to hug him tightly, with his mom shedding a few happy tears.

"I say this every time, but I am so happy to have my baby back home."

Felix wraps his arms around his mom, hugging her as he says, "I am happy to be back home to Mom."

Felix was sitting in the back of a car, his mind preoccupied with thoughts of Y/n. He was waiting for her message, asking if he had reached home safely, but he had yet to receive any message from her. Although this was unusual, he assumed she might be busy.

Suddenly, Olivia abruptly interrupts Felix's train of thought, "So, are you finally going to ask Y/n to be your girlfriend while you're here, or are we still sticking to the whole 'she's just my best friend' excuse?" The unexpected question catches Felix off guard. His face turns red with embarrassment as his mother turns her head around from the passenger seat, waiting for a response.

Avoiding eye contact with his mother and sister, Felix clears his throat, allowing himself to find the right words.

"Um.. what makes you think I even have feelings for her?"

Olivia stares at her older brother, scolding him with his earlier response, "Felix be so fucking for real right now. It's obvious you have feelings for Y/n. You look at her as if she is your whole world, your face lights up with a smile whenever she texts you, and you always seem to find a way to talk about her when we talk on the phone. If that doesn't scream, "I am in love with my best friend," then I don't know what does. Oh, and before you go and argue with me about this, even the boys agree that you are completely strung up on her. So do us all a favor and tell her how you feel, will you?"

Felix sighs as he looks up to see his sister's gaze. He knew he had to come clean now before his plans got ruined.

"Have I mentioned how much I dislike you sometimes, Liv?"

"Yeah, but I'm your favorite sister, so start spilling before I call Hyunjin and have him tell Y/n to you."

During the last five minutes of their car ride, Felix confided in his family about his plan to ask Y/n out when they reached the house. He made them promise not to say anything to Y/n about his plan since he wanted to create a memorable and private moment between them.

As Felix's father pulled into the driveway, Felix noticed Y/n's car parked across the street. His heart raced as he jumped out of the car, ignoring his mother's yelling about not going inside yet.

Felix barges through the main door and stops when he sees the handmade "Welcome Home Lixie" banner that Y/n was struggling to put up. He chuckles softly and leans by the living room doorway, watching as she gets on her tiptoes to hook the string onto the nail.

"You know, I could've helped you put up the banner, sunshine if you would've waited a little longer."

Y/n turns around to find Felix smirking. Blushing, she runs to him and hugs him. He hugs her back, lifting her up and spinning her around.

Trying not to cry on his shoulders, Y/n ever so softly whispers, "You have no idea how much I missed your hugs, Lix."

"Me too, sunshine, it's been way too long."

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After returning home and having dinner early, Felix went upstairs to his room. There, he discovered a welcome-home basket in the center of his bed. The basket contained his favorite candies, face masks, a small chicken plushie, and gift cards to his preferred places. Felix smiled, realizing that it was a gift from Y/n. She was always the type to spoil others with gifts, even if it was a small occasion. Looking through the gifts in the basket, he heard a soft knock on the door, and Y/n walked in. When Felix looked up at her, they locked eyes for the second time that day. Time seemed to come to a standstill, and after a while, Y/n was the first to break the silence.

"I hope you like it; I saw it on Tiktok late last night and thought I should make you one."

"I love it a lot; thank you, sunshine."

He gives her a soft smile and motions for her to sit with him on the bed. She walks over and sits beside him, watching him unwrap more gifts. Y/n can't help but laugh as Felix brings the chicken plushie up to his face, jokingly asking, "Do you think it looks like me?"

"As much as I want to say yes, I feel like I am going betray BbokAri, so I must lie and say no."

Felix and Y/n laugh as Felix places the plushie back on the shelf behind him. The room lights up in a golden hue, indicating the sun is about to set. Without wasting more time, Felix takes Y/n's hand and leads her out of his room and towards his car.

"Lix, what are you doing? Where are we going?"

"I was hoping we could watch the sunset together again, just like we did as kids. It's been quite some time since the last time we did, and let's face it, we're not getting any younger. Before we know it, we'll be as old as old man Chan."

""I'm going to tell him you said that," she says, laughing as she follows him to his car. They both jump in and drive to the nearby beach.

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As the car pulled onto the sandy shore, Felix practically flew out of his side to open the door for Y/n. She beamed with delight as she stepped out, feeling the warm sand under her toes. Felix swiftly closed the car door and took her hand, leading her towards the beach. The sky was ablaze with a breathtaking display of pink and orange hues as the sun descended below the horizon.

"I forgot how pretty the sunset could be when you can see the reflection on the water."

"I know, but it's even prettier with you beside me," Felix responds.

Y/n stands before Felix, unsure if he is joking or serious. He chuckles as she becomes flustered.

"You know that's not very nice."

"What isn't sunshine?"

"You saying that to me and not explaining what you mean," Y/n states as she turns away from him.

Felix grabs Y/n by her waist and spins her, holding her close. Y/n's face flushes a deep shade of pink as she catches her breath. They've been close for years, but something feels different about this moment. There's a palpable tension in the air, a feeling of unspoken love that's hard to ignore. Felix looks deep into Y/n's eyes, examining how the sun's warm glow illuminates them. The sound of waves crashing against the shore adds to the moment's magic. Fighting the urge to kiss her immediately, Felix takes a deep breath as he stares into her eyes.

"Do you remember why I decided to return home for a break instead of staying in the dorms with the boys?" Puzzled by his random question, Y/n nods her head, looking back into his dark brown eyes.

"Of course I do. It was because you wanted to be with your family since you were homesick, Lix."

"You're right. But there's something important that I need to tell you, something that should've been said from the very beginning. Y/n, I like you. I'm in love with you. I love you so much that it hurts not to have you by my side most days or even to call you mine. The night before I left Sydney, I intended to confess my feelings to you, but I knew it was bad timing since I was leaving, and I didn't want to end our friendship. So, I kept it to myself for years. However, seeing you with Liv and Hannah at our concert earlier this year, dancing and singing to our songs, made me realize that what I felt for you was more than just a simple grade school crush. Y/n, I'd be lying if I said you weren't the person I want to spend the rest of my life with because I do. I want you to be mine, my only sunshine. And if you don't feel the same way, I understand..."

Felix was toward the end of his sentence when Y/n suddenly cut him off by pressing her lips against his. It was a bold move, but she had been crushing on Felix for what felt like an eternity and couldn't hold back any longer. When they finally pulled away, Felix looked at Y/n with a knowing smile, pressing his forehead on hers. In a very soft voice, Felix finally finishes his sentence.

"I cannot imagine spending a single day without you by my side anymore. Will you do me the greatest honor of all and be mine forever?

""Until forever stops existing, my love."

#stray kids #straykids imagines #straykids smau #stray kids fake texts #stray kids x reader #straykids fluff #lee felix #lee yongbok #skz scenarios #skz imagines #skz fluff #skz fanfic #skz stay #skz x y/n #skz smau #stray kids imagine

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cy-cyborg · 9 months

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Tips for Writing and Drawing Amputees: Bandaged Stumps

When writing and drawing amputee characters, unless your character only just lost their limb, they don't need to wear a bandage over their stumps.

to be clear, eda's depiction in the show was fine, since she'd only just lost her arm and went (presumably) without any medical attention, but because the show didn't have much time to show her afterwards, I've noticed a tendency of the fandom to draw her wearing the bandage permanently, so that's why I'm picking on her for my example lol.

It's a bit of a trope at this point, and I think it comes from one of a few different places:

Amputees do wear bandages on their stumps, but usually only for the first 6-12 weeks post-amputation, sometimes longer if the amputation was a result of a burn. It's possible people saw this though and assumed it was permanent.

Most amputees wear a sock made of either cotton or silicone under their prosthetics to provide them with some extra padding. These socks, called liners, often stick out from the top of the prosthetic socket and could possibly be mistaken for a bandage from a distance.

Some amputees will wear compression garments for a few months to a few years after their amputations which could also be mistaken for a bandage from a distance. These garments are designed to stop swelling and reduce phantom pain, but they aren't bandages.

Stumps get cold easier because their circulation typically isn't as good as the rest of the body, so some amputees will wear socks over them even if they aren't wearing a prosthetic to keep warm, which again could be mistaken for a bandage from a distance.

This one is funny, but in my experience unfortunately, it's the most common: people think the end of an amputee's stump is just a perpetual open wound that never heals. Meaning to avoid "gore" it needs to be covered. I've met fully grown adults who believed this until I showed up to work/uni without my prosthetics or socks on.

People are uncomfortable with seeing an uncovered stump and so put bandages over it to avoid confronting their biases.

Some combination of these points.

But yeah, unless your amputee has only just lost their limb in the last few weeks, they don't need a bandage.

The ironic thing too, is that for most amputees, bandaging a stump is nearly impossible. I've been in and out of hospital since I was 1 year old and only ever met 3 nurses and no doctors/surgeons who could successfully bandage my stump in a way that the bandage would even stay on. This is because stumps are usually tapered in shape (meaning they are wider at the top, closer to the body, and thinner at the bottom), so gravity will pull the bandage off 9 times out of 10.

On a final note: it's ok to show your amputee's stump, it's not gore, there's no blood, it just looks like a regular limb that just stops early. In fact, if you are writing/creating anything for kids or that is likely to be seen by kids, I encourage you to show your amputee's stumps at least once. I used to work on a disability awareness program for kids, and I lost count of the amount of times kids were terrified of me, because they all expected my leg to be bloody and gory. For a lot of kids, I was their first real-life exposure to an amputee, meaning they'd never even heard of people like me, or they had seen an amputee on TV, but because the show went out of its way to avoid showing the person's stump, they assumed it must have been because there was "something scary at the end" that they weren't supposed to see (kids are surprisingly perceptive, they will pick up on stuff like that without you realising). And scared kids aren't good at articulating why they're scared, and would often say really mean or hurtful things to me. I knew not to take it personally and learned how to handle those situations, but not everyone is used to dealing with kids. For a new amputee (or anyone who's less confident in their disability), the kinds of things those kids would say could be absolutely confidence destroying. I never blame the kids, it's not their fault, but the whole situation could have been avoided if they had seen people like us before they had the chance to hear the wrong info. Good representation like this can be the difference between a kid crying, making throw-up sounds and calling an amputee "disgusting monsters" (all things I've had kids do/say) and them just being like "oh ok, cool."

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alpaca-clouds · 8 months

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Try to learn about the old foods

I have most recently started to meal prep, with making a lot of foods and putting them in the freezer. This ended up allowing me to buy the foods in bulk from the local market. And, well... This allowed me to eat some of the foods that the supermarket does not have.

We do have a bit of a problem. And that problem mostly is that we got our food kinda messed up. Because people have lost the connection to the food they eat. But also because of colonialism.

The big thing that happened is, that we lost contact with most local foods. No matter where I go in the "first world nations"... The foods offered to me in the supermarkets are the same - and they also look the same.

This means that a lot of people have no real idea, what foods came from where in the world - but also do not know half of the foods that originated with where they are from, because they are not easily available.

Tomatoes are an example. Not only did historical tomatoes look and taste very differently from the tomatoes we eat today, but obviously... they came from the Americas. So they are not a food that originated with Europe and was not widely available in Europe until the 1600s. While, yes, the first tomates came here more than a hundred years earlier... it took a while for them to catch on.

This is parsnip. Another root vegetable that was commonly eaten in Europe for most of history. It has a more intensive taste than the usual carrot - but is also not that different from it, when it comes to consistency and how it is going to cook.

This is fennel. You might know fennel seeds as a spice or something you might drink as a tea. But the rest of the plant is edible, too, and a surprisingly strong flavored vegetable. It also is very crunchy and makes a really great addition to salads. But it is often not really sold in many places.

This is the Jerusalem Artichoke, another vegetable that originates within the Americas. To be exact, this is the root of a kind of sunflower. It got its name for being very similar in taste and tecture to the Artichoke. I honestly do not know, though, why it is called "Jerusalem Artichoke", because it does not have anything to do with Jerusalem.

The Potimarron is a kind of squash that - like basically all other forms of squash - originates in the Americas as well. It has a very nutty flavor. In Europe it was very popular in France for a long while, hence the french name. It has tons of meat and really makes for great stews!

This is a rutabaga, which originates from somewhere in northern Europe. We do not really know from where. All we know is, that it was a Swedish botanist who cultivates the form we still eat to this day in the 1620s. Which is why it is also called the "Swedish turnip". It does taste like a more bitter carrot, but makes really good addition to stews or can be served stamped.

This is the Chinese Artichoke and another root vegetable, that as the name suggest originates from China. It was cultivates in China in the late medieval period and has later made its way to Europe, especially France. It has a really sweet and nutty taste and can be eaten raw or in salads. Though there are dishes mashing the vegetable, too.

These are tigernuts, a vegetable that has been around forever. It originates in southern Europe, southern Asia and northern Africa. It is a dried fruit, with a sweet and earthy taste and it is known a lot in Spanish cuisine, but also in the cuisine of southern Asia.

Yacon is a root vegetable that originates with Peru, where it is still eaten, while the rest of the world mostly forgot about it. Well, except Japan, where it is currently getting more and more popular. It is a vegetable, but it has a very fruity taste.

I could now go on and name more vegetables from all around the world that were once grown and fed people, but got forgotten more and more in favor of the very limited diet made up of potatoes, corn, potatoes, peppers, cucumber, onion and tomatoes, that is basically what you will get to eat in most places.

And... Well, the thing about it is that... It is not really a good thing that we grow the same stuff everywhere. It is not good for us and it is not good for the environment. It is not good for those foods, either.

I really wish people would try and eat more of the stuff that originates with their region. And that they would eat the not-so-perfect looking foods as well. Because it is gonna be more sustainable in the end.

#solarpunk #food #vegetables #fruits #farming #agriculture #history #food history #sustainable living #sustainability #colonialism

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dreadsuitsamus · 18 days

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Daddy's Little Secret | Isshin Kurosaki x Reader |

part two

author's note: this idea has been in my head for a good while now, and i've finally decided to write it! there won't be much of a story in this, as i plan each chapter to be a sexual encounter between isshin and reader

pairing: isshin kurosaki x fem!reader

warnings: nsfw, no explicit smut but it is sexual and suggestive, masturbation, voyeurism, age gap, reader is a few years older than ichigo

“Are you sure this is okay, Ichigo?” You murmur as he leads you up the pathway of his home, the younger man carrying your bags for you. “I don't wanna just barge in… You haven't even asked your dad if it's cool—”

“Dad’s not gonna care.” Ichigo shakes his head. “He'd rather you stay on our couch than in your car on the street. It's okay. Just trust me.”

Sighing, you follow your friend inside and slip your shoes off politely. Your housing situation has hit a bit of a snag and you're officially, though hopefully temporarily, homeless. Ichigo's to the rescue as always, however, and was quick to give you a warm helping hand, just as he was when you first met him. Being a bartender is wonderful, but the drawbacks such as rowdy, creepy drunks tend to call for more forceful measures than your best holler can provide. Luckily for you, Ichigo has a helluva right hook and you've been friends ever since!

Setting your bags down, Ichigo starts a quick tour of the house. You've met his family before, as the bar you work for is also a restaurant, but you've never been to the Kurosaki household. It's surprisingly well-put together despite the chaotic relationship of Ichigo and his father, though it's likely due to Ichigo's younger sisters, if you had to guess.

“My dad's not home yet, but he should be here soon with my sisters.” Ichigo murmurs as he grabs some linens from the hall closet; tonight the couch will have to do for him, as he's a gentleman and will absolutely give up his room for you, but he'll arrange to stay with his sweet girl Orihime for a little while starting tomorrow. He's not looking forward to it: how his father naps on that lumpy, uncomfortable old couch so easily is a mystery!

“Thank you, Ichigo.” You murmur softly. “I'll try to get out of your hair soon.”

Your friend merely waves a hand and sets the sheet and blankets on the arm of the couch before grabbing the remote and turning the television on. The mind-numbing cartoon isn't performing for you, however, as your heart thrums in anticipation. Ichigo's father, Isshin Kurosaki, doesn't seem like he'd mind your presence, but the worry remains. You know you'd certainly have some feelings about such an unexpected guest!

Your poor heart nearly pops when the sound of voices at the front door get louder upon entry, and Ichigo stands to meet his family, lest his father say or do something embarrassing before you've even been announced. Yuzu rushes to her older brother's arms as Karin spots you, perking a thin brow. Ichigo doesn't tend to bring friends home, especially not since he started college.

“What's up?” She cuts her eyes to her older brother, and Ichigo explains more to Isshin, who is oddly quiet, rather than Karin.

“She needs a place to stay for a little while.”

Isshin nods, turning to look at you. He's as handsome as ever, his stubble grown out a tad more than it was the last time you'd seen him at the bar, and his smile is gorgeous and polite, though you can't escape the feeling of it being more muted than you're used to. “Stay as long as you need to. Any friend of Ichigo's is always welcome here.”

“Thank you, sir.” Your cheeks warm, relief washing down your shoulders. Gazing at your wrist to check the time, you sigh softly. “I’ve got to get ready for my shift tonight.”

“I'll walk you to your car.” Ichigo offers, and waits patiently as you wash up and change into your uniform. Isshin settles onto the couch beside his only son, thumbing at the stack of linens to be used for his temporary bed tonight.

