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#but still young with only 7 years on the path
lordgrimwing · 21 hours
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The Big 5-0-0
(Or, Glorfindel has a gift for his husband)
[for Glorfindel Week, hosted by @glorfindelweek, Day 7]
“Five hundred years!” Exclaimed the shocked tavern keeper.
Glorfindel shrugged as he helped the Man lift the roasted lamb from the cooking fire that also heated the dining room. “Five hundred years is not so long for elves.”
The Man scoffed, taking up a towel in one hand and pushing the steaming carcass from the spit. She wagged a finger at him. “For an Elf with a thousand years ahead of him, maybe, but any marriage that endures longer than kingdoms ought to be celebrated to the fullest.”
A thousand more years felt like pitifully little time to Glorfindel. He certainly would take every opportunity to celebrate every memory if he knew his time in Arda was so limited. How Men, who were lucky if they lived within a stone’s throw of one hundred, went their whole lives without bursting into song and dance in celebration of existence, he’d never understand. 
“I saw that horse you rode here on, so don’t bother saying you don’t have the means to throw a proper party.”
Asfaloth, being an Elvish steed, demanded a certain level of finary when he went out. The bells, however, were entirely Glorfindel’s idea.
“Erestor detests parties, and he says adorning a horse in gems and bells will get me killed—again!” 
She snorted at the jest, passing Glorfindel a platter for the meat he was stripping from the bones, unbothered by the heat that would burn her hands. “And in five hundred years, have you learned only what he dislikes and nothing of what he likes?”
He smiled softly. He knew much of what his beloved liked.
“Should I call all those men back in and ask them to recount tales of wives whose husbands didn’t bring them an anniversary gift?” The tavern keeper threatened. 
She’d cleared the dining room of local patrons until the meal was ready. The gleaming Elf-lord had garnered more raucous attention than she liked when it was her building, table, and chairs at risk, and it hadn’t felt right to ask him to wait in his room until everyone was distracted by good food. The other Men went willingly enough, though Glorfindel could still clearly hear them milling about outside.
“That won’t be necessary, good lady,” he said. “Duty brought me this way, but I made time to find something he will treasure.” He patted the purse tied to his belt.
She shot the purse a dubious look, doubtlessly skeptical that anything that fit in a small bag could adequately encompass the magnitude of a couple’s 500th wedding anniversary. 
“Well,” she settled on. “Don’t say no one warned you if he kicks you out on your ear.”
--
When Glorfindel finally arrived in Imladris, Erestor met him in the narrow pass leading down into the valley, too impatient to wait longer.
“My brightest night star!” Glorfindel said, alighting from Asfaloth’s saddle to sweep the loremaster into his arms. He planted a kiss on his forehead, thrilled by the absence of an audience to their reunion: Erestor disliked people kissing in public almost as much as he disliked parties. “Oh, how I’ve missed you.”
Erestor huffed but did not pull away. Reaching up, he pulled Glorfindel’s head down to return the kiss, leaving his husband blushing with excitement. 
“You took your time, Dandelion,” the black-haired Elf accused when they separated. “Elrond expected you back a fortnight ago.”
“I admit to tarrying longer than needed for the task he gave me,” Glorfindel said, leading the dusty stallion as the lovers continued down the path hand-in-hand. “But I promise it was not without reason.”
“It had better be a good reason, and not just that you had to climb some mountain to return one of Manwë’s foolish birds to its nest.”
Erestor was with him on that particular occasion, about fifty years before they married, though he had no interest in scaling the last cliffs to return the unfledged eagle to her home. Glorfindel insisted on it, knowing the young bird couldn’t survive the fast-approaching thunderstorm alone in the open and was too wild to keep in with them until the weather cleared. Trusting his skill and light step, Glorfindel climbed alone, the bird wrapped in a cloth to keep her wings and talons contained and secured in a sack over his shoulder, only her head poking out. The task wouldn’t have been challenging if not for the storm. He made it back to the sheltered test just fine, reassuring the flustered eagle parents with a song as he freed their lost eaglet. On the way down, however, his hands split on the rain-soaked stones and fell—only a few feet down to the next ledge, true, but it was enough to leave his heart pounding and senses ringing with the echos of dragon-thunder and flash of balrog-whips overlaying the storm. 
Erestor threatened to knock him out and tie him up the next time such madness came over him when he eventually made it back to safety, dripping wet and jumping at every clash of thunder that came too close. Glorfindel agreed to let him.
“Oh, no, you will find this delay was entirely to your liking,” he promised.
“A lofty claim, indeed,” Erestor said. “I will require proof.”
“When we are both safely home and done with our duties, I will show you.”
--
Glorfindel was sitting, comfortable and cozy, in bed with his embroidery when something hard bounced off his head and landed on the covers next to him.
“I cannot believe you!” 
Erestor’s sitting in an armchair by the window, using the last rays of the setting sun to inspect his gift—Or he had been. Currently, he was standing, slate tablet in one hand, the other still extended from slinging the little dog figurine from the side table at the golden-haired fool sitting in bed. His face was scrunched up, mouth pinched like he’d bitten into a lemon (except he usually had too much self-control to ever react to the unassuming citrus, but the comparison was good enough). 
“Where did you find this? How did you find this?” He brandished the old slate aggressively, for a moment looking as though he might throw it too.
Glorfindel set aside his project. “Is it not to your liking?” 
Perhaps he’d misjudged entirely and he would end up out on his ear just like the tavern keeper warned.
“Not to my liking? Not to my liking?” Erestor lifted the tablet high, gesturing to the small drawings on it with his other hand. “Sunflower, The elf who made these stories died four thousand years ago. How did you come by this?”
He sounded more shocked than angry, and Glorfindel relaxed. “Through much patience and the exchanging of many letters with various collectors of first age relics. I made a detour to collect that on the way back. That’s what delayed my return.”
“Did it not cost a small fortune? I spied no gems missing from your horse’s daft accoutrements.” 
A grin broke across Glorfindel’s face. “I dare say it is worth as much to you.”
Softness spread across his husband’s face and he touched the old slate now with tender, almost reverent fingers as he caressed the time-warn drawings. His eyes clouded with old memories of the past rarely recalled from the careful places he stored them in. “I laughed over this depiction of Lords Celegorm and Curufin when it was only days old! I helped Vekkawë hide his collection in our mattresses when Captain Crímainya came to destroy the ‘defaming misinformation’. I thought I’d never see one again after the Valar sank Beleriand.”
Eyes clearing, he brought the tablet, with its child-like depiction of long-gone beloved lords, to his chest and said, “This is a great treasure. No fortune can take it from me.”
Glorfindel laughed. “I’m glad the Dwarf I bought it from did not know the true value, then, for I am not sure I could have gotten it honestly for that price and would not have departed without it.”
Erestor snorted, muttering “Six pounds of that hideous tack you insist on dressing your horse in would have covered it, no doubt” as he turned away for a moment of privacy to wipe his eyes clear before he accidentally shed tears over the small remnant of his past.
“Asfaloth cannot be parted from his gems when he is afield.” 
Glorfindel opened his arms, and Erestor—after setting the tablet carefully on the side table like it was as fragile as a hollow dove egg and not slab or stone almost as old as the world itself that had survived devastations and travesties unnumbered—fell into his embrace. 
They spent the rest of the night in bed, though neither got much sleep.
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feral-ballad · 1 month
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“My name is Nour Saqer, for the name remains when all is lost. I turned 22 years old last November. Yes. My youthful time was wasted on horrible days. Yes. Those days still continue.
My name is Nour Saqer. And I am 22 years old. I am a fifth-year dental student at Al-Azhar University of Gaza. I am an aspiring student. I am eager and passionate about my studies. Until the last minute, I was allowed to stay at my house on Oct. 7th. 2023 I was still working on a scientific research proposal that was supposed to be published by me and my teammates of young researchers late in November, that year.
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This picture of me was taken late 2022 during an international dental conference held in campus.
During my college years alone. Me and my family have had to forcefully evacuate, and run out of our house four times. In 2019, 2021, 2022, and finally in 2023. Each time was in fear of the same threat; meeting our deaths under rubble. My name is Nour Saqer. And I have always been a Gazan. Each of those past times. If we were fortunate enough, we would discover that our home was in repairable damage. There would be a roof over our heads still. We were still fortunate. We still had luck.
But ever since October 7th. I haven't returned home. We were among the first families to evacuate Al-Rimal neighborhood from the very first day of this genocide, we had to turn our backs to it and expect no return. Two floors of my family house, along with my father's store, and only source of income, have been severely destructed due to neighboring missiles. And my university buildings were heavily exploded. All forms of life have been reaped from my city. My hometown.
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This is what's left of our campus. I was supposed to have my graduation ceremony here.
My name is Nour Saqer. And I had an enthusiastic heart. And an energetic body. I played sports and walked down every street until I couldn't. I loved my family and friends dearly. I wrote poems about them. I spent time loving them and cherishing their presence. I loved life with all its little things. With all its unattainable things. I loved the grass and the tall buildings. And I loved all people. I loved my people. All their faces. All their talents. All their hidden lives. All we shared. Until we didn't. Everything I have ever loved I lost.
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This picture of me was taken during a happy moment on the roof of our house.
This is all that is left of that picture now.
I am currently sheltered in Rafah with my family of 7. Sharing a place with 30 other homeless people. By the end of Ramadan, me and my family would have to evacuate and seek shelter for yet the 8th time due to housing problems. I am so tired of not having any sense of stability. Nothing to guarantee. Nothing to call my own. Every passing minute the situation in Rafah gets worse. Every passing minute I am losing loved ones and relatives. Every passing minute costs me my sanity. Costs me health. Costs me my basic rights to simply live.
I have nothing left to lose or pay the price with except for my life.
I don’t know how to retell my life story in limited words, how to make the most ordinary moments sound precious. How do I equate my value to someone deserving a life of safety? How do I shape myself as someone worth saving?
I have been interviewing myself for days. All my stories are choking me. All my grief is piling up and muting me. I keep trying to find a way to present the best of myself. To make myself someone you'd want to look at. Listen to. And even more,
Help.
I am finally placing both hope and faith in your helpful hands. I am asking you. Please put an end to this continuing tragedy. And help me get to safety. Before it's too late.
It should be in your knowledge that:
It costs $5,000 per person to get out of Rafah through the Boarder Crossing to Egypt. The rest of the donations will be to secure my tution money for the fifth and final year of dental school.
Thank you.”
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grandline-fics · 2 months
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Hi! Hope I’m no bother but I fell upon your blog and I couldn’t help but love it. I wondered if I could have a hcs, drables, one shot, any format who arrange you, with Shanks and Mihawk (Sorry if you aren’t comfortable with those characters, pick up other if you prefer) who meet their first love after years and years of no see? I heard a lot that you will forever love your first love, so I wondered how they would reacted to meet them/her once adults and mature. They stay with their first genuine love quite a long time, 5-7 years, and broke up for no real valid reasons, just because they were young and else, they met their first love maybe at 16-17 yo. Sorry my English is awful :,)
DESCRIPTION: You’re their first love and reunite after so many years
WARNINGS: none
CHARACTERS: Mihawk, Shanks
WORDS: 2,388
A/N:  Sorry I've gotten so behind on these, it's been a rough few weeks but I'll hopefully be back on track soon. Thank you for this request. I really hope you like it!
*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*
MASTERLIST
———————
MIHAWK
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Love wasn’t a word Mihawk considered to be heavily used in his vocabulary. Some would call him heartless and cruel but he was a realist. If anything he thought the world overused it to the point of it losing it’s depth and importance which was why he tended to rarely let it fall from his lips. Yes he had ‘lovers’ from time to time but were they ever considered someone he loved? No. None of them even came close to that. How could they when the one that had claimed his heart, the one that taught him the true meaning of the word love, was you. 
Although it had been so many years, the memories he had with you were still so clear and sharp that they could have rivalled any blade. Your paths had crossed at the very beginning of his travels across the world in the hopes of training and claiming the title of the world’s greatest swordsman as his own. He had been pointed to your home by the locals after asking who the best sword fighter was, eager to add another victory to his steadily growing list. However when he appeared at your home he was a little thrown to find you tending to a small plot of farmland. Mihawk knew you were the only one living here as the locals had told him that much, so there was no confusing you were the one he was looking for. He wasn’t expecting someone who looked as young as him to be his supposed opponent. Still he was proof that age had no bearing on talent. So he challenged you.  
Quickly he was thrown once more when you lifted your head from your work to fix him with a look he’d never forgotten. Your eyes were bright and silently assessing and whatever it was you saw in him made your lips quirk into an amused smirk that in his youth had made Mihawk skin prickle with an unfamiliar warmth. He could only watch as you rose with the basket of freshly pulled vegetables in your arms and firmly refused his challenge and walked towards your house. He’d never been refused before and demanded to know why, following you inside. “I don’t need to give you a reason.” Had been your cool reply before you looked over your shoulder at him. “I just don’t want to.”
“I’m not leaving until you fight me.” Mihawk had boldly declared, the intense sincerity of his words causing you to laugh. At the sound, he had originally bristled but it wouldn’t be long before he found that it was his among his favourite things in the world. True to his word, Mihawk had stayed on the island far longer than he had intended. Every day he came to your home and challenged you. Every day you refused and watched him storm away. Eventually though after your refusal you would invite him to stay; sometimes to share something to eat, or even to go on a walk, or to help you with your chores. At first he hadn’t understood why he so readily spent the time with you but then he did. He wanted to be with you more than he wanted to fight you. When he realised that, his time with you each day grew more and more until he didn’t go and stopped challenging you completely. 
You loved him completely and never wanted to be apart from him, because even though you were both young you knew what you felt was real and unshakable. However you knew that it wasn’t right. He couldn’t remain on a tiny island when his ambition lay out in the large and unseen world. As much as it pained you to do so, you insisted it was time to stop things. Mihawk had to go and become the greatest swordsman and you had to stay on the island because as it stood, you were the only one that could protect the others living there. Your reputation kept many away but as Mihawk had proved, some would come looking for a fight or to cause harm to the innocent. Begrudgingly Mihawk saw the sense in your words and he left but you were never forgotten. 
Now here he stood in some nowhere town on some random island, watching you talk to an elderly woman tending to a flower stand in the middle of the market square. It was you, he knew it was you. Time had aged you like the finest of wines, your beauty matured for all to see. Then you laughed and it proved what he’d already known. After all this time without you and even though any free moment he had he thought of you, to see you now and know that you were just a few feet away from his touch he couldn’t help but let his mind wonder about you beyond his fondest memories. What if you’d married? What if you didn’t remember him? What if you didn’t want to see him? 
When you said goodbye to the woman and started to walk away, Mihawk found that his previous worries disappeared instantly, not wanting to risk losing this chance. Immediately he set off through the crowd in the direction you went in. Thankfully you hadn’t gotten too far and when he was close, his hand lightly touched your shoulder and took a step back when you turned suddenly to face him. 
Your expression flickered from confusion to shock and then joy at the unexpected sight of your first love standing in front of you. It gave Mihawk a feeling of relief to see the smile light your face before your expression became playful. “Well? Aren’t you going to ask me?” Mihawk blinked in confusion but quickly he realised you meant a challenge and let out a small breath of amusement. Slowly he shook his head. 
“No, I just don’t want to.” He answered simply, smirking when you finally stepped closer and slid your hand around his arm.
“In that case, I’m not leaving you until you do.” Mihawk chuckled and started walking down the street with you. Finally reunited with the only person he ever loved? There was no way he was going to let you go again. 
SHANKS
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When Shanks was young he never fully understood why Roger, Rayleigh and the other older members of the crew got so distracted and frankly stupid in his opinion when they were around ‘attractive’ people when they were visiting an island. It always went beyond just enjoying being off of the ship for a while and making friends. Curious one day as they sailed on a calm stretch of water, he turned the question to the vice-captain who laughed at the question. So Shanks pressed more. “It just doesn’t make sense. What’s so special about them that makes you all so goofy and red faced? The Marines would lower your bounty if they saw you like that, the Captain too.”
“Oh, you’ll understand when you’re older Shanks.” Rayleigh told him with another laugh and light clap on his shoulder. Still that answer wasn’t good enough for him and he stared at the older man. If he was old enough to ask the question, surely he’d be considered old enough now for an actual answer. Seeing that the issue wasn’t going to drop, Rayleigh relented just a little more and sighed. “Look Shanks, it’s a little hard to explain but it’s another way of enjoying life and our adventures. We don’t know how much time we have at sea before finding a new island so it’s best to enjoy all it has to offer. Company with attractive people who feel the same about you is another aspect of that.”
“Doesn’t it make you sad though? You never see them again. Don’t you miss them?”
“Not really. It’s not love and they know that.”
“Huh…” Shanks felt even more confused then. The older crew always had a sickly loved up expression during the encounters he’d witnessed before they disappeared with their new ‘friends’ for the evening. So if it wasn’t love what was it? More to the point a new question came out of his mouth. “So what does love feel like?”
“Love? What’s with the hard questions today, lad?” The vice-captain muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean it’s different for everyone. Sometimes it’s slow, other times it’s fast and comes out of nowhere. Still I suppose at the same time, love feels similar. It’s like lightning hitting you mind, body, and soul. It’s powerful. When you’re in love and know it, it’s like nothing else matters but them. It’s like their very presence can calm and excite you all at once.” Shanks slowly nodded. He could understand that in theory but one person being the only thing he could think about seemed dangerous to him. Satisfied with the answer given, he finally let Rayleigh continue with his day.
Looking back on that conversation now that he was older, Shanks would laugh at his own naivety as lust was certainly something he knew when he hit puberty just as Rayleigh had predicted and know it a lot. Love however, he only ever experienced once. Only a year after the conversation about love, the crew had docked on an island and headed straight for a restaurant in desperate need of plenty of good food and drink. Taking a seat, Shanks sat back and waited for the usual fun to start. Given the sudden increased size of customers, the owner called for you to help out the family business and take the orders. 
You made your way to Shanks’ table and took the orders. Shanks was distractedly looking at the menu and had zoned out, only snapping out of it when your hand lightly pushed the rim of his straw hat up and leant in to smile at him. “Anything catching your eye or do you need more time?”   
Shanks’ lips parted as he stared blankly at you, feeling like something shot right through his body. He was frozen in place and yet he felt warm, lost completely in your eyes. It felt like an age before his mind began to work again but really it had been only a few seconds. Quickly he managed to clear his throat and picked the first thing he saw when he forced his eyes back onto the menu. At the sound of you moving onto the next table, Shanks let out a breath only to wince when Buggy’s elbow caught him in the ribs. “Jeez, what came over you?” He’d asked, finding his friend and rival’s reaction to you funny but at the same time it was concerning to see Shanks so out of sorts. However the others at the table smirked, knowing the signs immediately. 
It seemed like luck was truly on Shanks’ side when he was told they would be staying on the island for a few months to ensure they had enough supplies and preparation done before continuing on the next stretch of the journey. That meant he got to spend more time with you which was all he wanted. Luckier still, you seemed to be as equally taken with him. It had been just as Rayleigh had described love, you were all that mattered in his waking and sleeping moments and you brought him a sense of calm he’d never felt before but at the same time just being near you made his entire being feel restless and excited. 
While he fell in love first you fell in love with him just as fast. Sadly it never got to last because in what felt like a blink, he and the rest of Roger’s crew were saying goodbye to those they’d gotten to know in their time on land. You’d done your best to keep a brave face and seem cheerful for Shanks’ sake. “You can always come back and visit some day, right?” You told him with a tight smile. “You’ll have plenty of stories of your adventures to tell me when we see each other again.”
“I promise each one will be more impressive than the last. The next time you see me, I’ll be Captain of my own ship.” Shanks promised with a proud puff of his chest that made you smile through the hurt of having to say goodbye. 
True to his word, Shanks did become captain of his own ship and his great adventures took him over the world, some distracting him from the promise he had every intention of keeping. However as the years passed, he’d idly considered had time only made his feelings for you seem stronger than they had been through mere nostalgia. When he did finally manage to return to your island, he had been shocked to hear that you’d left many years ago. The disappointment he’d felt at the news told him that no, it wasn’t nostalgia; his feelings for you had been real. 
Another handful of years passed and one evening in a tavern, Shanks and his crew talked and laughed as drink and food flowed freely. As Shanks drained the drink in his hand he faintly heard the sound of the chair beside him being taken. At first he thought it was Benn or Yasopp but when he glanced out of the corner of his eye and saw you there, his entire body locked. Choking on his drink, Shanks felt the painful burn in his throat as he forced his drink down instead of coughing it up. Wheezing he slammed his hand against his chest and could feel his heart beating rapidly and he knew it wasn’t because he nearly drowned on his drink. “Y-you!” He managed out, finally able to look at you, the same feeling he’d had in his youth crashing into him hard. “Wow.”
“Wow yourself.” You grinned, taking in the sight of how much the boy you’d fallen in love with had changed yet still felt the same. “So, got any stories for me, Captain?” Shanks laughed and turned properly in his seat to fix you with his full attention, his eyes set firmly on your face. 
“I’ve got a lifetime of stories for you, just as promised.”
“Good, because I’m not going anywhere.”
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longdaytogo · 11 months
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the boy in the portrait
@hotchnaur wrote a fic for this!
This is based off a little snippet I wrote which honestly isn't much (since I have absolutely no writing skills) but was more of a "I need to write this down before it disappears forever from my brain" kind of rush.
This takes place in an AU where Draco didn't make it out of the Fiendfyre, but the war is won and done. The Ministry has ordered a cleanup and seizes pureblood residences, namely Malfoy Manor, and Harry volunteers to inspect the property. He doesn't know why he did, but still apparates to the front gate, in a sort of trance since the Room of Requirement incident, not fully understanding why he's feeling so.
As he walks up the spiraled stairs and down the long corridors, it hits him that he's in the Malfoy ancestral home, the very place where Draco grew up. The eerie quiet is interrupted by the sound of a child crying and murmured shushes from a further corridor up the path. When he follows the sound, he's greeted by a long line of portraits, all old and dead, glaring at Harry before sharply turning and disappearing into their paintings.
He continues down the path until he gets to the very last portrait—a young boy crying, fisted hands covering his face. The other portraits tell him to "pipe down that noise" before vanishing, leaving only Harry and the young boy. When Harry approaches the smaller boy in the portrait to ask if he's alright, he stops dead in his tracks. It's Draco. A much younger Draco who looks to be around 6 or 7, much smaller than his first year at Hogwarts with his signature white blond hair and not-so-pointy chin.
Young Draco sniffles, wipes away his tears, and looks up at Harry, confused about who he is. He asks where his mother and father are and how lonely he is here. He explains how he "woke up" one day in this portrait and feels scared. How all the other portraits (namely Great Great Aunt Belvina and Grandfather Cygnus) won't answer his questions and only tell him to be quiet.
Harry stares at the younger Malfoy absentmindedly. He tells Draco he's here to stay for a while and asks if he has any messages for Lucius and Narcissa. "They're out right now but they'll be back shortly," he says, and young Draco's eyes light up. Draco finds a willing listener in Harry and tells him about how sad he is here, how delightfully boring it is, about his new toy dragon from Diagon Alley and about that one time Pansy and Theo fell face first in a puddle of mud as he and Blaise had watched, giggling while saying so.
Harry quietly listens, noticing he still points his nose up tauntingly while teasing and the way his haughty air or confidence seems to permeate the conversation. Harry tries to absorb all that he can, overlapping this young Draco with his Draco—noticing their similarities and difference where one is all childlike innocence and laughter, while the other only a mere husk of a boy towards his final days.
Young Draco tells Harry about his first flying lesson and his new broomstick when he suddenly asks if Harry knows "Harry Potter." Shocked, Harry asks how he knows the name when Draco, going a bit red in the ears, replies back how he's going to be Harry's best friend at Hogwarts ("once my letter arrives in a few years!") he says proudly. He tells Harry how he's made father buy out all the books on "Harry Potter" and how mother reads them to him nightly.
Draco makes Harry promise not to tell anyone, sharing that he only revealed it to so because he had shared so much already. Harry promises and, feeling a bit disheartened, says he needs to go, but he'll come back soon. Young Draco pouts and whines but understands, reminding Harry to pass along the message to Lucius and Narcissa. He waves goodbye, on the promises of "I'll see you later," and disappears into his portrait. Harry watches the boy vanish, then turns to leave down the corridor he came.
Walking down the stone path back to the gate, he recalls a boy with teary eyes surrounded by scorching flames and another boy dreaming of befriending the Boy Who Lived. He leaves Malfoy Manor feeling choked and a little worse than when he arrived.
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hidden-snow · 3 months
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✦┈⋆┈ ⋞ 〈 Running Home to You 〉 ⋟ ┈⋆┈✦
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Summary // You thought your relationship was as special to him as it was to you. You thought he loved and cherished you as much as you loved and cherished him. But when his family leaves the Omatikaya and all he has to offer is ‘I’m sorry’ when you beg and plead for him to stay with you, you realize that you were so, so wrong about him. Heartbroken and defeated, a girl barely seventeen years old, you decide that you will never love again. After all, it hadn’t meant anything to him. Years later and you are the best of the best. A strong warrior and an even better hunter, you provide for your people in every way except for a child to add to the next generation of Omatikaya people. They respect your wishes but you can hear the whispers. You can feel the concerned gazes from your parents, too old to conceive a sibling to make up for your lack of children. When he comes back, it throws you through a loop. Handsome, mighty, and different, he comes to you right away. But you promised yourself.
Warnings // Angst, a bit of stalker Neteyam, some fluff, mentions of drinking, heartbreak
Word count // 1,506
Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7
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He was everywhere.
When you were supposed to be training the younger hunters, when you were telling stories to the children, when you were eating meals with the rest of the clan.
No matter where you were, you could count on him being nearby, keeping an eye on you as if you were his and only his.
You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at the thought, mainly because you knew that, no matter what, you would never belong to anyone. Especially not to him.
Though… in a way, it was also kind of sweet that he cared so much about who you were around. Annoying as it was, he was very eager to show that he still cared about you despite all these years of separation.
No matter what, though, you were determined to not allow him to get into your head again. Not this time. Not ever again.
Gritting your fists, you set yourself into the mindspace of the task you had to do now; some one on one training with a young student who was currently a bit farther behind than the others.
Walking along the trodden dirt path, you came to a clearing surrounded by thickly growing plants, trees towering over you as if reaching to the blue hued sky above. You draw in a slow breath, letting it out slowly as you wait for your student to show up, bow resting against your back.
“I hope you don’t mind. I convinced Ìtseì to let me have this training session with you. I could use some practice with you.”
Exasperated, you turn to level Neteyam with your best, coldest glare, only to find that he was unfazed by your hostility. He simply smirked back at you, raising an eyebrow as he pulled his bow from behind his back.
“Are you sure you still know how to use a bow? After all that time, swimming with the reef people… it probably left you extremely rusty.”
“Ah, there’s that spitfire I’ve been waiting for,” Neteyam responded, notching one of his feathered arrows. Intricately carved, delicate and deadly. Quick to pierce hearts, sharp enough to end a life in one shot.
Just like how he ended the life you’d had before.
You shake your head, regathering your thoughts to what you needed to do.
“You’re a big boy. Help yourself. Since Ìtseì did not show up, I will go and hunt by myself,” you respond, turning your back to the male, fully intent on hunting alone.
Except, he didn’t leave you alone.
You were beginning to wonder if this was a behavioral pattern that had been forged into him by his father from a young age. After all, Neteyam followed Jake around all the time as a child, ready and waiting for orders or instructions that only he could take care of.
That had to be the reason for his stalker-like behavior.
Pushing aside heavy, large leaves and small viney shrubs, you could hear him behind you, despite the fact that he was very obviously trying hard not to make a sound.