“You know I don't mind taking in your friend.” He starts, voice low in the event you come downstairs and overhear him. “I just would've appreciated a heads up.” Unsaid is that he would've used that advance notice to fix his hair up before you saw him, and perhaps undone a button or two on his shirt.

“Sorry, Dad.” Ichigo murmurs. “Her roommate dropped the bomb on her last night that she had to leave. We spent all day moving her things to a storage unit.”

Isshin rubs at his chin, gently tugging at the bit of stubble. He's gotta shave tonight, he thinks. “You givin’ your room up?”

“Yeah.”

Isshin claps his hand on his son's shoulder. He's raised a good man, one that he's incredibly proud of! He squeezes for a brief moment before pulling away just as you come downstairs, dressed in your simple work uniform. High-waisted jeans and a t-shirt with the bar’s name splashed over the front and tucked into your waistband make for a pretty sight, especially with the low cut that provides Isshin with a hearty eyeful of cleavage. It's what deters him from visiting your bar more often; his daughters don't need to see how much their pervy father longs to faceplant in between your breasts.

Ichigo and his father stand and your eyes flit to gaze at the older man. “I’ll be back around 2:30. I'll be quiet, I promise!”

“You couldn't wake Dad if you tried.” Ichigo deadpans. Isshin's cheeks warm at your giggles, and he tackles Ichigo to the ground. Embarrassing his own father right in front of an absolute babe??? Unforgivable!

“Dad, come on!” Karin shouts, scrambling to intervene now. With a guest over??? Her dad has lost his mind!

Grinning softly at the madness, Karin having been sucked into the wrestling while Yuzu rushes in with a broom to smack at them all, the heels of your boots click on the hardwood as you head for the door. Your stay here certainly won't be dull!

With a sigh, you tiredly park your car outside of the Kurosaki home. Work was rough, and nothing sounds more wonderful than a hot shower and some rest, and maybe even a sandwich if you can stay awake long enough.

You're met at the door by Isshin, who presses a gentle finger over his lips as the sounds of Ichigo's snores ring out. Laughing softly as the older man winks, you slip your boots off at the door. “You're up pretty late.”

“Insomnia.” Isshin shrugs casually and follows you up the stairs, shamelessly staring at your ass the whole way up. “Heard your car pull up. Wanted to make sure you got in safely.”

“Ah.” At the top of the landing, you pause for a moment with Isshin just across from you, his henley and plaid pajama pant combo somehow striking. Perhaps batting your lashes more than you should be at a friend's father, you lick your lips, teeth slowly dragging along the flesh of your bottom lip. “Thank you, Mr. Kurosaki.”

“Isshin. After hours, anyway.” He tucks his hands in his pockets with a shrug, perking a brow at the embarrassing admission from your stomach. “Hungry, hm?”

Cheeks fiery and the tip of your nose and ears burning, you duck your head. “Mm… A little. Ichigo and I had some lunch earlier, but that's all I had to eat. Besides a few fries at the bar, anyway.” And an iced coffee to start the morning!

Isshin shakes his head. “Girl dinner.” He grumbles with a scoff and an eye roll— he's treated too many women that hardly eat at all and then complain about headaches! Turning to start back down the steps, Isshin waves a hand. “I’ll warm up the dinner leftovers.”

Covering your mouth to hide a giggle, you venture into Ichigo's bedroom and rifle around your messily packed suitcases for a fresh pair of panties and pajamas. Exhaustion weighs down your bones and a big yawn leaves you damn near spent, though you power through enough to grab a thong and a tank top to get you through the night. Everyone should be out of the house by the time you wake up to start your day, so the worries of anyone catching a peek of your cheeks don't settle.

Rubbing your tired eyes as the shower warms, you sigh with pleasure as the hot water spreads and soothes the ache between your shoulders. Life has been nothing but stressful lately, this recent move only the cherry on top the shitshow mountain. College is hard, work is unfulfilling and the tip money only barely covers the bills, and your sex life has tanked.

Thinking about sex as you run the soapy washcloth over your breasts probably isn't the best idea, but it doesn't stop your other hand from the pinches and tugs of your nipples to relieve some of the pressure. Leaning against the shower wall, your teeth dip into your lip as your fingers do a bit of walking. It's nothing but a tease, a shallow dipping of your fingers to feel the wetness gathering between your folds. A few soft, breathy gasps pass beyond the thin curtain that veils you, but the man with perceptive brown eyes in the hall pushes the door open just a tad wider than you'd left it to peer into that gap.

Isshin smirks softly, licking his lip as he watches you touch yourself. He's wanted a piece of you since he first saw you, as forbidden of an idea as that is. You're his son's friend! He can't. Even if you wanted to, and he thinks you do, it can't happen. That's a line he can't cross… He's too old for you, anyway.

Though as he watches you slowly rub your clit and toy with your breasts, he's sure that this old dog could show you the best night of your life. With a wistful sigh and a firm squeeze to his cock, Isshin heads downstairs before he's caught perving and fixes your plate of dinner properly.

Biting your lip through a grin, you're quickly out of the shower and drying off before Isshin's back upstairs. Of course that old man's the type to peep in on a young woman's shower! You laid the trap and he walked right into it— what a typical doofus of a man.

You've just slipped into your thong when you hear Isshin moving upstairs again, and you purposely ditch the tank top in favor of looping the towel over your shoulders, your breasts just barely covered by the blue cotton as Isshin turns the corner with a warm plate of food in hand and heads for Ichigo's bedroom.

Two gentle taps of his knuckle on the bedroom door are all you get before he's letting himself in, and for a moment he falters at the sight of you. He really should have taken that melatonin tonight… You're before him in a skimpy thong with only a teeny tiny towel over your breasts, and he has to act like he's fine. Like he's not ready to pounce and pound you into pure oblivion. He can't.

This being a father thing is so damn difficult!

Finding the pause cute and the dumb look on Isshin's face even cuter, you smirk gently and approach him with a swish in your hips. His Adam's apple bobs when you're so close to him he can see the few beads of water on your collarbone, and fuck he wants to lick them away and leave a bite or two…

“Something on your mind?” You practically purr at him, and aren't you just awful! Flirting with your friend's father, the one with a dead wife and three kids he's had to raise by his lonely…

Carefully, the man licks his lips and forces himself to look you in the eye, and frankly he's not sure if that pretty face is making his little problem in his pants any better. “No.”

Reaching up, the backs of your fingers gently graze over the side of his face. “That's a shame… Would've loved to hear all about it. I'm sure you've got some… Interesting ideals.”

A growl forms at the back of Isshin's throat, low and deep and the glint in your eye at the sound just makes him want to tug that towel off and—

Well, now you've gone and done that part for him.

Dropping the towel to the floor, you rub Isshin's jaw, his beard noticeably trimmed down to the way he usually likes it. “You shaved. It looks nice.”

“Just nice?” Isshin sets the plate on the desk, his fingers itching to touch your supple skin as he loops them around the thin bands of your thong, his thumbs rubbing the silky fabric. “Not sexy? Ravishing, even? How about a place you'd like to sit?”

A chuckle bubbles in your chest alongside the fireworks going off inside. The door's wide open and it's three in the morning, any of his kids are liable to get up and use the bathroom at any time! Pressing your hands to his chest, you find him firmer than you thought he'd be. “What makes you think I need something like that from you?”

Isshin clicks his tongue, snapping your thong against your skin as you softly push him away. “My bad for assuming. I just thought with, you know, the way you touched yourself in the shower that you've been a bit pent up.” With a wink and a shit-eating grin, Isshin's closing the door behind him and heading back to his bedroom.

Goosebumps litter your body, and that sly little smile doesn't leave your lips even after you've finished eating and settle in for bed. It's been one night and you've already nearly fucked your friend's father— it's not a matter of if now. Just when.

And will you be able to hide it from Ichigo?

#isshin kurosaki x reader #isshin kurosaki x you #isshin x you #isshin x reader #bleach x reader #bleach imagine #fic #x reader #reader insert

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neuvillettes · 4 months

Text

catch me | c. nakahara

summary | a long dance is finally broken at the peak of new year’s

pairing | chuuya x fem!reader

warnings | swearing, implied violence, reader with a bit of a description (hair long enough to put into an updo), mildly edited

wc | 1.5k

a/n | happy new year lovies! <3 long time no post? i’m so excited to share my first bsd piece with you all <3

it’s been precisely 319 days since you joined the port mafia. being here, on a giant yacht with hundreds of people from the same organization, bringing in the new year was a foreign feeling. you’d never imagine in your wildest dreams you would find yourself surrounded by so many people. a year ago you were on your own like you’d always been, if someone had told you back then you would find yourself in a position where people counted on you, you would stare at them as if they’d grown a second head.

it’s been a long night. you weren’t nearly as drunk as some of the lower level subordinates. something like this was rare for them though. you suppose they were taking advantage of the opportunity and making the most of it. you chuckle to yourself from where you’re stood, leaning against the railing, completely content with watching from afar on your own. or so you thought, until you catch the top of a familiar black hat.

chuuya nakahara. he’s somewhat of an enigma to you. he’s surprisingly warm and kind for someone who has taken out organizations with his very own hands. naturally he was hesitant of you at first. he didn’t care for change or new things, but his tune quickly changed when you were assigned a mission and easily held your own weight. chuuya nakahara is not easily impressed, yet you made it look so easy. he had caught your eye the second he stormed into mori’s office, making a big fuss about taking someone into his elite team that hadn’t paid their dues.

his presence alone was almost enough to have you kicking off the railing and joining in the festivities. almost. your whole body was screaming at you to move towards him, it was as if an invisible rope was tugging you. your whole body twitched and stood on edge but you firmly stayed put. your mind, however, couldn’t handle the anxiety of being around so many people. so you continue to watch the redhead from afar.

he seemed to be scanning the crowd for something- or rather- someone. you bring up the champagne flute you’ve been holding to your lips the very same moment his sapphire irises land on you. as much as you were hoping to avoid it, your eyes connect and you’re left with having to nod your head at him in acknowledgment before finishing off your drink. you break eye contact and place the empty glass on a nearby table.

you turn around to watch the sea, unaware of chuuya’s lingering gaze. he’s calculating, wondering just how much he could get away with tonight. he scowls at himself for acting so pathetic and mumbles under his breath, “fuck it.”

chuuya excuses himself from whatever conversation was happening between kouyo and hirotsu. he makes a beeline for you, snatching a very expensive champagne bottle on his way over to you.

he’s always been light on his feet but your trained ears hear him approaching from several feet away. without turning around you chuckle, “can’t imagine kouyo was too pleased with you just walking away from her mid sentence like that.”

the executive cracks a small grin and chuckles. “i’ll apologize to her later. there were more pressing matters at hand.”

you furrow your brow and finally look over your shoulder to him. what you’re met with steals the very breath from your lungs. the lighting from the string lights form a halo behind chuuya and the moonlight casts a glowing shadow to his features. chuuya nakahara may be the most beautiful man you have ever seen, you could actually cry.

in the same moment, chuuya is also having his very own internal panic. you had been a shadow until now. in this proximity he could finally get a good look at you. your silky golden dress cascades down your body perfectly. the open back left no room for imagination, he could see every curve, every divot, every scar. your hair was perfectly done up in a messy curled updo. the gold earrings dangling from your ears glimmered much like the moonlight reflecting off your eyes. you were stunningly beautiful, chuuya couldn’t find it in himself to use his voice, almost as if it was stuck in his throat.

coming out of your reverie you notice the redheads pause, so you fully turn around, clearly confused by chuuya’s silence. with your new vantage point you finally notice the bottle and empty glass in his left hand. you offer him a knowing smile and reach over for the previously discarded flute. you hold it up and keep the smile on your lips. “care to top me off?”

chuuya comes out of it too and silently nods while taking your glass. your fingers graze his gloved ones and you can feel his warmth even through the thicker material. his brows furrow and instead of pouring you a glass he sets everything down and removes his jacket from his shoulders. in one swift movement he places that jacket onto your shoulders instead.

as he picks your glass and the bottle back up he clicks his tongue. “i could feel how cold you were. why didn’t you wear something warmer? or at least a damn jacket?”

he hands you the, now full, champagne flute. you hum in gratitude and take a sip before answering him. you’re a little preoccupied by appreciating his scent wafting over you from the article of clothing. the jacket also still held some of his body heat which makes you instinctively try to bury yourself further into it.

“would you believe me if i said the alcohol was keeping me warm?” you tilt your brow slyly and can’t help but let a playful grin pull at the corners of your lips.

chuuya rolls his eyes and pours himself a glass of champagne. “no, as a matter of fact? i’d call bullshit.”

“how is it that you’ve always been able to see right through me? i have to give you props, mr. executive, you’re the only one that’s been able to do it.” you take another generous sip of your champagne and you’re finally no longer to tell if your legs are unsteady from the yacht or from the alcohol.

the redhead clicks his tongue and eyes you. he seems to think his next words carefully. “i guess i’ve always been extra observant when it comes to you.”

he says it so nonchalantly, you almost miss the implications of his words. you let it settle in your mind for a moment. chuuya sips at his drink nervously — his mind running wild as he watches your reaction, or lack thereof.

shit. did he make a mistake just now? should he have just kept his damn mouth shut?

the executive is about to cover his ass but then you speak. “thank you. i appreciate you looking out for me…i’ve never…had that before.”

chuuya’s eyes widen as he looks to you in obvious shock. your arms are crossed over your body as if shielding yourself. you felt vulnerable uttering those words. as if avoiding the feeling, your face is turned to the side as you stare out into the ocean. it was still clear to him why you were avoiding eye contact.

here you two were dancing the same dance you have been for months now. it’s gotten to the point where everyone with eyes can see that there’s something going on. hell, even akutagawa has said something to chuuya about it in passing.

chuuya wants to say more but suddenly everyone is loudly counting down from 10. you look back to the redhead and hold up your glass. wordlessly, he holds his up to yours and lightly clinks the crystal to your own. you raise yours a little more before almost whispering. “happy new year, chuuya nakahara.”

you tilt your head back and finish off the rest of your champagne.

chuuya follows suit. although he thinks he may have lost his mind along the way. because after chugging what was left of his own drink, in the next instant he’s closing the distance between you two. his empty hand reaches up to grasp the back of your head and then he’s desperately crashing his lips into yours. it all happens so fast he doesn’t let his own brain catch up.

you're completely taken off guard. the crystal that was securely in your hand, loudly crashes to the ground out of pure shock. however, it only takes you a split second to react. before you even comprehend what’s happening, your hands fly up to chuuya’s collar to bring him in closer and just like that you’re kissing him back with just as much enthusiasm. you both seem to melt into the kiss.

as much as he doesn’t want to, chuuya pulls away and rests his forehead on yours. your breath mixes with his in the most intoxicating way. you keep your eyes close, drinking in this perfect moment. you hum in appreciation as chuuya tenderly caresses the side of your face and finally whispers back, “happy new year, doll.”

taglist | @erikatsu | @dosteovskys |

#chuuya x reader #bsd x reader #bsd #chuuya x fem!reader #chuuya one shot #bsd chuuya #chuuya bsd #fem!reader

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msfbgraves · 19 days

Note

So, I love to watch videos of people reacting for the first time to movies. Almost every time I’ve watched people reacting to The Godfather movies, I’ve noticed that a large chunk of people (especially men, true, but surprisingly a LOT of women) all hate or strongly dislike Kay. Even growing up, both my parents disliked Kay lol, I remember.

It’s surprising to me, as I like all the women in the trilogy (yes, even Mary! Her character is sweet and affectionate, and I love how close she is with her dad!), and I always did like Kay…though I admit, I simply don’t like her with Michael after he decides to join the family business. Apollonia would have been the best fit. Besides, in Part 3, Michael sobs when Anthony sings the love song and thinks of Apollonia and their wedding even years later. And he chooses to return to Sicily to sit and brood/die in the place where they spent time together. That says it all, for me.

I can't say I've spent a lot of time on whether or not I liked Kay or Apollonia or both or neither in relation to these films. I remember watching the second film with my mother, and when the dancing scene between Michael and Kay came up, she said: "Hm. She's frightened."

I do find it surprising how many people make it about liking or not liking either or both of Michael's wives, when discussing the films as a whole. Kay doesn't fit into the mob world, that's the whole point of her, that's why Michael chose her initially, and that's why the audience may not like her - she sticks out like a sore thumb. She shouldn't be there. She agrees! That has nothing to do with how good she would have been for Michael. I do like Kay, the girl has guts. And I think that Apollonia and Michael would have made a fantastic mob marriage.

Michael ghosted Kay, and that is a shit way to break up whatever the circumstances, and by rights, they should have stayed broken up. Michael would have been nothing but a cad boyfriend who turned into a criminal, so people would have said she dodged a bullet.

Ah, but it isn't that simple, is it. If you share your time and love with someone, there will always be some form of bond. Whether or not you act on it is a completely different matter, and I feel Michael should have started fresh, and left Kay the hell alone. He could have written to break up, thank her and tell her to build a life without her. Or simply let her be one of those sacrifices you make, the same he later asks of Vincent. This life isn't good for Kay.

Would it have been good for Apollonia? I think she might have been more familiar with the codes of mob life, I think both Vito and Carmella would have adored her, I think it could have worked out beautifully. She probably wouldn't have felt the need to escape, or that the American life was better than what she left, she wouldn't feel so torn because she knew her roots. Maybe her children may have felt less at ease, but their father would have grown up completely American and helped them.

But it was not to be. Michael already gave up Kay for the life, and I believe him when he says he thought of her. And I believe in love at first sight with Apollonia, and he lost her, and I feel that if Apollonia is gone completely, maybe he can rekindle the love bond with Kay? And he does, under force, and they spend more time as husband and wife, and of course this strengthens that bond as well. But Kay is unhappy, so she breaks it off this time, and yet Michael refuses to let go of that bond (who do you think Mary gets it from)?

Apollonia and Michael is more romantic, less stressful - the fairytale his mob life cannot be. Kay is more realistic. They share a strong young love, and later, at Michael's absolute insistence, a very painful marriage, and Michael loves her and he loves Apollonia because I think that this is something that can happen. You can love two different people, if you want -widowed people do love again, and that doesn't negate the love they lost. Now of course, there may be sexism going on. A woman should simply be pretty and quiet, huh? Do we know a single of Apollonia's opinions other than her wanting to drive and not wanting to bother with English? Whereas Kay actually challenges Michael the way a wife has a right to challenge her spouse! And some people don't want to challenge their spouse and that is fine too! The point is that a marriage should work between two people and Michael's and Kay's didn't and Kay was the one calling that long before Michael, if she does love him. And Michael does not want to give it up. It's tragic, but it isn't Kay's sole fault. Again, she did move on. She rejeced his proposal, or tried to, he didn't want to hear no, she left him, he won't let her be, because he can't let go of emotional bonds apparently.

And who is to say who Apollonia might have become? These films are so very rarely interested in the world of these women, only looking at them in how they affect the men. And that's fine, the films are about Michael. But it's unfair to reduce all the other characters as people to how they relate to Michael. I promise you, if anyone ever made a biopic of my father, you wouldn't get to know everything there is to know about me simply by watching how I relate to him, or vice versa. People are allowed to exist however good they are, or not, for other people.

#kay adams #apollonia vitelli #michael corleone

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fruityrituals · 2 months

Text

always there

swiss ghoul x phantom ghoul x nb!reader

written in first person

word count: 1.9k

summary: Reader has been very distant lately from everyone, even their favorite ghouls surprisingly, and they notice. Swiss and Phantom decide it would be a good idea to ask you if everything is okay. You come out to them and they comfort you.

content/warnings: mentions of depression, struggling with identity, coming out, vulnerability in front of 2 men, some fluff.

comment: I’ve been thinking of writing this this for a long time now. As a nonbinary ghost fan who has an attachment to some of the ghouls, I thought it would be nice for anyone who relates to read something where the ghouls accept you for who you are and comfort you when you need it. Wrote this with Swiss & Phantom because they’re my favorite right now, so this is no way intended to come off as I don’t think any of the other ghouls/ghoulettes wouldn’t be as comforting and accepting.

P.S. This fic is about Swiss & Phantom, NOT Jutty & Randy. Used their photo because they will be in their human glamour in this fic.

PLEASE READ WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING

Swiss Masterlist | Phantom Masterlist

Ghost Masterlist

(pics above from pinterest | divider below by @saradika-graphics )

songs: Darkness At The Heart Of My Love by Ghost

I’ve been working at the ministry for about two years now. I came on to be apart of the tour crew to be one of the bands stage hands. I work on the left side of the stage, so my main focus is making sure Swiss and Phantom have everything they need during shows and switching out any instruments for them if they need to. It has brought the 3 of us really close. We started hanging out a lot when we weren’t on tour and they have grown to be my best friends.

We have been on a break from touring for a few months now and those are the worst times for me. Whenever we’re on tour, I’m always busy and I love my job so it doesn’t give me time to sit in my misery and think. When there’s off time between/during tours, I get all in my head and that’s when my depression is at its worst.

I can tell that Swiss and Phantom are really concerned but they are also trying to give me my space, which I appreciate. Today was one of my worst days though and they seemed to notice instantly. I think what gave me away is the fact that I said I was going for a walk even though it’s pouring outside.

I took a walk around the block in the rain until I started to get cold. Once I got back to the ministry, I went straight to my bedroom. They gave me enough time to change out of my wet clothes and get comfortable before they knock on my door.

As I sat in my little nook on the window in the dark, with some candles lit around my room, I looked out the window and watched the rain, “Come in” I said softly.

The two ghouls poke their heads into my room before walking in and shutting the door behind them. They are in their human glamor as always. Even though we’re close, I’m not allowed to see what their ghoul forms look like because I’m human. The only time they’re in their ghoul forms around me is when they’re wearing their stage outfits and helmets.

I look over at them and they give me a soft smile to try and lighten the room. Swiss speaks first:

“We noticed you have been very quiet and distant lately and we just wanted to check on you and make sure everything was okay.”

Phantom speaks next:

“Of course if you don’t feel like talking about it, we won’t make you. We just want you to know that we are here if you need anything.”

Tears start to swell in my eyes as I wrap my arms around my knees, pulling them closer to my chest. I sniffle as I look out the window again and say, “Thank you, both of you”.

They both walk over to the windowsill, Phantom rubbing my back and Swiss kissing my forehead. That’s when the tears really come down. They both look at me with anguish in their eyes. Phantom sits down next to me in the nook and Swiss bends down in front of me placing his hands on my knees trying to make eye contact with me.

“Talk to me, what’s going on?” Swiss says with a soft tone. He reaches a hand up and wipes my tears with his thumb then rests his hand on my arm rubbing it soothingly.

I was so scared to talk about what has had me acting like this lately and I’m not even sure why when I know they will accept me no matter what. I think it’s just my own insecurities and once I say it out loud, it will all feel very real and I’m worried I’ll feel like I still don’t know who I am.

I look down at Swiss as Phantom rubs a hand on my back in soothing circles. I take a deep breath as I close my eyes then say, “I’ve been struggling with my identity lately and I’m afraid once I tell people, I will feel different in the sense that I think I know who I am but then I don’t feel like I am that person either.”

They both stay quiet listening to me tentatively. Swiss nods as he looks in my eyes as I speak again, “All my life I thought I knew who I was and I have been this confident person on the outside but I always felt like something was wrong and I didn’t really know what it was for a long time. I love being on tour because the band, Papa, and you two keep me busy and I like being busy. When I’m busy I don’t have to think about all of this.”

They continue to listen, giving me the space to talk and I admire that so much, so I continue. “And I just keep to myself when I feel like this because I don’t want to bring everyone else down with my mood swings when everyone is trying to relax and enjoy their time off. I just feel like it’s better if I isolate myself for the sake of everyone else, but when I’m alone is when I FEEL the most.” I start to cry again.

Swiss wipes my tears again and I catch him glancing at Phantom, then Phantom pulls me into a side hug in which I rest my head on his shoulder. They make me feel so safe and comfortable and I feel like I should tell them who I am. I know they will love me no matter what and maybe having them aware of what’s going on will be helpful so I don’t feel so alone anymore. I'm isolating myself, no one is pushing me away, I’m pushing them away.

I take a deep breath as I close my eyes and nod encouragement to myself as I say, “I think I’m nonbinary. Sometimes I don’t feel comfortable in my skin when I call myself a woman and I don’t fully feel like I’m supposed to be a man. I feel like I’m somewhere in the middle. Also I’m not comfortable with feminine pronouns. They/Them feels more natural to me.”

Swiss stands up and wraps his arms around me as my head rests against his stomach and he says, “Is it okay that I say something?” I nod. He continues as he runs his fingers in my hair and keeps me in his embrace, “I am so proud of you. You didn’t have to come out to us and explain what’s going on, but you trusted us enough to do so and I admire that. You are one of the most caring, loving, and strongest person I know and I think I can speak for Phantom and I when I say that it doesn’t matter what you identify as because you are you and we love you. I-I love you.”

He pauses for a moment and I realize he’s admitting he has feelings for me. I have always felt such a strong connection with Swiss but I felt like I was mistaking it for strong friendship. Tears stream down my face as I look up at him then stand to my feet and wrap my arms around his torso tightly as he buries his face into my hair and holds me tight.

Swiss speaks again, “If you continue to be comfortable with us, I want you to be open. Tell us if we ever say anything to make you feel like you aren’t being seen. If there’s a name you would like to go by specifically, we will call you that in a heartbeat and we will use the pronouns you are comfortable with because you deserve to feel comfortable as yourself around everyone and we want to be there for you every step of your journey in being comfortable in your own skin, okay?”

I nod into his chest as Phantom joins the hug from behind me. I feel this overwhelming amount of protection and comfort from the both of them being between them in their embrace and I sniffle gently. Phantom speaks now:

“I want to put emphasis on what Swiss said and say thank you for trusting us with this delicate time you’re going through. We will be there every step of the way and want you to be happy as your authentic self. We would never want you to pretend to be someone you’re not. You have no idea how much it means to me that you are comfortable enough with us to talk to us about this. We were so worried about you because we do notice the changes when we aren’t on tour with you, secluding yourself and we never want you for a second to think that we aren’t here for you and that we wouldn’t support you in every aspect of your life.”

I stand there for a moment in silence just letting their words sink in and enjoying the feel of their arms around me. I place a hand on Swiss’ chest to pull away from the hug. They both let go and look down at me, Phantom rubbing my arm and Swiss rubbing his thumb on my cheek. I smile up at them, “Thank you both so much for always being there for me. I never doubted you both supporting me, it was just something I needed to wrap my head around first and now that I’ve told you both, I feel like this huge weight has been lifted off my shoulders and I can’t wait to start feeling like the person I was meant to be.”

They both beam down at me happy to see me smiling now. I take this moment to say, “I love the both of you, you mean the world to me, and…” I look up at Swiss specifically and say “I love you too” in a soft tone.

I watch as Swiss practically melts and quickly cups my cheeks in his big hands and our lips press together. I hold onto his hands that are on my face as we kiss deeply. We both laugh on each others lips when we hear Phantom let out a heavy sigh of relief and clap as he says, “Fucking finally. I’ve been having to listen to the both of you talk about your feelings toward each other to me and have been desperately waiting for you guys to just hook up already.”

Swiss pulls away from our kiss and pushes Phantom's shoulder back playfully as we all laugh. Phantom holds his hands up as he backs away towards the door, “Love you both but I think you two need some alone time after months of me hearing all this sexual tension build up between you two”.

I gasp, take the pillow off my window nook and throw it at Phantom's head as he dodges it and quickly leaves the room. I shake my head smiling as I trail my eyes back up to Swiss and we smile to each other.

Swiss cups my cheeks again and says, “Now, where were we?” Then we’re kissing again as that sexual tension Phantom mentioned hits us both hard.

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scorpionrising · 5 months

Text

there's an ache in you, put there by the ache in me (pt. 1: the road not taken looks real good now)

pairing: aemond targaryen x velaryon!oc word count: 8971 content warnings: explicit sexual content, major character death, cheating/infidelity (not really, but also kind of – it'll make sense when you read it), will add to this list as needed read part 2 here

notes: this is also cross-posted to ao3, as that is my primary place for posting, if you would prefer to read there. this author is fully team black, so proceed with caution. background relationships include cregan/jace/baela and luke/rhaena. feel free to read heavily into daena and rhaenyra's interactions too if you so choose

before reading, please be aware that this is an AU of a completed fanfiction i have written called fireplace ashes. you really don't need to have read it though to read this, as it's pretty self contained. all you need to know at the start:

daena velaryon is the youngest daughter of rhaenys targaryen and corlys velaryon; the same age as aegon. she claimed vermithor when she was eight and laenor was her favorite person in the world growing up, so she loves her nephews very much. she is betrothed to jace and neither of them are happy about it. when rhaenyra sent luke to storm's end, daena went with him. when he chased after luke, she stopped him, and this is where we leave off...

edit, 12/18/2023: because i forgot to mention this before posting — re: any references made to sarya. sarya is an oc from the fic i wrote that this is based on. she is daena’s handmaiden with whom daena has had a clandestine relationship that is so doomed by the narrative that they are both entirely aware of it

Daena and Aemond spoke more and more with each passing day. Mariyah was still sick, confined to her bed and face growing paler as the storms raged outside. Aemond had grown surprisingly competent in dealing with the barn animals, so she spent a majority of her days attending to Mariyah.

“Perhaps it was a miracle,” Mariyah said in a croaking voice as Daena wrung out a cloth to lay atop her forehead.

“What was?” Daena asked.

“Stumbling upon you,” Mariyah said, closing her eyes as Daena laid the cloth down. “The gods knew.”

“What did they know?”

“That I would die, and they ensured I would not die alone.”

There was a faint smile on her deeply lined face, as though she were at peace.

“Oh, don’t say that,” Daena said, taking care to smooth down Mariyah’s gray hair.

“Ever since my Royce passed three years ago, I’ve been waiting for the gods to take me. We never had children, you know.” Mariyah’s muddy green eyes sprung open and she reached out a wrinkled hand to touch Daena’s face. Tears began brimming as she spoke once more. “I’ve been alone for so long. It’s been wonderful, having you and your husband here.”

Daena partly hated herself for lying to Mariyah, but if it gave the old woman comfort in her last days to think she was providing aid to a happy couple in love, she would continue the charade until the moment the storms broke.

“I’d like you and Jack to keep the house,” Mariyah whispered. “Let it be your shelter. Go to Essos if you wish, but let the house remain standing, I beg. Let it still be filled with love even once I’m gone.”

Feeling tears in her own eyes begin to well, Daena nodded. If this was a way to settle her debt with Mariyah, she would declare this house as royal property. It would be a hunting getaway for her ancestors for years to come. It would never crumble as a way to pay thanks to the woman who saved her.

“Of course,” Daena said finally. “We’ll take care of your home.”

“Make it your home,” Mariyah begged. “Make it yours.”

“We will,” Daena promised. “We will.”

Mariyah nodded, contended by Daena’s words, and her eyes fluttered close once more. Her chest stuttered, but then began to rise and fall in time. Pursing her lips, Daena pulled the covers up the Mariyah’s chin and removed the damp cloth from her forehead. She let the water pitcher rest on the bedside table and filled a glass with water in case Mariyah woke up thirsty.

When she went down the stairs, Aemond was sitting by the fire in the main room of the house reading. The candles were dim, burnt down to the wicks around him. They would have to replace them on the morrow with the new ones.

“What are you reading?” she asked him.

He glanced up from his book and pressed his lips together. “A book of Lysene poetry. The old woman is more learned than I thought.”

“Her name is Mariyah,” Daena said, scowling and taking a seat in the chair across from him. She pointed her feet out and let the flames warm her bare ankles. “You ought to have some respect, you know.”

He scoffed at her but did not look back down at his book. Instead, he met her eyes brazenly. Despite herself, she delighted in the way the flames licked at the sapphire embedded in his eye socket. The question was on the tip of her tongue, begging to be asked, but she could not find the words in actuality.

“Our families think us dead,” Daena whispered instead, staring into the flames.

“And whose fault is that?” he retorted.

She flexed her fingers and clenched her jaw, wondering what it might be like to fling her fist into his jaw.

“What if we stay dead?” she asked him.

“If you’d like me to kill you, just give the word,” he said through his teeth.

“Not like that,” she snapped. “I just— Mariyah told me when she dies she wants us— or Alyse and Jack, rather— to keep the house… and I can’t help but wonder what it would be like to stay here and live a simple life.”

“You wouldn’t like that,” Aemond said. He closed his book and set it aside on the floor by his feet. “It would bore you senseless.”

“You said the same thing about my marriage to Jace,” Daena pointed out. She flexed her feet and tilted her head back to stare at the dark ceiling. “It would seem I am destined for a life of dreadful boredom.”

She sighed loudly and pushed her braids off her shoulder to fall over the back of the chair. Aemond’s eye was trained directly on her face, seeming to see through her to her very soul.

“Would it not be better to be bored on my own terms, living my own life rather than forced into a loveless marriage?”

“That would mean abandoning your family,” he pointed out, “which you would never do.”

She huffed and dropped her hands onto her lap. “You’re right. But it’s nice to pretend, I suppose.”

“What’s the point in pretending?” he asked her. “We are not children.”

“You’re infuriating,” she snapped. “We’ve been stuck here for days on end with nothing to do, knowing our families are preparing for war! What’s the point of any of it? Why shouldn’t I imagine an easier life?”

“Because it makes you a coward,” he told her as though it were the simplest thing in the world, voice too placid for her liking. “You cannot run from your destiny, Daena, no matter how hard you might try.”

“I’ve never run from my destiny,” she said defensively, remembering the way Helaena looked at her and whispered ‘Dragonslayer’ all those years ago.

He hummed and turned to the flames, barring the sapphire in his eye from view. All she could see was the unmarred half of his face, and she could see the strange little boy in his bones. She had quite liked that boy, but she thought he might be long dead by now.

“I hope they betrothed Jace to Baela in my absence,” she confessed in a small voice. “She could love him in a manner I could never bear to, I think.”

He slid his feet forward. The house shoes Mariyah had provided for him were neatly placed at one of the chair legs, but he wore thick woolen socks all the same. The heal of one of the socks was fraying and the other was drooping so low that she could see his bony ankle poking out from beneath the pants that were too short for him. It made him look disgustingly human.