“Following me is not going to get you on my good side,” you warn softly, throwing the comment over your shoulder aggressively as you walked a bit faster.
He wasn’t discouraged, nor did he seem to be bothered by your sharp words or your dismissive behavior. In fact, it seemed to spur him on more, his footsteps speeding up so that he could catch up with you.
“Come on, Y/n. Can’t we just talk? You and I, together, like we used to do. Please.”
His fingers wrap around your wrist and you yank away, at the same time swinging your bow at him, instinctive training kicking in. He ducked down, barely missing the slash of your bow in the area where his face had been mere seconds ago.
“Do not touch me, Neteyam te Sulli Tsyeyk’itan. I am not your yawne. I am not your childhood friend. I am not your toy or your plaything. You have destroyed everything we once had. You have crumbled every bridge that sat between you and I. I want nothing to do with you.”
This time, he falters, a look of horror and shock on his face. But you aren’t really sure if that was directed towards the fact that you’d tried to hit him or the words that had just spilled from your lips.
You turn away to hide the tears that were now burning hot and fresh in your eyes, refusing to allow him the satisfaction of seeing you cry. He didn’t even deserve that.
Your feet move before you can think about it, taking you rapidly farther away from the stunned form of the boy who’d ruined your life. You were certain he’d leave you alone now. After all, he was smart, quick to understand the things people were telling him.
Or at least, he used to be.
Your ears twitch to the sound of him running to catch up once more and you sigh, rolling your eyes. Obviously, the ways of the water have dumbed down that intelligence, considering how desperate he was to ignore your stinging-sharp words and your ice-cold disposition towards him specifically.
“Y/n, stop walking.”
You don’t belong to him. You never did. So why did your feet falter in your path? Why did you hesitate to keep going, even as you turn to face him once more?
“Open up, Y/n. I’m back. I’m here. I’m here and I want to talk to you. I want to fix what I broke before. Please, let me explain myself to you.”
There’s a hint of desperation in that smooth tone of his, a soft drop of pleading that didn’t belong to the body that spoke the words. He’d never been the begging type before.
You open your mouth, prepared to respond in the same way as before, when a sharp sting erupted in your cheek and you tumbled to the ground in an ungraceful heap.
Your hand slides up, cupping your sore cheek, as you stare up in shock at the male looming over you, a new expression on his face. Unreadable and hard to pick apart.
“I just want you to hear me out. Just onc- oomph!”
Before he’s finished, you’re launching yourself at him, slamming your shoulder into his abdomen and knocking him to the ground, the soft grass beneath your feet doing nothing to cushion his fall.
“You don’t deserve my attention!” you shriek, grabbing and yanking at his braids as you wrestle him in an attempt to win the little brawl. He’s fighting back, which you had to give him credit for. It wasn’t something you’d expected from him.
Rolling in the grass, disrupting plants and innocent, wandering wildlife, biting and scratching and pulling at anything you can get your hands on, you realize he’s not going to let you win easily.
And for once in your life since he left, you welcome this. Everyone else had been taking it easy on you, seeing as how you were pretty destroyed by his departure. Things had been done for you if they seemed to be too hard. Your parents had doted on you for the past three years, trying to make up the love that you’d lost.
You needed a challenge.
And he was providing it.
It was exciting, exhilarating, full of promises of a frustrated loss or an awarding victory.
You put your all into this little sparring match, putting all of your otherwise-useless training to use. When it became clear that he was doomed to lose, he still refused to fold, fighting until the very end.
When he tapped out, the sensation of a satisfactory win filled you up inside and you couldn’t help the grin that began to grow on your face.
You sat in the grass, working to catch your breaths, silence spreading out between the small clearing you’d both found yourself in.
It was nice, peaceful and calm. Like the days you’d shared as children, playing in the streams under careful adult watch or laying in the grass and staring up at the sky as his siblings ran around picking flowers and playing games.
“Please, talk to me,” he murmured after a while, breaking the soft, gentle silence that had begun to fill you with melancholy as you reminisced on the days of your childhood.
You stand slowly, dusting yourself off as he watched you, trying to come up with the right way to explain yourself.
“I can’t,” you respond, finally meeting his gaze.
“Neteyam, you cannot fix this. Not now. Possibly not ever. I’ve moved on with my life. Don’t you think it is about time that you moved on with yours as well?”
He doesn’t respond, doesn’t even bother to get up, and you grab your discarded items from the ground, not saying another word.
Yet… as you walk away, you realize with a sinking heart, that perhaps, you’d not gotten over him as much as you wanted to believe you had.
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Taglist // @earthling55
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meazalykov · 4 days
Text
the golden girl
uswnt x uswnt!reader
what happened in a world where reader played on the USWNT in the 2019 World Cup?
part one (part two here)
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Knowing that the call at eight am could change the pathway of my career, I couldn’t sleep. My mind spins rapidly as I tried to close my eyes and manipulate myself into believing that tomorrow would be an ordinary day, but that didn’t work. 
Hi! My name is Y/n L/n and I am a soccer player who plays for club Olympique Lyon. I am a forward who many people call the “next big thing,” since I am only 19 years old. 
After winning the Champions League final with Lyon, scoring a brace which involved a penalty, my career seemed to go in a great path that was unordinary for a teenager. 
I sat on my bed, criss-crossed, as I stared at the digital alarm clock on my bedside table. 4:38am. Three hours and twenty two minutes until I get the call. 
After traveling to my hometown in the United States, Virginia Beach, I traveled to the last International camp, before the World Cup, in order to “try out” for a World Cup roster spot. My mentality is great, my skills during the camp were phenomenal and I believe I proved that to the coaches, but I am young. 
The coaches will prioritize other forwards like Alex Morgan, Tobin Heath, Megan Raphinoe, and Christen Press first. I am aware of that. They’ve won the 2015 World Cup four years ago and have the experience to go up again. However, everyone knows that the USWNT will need to bring on youngsters to set themselves up for future competitions, so I have confidence that I'll be the one they’ll call. 
Three hours and twenty minutes later, I sat at my dining room table in Lyon, preparing for the unexpected. 
My phone’s flashlight goes off a few times and my screen brightens at the sight of my International Coach’s number. 
“Hey.” I spoke first as my finger pressed on the green button. The nervousness in my voice was present, I wanted this decision to go my way. 
“Hi Y/n! How are you feeling right now!?” My United States coach, Jill Ellis, asked. 
“I’m- Um— I’m nervous.” I told the truth. I heard a small chuckle come from the coach which I raised my eyebrows at. The tension on my end could be cut with a sharp knife. The lack of sleep made my nerves worse too. 
“Well I have some news for you.” Jill said. I swallowed on nothing as the next few seconds can predict how my day– sorry— year will go. I know she has to call other players about the decisions for them so our call won’t last long, thankfully. 
“Let me start off by saying that all of the coaching staff, including myself, needed to consider someone who is young and has a lot of quality. We were impressed by the amount of work you've put into our international camps and we’ve kept up on your club experience at Lyon for more reference. So, we’ve chosen you to be on the roster to represent the United States in the 2019 World Cup.” The excitement in Jill’s voice grew when she announced that I would be in the World Cup. 
However, most of what she said sounded muffled through the happy tears that poured down my eyes. I couldn’t believe it! My hard work paid off. 
“Thank you!” I said. 
“No Thank you Y/n! We’ll see you soon, Bye!” Jill ended the call before I jumped in joy. 
A couple of months later, I sat on the bench in France as the USWNT was up against Thailand in the group stage. It was the 64th minute and we were up 7-0. As I sat on the bench, my heart raced faster out of nervousness. Eventually, my head turned when I heard her call my name. I am excited, but my stomach felt like there was a rock in it. The weight of expectations settled squarely on my shoulders as I looked at the ongoing game. 
We are winning the game by seven, but I still wanted to prove my best to the coach, teammates, and the fans. When I stood up, my legs felt like jelly making my way to the touchline. The crowd's roar was deafening, every step closer to the pitch amplifying my nerves. 
“You’re going to go on for Raphinoe. We are up 7-0 but use this as an opportunity to get a feel of the field and experience.” Jill spoke with empathy as she patted on my back, allowing me to do the required warmup on the sideline before standing at the midline. 
I tried to shake off the doubts, reminding myself of the countless hours of practice that had brought me to this moment. The nerves in my legs wouldn’t calm down. Maybe I can use that as a source of adrenaline. 
Running onto the field in replacement for Raphinoe, the enormity of the occasion hit me like a ton of bricks. The stadium seemed to stretch endlessly all around me, filled with thousands of spectators watching my every move. I took a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart. The ball was at the other end of the field, giving me a moment to collect myself.
Then, Julie Ertz shot the ball over the left side of the field to gain space. The ball landed on my ivory-colored cleat and I dribbled around a Thailand opponent before passing to Alex Morgan who lightly tapped the ball behind the net. Goal!
My jaw dropped in realization as Alex jogged over to hug me. Some of the girls on the pitch came to congratulate me on the assist as others clapped their hands. I didn’t take it offensively, we are up 8-0 now and there's not much to celebrate now besides the inevitable win. My first touch in the World Cup gave an assist which I later found impressed spectators. 
I glanced at my teammates when the game started again, finding reassurance in their encouraging, yet concentrated, nods and smiles. They had confidence in my abilities, even if I struggled to find it within myself sometimes. With each passing second, my nerves began to settle, now replaced by a fierce determination to prove myself worthy of wearing the US jersey.
Eventually, I found myself caught up in the rhythm of the play. My eyes were on the ball, blocking out the noise of the crowd and the pressure of the moment. With each touch and pass to a teammate, my confidence grew and my movements became more fluid and precise.
Then, in the 73rd minute, it happened. A perfectly timed pass by Samantha Mewis found my feet. At this point I wanted to be the goalscorer, not the assist. With a burst of speed, I raced towards the goal and dribbled around the defenders who were in the way of the goal, the screaming chants of the crowd fading into the background as they saw what I was doing. At that moment, there was only me, the ball, and the goal.
My right foot unleashed a powerful shot, the ball rocketing into the back of the net with a stunning curve. Goal! The stadium erupted into cheers, the sound washing over me like a tidal wave of euphoria as my teammates ran to congratulate me on my first ever goal in the World Cup. For a brief moment, I allowed myself to bask in the glory of my achievement, the weight of my nerves finally lifted off of my shoulders. The game ended in a 13-0 win for us!
Later in the World Cup tournament, I found myself on the bench as my heart pounded at the match in front of me. Thanks to Alex Morgan and Christen Press who scored in the Semifinal against the Lionesses, we were in the World Cup final against the Dutch. 
As the game enters the 79th minute, with the score being 2-0, the coach calls my name. This took me by surprise since I didn’t believe that any substitutes would join the final. When I stood up, my legs felt like lead as I made my way onto the pitch for Tobin Heath, who had an injury earlier in the tournament and couldn't play all 90 minutes. The roar of the crowd washes over me, drowning out the doubts that threatened to consume me since I am on the right wing.
With only minutes remaining, I can’t make a mistake. I have to make every second count. We are up 2-0 but the Netherlands could easily catch up if we make a few errors, they’re EURO champions and have a statement to make for the world.
As I focus on the ball, blocking out the noise of the crowd and the pressure of the moment, the 89th minute comes along. Krieger gets the ball from a Dutch forward and launches the ball in the air towards Rose Lavelle. The girl who scored the second goal in the final headed the ball over the field again before it landed onto my feet— This is my chance. 
My feet take the ball towards the goal. Veenendaal, the Dutch Goalkeeper, sets herself up in a ready position. As I race closer to the goal, my heart pounds in my chest. The defenders close in but I dribble around them effortlessly. An Oranje defender missed her chance to side tackle me as my left foot unleashed a powerful shot. The ball grazed the tip of Veenendaal’s fingers and the ball hit the back of the net with stunning precision. Goal!
The stadium erupts into cheers as I run to the corner of the pitch to celebrate. A typical knee slide that allowed my knees to slide through the soft grass before I stood up and turned to my teammates who rushed to congratulate me. Everyone on the bench got up and ran to me as well to celebrate. At that moment, the voice in my head told me that I’ve done it. My goal gave everyone the reassurance that we secured a World Cup win for the USWNT four times. 
After winning the Bronze Ball, Gold Medal, and being able to take pictures with the World Cup trophy itself, I cried. The tears wouldn’t stop after my bestfriend Mallory Pugh hugged me as she cried as well. We were so happy, I have never felt so proud of myself and my team. 
Hopefully 2023 will secure us a three-peat…. 
part two here
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e-m-ma-lmfao · 4 months
Note
hi! i literally love how you write❤️
could you write a fluff with a little bit of nsfw (if you dont take nsfw requests, just do it all fluff, i love fluff so i doesnt bother me) with a fem reader x cloud?
here's how i want the story, but you can obviosuly change it to your preferences.
y/n was a childood friend of cloud,and she didnt see him in A LOT of years. then she encounters him and they basically talk about rhe the good old times. a month passes and it's y/n's birthday, they all celebrate at the bar and give y/n a present. then it's cloud turn to give her the present, and he gives her a boquet and a letter with some photos from much years ago. after that, he kisses her and she kisses back. after the birthday party, cloud was a little bit drunk so y/n took him at her house to take care of him and cloud gets all clingy and says things to y/n. (if you want to add some nsfw, you can add it in this part of the story)
thank you❤️
Happy Birthday Slowpoke
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pairing : cloud strife x fem! reader
description : an unexpected reunion leads to birthday wishes, unspoken love confessions, and drunken kisses.
warnings : small make out sesh but no smut, drinking alcohol (clouds gets drunk)
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Sector 7 gets quieter at night. Never silent. But quiet. Walking through the streets is much nicer at night when there aren't so many people pushing to get through. It’s easier to think. Easier to take in your surroundings. 
There’s a certain hum that brings you comfort as you walk through the nearly empty streets. You remember when you first came to Sector 7, nervous and scared, and still dealing with the aftershock of Nibelheim. 
Nibelheim. Cloud.
God. How was he still stuck so deep in your head after years? 
You missed him. Him and his stupid blond hair. 
It was embarrassing how fast your head would turn at the sight of any blond man. Any. Even children sometimes. You had to catch a second glance to make sure you hadn’t just seen your childhood friend run past you as he giggled with his friends. It was never him, but you hoped. 
The peace of your walk was disturbed by a man walking past you. Bright blond hair fluff led up like the feathers of a chocobo in black clothes, and heavy footsteps. He pays you no mind as he walks past you, but you force yourself to do a double take. 
But this man is different. Even with his back turned to you he feels familiar. His hair stands up, the way Clouds did when he was a child. He’s dressed in the garb of a SOLDIER with a big sword on his back, Clouds always promised he’d become a SOLDIER. And he even walks the same way Cloud would as a kid, trudging along his path, god forbid someone think of him as anything but independent.
It all feels too coincidental. And without thinking your lips open to speak, “Cloud?” 
“Hm?” The man turns, only his head and shoulder so as to not pay you too much care, to face you. And your mind is flooding with nostalgia.
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You're running after a young boy, blond haired, breathless laughs leave yours and his mouths. 
“Cloud!!! Wait for me!!” You squeal after the older 
boy whose legs carry him much faster than you can keep up with. And your tired legs, mixed with your lack of available air, are making it harder to match his pace. 
For a minute you think he doesn’t hear you, or maybe, that he doesn't want to listen. But soon enough he skids to a stop, looking back at you as he pants lightly. He wears a stupid smile on his face, cheeks flushed.
“Sorry y/n.. I keep forgetting I’m too fast for you. Your little legs can’t keep up,” He teases and lets out a juvenile giggle.
Finally you meet his side, matching his breath, “They can so!”. 
“Yeah right slow poke.” A childlike pout appears on your face, fitting for an 8 year old you. Always pouting. Always following after Cloud. 
You were never really sure why Cloud kept you around. But when you were kids, it never really mattered for more than a second. You just liked being around him, and him you.
“It’s not fair. You're older, your legs are longer!” He smiles down at you, laughing between heavy breaths.
“Only a year older.” 
“Still!” He stays quiet for a minute, letting you catch your breath without teasing you further. 
When you finally straighten back up, he’s still showing a giddy smile on his lips. Without a word, he grabs your hand in his, and takes off running the same way he had been before. Only this time you can keep up with him, pulled behind him.
“Cloud!” 
“Hm?” He turns to look behind him, a wide smile full of teeth on his face and eyes bright and blue. Still hopeful. 
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His eyes meet yours and you realize the same blue eyes are looking into yours, only they are tired and the hope of his youth has been long gone. Yours probably look the same, usually. But right now they are wide and beginning to tear up. And his pupils, blown in recognition, are nearly as wide as yours.
“Y/n?”
“Cloud!” In an instant you latched onto him, arms wrapped tightly around his torso. Your face squished against his hard chest, probably wetting the front of his tank top from the tears slipping from your eyes.
He’s hesitant, but eventually one hand lands on your back and the other grabs onto your waist, pulling you in impossibly closer to his body. When you were kids, hugs were nothing out of the ordinary, but this one feels so different. You’ve been longing to hug him since you were 13, longing to see him since you were 17.
It’s overwhelming, the amount of emotion flowing through your body. You're happy to see your best friend again. You're sad that you haven’t seen him in so long. And you're angry that he left without ever saying goodbye. 
“Y..you.. are you real?” 
You look up to find his voice, wiping away the wetness from your face. His hands move to touch your face, then to your shoulders and finally fall to his sides. 
“Yes, Cloud. I'm real. When..how.. It’s been years Cloud.” 
“I know.”
There are a million things you’d like to say to him. You’d like to scream at him and punch at his chest until he bruises, not likely you could hit him hard enough to leave any marks but you’d try. But then you want to hug him, and run through the streets with him hand and hand like when you were kids. You don’t know what to say to him, where to start, or if you even should. 
“I missed you.” 
“I know.” He doesn’t say it back, and the lack of emotion that he shows is almost aggravating. But you don’t make it known to him how annoyed you are at him for his underwhelming reaction to this reunion. 
You invite him back to your apartment and, with a lot of convincing no and many ‘pleases’, he agrees to join you for an hour tops. His hesitancy hurts your feelings, you don’t admit that to him though, god forbid he realize that you hadn’t changed much since you were young. Since he clearly had. 
“You can sit down, you know.” He raises his brows, your acknowledgment of his awkwardness unexpected, but he takes a seat at your small table. The chair he sits in is the perfect size for you, and while he’s not the tallest man you’ve ever encountered, he almost seems to not fit on it. 
He is so silent, it stirs up years of pent up sadness and frustration deep within you, and inside you deeper still a fury of anger festers. But you push it away, locking those emotions up for another night when you haven’t just stumbled into your best friend of 10 years after 4 years of being apart. And you offer him a drink. 
“Are you gonna tell me what you’ve been up to for the last 4 years?” He is silent, stoic, hides his face by taking a sip from the glass of water you offered him.
“Not tonight.” Your teeth grind together inside your mouth, holding back your tongue from spewing words better left unsaid. He must see the clench in your jaw, the anger and disappointment in your eyes, “But another time. I will.” 
You fill the rest of the night with slow, and awkward, conversation. He doesn't make much effort to initiate it, but he answers your earnest questions without any complaint. At least the ones that don’t involve his work, his past, his lack of a goodbye. So the night moves slowly.
It doesn’t feel like very long has passed at all by the time he tells you he has to leave. 
“Already?” 
“Yes. I’m sorry, my days are busy.” 
“Are you staying in Sector 7?” He nods, you're not appreciating this strong and silent thing he has going on. 
“Working?” Another nod. “Well..if you find yourself free next month, we’re celebrating my birthday at the Seventh Heaven..uh.. it’s Tifa's bar actually.!”
“I know.”
“Oh.. yeah I guess, you would’ve gone to see her.” 
“I didn’t go t- .. I’m sorry. I should go.” He walks to the door, posture straight and stoic expression broken by a look of pity for just a moment. You walk him out. 
You can’t help yourself from speaking as your eyes meet his back, your mind is lacking in self restraint tonight, “Will you come?” 
He faces you, mouth parted before a small smile plants itself there, “I’ll try, y/n, goodnight.” And he’s gone into the night with quickened steps.
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“Hey! Have some faith in him. I’m sure he’ll make it.” Tifa leans over the counter with a bright smile, sliding a drink into your hands. 
“Yeah, I’m sure.” 
The bar isn’t full, but the people that matter are here, most of them anyway. 
Biggs and Wedge, probably already tipsy based on the volume they're producing, are playing darts in the corner. Barret sits on the other end of the bar, Marlene seated beside him as they whisper between each other. And Tifa stands in front of you, a positive grin lingering on her face. 
“Y/n!” Marlene springs off the barstool, with the help of her father, and rushes over to you with a clumsily wrapped gift in her hands. 
“For me? Well thank you, Marlene.” You smile down at her, gently taking the gift from her hands and unwrapping it to find a bracelet made of beads and charms. 
“I made it for you. And I have one too! See?” She holds up her wrist, which you hadn’t realized was hidden behind her back, to show you the matching bracelet she wears. You lift into your arms, holding her in a tight hug. 
“They’re perfect Marlene, thank you.” 
With her still in your arms, you resume conversation with Tifa, and are promptly joined by Barret. You love them, like family of course. But you are so focused on the lack of Clouds presence that you forget to fully no appreciate the ones around you. 
Tifa reaches behind her, into the fridge and pulls outs an obviously homemade cake. “We decorated it together,” She slides a wink Marlene’s way and begins lighting the candles. “Make a wish y/n.” 
You think for a moment, it’s childish that you're hoping for your wish to work so genuinely, but you take a deep breath and blow out your candles with a heavy breath. One sweep. 
“What’d you wish for y/n?” Marlene’s voice is loud beside you. 
“Hey now.. you know the rules, I can’t tell you or else it won’t come true.” She pouts for a minute but her smile quickly returns when Tifa hands her a piece of cake. You take your own piece in your hands, sharing a smile with Tifa and Marlene. 
“Hey man! Good to see you. Glad you could make it.” 
Your eyes are moving faster than you can focus on the sound of Biggs’ words, finding the one person your wish standing in the doorway. In his hands he holds a bouquet, flowers of your favorite colors wrapped with paper and a pink bow.
He approaches you with a sheepish smile on his face, “Sorry I’m late. I didn’t know what to get you as a gift, I hope I got the colors right. Oh! And there’s this,” He reaches into his back pocket and hands you a sealed envelope. On its cover, your name is written in messy writing.
“These are ..beautiful, Cloud, thank you.” 
“Drink?” Tifa is cheery, as always, if not more so. 
“Yeah, thanks.” He takes a seat beside you and you try to hide the way your eyes linger on him. The muscles in his grown arms. The familiarity of his spiky hair. You're not so angry anymore, now that you've had time to process his return, rather longing for the relationship you had as kids. The closeness you’d been lacking in your friendships since he left.
“Are you gonna open it?” 
“What?” His voice brings you back to the moment, and you realize you’ve been ogling at him.
“The envelope..” 
“Oh! Yeah, right. Yeah.” 
You reach for it and carefully open it, trying not to rip the paper too badly. Tucked inside the envelope is a photo of the two of you as children and a folded up letter, reading : 
This is stupid. But I tried to write something so I wouldn’t have to say all this out loud.
I haven’t been around for a long time, so I don’t really know where we stand anymore. But as far as I know, you’ve been the only person I’ve been able to open up to about everything. 
Without you, I probably would’ve spent my childhood alone. 
When we were kids, I swore I’d be a SOLDIER. But to be honest it wasn’t all I thought it would be. And I’m sorry I left you for shinra.
And I know I should’ve said goodbye, and I probably hurt you when I left. But I’m here now, and I don’t plan on leaving anytime soon. 
You were my best friend or you are my best friend, doesn't matter. 
Happy Birthday Slowpoke.
He looks at you intensely as he tries to gauge your reaction. It’s a simple letter, and could be written by a child with a little effort. But it’s Cloud, and it’s the most you can ask from a man like him. It still has your hands wiping at your eyes.
“Hey, did you make her cry? No crying on your birthday!” Tifa returns, leaning over the counter to slide Cloud his drink, looking over at you. “Y’alright?”
“Yeah I’m okay. I’m really good actually, thank you.. for this, Cloud”.
He nods, and you swear his cheeks redden, but he looks away before either you or Tifa can comment on it.
Cloud's drink is gone in moments, and he is asking for another, whilst making comfortable conversation with you. A ‘happy birthday’ ‘how’s your day been’ ‘what do you do for work now’ kind of comfortable. He doesn’t ask anything personal, does not dwell on the past, you almost wish he would. 
But you indulge him and his calculated questions, being satisfied with any conversation at all, and let the night flow.
It doesn't take long to realize that Cloud is not a drinker, or at least that he does not know his limits. It’s dark out now, and music plays from the jukebox, and Cloud sways drunkenly to a song. You can’t help but laugh, whilst also feeling weird seeing him be so free and not high strung. Not a SOLDIER, just a man.
He stands up, grabbing onto your arm to pull you over in front of the jukebox where Wedge is dancing with Tifa. 
“Careful Cloud!” You stumble after him, bumping into his chest as he pulls you. He doesn’t seem to notice, grabbing onto your hands to spin you and move you around. 
“You're a pretty good dancer now,” He moves you to face him, moving to the music still with a goofy smile on his face, “Do you remember.. when we..when we were kids and you would step on my feet ..everytime we danced.” 
You giggle at his slurred words, “You're so drunk right now.” 
“And you’re ..sso pretty..” He moves in closer, close enough that you can smell the liquor lingering on his lips. 
“Oh wow.. you're really drunk.. haha.” You make no effort to move away from him, but you laugh at his actions to relieve the awkwardness flowing from your body. 
“Mhm..” He closes the gap and places his lips against yours. Your hands find his chest, eyes falling close as you kiss him back. Your self control is weak, and you want to keep his lips against yours. But he's drunk, and your head is starting to spin.
Somehow you find the strength to push him away and he moves away with a pout on his puffy lips. 
“Let’s.. uh.. get you home, yeah?” 
“But I’m having fun!” He attempts to spin you, but he ends up making himself dizzy, “Actually, yeah.. that’s probably a good idea.”
“Yeah.” You laugh at his flushed face, holding onto his arm as you say goodbye to everyone and leave the bar.
“Can we go to yours?” He doesn't let go of you, even after you’ve walked halfway down an empty Sector 7 road, but he has instead moved his grip to hold your hand to keep you close to him.
“My apartment?” 
“Mhm.”
“Yeah..yeah sure.” He leads you to your own apartment like he knows the route by heart, he’s only been there once and yet he acts like he lives there by the speed he finds it.
Once inside he collapses onto your bed, not much space in the apartments, so you suppose that was normal considering there was no couch. 
“Do you want some water?” He shakes his head, laying on his back to stare up at the ceiling. 
You move towards the stereo on the opposite wall, turning on the radio so there is noise for you to focus on instead of his arms as they rest underneath his head.
“I missed you too .. y'know.” Clouds words barely make their way to you, his voice quiet and music humming just loud enough.
“Hm?” You turn to face him, moving to sit on the ledge of the bed in front of where he lays. 
“The night I saw you,” He leans on his elbow to hold himself up, “you said that you missed me. and I didn’t say it back. I did. I missed you. I just didn’t know what to say to you then.”
You don’t say anything, you're not sure what to say anyways. 
He looks into your eyes for a few minutes before pulling you by your arm so you lay beside him, but he shifts positions so he holds himself above you with his hands. 
“Can I kiss you?” 
“Yes.”
His lips meet yours once more. But unlike the bar this kiss is calculated, not clumsy and childish. He is drunk, and it’s obvious by the taste that remains on his lips even after he has licked them clean multiple times.