“Which Baratheon girl were you going to marry?”

“I do not know,” he said. “Whichever one I found the most tolerable, I suppose.”

“How romantic.” She smirked a bit to herself and adjusted her weight in the seat for a more comfortable position. “I envy the smallfolk in this. They are allowed to fall in love before they marry. We must make an attempt at love only after the wedding, if at all.”

“I’d take a castle and not having to cook my own meals and slaughter my own animals over love any day,” Aemond said.

She frowned, pitying him not for the first time and likely not for the last.

“That’s terribly sad, Aemond.”

When he did not respond, she sighed and stood up.

“I will be going to bed now, I think…” She made her way across the room and faltered, turning back to look at him. He was staring into the empty seat. “Goodnight, Aemond.”

He turned. “Goodnight, Daena.”

With a strange, heavy feeling in her chest, she settled into the bed she made for herself on the floor and laid her head down. Tonight, sleep would not come, no matter how strongly she yearned for it. She tossed and turned, trying to find an acceptable position. Sometime later, Aemond entered and blew out the candles. She listened to him shuffle around and settle down. Once he laid down, he was still. She heard his breaths turn deep as sleep took him over. Irritated by that, she groaned into her pillow and flipped to attempt to sleep on her back.

“Just come up here.”

Her eyes sprung open despite the total darkness. She had thought him fast asleep by now.

“What?” she asked. “Don’t be absurd, Aemond. That would be—”

“I do believe we are far past what is and is not proper at this point,” he told her. “The bed is plenty large enough for two.”

She thought of what her mother and father might say, of what Sarya would believe, of what Jace and Luke might think of her. To share a bed with the enemy was bordering on treason, but was Aemond truly an enemy? Not to her, she thought a bit shamefully.

“You are just saying that to lure me in with false pretenses so that you might sully my name and reputation later on,” she accused, though she knew it was rather halfhearted.

“Gods be good,” he grunted. “Daena, just come up here and sleep.”

“Fine,” she muttered, hating herself for being so weak.

It was merely because her back was beginning to ache all through the day from sleeping on the floor for the last two weeks. That was all. Nothing more.

Pillows in hand, she climbed up and made herself comfortable on the bed. She was deeply conscious of Aemond laying stock still beside her, pale skin exposed. Heat from his body radiated towards her and she was mindful not to curl into it, instead turning her back to him and squeezing her eyes shut. She prayed for the storms to end early and for Vermithor to finish healing soon to take her away from this place.

Forgetting she had not gone to sleep on the floor, she was confused when she woke up to warmth and soft cushions and a weight thrown across her middle. She opened her eyes to find Aemond’s head tucked into her shoulder, hand splayed over her stomach. Instantly, she stiffened. This was an intimacy she had only known with Sarya. A traitorous part of herself was glad for it, having missed the feeling of falling asleep wrapped up in another. She quickly murdered that thought and turned onto her side to attempt to slip out of Aemond’s grip. Thankfully, he was a deep sleeper and did not awaken from her efforts. If it were up to her, he would never learn of this.

Mariyah passed four days later in her sleep, and Daena found that her heart was broken. Mariyah, who had been so deeply kind and had taken in two strangers without a thought, was dead and the world was worse off for it.

“We have to bury her,” she insisted.

“Look outside,” Aemond said, gesturing to the raging rain and wind. “You want to dig a grave?”

“It’s either that or we let her rot in here,” Daena argued. “Don’t be so cold hearted, Aemond.”

“Fine,” Aemond hissed. “You can dig the grave yourself. I want no part in it.”

And so she did. Wrapped in the cloak Mariyah wore the night she took them in, Daena marched outside with a shovel and began digging. The grave was shallow, but it would have to do. With all the rain, wind, and mud splattering up onto her face, it was nearly impossible to see what she was doing. Lightning cracked through the sky and a branch snapped off the tree just to her left.

When she turned to go back to the house, Aemond was already walking out with Mariyah’s body wrapped neatly in one of the blankets from her bed. Clearly, he had changed his mind. She was sure she was crying, but she was thankful to the rain for obscuring it from Aemond. Her throat closed as he gently laid Mariyah into the grave she dug. She had never seen him capable of such gentleness before.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

If he heard her, he offered no response. Instead, he took the shovel from her hands and began to cover Mariyah’s body. He moved quickly and methodically and did not even spare her a glance. With every day they spent together, she realized that she understood very little about the prince. He kept his motivations so close to his chest that she was constantly, utterly befuddled by him. Once he was done covering the grave, he stood at Daena’s side—as though waiting for her to move.

“I wrote to you,” she heard herself say, voice hushed in confession. “After that day on the rocky island, I wrote to you.”

“Yes,” he said.

Something within her shattered. She had hoped ceaselessly that the raven had been lost, or that someone else had gotten the letter and kept it from him. That day on the rocky island with him had been one of the best she ever had since Laena’s death, and now they would never ride dragons together again. Her eyes burned.

“Why did you never write back?”

“It seemed pointless,” he said, very pointedly not looking at her.

“I must confess,” she said, “I do not understand your reasoning.”

He flexed his hand, splaying his fingers out. He rounded on her, shoulders set back. The cloak’s hood was low on his forehead, but she could see the deep indigo of his eye clear as day. There was confliction written in his iris, and then determination as a muscle in his jaw ticked.

“Three years ago,” he said, voice hard and cold as sharp steel, “I had intended to ask for your hand.”

It should not have surprised her, with everyone around her back then telling her that he was attempting to court her, and yet it did. The dragon brooch he had gifted her was proof enough of that, but she still had been so blind to it. She had thought it a friendship, and him no more than a boy with a crush. She had no idea that his feelings had ran so deep.

“After that day on the island, I went to my mother and told her my plans. She forbade it and told me I was not to see you again, on account of your allegiances.”

“Oh,” she whispered. “Aemond, I—”

“It matters not,” he said.

“Of course it matters,” she said.

A great gust of wind hit her directly in the face and blew the hood of her cloak off, but she made no move to fix it or run for shelter. This seemed too important.

“No,” he snapped, “it does not. Why bother fixating on the past and things that will never be?”

“Tell me something, then,” she said, pushing her shoulders back. “That stone in your eye. Is it not the sapphire I gave you?”

“It serves as a reminder.”

“What could it possibly remind you of?”

He stepped closer to her. “The things I will never have.”

“Why would you want constant reminders of that?” she asked him.

“Because so long as I am reminded of what I cannot have, I will not be so foolish as to think of what could have been.”

Again, she found him terribly sad. Hesitantly, she reached out and touched his arm.

“You must allow yourself to want things,” she insisted. “Constant restraint is no way to live. Take what you want, Aemond, and let yourself feel.”

Unable to bear it any longer, she backed away from him and reentered the house. She ripped the cloak off and left it to rot on the floor. She was covered in mud and soaked to the bone. It was terrible, disgusting, infuriating. She was not entirely sure what it was, but it was just as likely to be the muddy clothes as it was Aemond’s attitude. She could not fathom how he could possibly be so cold about matters that deserved only warmth. He was sharp, cutting and slicing with his words, as he spoke about wanting to marry her. In this moment, she would have liked nothing more than to skewer him.

Pulling at the strings on her dress, she began the process of disrobing for a bath. She wanted to be rid of him. She wanted to be clean.

She relaxed in the tub until her fingers shriveled and the water turned cold. She dunked her head one last time and stood to leave, but then realized the flaw in her plan. In her haste to take a bath, she had neglected to collect a towel to dry off with or fresh clothes.

“Shit,” she muttered, knowing she would have no choice but to call for Aemond’s aid.

Surely, he would never let her forget this. Especially not after what he just admitted to her. Would he think she was trying to seduce him? Grimacing to herself, she drew her knees to her chest and called his name until she heard his footsteps approach the door.

“What is it?” he asked, sounding just as irritated as she had expected.

“I—” It was already humiliating. “Could you please bring me a towel and chemise? I forgot.”

He made a noise that could have been mistaken for a snort behind the door. Without voicing his assent or denial, he walked away. Gnawing on the inside of her cheek and absentmindedly scratching at her clavicle, Daena debated her options. She glanced a bit disparagingly at her discarded gown from before. She could put that back on, but the thought of it was entirely unappealing.

Then, without warning, the door flew open. Jolting in surprise, Daena quickly drew her knees even closer to her chest to attempt to save her from even more indignity.

“Here.” He held out a bundle of fabrics. “Where do you want them?”

“Um, just… The floor is fine. Thank you.”

He nodded and she watched as his eye flickered from her face to the harsh scar on her shoulder, visible no doubt from the manner in which she was hunched over to prevent him from seeing her more intimate areas. Having let him see the scar, now, she perhaps would have rathered him see the other parts of her. Somehow, the scar felt leagues more intimate than her breasts.

“It happened in the Stepstones,” she said, unsure why she kept him in here.

She really ought to have sent him away, and perhaps in every other life she did. But, in this one, she did not.

Aemond’s cheeks darkened in a flush.

“How?” he asked.

His eye was trained so singularly on her face that she knew he was making a concerted effort not to look elsewhere.

“I was fighting on the ground,” Daena explained. “Turned my back on an opponent I thought was dead.”

Could he hear the undercutting questions in her words? Can I turn my back to you, Aemond? Can I trust you? Once, she might have said yes easily.

“I hope you gave the craven the death he deserved,” Aemond said, nodding sharply. “There is no honor in that.”

She looked at him, and he her. Slowly, she felt the barest of smiles tug at her lips. Each and every day, he surprised her. Whether it was good or bad, she did not know, and she suspected she would not know until it was far too late.

Without another word, he left the room. Left alone, she dressed herself slowly.

Three years ago, I intended to ask for your hand. If he had done it, she would not have wanted it—and yet, she could not help but think about how different things would be if he had. Would things be better? Perhaps so; she could have bridged the gap between Luke and Aemond. That alone would have certainly changed a great many things.

Perhaps the time on the island had driven her mad, but she felt her bare feet pad along the floor until she found Aemond in the bedroom. Again, he looked achingly human. His bony ankles were visible beneath of cuff of his breeches, and his soft tunic was bunched up at the elbows. She stood in the doorway, merely watching. If he was aware of her presence, he gave no indication, and even if he was; he was surely unaware of how entranced she was by the way his hair fell in silken sheets around his shoulders. He was as severe as he was beautiful.

“Answer me this,” she said, breaking the silence.

His shoulders drew taut as he slowly turned to face her.

“What makes you believe you could never have me?”

He scoffed. “Our families are at war. Even before, it would have never been possible.”

She would have agreed to it, had the matter been raised. Seeing him in such mundanity, tending to animals and reading under the low light of the candles, made it impossible to hate him. He was no enemy. He was merely a man led astray, but his heart was good and his soul nowhere near as black as he would like her to believe.

“Do not think of our families,” Daena said. “Think only of yourself and how you feel. That is how you take care of yourself. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to go to bed.”

Fingers curling into the material of the chemise at her thighs, Daena pushed past him and began to pull at the bed covers. Whatever she had been thinking before, it was a spark of delusion and madness. Clearly he could not see past his inflated sense of self, and he never would. And she was merely entertaining it because she was bored. Grimacing, she fluffed violently at her pillow.

His long and slender fingers wrapped around the crook of her elbow, and he pulled her towards him without any sense of warning. She was not proud of the gasp she let out in response; sharp and high-pitched. The sapphire embedded in his eye socket—the sapphire she had given him—glinted in the candlelight. He was so close.

“Could I have had you?” he asked, voice low and rushed.

“I would not have minded if you asked,” she answered.

Aemond’s grip on her tightened, and if he clenched any harder she was sure bruises would begin to take form. She considered, briefly, smacking him away, but she did not mind the weight of his grip in all truth. She and Sarya often gripped one another in far greater passions. Besides, she liked seeing Aemond unfurled.

“I have always known what you are, Aemond,” Daena whispered.

“And what am I, my lady?”

“A strange boy with a crush,” she said, tilting her head back. “But I have always been more than fond of strange things.”

She really ought to have expected it after goading him, but his kiss shocked her all the same. His lips landed on the corner of her mouth, sideways down her chin, as though he were unused to the act. Adjusting, she tilted her head to the side to turn the kiss into a proper one. His hands, clutching her hips in a vice, burned at her skin through her chemise. Enthralled by the feeling, she curled her fingers around the sides of his neck, bringing one hand up into the roots of his hair.

However inexperienced he was, he made up for it in enthusiasm. Aemond grasped at her, trailing all across her body as though he were attempting to create a map of her bones. She pushed up onto her toes, tightening her grip on his hair, and gnashed her teeth into his mouth. She took his bottom lip between her teeth and bit down just beyond gently. When his mouth fell open, she slipped her tongue against the roof of his mouth. His hips jolted against hers as a sharp gasp tumbled from his lips.

“Are you going to take me or not?” she mumbled against his neck.

“Please,” he gasped out as she scraped her teeth against his skin.

“Do you want me, Aemond?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me,” she whispered, tugging on his hair. “How do you want me?”

He groaned, low and guttural; rigid against her. His grip only tightened.

“I want—” His head fell forward, atop hers. “I want to taste you.”

Daena pulled away from Aemond, a wicked grin spreading across her full and swollen lips. Holding eye contact, she stepped backwards until she was sat upon the edge of the bed. Then, with Aemond’s attention captured entirely, she spread her legs and pulled the hem of her chemise up slowly, tantalizingly.

“Get on your knees, then,” she said.

Aemond fell without a blink. His fingertips traced along her ankles and then slowly crept up her leg, flexing his entire palm against her skin once he reached her thighs. She could feel his breath against her, his mouth open but still so terribly far from latching onto her as she wanted him to.

“My prince,” she groaned, reaching for the top of his head. “Please.”

He complied, pressing his tongue flat to her. There was no hesitation in his actions; he licked with confidence and precision, shocking her because she struggled to imagine him experienced. He groaned against her, hooking his arms beneath her thighs and pulling her as close to his face as possible. She was unable to keep the shrill moan from escaping her throat.

“Aemond,” she gasped. It was a breathy sort of thing, pulled in a wisp from her lungs. “Use… fingers!”

Ever the apt listener, he dipped a single finger into her. The moan she let out then was a pitched and trilling squeal. His single finger was the size of two of Sarya’s and reached to far deeper places than Sarya’s petite hands had been able to reach. He pumped the finger in and out, slowly and surely, and grinned against her. Two more fingers then, shoved inside her at once. She collapsed backwards onto the bed with a loud moan. He was relentless in his ministrations, going at a rapid pace until she was writhing and squirming and gasping for air. Swiping her arm over her forehead, she pushed herself up to look down at him.

His face was covered in her, glistening in the flickering, dying light. She swiped her tongue across her bottom lip. She grabbed a fistful of his tunic and yanked at it to get it off him. Catching on, he moved to help her. There was a heavy silence between them, but he moved onto the bed—hovering over her—without her even needing to tell him what she wanted.

She stared up at him, lips parted ever so slightly. His hair hung down in a silky curtain, framing his face. Palms shaking, she reached up and pressed her hand to his face. She arched her neck up and brushed her lips softly, gently, tenderly over his scarred forehead. The sapphire buried within his eye socket seemed to glow, keeping her attention rapt. Her thumb trailed along the underside of his eye, brushing against his long lower lashes. He was silent in her arms, stoic above her.

Afraid to speak, lest she say something too intimate, too weak, too revealing, she pulled his face down and licked herself from his lips. His teeth gnashed against her lip as though he wanted to swallow her whole. Briefly, as she fumbled with the buttons on his breeches, she thought she might let him. They did not speak, not even as she pushed him up against the headboard and sat herself on his lap. He was hard against her inner thigh, but she ignored it for the time being. Instead, she tugged his mouth down to her neck. He licked, bit, and sucked at the flesh, drawing heavy gasps for air from her lungs.

Chemise sticking to her with sweat, Daena pushed him back to begin ripping at the strings to get it off her. Aemond picked up on it and yanked the shift roughly over her head. His eye flickered down to her heaving breasts and a spike of confidence shot through her when she noticed how his cheeks flushed a darker shade at the sight.

“Daena,” he gasped out, voice heady and broken. “I… want—”

“I’ll give you whatever you want,” she promised, moving her hands to cradle his face.

Pulling him in for another angry kiss, she shifted her hips so that she could sink herself down onto him. It was a sensation she had never felt before, reaching places she had never known existed. Tears she did not quite understand burned in her eyes, but she continued to sink down until there was nowhere else for her to go. A groan that sounded more animal than human burst from her as she collapsed against his chest. His hands were hot as coals against her thighs, fingers sure to leave burnt impressions.

Delirious, she dropped her forehead against his and began to move her hips in slow, rocking circles. He swore quietly, tightening his grip on her legs.

“Seven… hells,” he grunted.

She continued until she found a pace that cut her breath off at the base of her throat, where the tip of him hit a place deep within her that caused her vision to go black and her jaw to go slack.

“Aemond.” She exhaled his name, unable to think of anything else but the man beneath her. She wanted to burrow herself within him and find a home within his bones, tucked into his ribs. Every bit of him had invaded her, and she was loath to let it end. This bubble they had created; she wanted it to exist for as long as she could sustain it. Here, they were leagues away from the people they had been and the circumstances that brought them to this island. Here, they were just Alyse and Jack. Here, they were free.

She let him spill within her after she reached her peak, and then collapsed once more against him. It was easy to fall asleep, exhausted and spent, within his arms.

Daena awoke with the first light of morning, as she always did. Naked and sticky with the dried sweat of the night before, she and Aemond were still tangled together; his face pressed into the crook of her neck. She was flooded with a wretched sort of feeling, unable to bear being within his grasp. As gently as she could, she removed herself from his arms and reached down to the floor for her chemise. She dressed quickly and sprinted away from the room.

Unsure if it was more shame or guilt that was flooding through her, she tucked herself into one of the armchairs by the unlit fire and stared into the blackened hearth. If she ever got away from here—if they ever got away from here—how could she possibly hope to look her family in the eye? How could she face Luke, knowing she had sworn to give the uncle who tormented him anything he wanted whilst in the thralls of passion.

A mistake, she decided. That is all it was. A mistake driven from flaring tempers and boredom. That was all it could be; nothing more.

Even so, she could not help but wish in the deepest and darkest depths of her soul for the opportunity to make the mistake again.

A noise from the bedroom informed her that Aemond had woken up. When he came into the main room of the house, their eyes met. After perhaps a moment too long, he tore his gaze away from hers and grabbed an apple from the bowl on the table and stalked back into the bedroom with that infuriating slow strut of his.

They did not speak that day, nor the next. Daena resigned herself to sleeping curled up in the armchair, drawing idly on loose slips of parchment she found around the house until she fell asleep. She mourned the tenuous friendship they had begun to restore in the days past as she did her best to ignore the growing knot in her neck from sleeping in the chair. It truly felt as though they were destined to be on opposing sides, never to truly know each other. She wished he never told her he wanted to marry her. Now, her mind was consumed by thoughts of what could have been and what could still be. It was also how she knew him a liar; if he did not dwell on the past, then he would have forgotten the matter entirely. But he had not, and so she knew he did care.

She would have agreed, she thought to herself as she drew Vermithor’s scales. If he had asked her, she would have married him. It was a terrifying, fleeting thought— and perhaps it was a betrayal of Luke, of Sarya, and, now, of Jace. Still, she could not deny that she liked Aemond well enough. She had been fond of him even when they were children and he smashed her head with a rock. She enjoyed his presence, despite his generally unpleasant demeanor. He was a friend, and she would have liked to marry a friend. She could have been happy in a marriage of friendship. If he had been allowed, she would have accepted.

But perhaps he was correct, and there was no use on dwelling on these things. What did it lead to but unhappiness?

She was curled up in a chair by the fire while Aemond tended to the barn animals, proving once more that he cared far more deeply for things than he liked to pretend. She flipped the page of the parchment back to the portrait she had drawn of Aemond while he slept. In the sketched plains of his face, she could see the strange and innocent boy beneath the cruel man. Pursing her lips, she tore the page and crumpled it. Just as he said, no use in dwelling on things she could not change.

He entered in with a wet gust of wind behind him. He made a grumbling noise as he kicked off his boots and undid the cloak, which really only served to make her laugh. He glared in her direction and stalked off, likely to wash up from being in the barn. Heaving a great sigh, Daena got out of the chair to scrounge together a meal for them. They ate like the smallfolk in Flea Bottom, and Daena was miserable for it. Their lack of communication made the bland food all the worse.

She brought the pot of stew to the hearth and let it come to a boil. Mariyah, in all her elderly wisdom, had planned on a long hurricane season and had gathered enough produce to last them the entirety of it. Aemond emerged from the washroom just as she was removing the pot from the fire. She offered him a tight smile and averted her eyes to began spooning stew into bowls for them to eat.

They sat silently on opposite sides of the table, pointedly not looking at each other. It made her want to scream and cry and rip her hair from its roots and throw the bowl at him. It was suffocating, and she just wanted to be done with it.

It was he, who broke their days-long silence, pushing his bowl away from him and leaning back against the chair. “I apologize,” he said stiffly, “for taking advantage the other night. It was… unworthy of me.”

Daena stared at him blankly, astounded. Then, a laugh that could be classified as nothing other than a cackle burst from her lips. His lips pursed at the sound, clearly displeased by her reaction.

“That is what you apologize for?” she asked, gasping for breath between words. “Oh, Aemond… I am hardly a blushing maiden.”

At that, a flush crept up his cheeks.

“The other night might have been a moment of weakness that can and will never happen again, but you did not take advantage.”

“Well, I apologize nonetheless.” His cheeks were flushed with blood. “And, yes. Never again.”

She bit the inside of her cheeks as her mind cycled through all the motions of their mistake. As far as mistakes go, it had been her most enjoyable one.

“You ought to sleep in the bed again,” Aemond said after another long silence as they cleaned up the kitchen. “I can tell your neck is bothering you.”

Her hand flew to the crook of her neck on instinct. She ripped it away just as quickly.

“I’m quite fine.”

“Then allow me to take the chair or floor.”

“No, that is not necessary,” she insisted, turning away from him to stare out the window. The rain beat mercilessly on the glass. Like it was trying to bring not just the home, but the entire island down. “You sustained more injuries than I did in the fall, and the fault for that lies in my hands.”

She chose to leave out the fact that it was his actions that forced her hand, because at this point that was neither here nor there.

“Then perhaps I sleep in the other room—”

“Mariyah just died on that bed!” Daena exclaimed, half scandalized. She was tired of this conversation. “We will continue as we have.”

“Daena, you cannot—”

“And yet, I will!” she shrieked. Instantly embarrassed, she sucked in a long, slow breath and turned back around to face him. “It is different for me.”

He said nothing, merely staring at her. Gods, how he infuriated her, how he wiggled beneath her skin and stuck there, how he could see right through her.

“If anyone were to discover we were here alone, you would be perfectly fine. I would be…” She thought back to what he hissed at her when he woke. “Ruined.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but she pushed on.

“Our mistake, for you, is a story to tell someday. For me, it is nothing less than betrayal.”

“Betrayal.” He scoffed, a sudden glint of venom in his iris. “And what do you call my part, then? Do I not betray my family every moment you remain breathing?”

“Kill me, then, and be done with it!” Daena threw her hands up. “Please, I beg you. Do it, because I will never be able to kill you as I know I ought to.”

He blinked at her, stunned into silence by her manic plea. Frustrated tears brimming in her eyes, Daena stomped away from him and into the washroom. She sank to her knees and remained there until she heard no sounds of movement. Praying that it meant Aemond was asleep, Daena crept out and back into the main room.

She was stopped in her tracks, however, by the sight of Aemond fast asleep on the very armchair she had made her bed the last few nights. One leg was propped up on the cushioned footrest while the other was sprawled onto the floor. Even in her hatred of him— if she could call it that— she was touched by the display. There was hope for him yet, goodness that bubbled beneath the surface. In an effort to repay the kindness, she grabbed a quilt from the chest by the fireplace and laid it over his lap.

They had perhaps left things worse than they ever were before between them, but Daena would deal with those consequences once morning came. Now, she was bone weary and just wanted to sleep. She slept like the dead once her head hit the pillows, though in her dreams Aemond’s face taunted her. In the morning, she woke with a deep, aching need between her legs. Disgusted with herself, Daena kept herself confined within the walls of the bedchamber until she thought she might collapse from hunger. When she pulled the door open, however, she found herself face-to-face with Aemond—a plate of food and mug of mead in hand. His mouth fell open just a bit as she tripped herself to avoid walking right into him.

“You have not eaten,” he said in a hoarse voice. “It is getting late… I thought you might like some food.”

“Thank you,” she said, unable to do much anything else than focus on his lavender iris boring into her. “How very thoughtful, my prince.”

“Aemond,” he said suddenly. “Just— Call me Aemond.”

Oh.

“Very well,” she said. “Aemond.”

“I wanted to thank you… for the blanket last night.” He shuffled closer infinitesimally. The mug was shaking ever so slightly in his clenched fist. “And, I was thinking… here, we can just be…”

She pulled the plate and mug from his hands and dropped them onto the small table in the room, discarded to be forgotten. Sighing, she pushed her braids over her shoulder and turned back to him. Did she haunt his dreams as he did hers?

“We can just be… what, Aemond?”

“I—” He opened his mouth and closed it thrice. “You said to take what I want.”

A whirling thrill spiked in her blood, the ache inside of her leading her straight to him.

“A mistake it might be, but what does it matter?” he asked. “We are alone.”

“I suppose it doesn’t,” she admitted.

Taking him to her bed once, twice, or however many times mattered not so long as it ceased once they returned to where they belonged. She just liked to see him finally breaking free of that hardened shell he encased himself in. He kissed her, then, and she forgot all about her hunger for food. All she hungered for was him. His fingers yanked at the curls at the base of her skull, forcing her head back so that he could kiss down her jaw and neck.

There were no words shared between them. Perhaps that would be too personal, too indicative of their wrongdoing. Neither took the time to undress, merely hiking up her chemise and shoving down his breeches. They fell backwards onto the bed just as he pushed himself inside her. She gasped into his mouth, digging her nails into his cheekbones and looping her legs around his waist to pull him close.

They continued at that pace until they were fully spent; collapsed upon one another. Daena yawned loudly, reaching her hand out to grab hold of the apple Aemond put on the plate for her. The generosity of it did not escape her; those apples seemed to be the only thing that made him even a shade of content. She took several bites of it before offering it out to Aemond. As though it were a natural sort of thing to do. And he took a bite from her hand, half convincing her this were a dream. When the apple was nothing but a discarded core and the bread nothing but crumbs, it was Daena who pounced on Aemond. Now that she had been given a taste, she was insatiable. And it seemed, so was he.

But, it was more languid this time. He did not hurry himself as he mouthed at her neck and began to pull at the strings on her chemise. She wanted to touch him, but quickly lost all means to do so when he pulled her chemise off and began to kiss down her torso. Her breath hitched at the base of her throat and delirium flooded her veins as she became enthralled in the pleasure she wrought from him.

“Seven Hells,” she groaned out, tossing her head back against the pillows.

She could feel Aemond’s lips curl upwards into a smile as he traced his tongue along her hip bone in response.

Much later, when they had tired themselves out entirely, he laid himself down beside her, resting his head on her bare chest. It was strange, how easy it was to simply be with him— and it terrified her as much as it befuddled her. But, then, it had always been easy with Aemond. They fell asleep like that, tangled together, pressed closer than close. Daena had never slept better in her life.

“I would never ruin you,” he spoke quietly against her collarbone one night some weeks later. She had long since stopped keeping track of the days as they passed, dreary and thunderous as they were.

Daena stilled beneath him. “What?”

“Your reputation,” he said, “I would never allow it to fall to ruin.”

For some reason, she believed him and kissed him hard on the mouth for the first time outside the thralls of passion. He returned the kiss with vigor and they fell asleep in the middle of it, which she had also never done before.

When morning came, she awoke to a thunderous roar outside her window. Gasping, she shot up and looked around, scrambling to pull her chemise over her head. She knew that roar. Barefoot and without any protection from the weather, she sprinted outside, past Aemond who was slowly blinking his eyes and sitting up from the commotion she caused. Toes digging into the mud, Daena ran from the house to Vermithor.

His bronze scales were like the rays of the sun amidst all the rain. Grinning, she flung herself forward.

“My brave boy,” she wept, pressing her forehead to his snout.

He snuffed and knocked his snout against her head. Laughing, she kissed one of his horns and stepped back to examine him.

“How is your wing, hm?” she asked, walking around to take in his form.

He flared his wings out as though to prove he was in perfect condition. She reached her hand out to stroke the wing that had been injured when they took down Vhagar. She could see the scar tissue, but the tendons were healed and strong. She could go home. As though sensing her realization, he tilted his head back, opened his jaws wide, and screeched so loud that the trees shook. His hind legs stomped the ground, as though he were preparing for takeoff. It was everything she wanted to hear.

“What are you doing?” Aemond shouted, standing in the threshold of the doorway.

Vermithor’s neck snaked around and he positioned himself firmly between Daena and Aemond. He remembered Aemond from the attack, and he did not trust the prince. Laughing at her dragon’s protection, she stepped forward and placed her hand on the underside of Vermithor’s jaw. He grumbled quietly and settled.

“Umbagon,” she ordered before walking back to the house.

Aemond was staring at her like he found her mad. At least that had not changed. She pushed her wet braids from her face.

“Vermithor is healed,” she said.

“I can see that,” he said. He held out a large blanket for her. “Come inside.”

Feeling the chill suddenly, she stepped in and allowed him to pull the blanket over her shoulders. His hands stayed on her shoulders, rubbing over her upper arms to help warm her. She furrowed her eyebrows and stared up at him. His face was pulled taut and there was concern evident, his lips pursed as he took care to help her dry off.

“What?” he asked, seeing that she was staring.

She cleared her throat and averted her gaze. “It’s nothing.” She smiled to herself and tilted her head to the side. “Well, it is nice to see you care.”

He frowned. “When have I ever given you the impression I do not care for you?”

That response took her by surprise. It was shockingly earnest, coming from him— but that had been a running theme with him in the last few days.

“Aemond,” she whispered, lifting a hand to his scarred cheek.

It was absurd and utterly mad of her, but a sudden shot struck her like lightning. It would be so very easy to love him. Her love for Sarya had not lessened in her time on the island, but there was merely more space in her heart than she once thought. She would never be able to pursue it, of course. She was betrothed and he… Aemond was a traitor and an attempted kinslayer. And all that to say, she still wanted him. Something sinister had overtaken her in the last three moons, sunken its claws into her skin and dripped its poison onto her tongue.

She was fond of him, desired him, enjoyed him, but she had a duty now that Vermithor was in flying condition. Aemond was a traitor and an attempted kinslayer, and she needed to bring him to justice.

“I will come quietly,” he said softly, reaching out and gingerly curling the loose end of one of her braids around his finger. She had a keen memory of her own fingers wrapped in his hair. “I will surrender and bend the knee if that is what you wish.”

“What I wish?” she echoed. “And what of your wishes?”

It was as though the island emboldened him, pulled apart his strong defenses and left him bare but more confident than she had ever seen him.

“I wish for whatever will keep me in your life, my lady.”

“You can’t mean that,” she whispered, hardly daring to believe it.

She was not immune to the effects of dashing confessions made, easily swept up in the romance of it all. It was her most foolish trait, but being aware of it did not subdue it. It only made her aware of the breadth of stupidity she was capable of.

“You took my eye. You took my dragon. Take my heart as well; it is yours.”

Her cheeks burned under the weight of his gaze and words. Mouth dry, she crafted the most intelligent response she could muster.

“I did not take your eye.”

He shrugged, as though his reasoning were the only sort that made sense. Perhaps he would have preferred it to have been her. Their injuries were settled like scores, canceling the other out— even if he had gotten off far worse than she had. In his mind, it should have been her, and so it was it seemed. Or that he held her in just as much blame as he did Luke.

“And as for Vhagar—” Her own voice betrayed her, choking off in an unbecoming squeal. “I wish I could have stopped you without killing her.”

Aemond looked away from her then, finally pulling his face from her palm. She tucked her hand back under the blanket he provided her as quickly as she could so as though it were never there in the first place. Then, he surprised her yet again.

“I know.” It was a simple thing. “I forgave you a long time ago.”

She furrowed her brow, a million and one questions racing about her mind, but she kept them to herself.

“You will come without fight or argument?” she asked slowly.

“I will,” he confirmed.

Bewildered and pleased alike, Daena observed him for a moment before ultimately deciding he seemed honest.

“Then we must dress. It is at least a half day’s flight from here to Dragonstone.”

They did not speak again as they readied themselves for departure. What was there to say, really? They had, for better or worse, betrayed their families and themselves by falling into bed with one another, and now fate had come knocking. They both knew that on Dragonstone he would likely face imprisonment at best. There was always the threat of execution, but Daena was not sure Rhaenyra, even at her most bloodthirsty and vicious, had it in her to be a kinslayer. No, Rhaenyra would not take her brother’s head, but she might strip him of all titles and inheritance and send him to the Wall where he could never be a threat to her again. And rather stupidly, Daena did not wish for that. Perhaps this was what Aemond wanted all along; for her to trust him, to vouch for him, to be more than fond of him.

That decided it for her. Upon arriving to Dragonstone, what happened here on the island would fade into the past. She would dedicate herself to whatever war effort there was and accept her fate as Queen after Rhaenyra. “Whatever claim to the throne I have left, you are it’s heir now. Both of you.” Daena would never be able to forget the sheen of sweat covering the older woman’s body, the way her face was scrunched up in pain and her voice quivered as she laid out commands for her oldest son and Daena.

There was a truth about Daena Velaryon that Sarya had always seen: For her family, Daena would sacrifice anyone and anything, including herself, and let the entire world burn to ashes. And as Aemond perched himself behind her on Vermithor’s saddle without complaint, she wondered if he saw it too. An unstoppable force meets and immovable object, and whatever happens in the aftermath is only nature. And yet, Daena did not think she would go so quietly if the roles were reversed.

“Sōves, Vermithor!” Daena yelled as loud as she could over the violent winds and rain, already soaked through to the bone.

Without complaint or hesitance, Vermithor roared and took to the skies.

Aemond and her did not speak for entire flight, and Daena was glad for the silence as the black sand beaches of Dragonstone grew ever nearer. It had been a year’s quarter since she left Dragonstone for Storm’s End, and war had been brewing when she did. There was no telling what they would find when they landed.