Your fingers find his hair, his knee finds its way between your legs and your chest begins to move quicker. He moves to latch his lips onto your neck, sucking spots that will definitely be purple and red tomorrow, while his hands find their place under your shirt on your hips.
And while you’d love for Cloud to continue his journey, the fact remains that he is drunker than a teenager on their 18th birthday, and you want this moment to be one enjoyed sober. So you pull his head up to meet his eyes, and very puffy lips. 
“Your drunk Cloud. I think we better save this for another night.” 
He pouts, face flushed, but he nods with a sigh. Getting comfy he finds a place to rest his head, on your chest, but his hands don’t move from your skin. If anything you feel his grip tighten, keeping you close as he practically lays on top of you. 
“I missed you, a lot. I thought I'd never see you again when you left.” Your fingers find his hair once more, rubbing at his scalp and playing with blond strands.
“I know. I didn’t think I’d see you either.” 
The room is quiet, except for the soft hum of music flowing from the stereo. His fingers tense and relax again in sync with his slow breaths, moving to trace the softness of your skin. But eventually his movements stop and he seems to still. 
“Cloud?”
There are still a million things you’d like to ask, like to say. And so many years of words you’d like to catch up on between him, months of love confessions that you had admitted to Tifa that you’d like to share with him. But the soft snores that begin to leave his mouth tell you he’s in no mood to talk right now.
“Goodnight soldier..”
300 notes · View notes
oxymorayuri · 6 months
Text
𝑇𝘩𝑒 𝑝𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑇𝑎𝑛𝑎𝑡𝑎 (𝐿𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝐹𝑖𝑐) | 𝑇𝑟𝑎𝑓𝑎𝑙𝑔𝑎𝑟 𝐷. 𝑊𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝐿𝑎𝑤 ✘ ♀ 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟
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Description (Spoiler ahead!):
You are a young woman (23 years old) born on a mysterious island called Tanata. Most people think that your civilization belongs to the ancient times... Only a few know that your city still exists.
You long for the meaning of life and one fateful day, everything changed for you when you met the Strawhat Pirates and the Heart Pirates.
(The civilization is based on ancient Greece in terms of clothing/architecture/culture)
Generally:
This is my first story in years, I hope you like it sweeties <3
The story takes place just before the time skip. A few things don't match in terms of time and content. Sooooo, please don't hold that against me, but that's my fantasy and I hope you enjoy it as much as I do. ^////^
Also, in this One Piece story, neither Luffy nor the Strawhats are the main characters / heroes.
It's mostly about the successes and deeds of the Heart Pirates and the fate of the Reader.
Additionally, the Strawhats were not separated on Sabaody. They all fought in the decisive battle, were rescued by the Heart Pirates and ended up on a lost island.
Warnings: A few chapters have adult content 🔞 - NFSW | Smut | MDNI | 18+
Trafalgar D. Water Law ✘ ♀ Reader
Slow burn with plot <3
Spoiler (will be mentioned in Chapter)
Mature content
Chapters ☟
Chapter 1 - Danger at a depth of almost 1000 meters 
Chapter 2 - Welcome to the woods
Chapter 3 - At the Hera Palace
Chapter 4 - The ceremony
Chapter 5 - Secrets and lies
Chapter 6 - Late night talk
Chapter 7 - The king speaks
Chapter 8 - Obvious interest
Chapter 9 - Strange feelings
Chapter 10 - The celebration
Chapter 11 - Fight!
Chapter 12 - The strongest of Tanata
Chapter 13 - A reason to leave
Chapter 14 - Your own path
Chapter 15 - Girl's talk
248 notes · View notes
sapphire-writes · 1 year
Text
Down in Flames (modern!HOTD) 7
previous ~ next ~ series masterlist
pairings: modern!Aegon x Reader & modern!Aemond x Reader
summary: You're invited! To a totally not awkward dinner party at the home of Viserys and Alicent, as they attempt to smooth over the animosity between the members of their family.
warnings: 18+ spicy stuff below the cut (explicit sexual situations, oral fem receiving, edging) language, mentions of Aemond's eye injury, fighting, blood, alcohol/drinking
word count: 6.7k
note: another long one because this fic is literally my baby 💚
masterlist
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As Aemond pulls up the car to his mother’s house, your whole body tenses. The home of Viserys and Alicent Targaryen looms in the distance up a winding stone driveway. Lights mark a path of stars toward the front door, the glow warm and inviting. It appears as though every room in the mansion is lit, as though burning from within. 
The last time you were at the Targaryen home was nearly a year ago. Christmas time. A different brother in the driver’s seat.
“Why are we doing this again?” you ask Aemond.
“Viserys wants us to,” Aemond said, fingers curling on the wheel, his knuckles blanching. 
Aemond’s jaw and shoulders are tense as he slouches over the wheel. He looks the same as when he received the call from his mother; irritated but dutiful nonetheless. Aemond was not one to disappoint Alicent Hightower.
“This is such a shitty idea,” you tell him.
“Well he’s a shitty father so it only makes sense,” Aemond says, smiling tightly.
“At least he’s consistent,” you agree. 
“You’re funny,” Aemond says, getting out of the car.
You unbuckle your seatbelt and go to open the door, but somehow Aemond has beaten you to it, opening the car door for you. He extends a hand, helping you out of the car. 
“What a gentleman,” you tell him, earning a hum, “you gonna carry me across the threshold too?”
“You want me to?” he asks, lips tugging into a smirk.
That would cause a riot, you’re sure of it. Though you admit, the thought is tempting. You roll your eyes, shoving him with your shoulder. When Alicent called Aemond telling him to come for dinner, she proposed it as a rather extravagant dinner party. Anything the Targareyns did was extravagant if you were being honest. 
Apparently it was Viserys’ idea, to ease the tension between the band, and between Rhaenrya. You hadn’t seen Rhaenyra in a long time, and shit was definitely about to go down.
Which led to you having to run home to your apartment to grab your favorite dress. A silky green number that hugged your every inch perfectly, wrapped around you like a second skin. Aemond chose a dark suit, the entire number pitch black. It’s as though Aemond has an aversion to color, despite the blue gemstone that replaced his eye.
“Ha ha,” you joke, walking next to him up the driveway and to the cobblestone walkway that leads to the front door.
Your heels click against the stone, the only sound in the cool night. The air is brisk, and your breath puffs in front of you like a cloud of smoke. It had been days since the blowup. Since Aegon and Cass. Since Rhaena. Your stomach turns at the thought of seeing them both. Everyone is coming no doubt, if this is supposed to be some sort of reconciliation dinner.
You stop just outside the door, bathed in the light that hangs above the door. A beautiful seven pointed star spilling diamonds of light on the stoop.
“You ready?” Aemond asks, sliding his hand into yours sending your heart fluttering. 
“As I’ll ever be,” you tell him and he knocks on the door.
The knocker is huge, a dragon holding a ring between its jaws. The door opens rather quickly to Alicent, Aemond’s mother. Her auburn hair is held away from her face, and she wears a sparkling green sweater and dress pants. Her face breaks out into a relieved smile at the sight of her second son.
Alicent always takes your breath away; she had Aegon terribly young, her face still youthfully beautiful as she has just started to gracefully age. 
“Aemond,” she breathes, pulling him into a hug.
“Hey mom,” he says, placing a kiss on her head. 
The sweet action makes your heart swell. Alicent turns to you. 
“And Y/N!” she says, embracing you, “it's been too long dearest.”
Alicent’s hug nearly makes you burst into tears. You let yourself get lost in her arms for a moment, breathing in her Chanel N°5 perfume. As she pulls away she places a hand under your chin.
“Beautiful as ever, I see,” she compliments, causing you to blush.
“Come in! Let's get out of the cold,” she says, ushering you inside, “Helaena is here already.”
Thank every deity that exists, Helaena is your saving grace. As you walk in the foyer you hear a loud bark, before a bundle of golden fur barrels towards you. Instinctively you drop to your knees, fingers tangling in soft tufts of fur as a warm wet tongue laps at your cheeks.
“Sunfyre!” Alicent scolds, grabbing for the golden retriever’s collar.
“It’s okay, really,” you tell her through laughs as the excited dog continues to push himself into your lap.
Sunfyre always did think he was a lapdog rather than the gigantic ball of fluff he was. You let him lick your face a moment more, scratching at his neck generously, earning several wags of his tail. 
“He’s such a spoiled boy,” Alicent scolds, finally tugging him away from you, “I’ll have to put him upstairs or he’ll overturn the table.” 
You rise from the floor wiping slobber from your cheeks. Helaena appears from down the hall eagerly, smiling at you. She swishes over to you, gold skirts following her like a trail of liquid sunlight. 
“Hey guys,” Helaena says, “you ready for this?”
“Who told him this was a good idea?” Aemond asks, taking your coat. 
“I don’t know, not me obviously,” Helaena says, shrugging, “but I think it's a bunch of things, you know?”
You nod, as footsteps come eagerly crashing down the stairs, drawing your attention. A lanky boy with shaggy silver hair appears, violet eyes sparkling. 
“Ohmygod Daeron!” you exclaim, as the youngest Targaryen sibling comes to the end of the stairs. 
His grin is lopsided as he throws his arms around you, nearly lifting you off of the floor. He’s grown since studying abroad, no longer a scrappy teen.
“Hey Y/N!” he says, squeezing you before releasing you. 
He clasps Aemond’s hand in a friendly shake before looking around. 
“Where’s Aeg? Not with you?” Daeron asks, brow furrowing. 
“Uh,” you tell him, “that’s really a long story.”
“Dude I told you,” Helaena says, rolling her eyes, “there’s been some shifting around here.”
“Right, right,” Daeron said apologetically, “sorry, so you two are…?”
You and Aemond glance at each other. 
“Yeah,” Aemond answers, “yeah we are.”
You can’t help but smile. Daeron nods, approvingly.
“Cool, I can get behind that,” he tells you, as the door opens again. 
Baela is just slipping out of her coat, Alicent closing the door behind her and Jace. She meets your eyes. You haven’t spoken in days, it's the longest you’ve gone without talking. You decide to give her space, walking into the formal living space where a barcart has been prepared with several bottle of wine. 
Baela kisses Alicent politely and you turn around pouring her a glass of wine, along with one for yourself. A peace offering. As you turn back, Baela has already made her way to you. 
“Hey,” she greets, awkwardly.
“Hey,” you say, matching her energy, “Chardonnay?”
A smile twists on her lips before she takes the glass from you.
“You know me well,” she says, clinking her glass against yours.
“Mhmm,” you answer, taking a sip from your own glass, unsure of what to say.
“You done being stupid?” she tells you, the question filled with all the love only a best friend can deliver.
“I missed you,” you tell her and she sighs dramatically.
“I’ve missed you too, can this all stop now?” she tells you, “if I have to spend one more night chilling with Jace and Luke watching football I’m going to go crazy. Do you understand how annoying they are?”
You snicker.
“One of those people is your boyfriend,” you remind her.
“Doesn’t mean he can’t be annoying,” she answers, “he doesn’t take the place of a best friend.”
You smile so wide you think your face will split in half. You’ve missed her so much. You wonder if making amends with Rhaena will be as easy, but something in your gut twists telling you it will not. 
“Where’ve you been staying?” Baela asks, sipping her wine.
“Helaena’s sometimes,” you tell her, “and at the apartment.”
Baela raises her eyebrows.
“Girl, you’re ballsy,” she says, laughing a little.
“What? Is that bad?” you ask, frowning.
Baela purses her lips, giving you an ‘are you for real?’ look.
“Getting dicked down one room over from the one you used to share with your ex?” she asks.
“It’s not like Aegon is there,” you hiss, cheeks burning. 
“Mhmm,” Baela says, a mischievous glint in her eye, “you’re going to have to tell me all about it. Every single dirty detail. Was I right?”
“About what?”
Baela rolls her eyes, as though you should know exactly what she’s talking about. 
“About Aemond eating pussy like a champ,” she tells you. 
Your whole body grows warm remembering his mouth on you. Baela’s mouth drops open as you fail to answer, as she watches your cheeks darken as you take a small sip from your glass.
“I fucking knew it!” Baela hollers, smiling while she answers, “you’re getting dicked down, slurped out-” 
Jace makes his way over and you’re shushing her relentlessly as she laughs. 
“What’re we talking about?” he asks, smiling at you.
“Y/N’s turned into a bad girl,” Baela says, causing Jace to flush and avoid your eyes. 
“Um okay?” Jace says, scratching the back of his neck.
“She totally is,” Luke says joining, jumping into the conversation, “she Yoko’d us.”
“Excuse me?” you ask, nearly choking on your wine. 
Luke raises his eyebrows at you, sipping on the beer he holds, before shoving one hand into his pocket. You don’t know when he even arrived, you hadn’t heard the door open. 
“You know, broke up the band?” Luke says, raising his eyebrows at you.
“I didn’t break up the band,” you tell him, “I didn’t!”
“Mhmm,” Luke says, sipping his drink. 
“That makes no sense,” Baela says, frowning at Luke.
“It makes sense to me,” he answers. 
“Okay Luke,” you tell him laughing.
This feels good. Normal even. You feel your nerves begin to ease when Rhaena enters the room. You meet her eyes as her forehead creases when she notices you. Luke clears his throat before walking over to greet her. 
“She’s Luke’s date,” Jace tells you. 
“Bae,” Rhaena calls, waving over her sister. 
Baela gives you an apologetic smile.
“Talk later?” she says, squeezing your hand.
“Yeah,” you tell her, “she can’t be mad at me forever, can she?”
Baela’s expression does nothing but fuel the anxiety that burns under your skin. 
“Just give her time,” Baela answers, “she’ll be okay. She just needs a little more time.”
Baela squeezes your hand before walking across the room to join her. Aemond materializes beside you, his cologne making your mouth water. Rhaena’s stare burns through you.
“Let me talk to her,” Aemond murmurs, leaning down to whisper in your ear. 
“Not now,” you tell him.
“Later,” he agrees, a hand lazily wrapping a hand around your waist.