#aemond targaryen fic #aemond targaryen x ofc #aemond targaryen x reader #team black #hotd au #house of the dragon #hotd fanfic #aemond targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #jacaerys velaryon #cregan stark #jace x cregan #jacegan #jacaela #fic: fireplace ashes

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ventismacchiato · 1 year

Text

10 just playing the part — monopoly ruins friendships !

a/n: more filler 🫡 also typo in xiaos text,, supposed to be *going to i need to stop doin these when im sleep deprived

last day before audition announcements

“I can’t believe Venti fell asleep already,” Aether chuckles, nudging at Venti’s limp body laying on the floor.

“I’m on my own now,” you sigh, shaking your head in disappointment at your fallen teammate.

“Not for long,” Kazuha speaks up, “Childe and Scara are coming over.”

“This will be entertaining,” Hu tao snickers, looking at you.

“Kazuha, I’ll make you pay for that,” you huff, rolling the dice as he laughs.

The dorm to Heizou’s dorm opens and in walks the very person you’ve grown to strongly dislike. Though, much less now.

“Stop glaring at me,” Scara remarks, gracing you with an eye roll as he joins you on the floor beside you, the only other empty spot.

“Venti fell asleep so you guys can be a team or join Y/n,” Lumine says, holding up a player piece, “Who wants to be the race car?”

Childe snatches it and sends Scara an apologetic look, “Sorry, this is my moment.”

Scara gives you a side-eye as you both realize you’re both forced to team up. If only Venti hadn’t dozed off earlier…

Oddly, the game goes smoothly. An hour or two goes by with you two bickering over your next move but also using your desire to always be number one to demolish your friends. Despite being a theatre major Scara is surprisingly strategic with how he takes over more than half the board, much to Heizou’s dismay.

“Maybe your true calling is business,” you joke as you take over yet another property with him. You look over to see Scara not react to your comment, not noticing how Childe sends Scaramouche a knowing look.

“Ha, anyway it’s my turn—,” Childe starts, but is interrupted with Scara abruptly standing up.

“I’m gonna go,” he announces, placing his stack of money hastily in your palms before making his way to the door.

“I should go as well, I forgot the key to our dorm,” Childe chuckles, standing up, “Good game guys! We should do this again,” he smiles before quickly following behind Scara.

“Wonder what’s up with them,” you mumble, staring at the stack of bills in your hand. Was it something you said?

“Guess that means we have to start over!” Heizou excitedly cheers while everyone else groans simultaneously.

just playing the part !

masterlist — prev | next

the link y/n posted was just their spotify account </3

scara and y/n aren’t mutuals on any social media (yet)

scara and childe are dorm roommates, childe can afford a single dorm but he wanted to be able to annoy scara whenever he desired ^-^

scara gets sensitive over any mention of being a business major since his mother won’t speak to him after he announced he wasn’t going to take over her company and instead pursue acting

synopsis: you and scaramouche are both drama majors and have been at each other’s throats vying for the same lead roles since high school. but when you’re both cast as each other’s love interest in your second year you’re forced to be civil with your academic rival and see him in a new light. are his feelings for you true or is he just playing the part?

taglist — CLOSED: @monochromaticelliot @kaedear @stxrgxzxr @shirmxie @elakari @lacy-lady @linn-a-a @one-offmind @kithewanderingme @quepasoash @leathernourishingshoepolish @mangobee @lxry-chxn @dameofthorns @scarasaver @kythe1a @elysiasbae @hikaru-exe @tokkishouse @raiihoshii @cherrybeomgyu @kunikuzushiit @thenightsflower @lilneps @goodthingimsam @lovelyiez @fxllennx @beriiov @abvolat @kittycasie @b0bafl0wer @bubblyclouds @atlatcaheart @artssleepy @baelloraa @tartagli-yuh @satowaluverr @hangesextra @scaranaris-lil-niko @caffinatedcoma @wheneverthesunrise @hajimeseyo @itsyourgirlria @hyunrei @redactedhimbo @caliginous-skies @vinskyspuff @miissfortune @criminalinthemaking @scaramouches-girlfriend

author’s note: end of act one!

#genshin fluff #genshin imagines #genshin impact #genshin impact au #genshin au #genshin impact smau #scaramouche smau #scaramouche drabble #scaramouche x gender neutral reader #scaramouche x oc #scaramouche x y/n #scaramouche x you #scaramouche x reader #kunikuzushi x you #kunikuzushi x reader #just playing the part smau

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sicklyseraphnsuch · 4 months

Text

Jack starts babbling which is... funny. Hiccup is the babbler between the two of them. For all his flair and fun times, Jack is surprisingly introspective and quiet when he wants to be. Whereas Hiccup's anxiety explodes outwards, Jack just curls into himself. That's how he vanishes so easily from parties. When people go looking for him, expecting noise and a flurry of movement, less people notice him when he hushes up and falls behind.

There's an art to it, something that he - clumsy and awkward Hiccup - can't quite master. Jack can get any ball rolling, pushes it right off a cliff until people are carried away by their own laughter, swept right off their feet. Then in his cleverly created commotion, he just... slides right out, quick and clean and easy. People don't realize he's gone until hours after, when the ball finally comes to a stop.

So... Babbling. Hiccup does that. Jack doesn't. Learning about him takes an awful amount of patience, literally like waiting for water to thaw. He doesn't just talk talk talk. But he is, right now, about Nightlight. Because yeah, okay, Hiccup should have seen that coming. Jack would come apart about Nightlight - it's like Nightlight is a very important person to him, or something. As if Hiccup hadn't witnessed or listened to all the times Jack spoke about a missing part in him! Hiccup shouldn't be so surprised and now he's frustrated at his own surprise which is just... great.

"You... are not listening, are you?"

Hiccup blinks, finding Jack uncomfortably close. He jerks back. "Whoa! What? Yes, I was!"

"So you heard the part about me eating yellow snow?"

"You what?!"

"See!! You weren't listening!!"

Hiccup rubs a hand over his face. "Okay, fine. Sorry. I just... Wouldn't it be better to tell Nightlight about all this? Since he's your Other Half..."

Yeah, this is incredibly mature of him, honestly. He's not being petty at all, noooope.

Jack laughs that bright, tinkling laugh of his. Hiccup feels his stomach drop to his knees. He could listen to Jack laugh forever, he really could.

"Hic... I think... There's been a misunderstanding? But also it's hard to understand in the first place. I think the closest explanation would be... You know how Toothless is your best friend? Who understands you better than anybody? And at some point, you literally completed each other - him needing you to fly and you needing him to fly, that sort of thing? Well... It's like if you woke up one day and you had to share the same body."

Hiccup thinks this over, weirds himself out, then thinks it over some more. "I can... I can kinda imagine that?"

"Good, because my thing with Nightlight is only sorta like that. It's the closest thing but it's not exactly like that. For one thing, me and Nightlight never had separate bodies like this before. I never got to know Nightlight as someone outside of me. It used to be... hard sometimes, to see where he starts and I end. But... not in a bad way. He was - I was - We were something completely new. And now..."

Hiccup knows this part, grown familiar with this - the waiting. Jack has spoken more than he's ever spoken before, but Hiccup can tell that he's still only saying half of his thoughts. There's a lot more hiding under that shock of white hair.

"... Well, the point is... We're not together... like that. I wasn't, you know, flirting with you just for kicks and giggles."

Yeah, that makes sense. Of course, Jack... Wait. Uh. What. Wait. No. Wha- He? Then? At Hiccup? Huh?!?

"Aaaaaand I broke him. I think I broke him. Hiccup are you in there? Blink once for yes, twice if no!"

"You!"

"Me?"

"You - You - You said that men loving men was not done from where you came from!"

"Ah, yeah... But I also had like 300 years of experiences that were more or less coloring my perspective of the world, whether I realized it or not."

"You were flirting with me? Since when??"

Jack adopts a positively sly look. "Since... You showed me your big black dragon..." He wags his eyebrows. "... Then took me on a ride, up and down, and up and down."

Hiccup gives him a flat look, grabs Jack's hood and pulls it over his face. "Whenever you're ready to take this a little more seriously, just let me know."

Jack struggles briefly with pushing up his hood but when Hiccup finishes speaking, he pulls it further down, hiding his eyes. "Weren't you listening, Hics? I've... I've always taken this seriously. This, I mean - I've always been real about you, anyways. I..."

Oh. "Oh." Oh!

Jack shuffles back a few steps, hunching over, keeping his head low, and out of sight.

And Hiccup is... He isn't many things. But he does like to think of himself as smart, and... And he can put the pieces together - that he and Jack and Jack's Nightlight might have to stay apart.

#jack frost #hiccup haddock #hijack #frostcup #rise of the guardians #guardians of childhood #how to train your dragon

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thetomorrowshow · 5 months

Text

pulled over

empires superpowers au masterlist (not up to date)

takes place about a year after the end of ‘poisoned rats’.

cw: mentions of police, past abuse

He’s thinking about going back to school, honestly. He’s not sure what sort of career he’d expected to get with a degree in architecture—hopefully one where he got to plan cool buildings, but that clearly hadn’t worked out too well in his favor. And while he’d still like to do that—his sketchbooks are filled with designs of gothic-inspired houses and improbable city buildings—it’s an unpredictable enough job that he’s not sure what sort of hours it would be or if someone is even hiring.

Not to mention, he has money. He gets a pension from the city (an excessive amount, in his opinion), so he doesn’t really need a second job. Which is why he’s been thinking more about going back to school. More of something to fill his free time, really.

He’s not sure what degree he’d be looking for—computer science? Theatre?—and he’s just scrolling through the course options at ECU when he hears the jingling of keys in the door.

Usually when Jimmy enters the house, he calls for the cats and coos at them both, before planting a kiss on Scott’s cheek on his way to get down the box of Dreamies.

Today, the door shuts without any fanfare. The cats come running anyway, of course, and Scott opens up the tab for the glassblowing major before he registers that Jimmy hasn’t said anything yet.

He looks up. Jimmy is sitting on the floor, holding Norman close to his chest. His shoulders are shaking.

Scott’s up and headed over before he can even think about it. Once he does think, though, he realizes that Jimmy is on the floor and he is standing and with what seems to be a poor emotional state, that could trigger a flashback very easily.

He drops to the floor six or eight feet away from Jimmy, scoots along until he’s close enough to touch. Jimmy doesn’t react except to bury his face into Norman’s side, the cat letting out a quiet mrow? at the action.

“Jimmy? What’s going on?”

Jimmy sighs, and when he pulls away from Norman, his eyes are red. “I—I got pulled over,” he says, his voice cracking. “The left taillight is out, by the way.”

“Oh, baby. . . .” Scott wrings his hands, holds one out. “Good for me to hug you?”

Surprisingly, Jimmy nods, then places Norman down on the floor and lunges into Scott’s arms. Scott rocks back onto his heels, unsteady for a moment, before finding his balance and wrapping his arms around Jimmy.

“Did he ticket you?” Scott asks after a moment. Jimmy shakes his head.

“It was just—it was scary. I—I almost had to pull over again, m-my hands were shaking so bad after.”

“It’s okay. It’s okay to be scared.”

“I’m a grown man, Scott.” An angry tear slips from the corner of Jimmy’s eye, his eyebrows drawn in shame. “I shouldn’t be—I can’t be scared of the police. I just saw the—the stupid stick thing on his belt and—and the way he talked—”

“Most people are afraid of cops, dear,” Scott tells him, kissing him lightly on the forehead. “It sucks. Cops suck. I need to give Shelby a call, get her to really push for that reform. . . .”

Jimmy snuggles closer into Scott, awkwardly kicks off his shoes. Norman wraps around Scott’s legs, tilts his head up at the two of them.

“Wanna move to the couch? Your cat’s confused and I bet your knees hurt,” Scott suggests. Jimmy gasps and coos at Norman.

“Aw, hey, pet! I haven’t given you your treat yet, huh?”

Then he blinks. The smile on his face falters for just a moment. It’s quickly pasted back on, and when Scott tries to ask what’s up, he waves him off.

Jimmy stands shakily and slowly, tests his balance before following Norman and Elle to the kitchen. Scott waits until he returns, guides him to the sofa.

“How was work otherwise?” Scott asks.

Jimmy shakes himself. “Um, fine,” he says, leaning his head on Scott’s shoulder. “It’s—I don’t know how to describe it, Scott. It’s still a miracle every day.”

“Just working?”

Jimmy lets out a shaky sigh-laugh. “Yeah. Getting to put my hands in an engine and not have it burst into flame. It’s just . . . I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of it.”

The conversation falls into silence then, and Jimmy starts trembling again, so Scott searches for something, anything to say.

“Um, Joel said that you and a couple of friends are hanging out this weekend?”

“Right!” Jimmy brightens. “We’re heading out to that soccer field across from the middle school on the east side? Four or five of us are gonna kick a ball around for a while.”

“Anyone I know?”

Jimmy shrugs. “One of the guys from work, probably. I think fWhip said something about wanting to come? And one of Joel’s friends. Just a group who likes soccer.”

Scott frowns. “I thought Joel and fWhip hated each other.”

“They’re making up so they can team up against you,” Jimmy admits. “With their powers combined and all that.”

“I—what?” Scott sputters. “Is that why Joel was so obnoxious yesterday? He’s actively working with the enemy?”

Jimmy laughs. “fWhip’s not the enemy, he’s a vigilante. And yeah, they want to have a bit of a rivalry with you.”

Well, if anything it’ll be a fun bit of publicity. But Scott won’t take this lying down.

For the rest of the evening, they turn on whatever sitcom is airing and devise ways for Scott to strike back and not be made a fool of.

And when they go to bed, Jimmy’s shoulders have relaxed a bit, and Scott can breathe easier knowing that his boyfriend feels safe.

#empires smp #empires smp fanfic #flower husbands #scott smajor #jimmy solidarity #empires superpowers au #esh au #ew police officers #hm hm thinking about how xornoth employed off-duty officers to keep jimmy in line.#hm. just thinking about that #idk if i've brought up jimmy's job so far #if ive not ig that we'll find out!#121223 #lmk what you think #love you guys

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unholyverse · 4 months

Text

waterparks // alternative press issue #341

(full article text under cut)

WATERPARKS

THESE POP-PUNK UPSTARTS HAVE CATCHY SONGS, AN ENDORSEMENT FROM THE MADDENS AND AN UNIRONIC LOVE FOR HAIR DYE AND FUNKY-COLORED JELL-O. THEY ALSO HAVE A LOT TO PROVE-AND THEY'RE READY TO GET TO WORK.

STORY: EVAN LUCY x PHOTOS: JONATHAN WEINER

Awsten Knight knows what you're thinking: This time last year, his band, Waterparks, were veritable nobodies. You'd probably not heard their two EPs (2012's Airplane Conversations and 2014's Black Light), and the band's SEO was likely so suspect, there's no way a Google search would place the Houston-based trio above their hometown Wet 'n' Wild.

What a difference a trip around the sun. makes. Since late last year, the group scored a record deal with Equal Vision, picked up Good Charlotte's Benji and Joel Madden as their managers, performed at the 2016 APMAS and even graced the cover of AP's Warped Tour issue-all before releasing their first album. Along the way, they've cultivated a passionate (and ever-growing) fanbase, thanks to an irreverent sense of humor, insatiable work ethic and saccharine-sweet pop-rock sound. But as their star has grown, so have the rumors and confusion about just how they ended up on a collision course with success.

"I saw somebody online say, 'Isn't this that industry-plant band? Like we were made by a label or something." Knight remarks from Los Angeles, where he and his bandmates are putting the finishing touches on bonus tracks for their debut full-length, Double Dare, and filming a video for the album's first single, "Stupid For You." "People are always like, "Where'd this band come from? This band blew up overnight! That's really not the case."

Indeed, it's been a grind for Waterparks, who formed back in 2011 and, after years of hustle and hard work, got signed last year after a demo serendipitously ended up in Equal Vision's online submission box. Even today, as Waterparks—Knight, guitarist/vocalist Geoff Wigington and drummer Otto Wood-seem to have an indefinite amount of momentum and a limitless future, there's always some humbling experience to remind them the big time is still a few steps away. Look no further than their method of transportation for this summer's Warped Tour: a modified Sprinter van handily equipped with sleeping quarters- but no air conditioning.

"The van didn't have A/C until we got to the North, Knight remembers. "We did Texas and Florida, the whole South, with no A/C. People thought we were in a bus. It'd be like, 'Oh yeah, when you guys go back to your bus…" He laughs. "How can you be egotistical when you're sitting there in a sweaty van going, 'Fucking kill me?'"

Lifestyles of the rich and famous it isn't, but that's fine with Waterparks. They're used to surprising people, whether it's with their origin story or their music. A testament to both their artistic vision and desire not to be pigeonholed as just another pop-punk band, Double Dare sounds like an album made by three men raised in iPod shuffle culture. The album opener "Hawaii (Stay Awake)" skews toward more standard pop-punk fare (a sound that definitely provides a backbone for the 12 tracks that follow), but the band are quick to add bits of pop, electronica and (surprisingly) hip- hop to the melting pot, leaving Double Dare feeling instantly reminiscent, yet wildly unpredictable. There's the unabashed pop charm of "Take Her To The Moon," a DeLorean ride back to the scene's neon days that's awash in glassy synths; the biting "Little Violence," which takes aim at "fake-ass band guys," along with the now-defunct site AbsolutePunk; "Stupid For You," a roller coaster of vocal runs mixed with razor-sharp hooks; and the jittery "Dizzy," which combines mile-a-minute rapped verses with a towering half-time chorus.