Something you’ve learned about Aemond since making it official; he cannot keep his hands to himself. His hand remains when the door opens, Aegon and Cass stumbling in. Cass supports Aegon against her, his arm draped over her shoulders. She’s terribly pretty, dressed in a silk dress that matches her eyes. Aegon is barely dressed, shirt untucked, tie hanging limply around his neck. Your brow creases and you can’t stop the worry you feel noting his red rimmed eyes.
He’s getting worse. You didn’t even think that was possible.
Daemon and Rhaenyra enter behind them, Rhaenyra rolling her eyes as she crosses the threshold. There is something unnervingly beautiful about Rhaenyra Targaryen, like she stepped out of a storybook. 
Daemon sends you a nod, after eyeing Aemond’s arm around your waist and you look away from him. Something about Daemon’s look makes your skin crawl, as though he’s saying you and I aren’t so different. 
“Let’s sit, everyone,” Alicent calls, clanging a fork against her glass, “dinner is ready.”
“Great,” Aegon says, pushing by you, “I’m starving.”
The table is silent beside the clanging of silverware against the fanciest plates you’ve seen. Viserys joined, wheeled in by Alicent’s private bodyguard Criston Cole, and he’s barely conscious, wheezing over his plate. If he notices the tension between the members of his family he does not comment on it.
Alicent’s eyes flicker throughout the room, her nose twitches like a nervous rabbit. You glance at Aemond, but he remains looking forward. Gods this is so awkward. You meet Rhaena’s eyes and she quickly looks away, mouth remaining in a frown. You feel yourself flush, as a hand creeps to your knee. Aemond’s fingers rub soothing circles on your skin, before giving your knee a comforting squeeze. 
You’re in so deep.
You’re at the most awkward family dinner of your life, and all you can think about is how you wish Aemond would let his hand creep higher under your dress.
Bad girl. Stop that. You shake the thought from your head. 
Daemon laughs into his plate, earning a stern glance from Rhaenyra. Cass sits bright eyed next to Aegon, seemingly just happy to be here. Viserys leans up from his plate, glancing around the room.
“I’m so…happy you’re all here,” he says, speaking for the first time.
Mumbles happen, lots of ‘of course Dad’ and ‘yeahs.’
“Business can tear families apart, but even with two creative visions, we are still a strong foundation,” he continues, “still one family.”
You raise your eyebrows. It’s like Viserys doesn’t have a clue what’s been going on. He simply smiles around the room revealing several missing teeth.
“And my song,” Viserys says looking at the ceiling, “my child you sing it so beautifully.”
You’re not sure which child Viserys is referring to. 
You meet Baela’s eyes, her confused expression mirrors yours. The other faces around the room also appear perplexed at Viserys’ statement. Daeron looks the most confused, as though he’s not quite sure what this dinner was supposed to be about in the first place.
“I’m tired Aemma,” Viserys says suddenly, “I’m going to bed. The rest of you enjoy.”
His eyes are watery, gaze confused as he begins to rise from his seat.
Your heart pounds and you glance at Alicent, though she barely seems fazed by Viserys calling her the name of his first wife. She simply watches him stand, and leave the room while remaining seated. 
“Okay fuck that,” Aegon says suddenly.
Rhaenyra glares at him, but he continues to smile. 
“Dad wrote that song for us,” Aegon tells her.
“He gave it to me, asshole,” Rhaenyra snaps.
“It’s a song about all of us,” Aegon argues, “you don’t get it just cause you decided to fuck off.”
Rhaenyra almost lets it go, Daemon watching her closely. But Aegon can’t help himself as he finishes his drink. You can see down his throat, that’s how wide he opens up making sure every last drop of whiskey makes in his gullet. Cass looks at him, eyebrows knitting together.
“Entitled bitch,” he grunts, and Jace stands.
“Why don’t you just sing it together?” Cass asks, taking Aegon’s hand in hers. You watch her squeeze it. Aegon hates holding hands. You meet his lavender gaze. 
“Never going to happen,” Aegon tells her, not pulling away from Cass’s grip. 
“It’s my song Aegon, it was mine long before you were here,” Rhaenyra continues, “I’ve made the edits, I sang the demo-”
“Are you still talking?” Aegon snaps, causing Cass to flinch beside him at his harsh tone. 
“Okay, Aegon enough,” Jace tells him, resting his hands on the table. He hasn’t sat down.
“You’re on her side now?” Aegon asks, “that’s it huh?”
“It’s her song,” Jace argues, “this doesn’t have to be a huge fight.”
Luke laughs, a small snort escapes him but it's enough to set Aemond off. He stands from his chair beside you, eye narrowing at Luke. Aegon’s eyes are glassy, they seem to glow with mischief at the tension in the room. He loves provoking people. 
“No it only has to be a fight when it's something you care about,” Aegon argues. 
Your blood runs cold, watching Aegon’s gaze flicker toward Aemond. Jace turns red, but he keeps his gaze averted from Aemond. From Luke. 
“We’re not talking about that,” Jace argues.
The accident. 
You look up at Aemond who is standing unnaturally still. You can’t help but wonder if Aegon is bringing it up just to provoke him, rather than from a place of genuine concern. 
“We are now,” Aegon tells him, leaning back in his chair, “my brother gets maimed and its all, no let's keep playing, but one little song-”
“Shut up Aegon,” Luke snaps, fingers gripping his cutlery so tightly his knuckles turn white. 
“No, I’m not done,” Aegon says standing, “what’s got you so loyal to Nyra, huh?”
“Fuck Aegon,” Jace says shaking his head, “its just about being a decent person.”
Aegon scoffs at that.
“I don’t think anyone here has a fucking clue about what that means,” he says laughing. 
“You included, asshole,” Baela snarls from across the table, “do you have any idea what you’ve been putting us through?”
“Everyone seems fine,” Aegon answers, an angry gaze falling to you, “happy even.”
“You don’t need to agree,” Rhaenyra says suddenly, “Jace and Luke have already agreed to drop the song and re-record it with me.”
“Fucking of course,” Aegon says, shaking his head.
“Enough of this,” Alicent orders, “let’s have a nice remainder of dinner.”
Aemond sits back down at his mother’s words. You bring your hand to his leg. 
“I’m having a lovely time,” Aegon insists, leaning back and resting his arm across Cass’s shoulders.
“Aegon,” Aemond says, voice low. Aegon meets his gaze, mouth tugging upwards into a smirk.
“What?” he challenges.
“Enough,” Aemond says, to the surprise of Rhaenyra who leans back in her chair, glancing at Daemon. 
“Are you on her side too?” Aegon asks, voice venomous.
“Of course not,” Aemond tells him.
“Steal my girlfriend, break up the band, things are going really well-”
Aegon is cut off as Aemond stands once more. Aegon slams his glass to the table, the glass shattering loudly under his palm. Cass screams, and blood begins to pool on the table.
“Eggy, you’ve cut yourself!” she cries, eyes wide with terror.
“Let’s fucking go! Right now!” Aegon yells, ignoring his injury and walking toward Aemond.
Daemon leans back in his chair, a smirk playing on his lips at the show in front of him. Luke stands up and Aegon pushes by him, slamming him against the table. Rhaena yells and the dinner quickly turns into chaos. 
Aemond slams his fist into Aegon’s chest as he approaches, causing him to fall backwards onto the table. Aegon punches his brother, blood from his hand leaving a streak on Aemond’s cheek. You push back in your chair, feel Alicent’s hands on your shoulders pulling you away from the brothers. 
“You had enough? Huh?” Aemond growls, grabbing Aegon by the shirt.
“Fuck you!” Aegon spits directly in Aemond’s face.
Aemond growls, slamming him back on the table once more, fist reeling back. 
“Let me go!” Aegon cries, as though they were small boys again tussling. 
“Alright, alright enough!” Criston Cole comes between them, pulling Aemond away from Aegon.
“Fuck you!” Aegon yells, and Aemond wipes the blood on his cheek, “come on we’re leaving.”
Cass hurriedly stands, gathering her things. Alicent moves toward her eldest. 
“Aegon,” she begs, but he brushes past her, Cass trailing behind. 
The room is deathly silent now that the commotion has ceased, aside from the soft dripping noises from a spilled glass of wine. Daemon begins to chuckle to himself, before rising from his seat. 
“Shall we?” he says, motioning for Rhaenyra.
“You’ve only just arrived,” Alicent says, her eyes sad. 
“Thank you, for dinner truly,” Rhaenyra says, clasping Alicent’s hand in her own.
She turns to Jace and Luke.
“I’ll see you in the studio, tomorrow?” she asks, and the boys nod. 
Aemond and Helaena stay silent, though they exchange a glance. Daeron has barely moved the entirety of dinner, eyes wide and cheeks red. Rhaenyra smiles as Daemon holds out her coat. 
“Nice seeing you,” he murmurs to you as they walk past.
“You’re really recording with her?” you ask, eyes trained on Jace.
“It’s her song,” he says, meeting your gaze. 
“Let’s get out of here,” Baela says, taking his hand, “I’ll talk to you later.”
Rhaena stands with Luke, not looking at you.
“Rhae-”
“Just don’t,” she says, shaking her head, “just…not tonight.”
Luke squeezes her on the shoulder and leads her from the room. You look toward Aemond, notice him flexing his hand.
“Shit, you’re bleeding,” you say, taking his hand in yours.
“It’s fine,” he insists.
“Let’s get you cleaned up,” you tell him and though he pauses for a moment, he agrees nonetheless. 
Helaena’s eyes are glassy, she’s standing with her gaze still fixed on the table.
“Oh my love,” Alicent says, moving toward her and embracing her.
Though not often fond of physical touch, Helaena leans into her mother’s embrace as tears begin to roll down her cheeks. Daeron reaches up from his seat, holding onto his sister’s hand. You lead Aemond up the stairs, meaning to search for one of the many bathrooms. He says nothing as you find one, sit him down and dig through the medicine cabinet. Aemond’s face is stoic as you clean the blood from his face, his hands. 
You gently wrap gauze around his knuckles, before pulling him to stand. You’re worried for a moment he’s in some state of shock, his movements incredibly robotic as you walk down the hall. He stops suddenly, looking out a window, watching disappearing tail lights fade down the driveway and off in the distance. 
“You know what my father said to me after the accident?” Aemond asked, facing the window.
You take a step closer to him, still giving him space. You’d never asked about it before, you’d barely heard the story at all. That’s what has him shaken up, not the fight. The talk about the accident. The talk about his eye. 
“No,” you tell him.
“He said,” Aemond trails off for a moment, “tell me the truth of it.”
You look to the ground, goosebumps forming on your skin, a heaviness in your gut you cannot possibly ignore. 
“Like it couldn’t possibly have happened the way I told him it did,” he continued, “like he didn’t believe a fucking word I said.”
You’re sick to your stomach, a tear rolls down your cheek. You hadn’t even noticed your eyes begin to well. 
“We’re a family, he said. We have to stick together.”
“Aemond-”
“He didn’t even come to the fucking hospital,” Aemond keeps going, “he just waited at home.”
The thought turns your stomach. 
“Of course when I want to stop playing, its a problem,” he goes on, “but when Rhaenyra left to go solo that’s fucking fine.”
The realization startles you.
“He made you keep playing.”
Aemond releases a bitter laugh, making the hair on the back of your neck stand on edge.
“Of course he fucking did,” Aemond tells you, shaking his head, “you think I wanted to keep playing with Luke after that?”
“Oh Aemond-”
“It was an accident,” Aemond says softly, “I know that now but…”
“You don’t have to-”
“No I want to tell you,” he continues, “my life fucking changed. Forever. And everyone just forgot about it.”
You’re standing right behind him now, and you place a hand on his back. His breathing is shallow, every breath seeming to catch in his throat. 
“Mom wanted to press charges,” he tells you, “not like Viserys was going to let that happen.”
“I’m so sorry Aemond,” you told him, “you deserved justice, and I’m so sorry you didn’t get any.”
You can feel his every inhale with your hand before you slide it onto his waist, hugging him from behind. You hold onto him, letting him feel you against him. Letting him know you’re here for him. He leans into your touch, before turning to face you, burying his face in your haird. You keep your arms around him, pressing into his chest as his arms tighten around you. 
“Thank you,” he murmurs into your hair. 
Soft footsteps can be heard from down the hall, though you and Aemond do not break from your embrace.
“Aemond?” Alicent says, her hands fidgeting as though she doesn’t know what to do with them.
You pull away from Aemond’s chest, though he keeps his arms around you. Alicent smiles gently at you.
“It’s late,” Alicent says, “why don’t you both stay in one of the guest rooms tonight?”
You look up at Aemond, to let him decide. He nods.
“Thanks Mom,” he says and Alicent smiles.
“Of course,” she tells you both, before turning to leave.
“Thank you again, for everything,” you tell her, meaning it sincerely. 
She brings a hand to your face, stroking your cheek. 
“Of course,” she tells you, and retreats down the hall. 
“Will she talk to your dad?” you ask Aemond.
“No,” he tells you, “besides, they don’t sleep in the same room.”
Aemond takes your hand, leading you to the guest room. You’d never stayed there before. Sure, you’d been to a handful of Targaryen parties over the past years but Aegon never made it overnight. He hated spending the night in the same house as his father. 
Aemond opens a door revealing a stylish room, with a king sized bed stuffed with pillows. It was basically a hotel, with robes hanging on the back of the door and chocolates on the pillows. From the walls hung different art pieces, mostly that of dragons. You’d remembered once when first meeting Viserys he had told you about the legends surrounding his family. You could apparently trace the Targaryen family name back to medieval times, where it was said they were dragonriders. 
Alicent went all out. You pluck a chocolate up, unwrap it and pop it into your mouth, letting the sweetness melt on your tongue.
“Nice,” you tell Aemond, who chuckles, laying on the bed.
He places a hand over his face, closing his eye. The drama of night has taken its toll. You sit on the bed, the mattress dipping as you do so. You lay down next to him, lacing your fingers together. 
“What’s your favorite color?” you ask him. 
“What?” he chuckles, removing his hand from his face.
“You heard me,” you say, leaning on your side using your elbow to prop yourself up. 
He watches you curiously, before speaking. 
“Blue,” he tells you, tapping at his sapphire.
“I should have guess-”
“Yeah you should have,” he says chuckling. 
You stifle a laugh, face hitting the pillow. Aemond watches you laugh, smiling at you. As you lift your face you meet his gaze, narrowing your eyes. 
“What?” you ask, though a smile comes through.
“Nothing,” he says, giving his head a slight shake.
You push yourself into a sitting position, the remainder of wine that tingles throughout your body giving you an extra boost of confidence. 
“What is it?” you demand playfully.
“No, it’s nothing,” he insists. 
You throw a leg over him, straddling his waist. He tilts his head back, lips parting as he watches you lace your fingers through his own. 
“Tell meeee,” you sing-song, leaning into him.
Aemond keeps your body upright, his arms flexing.
“You’re just cute, that’s all,” he tells you.
You wrinkle your nose.
“Aemond Targaryen thinks I’m cute,” you tell him, nodding your head with every word you speak, “I never thought I’d see the day.”
He chuckles underneath you and you raise your hips, adjusting your position. You feel a tingle of desire spark through you as you feel him growing harder underneath you. 
“Mhmm,” he answers, unlacing his fingers from yours, letting your hands drop onto his chest. 
He brings his hands to your hips, resting them there, rubbing smooth circles on the fabric of your dress. You tap your fingers against his chest, moving upwards, fiddling with the silver chain that lays against his throat. 
“I think you’re beautiful,” you tell him, causing a shy smile to appear on his face.
“Do you?”
“I do,” you tell him, fingers ghosting across the scar on his cheek. 
He turns his face toward your hand, kissing the pads of your fingers. Your lips part at the sweet action. Aemond is softer than you’d imagined, his sweetness steals the breath from your lungs. 
“I think you’re beautiful,” he tells you, stealing the breath from your lungs. 
Aemond’s fingers dig into where your thighs meet your hips, rocking you against him slightly. 
“And sexy,” he purrs, causing your face to flush. 
“Aemond,” you say, a nervous giggle leaving you, before he flips you over onto your back. 
He brings his lips to your neck, kissing the smooth flesh as you tangle your fingers in his hair. 
“I do,” he murmurs between kisses. 
You sigh, contentedly as he continues to adore you.
“I find you incredibly seductive,” he whispers against you, “it's unfair, really.”
“I’m not doing anything,” you giggle, tugging at the hair at the nape of his neck causing him to groan.
“Liar,” he says, bringing his mouth to kiss your lips, “you’re a temptress.”
You hum against his mouth, deepening the kiss as your tongue swipes his lower lip. His hand roams along the side of your body, bunching the fabric of your dress.
“Should we be doing this here?” you breathe as his hand strokes down your thigh and under your dress. 
Aemond’s long fingers grip at the meat of your thigh as you turn your head to look at the door. His other hand grabs at your jaw, forcing your lips back toward him. 
“What if your mom hears?” you whimper, as he kisses you harder. 
Alicent’s room is not far, just down the hall. The enormous house is eerily quiet at night from the lack of residents. You’ve no idea where Daeron’s room is, but it cannot be far from the guest room either. 
“You’ll just have to be quiet then,” he tells you, though it's said as a challenge. 
Aemond moves off of you, dragging you towards the edge of the bed, a small yelp leaving your lips before you slap your hand over your mouth. Aemond kneels on the floor next to the bed, fingers wrapped around your calves. He quirked an eyebrow at the noise you made. 
“I haven’t done anything yet,” he teases, reaching for your underwear, moving it down your legs.
“I’m sorry,” you say through a giggle. 
“I told you to be quiet,” he says, eye darkening, “are you a good listener, Y/N?”
You nod, skin flushed with anticipation. He places a kiss to your thigh as he bunches your dress up toward your waist. 
“Fuck,” he groans, staring at your pussy, “so wet for me already.”
You feel his mouth against your slick lower lips and bite your tongue to suppress a moan as he opens his mouth against you, pressing in. You can feel your thighs clenching, trembling at the feeling of his jaw opening and closing, mouth pulling you apart, tongue swirling against your sensitive clit. He’s truly eating you, he must be devouring you and all you can manage to think is how you need to remember every detail to tell Baela. 
“I think I remember you liking this,” Aemond says, before wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking.
You choke back a moan, desperately trying to keep quiet. 
“No?” Aemond says releasing your bud, “hmm maybe I was wrong.”
“What-,” you whimper in disappointment at the loss of contact.
“What?” he asks, pressing a soft kiss upon your inner thigh, “you don’t like my teasing?”
You whimper, head thrashing side to side, causing him to darkly chuckle.
“Then why do you make such pretty sounds when I do?”
You open your mouth to answer before feeling his fingers stretch through your entrance, and your head falls back onto the pillow with a pitiful noise leaving your bruised lips. 
“I know you like this,” he purrs, curling his fingers, “where’s that spot, princess, here?”
He’s fucking with you, you know it. Crooking his fingers, lips barely brushing your clit, as tears begin to prickle at the corner of your eyes. He loves doing this, bringing you ever so close to the edge of pleasure. 
“Here?” he asks again, “hmm I’m not sure I remember.”
“Aemond,” you whimper his name. Fuck he loves torturing you.
His teeth graze your clit, as his fingers locate the rough patch within your warm walls. Your spine bows, arching off of the bed.
“Oh here?” he asks, feigning innocence, “is this it pretty girl?”
“You know it is,” you nearly sob, “Fu-fuck!”
Aemond hums, curling his fingers and circling your clit with smooth, hot strokes of his tongue. You throw your hand over your mouth as you moan, trying as best as you can to stop the sound from echoing throughout the room. 
“Getting a little loud, princess,” Aemond chastises, never stopping the come hither movement of his fingers, “someone might hear you.”
You bite down on your wrist, hard enough to draw blood. You can feel your orgasm creeping up on you, building steadily causing your legs to shake. 
“Come on love, come for me,” he demands, burying his face back in your pussy, tongue fluttering around your sensitive clit.
“Fuck!” you yell as do exactly what Aemond tells you, clenching around his fingers.
He releases his fingers from your sopping heat, pulling you up to kiss him. You can feel his fingers unzipping your dress and you hastily shimmy out of it. You’re not wearing a bra, the dress didn’t allow it, so you’re naked before him, clawing at the clothes he wears desperate to feel his skin against your own. 
You hear a button ping to the floor as you tear open his shirt, earning a breathless chuckle from him. Aemond cups your face as you pull down his pants, freeing his erection. You pull away from his mouth. 
“Lie on the bed,” you tell him.
He looks at you, clearly surprised at the shift in the power dynamic. He’s still in control ultimately, and you know that. Aemond surprises you, laying back on the bed, erection slapping against his stomach. You crawl on top of him as you did earlier, positioning his cock at your weeping entrance. You hesitate for only a moment, tilting your head.
Aemond’s violet eye is blown with lust, his lips parted in anticipation. 
“Do you want me?” you ask, barely letting the tip of his member inside you. 
“Yes,” he breathes, hands moving to your sides. 
He doesn’t press your hips down, he leaves the control to you.
“How much?” you ask, sliding his head between your slick folds.
You watch a vein in his neck pulse, his jaw clench.  
“Desperately,” he breathes, and you bite your lip. 
You slide his tip through the lips of your pussy again letting it nudge your swollen clit sending a jolt of pleasure dancing up past your naval.
“Really?” you ask him.
“Yes,” he murmurs and you sink onto him, engulfing him in your tight, wet, heat. 
Aemond’s moan matches yours as you let yourself settle with the stretch he gives you. You feel so deliciously full as you lift your hips, before sinking down once more. Aemond’s hands remain on your waist as you slowly roll your hips, riding him at a lazy pace. Your hands remain on his chest, nails gently digging into his pectoral muscles. 
Aemond abandons his grip on your hips, pushing himself into a seated position, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and bringing you with him, one arm securely around your waist. You wrap your arms around his neck, your forearms helping you keep your pace, bouncing continuously on his thick cock. He buries his face in your chest, mouth latching onto your nipple, a broken moan escaping you.
You feel his tongue swirling around the hardened peak, before you feel his teeth nipping at the skin of your breast, marking a path up to your neck. Your thighs burn and your pace slows as you try to push past the sweet ache in your legs and chase your release. Your whole body is flushed as Aemond brings his hands to your hips, helping slam you on his cock. Your head lolls onto his shoulder as he raises his hips, meeting your movements.
“My gorgeous girl, look at you,” he croons, “riding me so fucking well.”
He winds a hand behind your neck, supporting your head to look at him. Your head is so fuzzy with pleasure all you can do is whimper at the filthy words he speaks, cheeks burning a dark shade of maroon. Aemond gives you a lustful smile, ever so pleased with the effect he has on you, and the fact that he is the only one who can make you feel this way. 
“Does that feel good?” Aemond asks, holding you tightly against him. 
You nod desperately, the feeling of him sliding in and out of you so effortlessly almost too much to bear. 
Your nails scratch down his chest, leaving scarlet streaks on his pale skin. Aemond releases a breathy groan, looking down at the marks before looking back up at you, lavender eye hooded with desire. 
Aemond wraps his arms around you, twisting you onto your back. He slows his thrusts, brushing some hair from your face. Your breathing is ragged, and you’re pressed so close to him that you feel the steady rhythm of his heart matching your own. 
“Look at me,” he says softly, and you meet his eyes.
His lashes flutter and you can feel your cheeks warming with the intensity between you. The butterflies that curl in your stomach as he presses into you. 
You want to run. You can feel the tears prickling at your eyes and hate that you’re going to cry. You can’t help it, can’t stop the warm river that escapes your left eye, falling to the pillow below. You inhale a shaky breath, feel Aemond wipe the tear from the corner of your eye. 
“Hey,” Aemond says softly, tearing you from your thoughts.
“I’m so scared,” you whisper. 
You’re so fucking scared. 
“Why are you scared, baby?” he asks quietly.
His hips have stopped moving, but he still rests inside of you keeping you comfortably full and connected. 
“I really like you,” you tell him, “I really like you, Aemond.”
Aemond smiles, like he’s been waiting forever to hear you say that.
“I’m not going to hurt you, Y/N,” Aemond tells you.
“How can you know that?” you ask, still teary eyed. 
“I just do,” he promises, “I just…” he trails off, not finishing his sentence.
You lift your head connecting your mouths in a passionate kiss. You let yourself believe him, getting lost in the pleasure he gives you, and the promise he gives you. His hips ground against you, gently thrusting himself in and out. 
“I don’t want to lose you,” you whine against his lips.
“You have me,” he answers between kisses, “I’m not going anywhere.”
Your nails are clawing at his back, desperately trying to get him closer. You wish in that moment you could curl up inside of him, keep yourself attached to him. You can feel your pleasure peaking, the wave within you beginning to crest. Aemond takes you over the edge with a final drive of his hips and you’re whimpering into his mouth, screwing your eyes shut in ecstasy. 
He peppers your face with kisses, as his hips stutter with his own release. Each kiss burns away the tears that stain your cheeks, as he gently holds your face in his hands. 
“I’m not going anywhere,” Aemond tells you again, “not without you.”
note: I am soft for them 🥺
DIF TAGLIST: @padfooteyes, @herfantasyworldd, @kyuupidwrites, @lost-and-founds, @doublesparrows, @virginslut08, @f4ll-for-you, @violet2507, @itsabby15, @raphaellathedragon, @tswiftsthings, @cruelmissdior, @tempt-ress, @lexyr23, @reneki, @fictionalcomforts, @serrhaewin, @yariany02, @lily174, @nina2697, @minttea07, @queenofshinigamis, @duesobabe, @maximizedrhythms, @arryn-nyx, @arcadianmoonlight @kittykylax, @hiatuswhore, @issshhh, @echos-muses, @wrendermeuseless, @youcantbesirius, @partypoison00 @chainsawsangel @bellameshipper @wondergal2001, @arcielee @rwdkarla @sweetsweetpsyche @valeric-writes @sahvlren @ohdemimonde @geminidas @darkenchantress @sophielangdonx, @khaothick, @flavorofsalt, @spinachtz, @alitaar, @crazylokonugget @eddiemadmunson, @schniiipsel
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viviennevermillion · 10 months
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ᴀʟᴡᴀʏꜱ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ
❝ always there to warm you in the winter.... always there with shelter from the rain... always there to catch you when you're falling... always there to stand you up again... family...❞ — Lady & the Tramp 2
notes: i see chapter 7 part 4 did things to our puny little minds. part of @briarvalleyarchives "anthems of old" event. a short story about lilia, malleus and whom they've lost.
warnings: character death, major chapter 7 spoilers
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The winter after the beloved princess had passed was a cruel and solemn one. The snowflakes would travel through the cold air of Briar Valley as they had done so many times in the years prior and hit the ground, melting into the ones that had come before; a fate that was all too familiar to the residents of the small nation. The war had left its scars upon the lands. Beasts had run rampant in the villages; destroying homes that had been carefully built with love and dedication. The caves in the mountains were stripped of their glamour, the crystals that had reflected the sunlight that would, despite all odds, break through the cracks, were stolen by beasts unfamiliar to the once peaceful home of the fae.
Because some beasts were not as easy to handle as the demon beasts that came from the mountains to wreak havoc in the settlements. No one knew that better than the fearsome General Vanrouge. From the moment Lady Mallenoa had entered her eternal slumber; with no amount of love able to wake her once more, it was as though winter never ended. Memories of times gone by would flash through his mind; the way they had played in the snow as children and the young princess would never go easy on him; using her magic to turn the previously innocent game into a battlefield of snowballs that left Lilia no room to fight back. It took centuries for him to be able to hold a candle to her power.