Knight, a textbook over-writer, wrote and demoed more than 40 songs for the album, which the group whittled down to the 17 or so they actually tracked in Los Angeles with producers Courtney Ballard and Benji Madden. What makes Double Dare such an engaging listen is not just the songwriting, but the way Waterparks dress it up. Throughout the album, Knight's voice serves almost as a third guitar, cutting in and out and swirling around the mix to give things added depth and a secret sonic weapon their peers lack.

"Listen to Kesha," Knight implores. "People have heard a lead guitar a billion times-no one gives a shit about a sick guitar lead. What's going to sound sonically cooler to the average human: a lead guitar- which people have been hearing for the longest time- or the literally unlimited sounds I can cut my voice up into and make it [serve the same purpose]? It just sounds cooler."

As a teenager, Knight studied raps by the likes of Busta Rhymes and Ludacris (he even performed a cover of Fergie's "Fergalicious" at an early show), and he thinks it would be "sweet" to be in a boy band. "You have to stand out, otherwise there's nothing interesting about what you're doing," he explains. "We've always tried to do different shit. A lot of our songs are a pop-driven thing, but it's a band. Girl-pop, to me, is the best genre [in music]. Even if you don't speak English and you hear a Kesha song or a Katy Perry song, it's going to sound so good. The melody is everything: It sounds so happy. Put those songs next to whatever progressive metal band and their fucking guitar sweeps. That's the difference between being a band people like and being a musician's band. [Adopts nerdy voice] 'Oh, that time signature change, blah blah! No one gives a shit except nerdy dudes, and nerdy dudes aren't going to buy your record, anyway. I want to make shit my little sister and her friends would be into."

If Knight is that unabashedly honest about his musical intentions, the words he writes take it a step further. At its core, Double Dare is the antithesis to the public image Waterparks have cultivated over the years. From their irreverent music videos to any number of off- the-rails interviews (including some from this summer's Warped Tour where Knight donned a wedding veil), the band's public persona is that of perpetual Peter Pans. While that might be true (Knight frequently drops words like "butthurt" in conversation), the open-book nature of his lyrics here reveals life isn't all fun and feces jokes.

As such, the songs on Double Dare read like pages ripped from a personal journal. Whether he's dealing with crippling insecurity ("I wish I was as brave as my last name"), self-doubt ("And I'm doing all right/ But is 'all right' enough?/Because I'm living my dreams, but I live at home") or true love ("If you died, I'd hope you'd haunt me"), Knight's words are blunt, painstakingly detailed and instantly relatable. He might project as a court jester, but he's deadly serious about his art.

"There's a time when Awsten can be serious, and that's when he's talking about his music, Benji Madden offers. "In order to sell records or magazines, people feel like they have to be sensational or play a funny game. If you talk to Awsten about anything other than music, you'll get totally jokey, bullshit answers-which I love. But if you talk to him about music, he's a really smart, intentional, thoughtful guy."

"Being honest about it is the best way to go about it," Knight says of his songs. "I've never liked the vague lyrics, like, [jokingly sings] "I've gotta find my way. I've gotta get out of this place! All my favorite lyricists are killer with metaphors or are able to uniquely describe things. I like getting into things and being specific." He references the acoustic ballad "21 Questions," easily one of the album's highlights, but a song slated for the cutting-room floor until Madden stepped in. ("I feel like that song could be one of those scene classics," the Good Charlotte guitarist offers.) It's hard to imagine the album without it.

Outside of being a steady hand in the studio, the Maddens are the perfect mentors for Knight, Wigington and Wood. After all, it was 15 years ago that Good Charlotte went through everything Waterparks are currently navigating, claims of being a test-tube band and all. They've learned everything is cyclical, and they're passing on the lessons they learned to the bands they manage.

"They're so wise," Wigington explains in a separate interview. "You shut up and listen. They've told us, 'Hey, things are going to start getting weird. There will be things you haven't been used to, especially if you're out on the road! But they've told us to look out for each other and have each other's back and helped instill a sense of camaraderie so we can deal with whatever weird shit comes our way."

If their current career trajectory continues, things will be getting weirder and weirder in the Waterparks camp soon. The band have secured the opening spot on Sleeping With Sirens' fall tour, and they're already making plans well into 2017. With a new album ready and the furthest reaches of the scene at their fingertips, it seems like there's really no limit to how big this thing can get. It's already surpassed their wildest dreams in the past year; imagine what one more could bring. Not that it would change their demeanor, of course.

"I'd like to be able to live comfortably to the point where I could ride a bike into a swimming pool filled with Jell-O and have it not be a big deal," Knight says unflinchingly, when asked what success would look like for him. "I was thinking blue or purple because I like cooler colors. Red seems messy. Not yellow or orange, because I don't like those flavors as much. I used to be allergic to blue dye when I was younger, so I'd probably pick that just so I could be like, 'Fuck you." alt

#sorry i had to obviously edit the poster photo it's been yellowing from being on my wall #waterparks #awsten knight #geoff wigington #otto wood #i.zip #reading this and realizing they've become an antithesis to some things said here why why why

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madstheauthor · 11 months

Text

Don’t Call Me Aaron

Part 1:

WORDS: 1.5K

You and Hotchner have just been called to go and check out a new crime scene for the case you’ve been working on for about a week now.

“I can’t believe we haven’t been able to catch this guy yet,” Hotch says, frustrated, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “This makes six women dead now.” I get it. We’ve been doing everything we can but this unsub is still one step ahead of us.

“I know,” I tell him, “But we aren’t going to give up. He’s getting angrier, which means he may mess up and leave something at the scene that will help us.” I tell him with as much confidence as I can muster at the moment. I’m trying to be hopeful, but this guy has done everything perfectly. Not a sliver of DNA at the crime scenes besides the victims.

The team doesn’t know, but this unsub has hit close to home for me. I’ve never been able to tell them what happened. All they know is that my mom passed when I was 8 and my dad has never been around. Everyone has been trying to find him, especially Hotchner, I don’t think he’s slept since we arrived in the small town of St. Augustine, Florida.

In the three years I’ve been with the BAU, I’ve never seen an unsub get to Hotch the way this one has. I couldn’t tell you exactly what it is about this particular case, but you can see it on his face. He almost looks like he could explode.

“Hotch, I’m worried about you,” I tell him, looking up at his dark brown eyes. “You need to eat and you need to sleep. Those aren’t things you can just skip.” I just need him to take care of himself.

“How am I expected to rest when you-” he starts to say but is cut off when we pull into the driveway of the crime scene. Every police car in the state of Florida must be here. Hotch finds a place to pull over and we jump out of the car.

By the time my feet hit the asphalt, Aaron is halfway to the house, taking giant strides to get there like someone he adored was being held hostage in that house. I run to catch up with him and we walk in together. And as soon as my feet are over the threshold,

Blood. Blood everywhere. On the walls. Floor. Cabinets. If it’s in the kitchen, it’s covered in dark red blood. It looked as if a tornado had gone straight through the center of the house. Not a single thing looked as if it belonged. And right in the middle of the kitchen table, a kitchen knife, covered from handle to tip in the darkest, crimson blood I’ve ever seen.

I tried to hide the horror and fear on my face but I must not have done a good job because if I thought Hotch walked quickly into the house, he was dragging me out before I could blink. I couldn’t do anything but stare ahead of me, motionless. Trying to get my mind back where it needed to be.

“Go wait in the car. Now.” He said staring down at me. He almost looks, sad. I do what I can to keep myself from looking weak.

“Hotch, I’m fine, c’mon,” I told him, sounding surprisingly okay. I tried to walk past him back to the house. I didn’t make it very far though; he stuck his arm out to stop me dead in my tracks. “Aaron, this is my job, and you know I’m capable or you wouldn’t have hired me in the first place. This is important that we look over every detail. I want to find him just as bad as you.” I tell him frustratingly. I know he’s worried about me, but I’m grown, and I can take care of myself. What happened to me is not something I’m just going to forget. The next best thing is to work through it.

“I don’t care if you say you’re fine or not. You’re not needed here. That’s an order. Take the car back to the police station and help Reid with the geographical profile. I’ll get a ride from one of the deputies.” He hands me the keys with a deep sigh. “And don’t call me Aaron.” he ends, and goes back into the house. I walk angrily back to the SUV. I can’t believe he just did that. How am I supposed to help catch this guy if Hotch doesn’t trust me and my skills?

. . .

A few hours later everyone gathered at the police headquarters to look over the pictures from the crime scene. As JJ is flicking through all the pictures, I can feel someone’s gaze on me. I look around the room to see Aaron Hotchner, staring so hard at me that I was sure he could see straight through me. I decide to ignore it for the time being, but putting a mental note in my head to tell him to stop acting like I’m going to fall apart. I look back at the TV to see the living room of the house, which looked like a whole other house compared to the kitchen. Everything in the room was pristine like it had never been used, almost like nobody even lived in the house.

“So Hotch, did y’all find anything at the house?” Morgan asked.

“We did find a few fingerprints, Garcia is running them through the database as we speak.” He said, yet still looking at me. I’m so tired of him. He’s not my dad, and he needs to stop acting like he is. I never got the joy of having one of those. I’ve had enough.

“Well, we could have missed something since Hotch decided not to let me even look at the scene.” I told the group, but staring right at Aaron with boiling anger. I hadn’t even noticed my fists clenched at my sides until I could feel my fingernails digging into my palms.

“Why not?” Reid questioned, looking back and forth between me and Hotch. I’d love to see what he comes up with as a good excuse.

“Not that it’s anyone’s business, but she wasn’t needed. There were plenty of deputies there and I needed her here working on the geographical profile.” He told everyone. “It will take a few hours to get the results back from Garcia on those fingerprints, so everyone go home and rest, we will meet back here first thing in the morning.” I am exhausted and ready to be home so I can just sit in the silence. I need to be alone. I gathered all my stuff off the table and headed towards the door, but of course, it’s not that simple.

“Agent, a word please,” Hotchner says looking at me. Of course, I’m in trouble. And the group must have heard because they all turn and give me a sympathetic look before walking out and shutting the door behind them. I take a seat back at the table while Hotch continues to stand.

“What the hell was that?!” He inquires, with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Oh like you have no idea. You completely invalidated my skills today and made me feel like I wasn’t good enough to be on the team, Aaron” I spit back at him, sure to add his first name there at the end to make sure he gets the point. He starts walking in my direction and takes a seat directly next to me.

“I will not tell you again, do not call me Aaron.” He tells me through gritted teeth.

“Hotch I need to know why. Why did you send me back? I know I’m one of the best profilers in the BAU. I want to be treated as so, not like a five-year-old girl who needs her daddy.” I ask desperate to know the answer. I hate feeling like I’m not good enough, I’ve felt like that my whole life and things finally got better when I started working for the FBI.

“You want to know why?!” Hotch yells, standing again. He starts to pace around the room like he’s begging to get something off his chest. Something he’s been holding in since we got to Florida last week.

“Something is off about this case with you, I can feel it. And your face when you saw the crime scene, it was something I’d never seen in you before. I wasn’t going to sacrifice your well-being over this case.” He says, his pacing paused to gauge my reaction.

“Well that’s not your decision to make sir, I can figure that out myself. I am perfectly capable.” I tell him, swiftly standing from my chair to match him.

“What’s wrong, honestly?” He asks me, searching my eyes like they have the answer. But they don’t, I do.

“That’s none of your business, Aaron.” I spit as I grab my things and walk out, slamming the door behind me.

Part 1 to my series, writing part 2 now!! My first time writing, by the way, give me suggestions please on where I could take this story! Thank you! ❤️❤️

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traveler-at-heart · 2 years

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Spy Kids

Summary: A sort of sequel to “Oy with the rookies already”. Maria asks you to train Kamala and America.

Natasha Romannof x Super Soldier Fem!Reader A/N: Mentions of blood, some violence, Reader being a babysitter (lol). And, so much damn fluff. -

It must be a mistake

“Questions?” Maria says, hands on her desk. She’s smiling as if she didn’t just give you the worst news possible.

“Yeah, just one. What the fuck?”

“Agent…”

“Maria! You want me to run a summer spy camp for two teenagers”

“No. I want you to train two enhanced individuals to make sure they are safe” you hold her stare and she gives up. “And also evaluate if they’d be good assets for the Avengers initiative”

“Oh, so now we’re collecting them like baseball cards?”

“We need to know their abilities. And make sure they can at least be safe on their own, if they don’t want to join us”

“Isn’t one of them the founding member of the Carol Danvers fan club? Of course they’re going to join the Avengers if you ask”

“I’d still like to know what they can do. And given your success with Agents Belova and Bishop…”

Damn it. Who knew that would come back and bite you in the ass.

You think of all the plans you had for the summer. For the first time in years, it seemed like you’d have time off. Until now.

“And if I say no?”

“No one else has the time or capacity to do it” Maria shrugs her shoulders. “Don’t worry, I’m sure a 15 year old with powers and no training can hold her own.”

“Ugh. Fine” you snatch the file from her hands.

You just hope this time you don’t actually have a heart attack.

Natasha took the news surprisingly well. She thought it was cute that you were the designated babysitter for the summer.

“It’s good practice for when we have our own kids” she had casually mentioned, making you blush furiously.

She couldn’t possibly know…

You put those thoughts aside, plastering a smile on your face as soon as Kamala Khan walked to the foyer of the Avengers Compound… followed by an endless line of grown ups.

Relatives, perhaps?

“Will you be in charge of my beta?” a short woman approaches you. You’re at least one foot taller than her, but her gaze makes you feel small.

“Mom” Kamala hisses and then turns to you. “Hi. Sorry, I’m Kamala and this is my mother, my father, my brother, his wife and my friend Bruno”

“Well, nice to meet you all” you think of a way to politely remind them only Kamala can stay, but her mother pokes your side again.

“Listen closely. She will go to bed at a reasonable hour, will eat her vegetables and make sure you respect prayer hours. And no boys. Nod if you understand”

“I…” she raises her eyebrows and you shut your mouth, moving your head up and down. Before she can give you a new set of rules, a portal opens behind you.

“Alright, kid” Stephen Strange says, allowing America to go through the portal. He looks at you and gives a short nod. “Y/N. I trust everything will be going smoothly”

“Is this the Harry Potter man you mentioned?” Kamala’s mother points at him.

“Mom! That’s Doctor Strange”

“And I’m America Chavez” the girl offers her hand and you smile. Every member of Kamala’s family goes to introduce themselves and you end up tangled in a sea of names and waves.

“Alright!” you say, a little hysterical. “This is getting crowded. Say your goodbyes and follow me for a tour of the place and some quick team intros”

Everyone finally leaves and the two teenagers follow you, giggling excitedly.

Yeap, you’re definitely the nanny.

“Fighting stance” you say, stretching your limbs with a satisfied smile. Kamala raises one of her legs, like the dude from Karate Kid. With a simple push of your hand, she falls to the ground. “Congrats, you’ve been successfully kidnapped or killed. Whatever you want for this scenario”

“I’d prefer neither” she grumbles, standing up.

“Chavez?” you turn to the other girl. Her fighting pose is better, but you dodge her fist easily. Two more movements and she’s down on the floor.

“Alright. We’ll work on some basic balance and defense moves. Once we do that, you’ll teach me how you actually use some of your abilities and incorporate them to combat”

“Oh! Are we going to learn to use weapons?” Kamala asks excitedly.

“Absolutely… not. Let’s get to work, kiddos”

Two hours later and at least they’ve learned to duck when you throw a punch. When Natasha finally enters the gym, she finds you with your hands behind your back, counting the number of reps the girls are doing

“At ease, soldier” she chuckles, her chin resting on your shoulder.

“Hey, baby” you turn around, happy to see she’s back from her mission with Kate and Yelena. “How was the Rocket Team?”

“Blasting off at the speed of light, as usual” Natasha wraps her arms around your shoulders and you melt at the proximity.

“Yeah, well, prepare for trouble and make it quadruple” you sigh, turning back to the girls who are still doing push ups.

“You’re not playing mean with them, are you?” Natasha tsks and you actually feel bad. “They’re just kids, detka. Play nice”

“Yes, love”

She pecks your lips before stepping back and you want to whine at the loss of contact.

“I think you’ve had enough for a day” the Russian speaks to the two girls and they stand up, eyes wide.

“Yes, Agent Romanoff” America pushes the words out and Kamala catches the last part, echoing the words.

“Call me Natasha” the redhead winks and then turns to speak to you, loud and clear. “Catch you later, honey pie”

Blushing at her words, you look back at your new trainees.

“Only she can call me that, understood?”

“Yes, Ma'am,” Kamala mock salutes and you smile.

“I’m not sure this is what Maria had in mind” Natasha admonishes, but still smiles, leaning on her outdoor chair.

“Well, all I wanted to do this summer was relax so we’ll just have to compromise, won’t we?”

You’re both sitting outside, a cooler with beers and a plate of guacamole on a table between you. Natasha sighs and stretches her arms.

“The sky’s very pretty today” she peers up, her beautiful green eyes shielded by a pair of sunglasses.

“Very pretty, indeed” you agree, looking at her legs. You love it when she wears shorts.

“Eyes up here”

You both laugh, until a figure covers the sun on your side.

“Hey, Hill” you say with a cheeky grin. Her all black outfit is a very stark contrast to yours and Natasha’s shorts and tank tops.

“Just wanted to check how Chavez and Khan are doing but I see you’re taking it easy”

“They needed resistance training and I wanted some time with my girl” you smile. “It’s a beautiful day out, so why not do both?”

“Right, where are they?” the woman looks around, trying to find the girls. You pull out your phone and unlock the screen.

“They’re currently at… yeah, they’re finishing their second lap around the Compound. I set an obstacle course and all they have to do is get through it. See? Easy” your smile fades as soon as you see the girls coming back, looking like they’re about to pass out. Well, shit. Trying to distract Maria, you call her out again. “Hey, have some guac”

“No, that’s ok”

“I insist”

“It’s really good” Natasha chimes in, trying to control her laughter.

“Fine, weirdos” Maria grumbles, taking a chip and then dipping it in the guacamole. Her eyes are wide open when she tastes it. “Holy crap! This is really good!”

“Told ya” you smirk, frantically signaling for the girls to sneak behind, back to their rooms.

You exhale when they’re both out of sight, plopping back down on your chair. Natasha squeezes your shoulder, chuckling.

Ok, maybe you’d go a bit easier on them starting now.

All you bring back to the kitchen is the cooler with the empty bottles, since Maria decided to steal your plate.

Kamala is sitting at the kitchen island, facetiming her mother.

“I gotta go” she rushes to hang up as soon as you walk in.

“No, don’t stop on my account. Your mom will think I’m keeping you locked up”

“That’s ok, she can be overprotective sometimes” the girl rolls her eyes, but you can tell it comes from a place of love.

“Nothing wrong with that. It’s sweet”

“Not when you’re sixteen” Kamala laughs and you sigh.

“Boy, I was sixteen such a long time ago” you remember the music and the outfits with a distant smile.

“You’re like 30” Kamala says, confused and you snort.

“I’m a super soldier. Our aging process is a bit… slower” you explain and her eyes widen.

“Sorry, I forgot for a second”

“No worries” you clean around, making sure everything’s in place or you’ll never hear the end of it from Grandpa Steve.

After a few seconds, you feel the girl staring at the scars in your arm and legs, usually covered by your suit or everyday clothes.

“I didn’t mean to…”

“Kamala. It’s ok” you sigh. “Listen, a lot of the people here didn’t get to choose this life. We were forced into powers or skills we didn’t want. And it’s a lot to carry, but we try as best we can. Remember you have the chance to decide, ok? I don’t want anyone taking that away from you or America”

“Thank you”

You nod, feeling a bit exposed. You’re usually much more guarded around people you just met.

“Right, see you later for movie night?” you’re definitely not expecting Kamala’s squeal of joy. She runs back to her room, asking if she can pick the movie and wondering if there’s enough candy in the Compound.

“Movie night? Why am I not invited?” Yelena says, her accent thicker than usual.

“You’re always invited, little widow”

“Great! I’ll bring the vodka” she struts down the hall.

“They’re underage, Yelena!”

“That’s ok, I’m not sharing”

Later that night you find Yelena, Kate, America and Kamala sitting on the floor, giggling. You squint your eyes at the cups they’re holding.

“What is that?” you point to the two teenagers, eyes trained on Yelena.

“It’s soda. Gosh, you’re such a panty pooper”

“It’s party pooper, Yelena” you pinch the bridge of your nose. “And I am not”

“You can be” Natasha joins, kissing your cheek and smiling. She looks at the group. “Are we expecting anyone else?”

“No, Sam is visiting his sister, Steve and Bucky left on a mission”

“Girls night!” Kate and Yelena shout at the same time.

The next minutes are a blur of screams to coordinate the rest of the evening.

“I wish they were this effective for mission planning” you say, amazed. Girls night includes a lot of snacks, face masks, makeovers and in the end, an improvised race.

Kamala has created a sort of sliding board with her powers and now they are all taking turns going down the hill around the Compound’s green area.

“Are you sure you want kids? Seems like we already have enough children under our care” you say, looking at Yelena and Kate roll around in the grass after jumping from the board.

“Yes. I want to see you change diapers and read bedtime stories” Natasha says, leaning against you.

Kissing her temple, you go back to watching the girls. Now the four of them have climbed on the pink and purple board, hoping it will take their combined weight.

“Be careful” you plead. Natasha pinches your side, but a minute later you’re proven right. The group slides down at full speed, on their way to hitting a tree.

“I got this!” America shouts, opening up a portal… that leads right behind you and Natasha.

“Shit!” you cover Natasha with your body, her back on the ground. Four bodies fall on top of you, but you hold yourself up to not trap Natasha. “Everyone ok?”

“Yes”

“Great, now get off my back. Pronto” little by little, the weight you carry diminishes. Yelena is the last one to stand and you’re about to get up, when Natasha pulls you against her.

“Not so fast” she smirks as you land between her legs. Natasha takes advantage of your surprised gasp, meeting your lips in an open mouthed kiss.

“Baby” you moan against her neck, caressing the leg that is wrapped around your waist.

“Sooo gross, ugh” Yelena runs in the opposite direction, followed by the rest of the group.

You laugh against Natasha’s lips, happy that she’s always with you to make everything better.

“Clear” Kamala says, opening the door to one of the rooms.

“Wrong” you appear behind the door, shooting her with a Nerf gun. “One down. One to go” you turn to America but she’s faster than you expect, opening up a portal so the dart you shoot ends up hitting Kamala again.

“Dude!”

“I’m sorry”

“Ok, you can take a break. And then we’ll keep practicing until I’m out of darts. But hey… you’re both doing great, ok?” you encourage and the girls nod. You’re taking what Natasha said at heart and you are trying to be nicer.

When they get to the kitchen, they find a distressed Natasha.

“Is everything ok?” America is the first to speak, expecting a national security crisis.

“Oh, yeah. I just forgot a couple of things from the grocery store. Silly me”

“We could go if you’d like” Kamala offers.

“No, you’re busy training”

“Y/N gave us a break… and we’ll be fine. We have powers. And I’ve traveled through dimensions. What’s a trip to the grocery store?” America insists and Natasha smiles.

“Well, alright then”

The girls are giddy with excitement. They obviously take a little detour to grab ice cream, chatting as they reach the grocery store.

America adds a couple of snacks that were definitely not on the list and just as they’re arguing over which M&M’s are better, another voice chimes in.

“I think we should get both” you say and Kamala nods in your direction.

“Y/N is riii… what are you doing here?”

“Oh, I’ve been following you since you left the Compound. Not once did you notice my presence” you smile, leaning against the shelf.

“Have we failed all tests?”

“Relax, you’ve been training for two weeks. It’s a process. Now hurry up so we can go back in time for dinner” you wink at them and they smile.

“About the M&Ms?” America grimaces and you roll your eyes.

“Bring both, but don’t tell Kate, because I always make her choose”

And yeah, you were testing them but maybe, just maybe, you wanted to make sure they were safe as well.

Kate and Yelena are actually great teachers. You smile as they teach America and Kamala some of their own moves.

“That’s good, yes America Chavez” Yelena compliments and the girl smiles.

“Why, thank you, Yelena Belova”

You let them go on for another half hour, until you look at your clock. There’s something you need to pick up before the shop closes.

“Alright, cardio and then hit the showers, stinky minions” you say and the girls laugh.

“That would make you Gru” Yelena points out and you show her your tongue.

“I just need to drink some water” Kamala asks, reaching for her bottle. She spits a second later, coughing. “Oh, my God, this is definitely not water”

“Sorry, that’s mine” Yelena says sheepishly.

“Nice, vodka for training. You ok, Double K?”

“Double K? We never got cool nicknames” Kate whispers.

“Am I drunk?” the girl yell whispers and you chuckle.

“No, you’d need a lot more than that… don’t tell your mom, though. She’ll kill me”

“Let’s get you up” America offers her hand. You’re about to say something else when Maria walks into the gym, a grim look on her face.

“Agent Y/LN. There’s an urgent mission” she says and you sigh. Yelena’s head snaps up.

Lately, you only go on missions if it’s really bad.

“You can read the report on your way there” Maria says.

“That bad, huh?”

She confirms with a nod and you sigh.

“Hey, Yelena? I need to ask for a favor” you say with urgency and she nods.

“You’ll be back soon, right?” Kamala seems alarmed, but you smile.

“Yeah, no worries. I’ll be back in a day or two, kiddo”

The girls nod, but Yelena knows better.

Still, you wish for it to be true.

Two days turned into six.

By the time it was all done, you were operating automatically, trying to lock away everything that happened somewhere very deep down your mind. A place where all the terrible memories lived.

You could have gone to the Compound directly, but you didn’t want the girls to see you like this.

Unsurprisingly, Natasha had anticipated this and was waiting at the safe house. When you first opened the door and your eyes met green ones, clouded by concern and fear, you wanted to turn back and run away.

But you had promised each other to be open. And trust.

So you trusted, stepping inside the small house.

“You’re…” she says, her voice small.

“It’s not my blood. I’m gonna get cleaned up. Ok?”

“Ok”

The suit stays on as you turn on the shower. You stand there for twenty minutes, watching as the blood and the dirt get washed away.

“Detka. The water is cold. Come here” she pleads, removing your clothes and trying to get you to snap back.

Hours go by.

Everything comes back as you look down at your clean hands, a stark contrast to the mess they were before.

They’ll never be clean.

You cry and hold on to Natasha. She’s the only one that understands.

“I don’t ever want them to feel like this” you whisper into her hair and she knows what you mean.

The next morning, you go straight to Maria’s office.

“I don’t need a debriefing now” she says, her voice soft.

“The summer camp, whatever the hell you called it. Stops now. I won’t actively encourage them to go through this”

“You saved an entire city” Maria reminds you.

“A family… didn’t make it. You know that”

“So you’d rather not save anyone at all?” she questions you. “Hell, even if you don’t train them anymore they could ask to be in the team when they grow up”

“It stops. I’m out”

You both stare at each other for a minute, and you know she’s sizing how serious you are. Maria sighs defeated. There is no middle ground, not anymore.

“Fine. But you’re telling them”

“Ok”

Yelena finds you in the hallway.

“You ok?” she squeezes your arm and the gentleness of her voice makes you want to cry, so you only nod, looking down. “It’s safe in my room, for when you need it, ok, seestra?”

Oh, shit.

“I completely forgot”

“Come find me later and we’ll think of something. But you should really get to the kitchen now, yes? Eat something. Papa says it’s good for you”

“Thank you” you pinch her cheek and the playful move makes her smile, comforted at seeing you joking.

There’s another surprise waiting for you in the kitchen. Kamala, America and Kate are cooking breakfast; they turn around and their smiles are bright at the sight of you.

Now you understand why Maria asked you to tell them.

Damn her.

“Hey, kiddos” you approach slowly. Natasha eyes you curiously, sipping her coffee and reading the paper. She’s the only one that knows about your talk with Maria.

“We missed you. And thought you’d like some breakfast” Kate smiles.

“We have chocolate chip pancakes, scrambled eggs with bacon…”

“I made carrot pudding. It’s kind of like a comfort food for me” Kamala explains shyly.

You’re pretty certain you’re about to cry so instead, you drag the three of them to your arms and hug them.

“Oh, wow, she’s really strong” America says, struggling to breath.

“We need air, soldier” Kate pleads and you let them go.

“Hey, let’s fly the Quinjet today” you propose and the teenagers squeal.

“Really?”

“Yeah, it’ll be fun. But don’t throw up or anything” you grimace at the thought.

“Can I be copilot?” Kate says, pretending she’s cool if you say no, but you nod and she dabs. “Yes”

You roll your eyes, going to sit next to your girlfriend. You bring her hand to your lips, a silent thank you for taking care of you.

“Are you going soft?” she whispers and you chuckle.

“Maybe. Don’t tell anyone, though”

“Your secret is safe with me”

Choosing to inform Maria the training will continue over text is better. You know how smug she gets when she’s proven right.

Later that day, you find Yelena at the gym, the rest of the team training as well.

“Troops, I’m calling for a meeting”

Kate, Yelena, Kamala and America gather around you.

“I have a mission for you”

It’s a beautiful day outside, and a perfect excuse to drag Natasha to Central Park Zoo along Yelena, Laura and the Barton bunch.

Steve, Sam and Bucky are carrying some of the tables while Kate and America hang the fairy lights around the trees.

“Looking good” you give them a thumbs up and walk over to Tony, setting up the last of the mini golf course. “Everything good, Stark?”

“Mechanism should be ready” he points at the little course, four separate roads leading to four holes. “Each time Red gets a ball inside a sign will turn”

“Signs are almost ready!” Kamala interjects, working her design magic.

“You nervous?” Tony slaps your shoulder and you nod.

“Well, it’s only one of the most important moments of my life”

“Don’t worry, we’ll all be watching from inside, cheering for you. And judging you if you screw up”

“Nice, Stark” you roll your eyes but smile.

By the time Natasha’s back, everything is ready and you steady your breathing, acting as if it’s just another afternoon.

“How was the zoo?” you greet when she walks into your shared room.

“Yelena tried to steal a penguin”

“So, the usual”

“I’m really sorry, detka. I wanted to stay with you today but Lila and Cooper gave me those puppy eyes”

“It’s fine. Got some work done. Want to take a walk around? It’s still nice outside”

Natasha eyes you a bit intrigued but agrees, so you go out after taking a quick shower. You offer your hand, leading her to the front entrance, away from the setting. There are a few things you need to say before you get there.

“Remember our first date?” you finally speak and she laughs.

“I remember how you asked me”

“Oh, yeah” you snort, blushing at how bad that was.

“We’d barely made it out of that Hydra base, battered and bruised”

“And I asked what was the one thing you always wanted to do but never got around to doing” you reminisce.

“I said playing mini golf. And you…”

“I said all I ever wanted was to ask you out on a date”

“As if it was so scary” Natasha rolled her eyes.

“It was at the time. Trusting someone, opening up. Love. But you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me”

“Stop” she blushes and you laugh.

“There’s something I want you to see”

You finally reach the spot and it looks amazing with the lights on. The little mini golf set up is on. You look up, the entire Avengers team eagerly waiting by the window.

“What’s this?” Natasha says, looking around. Then her eyes land on you and you shuffle, anxiously. “You are going soft”

“Oh, well. Now, come on. I want you to play”

“Mini golf with a trained spy? My aim is impeccable, you know”

“Especially when you’re pissed. But you’re not now, are you?”

“No, just very happy” she pecks your lips and you blush. “Alright, watch me beat your super soldier ass, babe”

“Oh, nice one, Tasha”

Natasha chuckles, hitting the first ball. It ends up going to the last hole. A sign turns around.

Me?

Another ball goes, hitting the second hole.

You

“You, Me?” Natasha reads, trying to make sense of it. Fortunately, she hits the first hole and there’s a new sign.

Will you ___ me?

“Baby”, she turns around, her arms going around your neck. “All of this to ask me to fuck you?”

“What?”

“Will you fuck me? Such a romantic” she chuckles against your lips.

“Stop being a smartass and finish the game, Romanoff. There’s one more sign to go”

“I love you” she whispers against your lips.

She knows what you’re about to ask, that’s for sure. But you let her finish the game anyway, kneeling when the last sign turns.

“Will you marry me?” you ask, and this is the most terrifying thing you’ve ever done. You hold the ring Yelena kept safe before you left for that last mission.

“Of course I will” Natasha answers, breathlessly.

Your hands are shaking when you slip the ring down her finger and she smiles, admiring it.

“I love you” you pick her up, kissing her, hoping she understands she’s your entire world.

Everyone joins you then, congratulations going around. You pretend you don’t see Kamala and America toasting with that very expensive champagne Tony brought.

Natasha is showing the ring to Laura and Lila, speaking about how she had no idea you were all planning this.

“Is that why you tried to steal the penguin?” Kamala chimes in.

“Uh… sure” Yelena nods unconvincingly.

You roll your eyes, as the team keeps celebrating with food and drinks.

“Glad you made it” you greet Maria, who is once again enchanted by your magic guacamole.

“So this is what you were planning on doing with your summer? I would have totally understood, Y/N”

“Don’t worry about it. It ended up being perfect” you say, turning to the girls. Apparently, this is the first time they’ve met Peter and America is asking for proof that he doesn’t shoot webs out of his butt.

“They have a long way to go, don’t they?” Maria smiles.

“Yes. But I’ll be there every step of the way. And maybe, the world will be a lot kinder to them”

The rest of the night feels like something out of a dream.

Natasha Romanoff will be your wife.

Before the Bartons leave, Tony sets the helmet at one of the tables, programming it to take a picture.

“Family photo” he announces and everyone gathers around.

“America, Kamala, get over here, quick” you ask, pointing to the spot next to you. The girls beam, hugging each other.

“At the count of three, I want everyone to say…” Tony instructs and you all laugh.

“Assemble!”

#Natasha Romanoff x Reader #Natasha Romanoff x you #Natasha Romanoff x y/n

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