Now the snow was stained with the blood of his enemies. At the time, the general had never taken a moment to think about whether the Silver Owls he had slain had a family waiting for them at home as well. They had taken his, so they were undeserving of theirs. General Vanrouge had been consumed by the rage and bitterness in his heart, destroying all who dared stand in his path, for his heart now belonged to battle. This way, he wouldn't have to mourn the past.
He remembered vividly, always, the day they laid her to rest. It seemed as though the whole kingdom was present to say their goodbyes to her. Each citizen who attended the burial was dressed in black for this day, illuminated in the dead of night only by the candles they held as the princess was carried in a casket to her final resting place. The queen had placed a single rose on the ground that to Lilia seemed as though it had swallowed her. Lilia had walked up to the grave later when everyone had left. He thought of the egg still rested and protected within the chambers of the castle. "I promise, for as long as I live, no harm shall come to it. And not a day will go by....that I don't miss your smile", his voice cracked as the tears started streaming down his face. The seasons would go by and yet the cold never passed. Not when the sun would rise on the next day, not when it had risen a hundred years later.
General Vanrouge remembered how she had taught him to play stringed instruments, something he found boring and pointless as a child. Princess Mallenoa always had such a soothing voice. He remembered how she'd sit next to her egg with Prince Levan and sing a soft song to the unborn child. Now Lilia's heart sang without a sound; a quiet melody of grief and unrest. Her funeral was the last time he had allowed himself to cry. The numbness in his heart when he'd open his eyes in the morning didn't fade for decades, centuries even. These were lifespans in the eyes of a child of man; and they seemed to have forgotten all about the devastation they had brought to Briar Valley just a few hundred years later. But a soldier's heart never forgets. It never forgives. That was what Lilia thought at the time. Pain had made him heartless and his heart had been locked away for he feared the pain it held more than any foe on the battlefield. He only hoped, wherever she was now, that she had found peace.
How many times had he wished to feel again? To wake up in the morning and hear her pounding on his door, angry about something. It had annoyed him at the time. But she had been alive.
Yes, the seasons had gone by, yet eternal winter resided in the hearts of the people. But nothing stopped another day. Nothing stopped the inevitable; that the general's heart would thaw one day and spring would arrive in Briar Valley.
It was a miracle. At this point, the egg was more of a reminder of a future that would never be. A memory. Something to make one realize that the royal family would die with Queen Maleficia; the future of the kingdom as uncertain as it had been since the day the war ended. And who would blame anyone? It had been centuries.
But Malleus was spring.
He was the reason General Vanrouge shed a tear once more. One of relief and of love he thought he no longer had inside him. He had smiled when he first saw the little dragon fae with his eggshell on his small face. A smile he was sure the princess would have teased him for. After all, wasn't it him who had always said that he hated children? Who had refused to hold her egg when she had offered it to him? Yet in that moment, he couldn't help to do so. He had picked the little prince up and looked at the queen with the brightest smile she had seen on him in centuries. Tears were streaming down his face as the small fae was just looking up at him with awe and curiosity in his eyes. People say that when someone passes, in a way they are still with you. Lilia had always thought that this was bullshit, he had been far too bitter to notice. But in that moment, he realized that Mallenoa was all around him. He held her legacy in his arms. "She saved us once again, didn't she?", he had whispered quietly, wiping the tears from his face.
The little prince grew up healthy and not one bit less of a fire hazard than his mother had been. He grew up unaware of the bloodshed that had stained his beloved homeland when his egg had come into existence. Unaware of what his parents had sacrificed, of what Lilia had sacrificed, so that he could live and grow. But he had often wondered what it would be like if his parents were still around. Sometimes Malleus would sneak out of the castle, quietly observing the people in the village at the foot of the mountain in awe. He saw little children, not much older than him, protesting under tears because they didn't want to go clothes shopping for their uncle's 900th birthday as they were dragged by their parents' hand and promised their favorite candy if they would go along without making a fuss. He witnessed a mother explaining to her toddler what a bird was. He watched and listened as a father read his son a story on a bench by the fountain. Lilia had read him lots of stories before. But Malleus had always wondered what his father's voice would have sounded like doing this.
The prince spent most of his days alone in the castle. Lilia still had work to do and his grandmother was busy ruling an entire country as he would come to do one day as well. So as soon as Malleus had learnt to read, he would spend his time in the library, curiously exploring stories from a world beyond the castle walls; hoping that he would one day spread his wings to set off and see it for himself. Lots of the stories contained themes of family but few of the families looked quite like his. There was always a mother, a father and at least one child. Malleus would take the books and show it to his guardian, asking Lilia what his father was like and whether he would have taken him fishing like the farmer did with his son in the picture book. There was a flash of pain on Lilia's expression that Malleus had never noticed back then. "I'm sure he would have", the older fae had answered. The stories Malleus heard about his own parents were always short and vague. But Lilia had told him that they were exceptional people who would be proud of him if they could see him now.
Malleus had always wondered what having a father was like. He would get his answer when Lilia took a small human into his custody. Malleus was curious about the baby, always sneaking out to visit the cottage in the forest to see what his guardian was up to. At first he was pouting because Lilia was now giving most of his attention to someone else. But with time he had grown to care for the little child of man. Lilia seemed much happier now. Time had healed his wounds despite the scars of battle and loss never truly fading. He would arrive at the castle to do a task the queen had assigned to him and the prince would greet him to ask about how Silver was doing. Malleus was happy that Silver got to grew up with a father. He never fathomed that both of them could lose him.
The world was simple back then. It was just the castle, Malleus, his grandmother, Lilia and the little human he was raising and that Malleus would often play with or read to when Lilia had work to do at the palace. He couldn't ever have imagined going to Night Raven College and finding the world had changed so much from the one he read about in books. Or that his third year would mark his last with Lilia. That he would see Silver cry and grieve like this.
The world outside of Briar Valley was one he had always longed to see and that brought him many curious, but happy memories. He had learnt about the Halloween traditions of other nations and celebrated the holiday together with them. He had cooked a meal for the first time and the person he had served it to had enjoyed it. He had seen other countries and took part in their culture.
Even Lilia still found the school to be a place for new experiences. He had met a friend on this strange invention called the "Internet" and treasured that friendship despite never having met this friend in person. This online friend would often talk to Lilia in the chat, casually mentioning how he had obtained the newest addition of his favorite manga or played a game with his brother. Lilia would hesitate for a moment, recalling memories that seemed so long ago to him now.
"I had a sister... once."
He deleted the words before he had sent them. No need to bother Gloomurai with a sob story from his life that happened centuries ago. Little did he know that the stranger on the other side of the screen understood all about the struggle of losing a sibling.
Yes, Night Raven College was full of new beginnings for Malleus and his family. But it was the way of the world that nothing could truly last forever, tragic and unfair as it was. Nothing stops another day. Not even a sleeping curse or an overblot dragon. The spell laid waste to Sage's Island, and although the damage was way less than it could have been, the aftermath of it could still be seen everywhere one looked. Malleus felt ashamed of what he had done and Lilia was reminded of scenes from the war long ago.
But everyone joined together to help and rebuild what had been destroyed. Night Raven College and Royal Sword Academy. Fairies and Humans.
"Seems as though we avoided the worst case, huh?", Lilia mused as he noticed Queen Maleficia, the dragon fairy who had raised him since he was a baby, standing next to him. The queen nodded and noted what a bureaucratical nightmare this whole ordeal would be despite all.
Lilia looked at the scene that was unfolding before his eyes. The fae who had come to the island to break through the spell and fight against Malleus's overblot were now helping the locals rebuild their houses with magic. The students would hand out meals to everyone who helped. The citizens were already planting new seeds in place of the trees and fields that had been destroyed. They would one day grow into an idyllic image of a peaceful home. Just as Malleus and Silver had grown into formidable people. The young prince had fallen further than he ever did before, but now the old general was certain that he could stand on his own feet at last. Both of his sons could. And the bat fae was glad that he could depart knowing this much.
"It seems the children of man truly know no rest when it comes to progress", the queen remarked, looking at the humans who fixed the fields beside the village and the fae soldiers who were assisting them.
"It appears so"
"What are they planting?"
Lilia looked at the rising sun, remembering the faith that Princess Mallenoa once had; that mankind and fae would one day live in peace and help each other grow. He had called it foolish at the time, mocking his sister's words by calling them a fever dream. Yet this was just another way in which she had changed his world, just as the little prince he raised had been. There was a smile on his face as he thought about how this day might just mark the beginning of the future the princess had envisioned.
"Hope."
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apollyonsdarksecrets · 8 months
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Actions and Consequences
Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven
Summery: She’s reserved, emotionally cut off, and spiraling down a dark path; one she can’t get out of on her own. Aaron Hotchner may be her only help, but at what cost? When he shows up to her hotel room, contact in hand, she realizes it may be more than what she bargained for.
Warning: 18+ Only MDNI SMUT. Language, BDSM, Dom Aaron, emotionally detached reader, typical CM violence, childhood trauma, abusive father figure, age gap (reader 25 Aaron 40) doesn’t line up with a specific time line, use of Y/n because story is set in 3rd person for the first half then switches POV, last name for reader is Smith,
Specific Chapter Warnings: implied sex (between reader and ex-boyfriend) past boyfriend being rough and mean to reader, eating, official set up of dynamic and rules, a little bit of spicy for you guys 💋(hint)
7 Years Ago
“Two more weeks… I can’t believe it.” Y/n sighs, leaning her head against the shoulder of the boy laying beside her. He smiles, passing a hand over the top of her head, smoothing down her static hair.
“We’re going to be graduates… fuck it’s crazy.” She cranes her neck, smiling as she meets green eyes. He leans forward, pecking her lips quickly. “Alright, let me up. My moms gonna be home soon.” Y/n rolls over, taking the black sheet with her as he climbs out of bed, searching for his shorts.
“Good, I need to help her finish the desserts for your party tomorrow.” After months of hopping from one house to the next, Y/n has finally been able to settle into the guest bedroom of her boyfriend’s family home with what little belongings she owns. She sits up, letting the sheet fall around her hips as she snags her t-shirt and leggings off the floor.
“Oh yeah? What y’all making?” He tugs on his tank top, running his hand through his spiky blond hair as he eyes the naked expanse of her back.
Y/n shrugs, pulling on her shirt before slipping into her leggings. “Um I think a lemon cake.” The young man flops onto the bed and she laughs, laying back down beside him, her fingers twining together to rest over her stomach.
“I do like lemon.”
She rolls her eyes with a smile, “Trust me, everyone knows Trever.” He nudges her with his elbow and she laughs, a joy filled sound she’s finally getting use to.
“God, I can’t wait, finally get out of high school and we can just… do whatever. Well I mean I’ve got collage next fall but still.” Trever sighs blissfully before turning to look at his girlfriend. “Gonna come be my secret roommate? Get me in all kinds of trouble.”
“You wish,” Y/n scoffs, nudging him back. “You know my classes start a semester before yours.” Trever stays silent for a moment, Y/n staring up at the ceiling unaware of the change in his once easy expression.
“You’re still serious about that?” The question catches her off guard, her head turning to look at him. His face is pinched, like he can’t believe her. Y/n sits up, turning to face him fully.
“Y-yeah… Trever I’ve been serious about this. It’s the whole reason I work three jobs and bust my ass in school every week.”
He pushes himself up, leaning against his head board. “Look, babe, I’m not trying to be mean here but… do you really think you can do it? You’re talking about the FBI here… they don’t just take anyone. Especially…” He hesitates and her temper flares, her eyes narrowing.
“Especially, what?”
Sighing he gestures to her with a splayed hand, “Ya know… little country girls who don’t really know what they are doing. If you really want to work somewhere that makes you feel like you’re making a difference, why not go for something you’re almost guaranteed a job?” His expression shifts like he’s had the most brilliant idea, ignoring the obvious hurt growing across Y/n’s features. “911 dispatcher! You won’t even have to waste your money on-.”
“Fuck you.” She spits, standing and marching from the room, anger filling her chest to the point it almost hurts.
“Hey! Don’t talk to me like that!” Trever follows her out into the hallway, grabbing her by the shoulder as they reach the top of the stairs. She spins and shoves him, but he plants his feet, gripping her painfully by the shoulders. “Don’t you ever fucking talk to me like that again. Not in my goddamn house. You’re lucky my parents are even letting you stay here and you’re gonna act like that?” He shakes her harshly, her teeth slamming together making pain shoot up her jaw.
“At least your parents fucking believe in me! Your moms the one that paid off the rest of my entrance fee last week!” She struggles against him, her hands pushing at his chest but his fingers dig into her muscles. His face reddens but before he can say anything the front door swings open. A short, black haired woman stares up at them in confusion, her mouth open slightly.
Trever steps back quickly and Y/n moves down the stairs, keeping her eyes on her so-called boyfriend. “What is going on? I could hear you screaming from the front porch.” She closes the door behind her, her many bracelets tinkling with the movement as she sets her purse down on the landing.
“Nothing, Mrs. Dwayne.” Y/n says quietly, moving down the stairs until she is beside the woman. “I need to go to work…”
“I thought you were going to bake with me dear?” The sad look that passes across the older woman’s brown eyes makes Y/n’s throat constrict, that hated feeling of pinpricks forming in her nose. In the past five months of her relationship with Trever, Mrs. Dwayne has been nothing short of a mother figure to Y/n. Teaching her to cook, to clean, showing her the basic skills of life without so much as a disgruntled look. She didn’t want to hurt her now.
“I-I will.. I mean I am… I just. I need to go get something for work, I mean. I’ll be back.” Before Mrs. Dwayne or Trever can say a word Y/n is bolting out the front door, towards her run down car, rage and devastation simmering in her chest so heavily she can’t think anymore. The need to be anywhere but here propelling the car into motion.
She wouldn’t break down here, not where anyone could find her, when she’s alone she’ll let the tears run freely and her sobs fill the empty space around her.
Present Day
The rest of Tuesday had crept by silently, nothing like the first half of the day. You had joined Aaron for dinner in the dining room, where he informed you he had a few conference calls to make in the morning and he would check on you when he was done. That was many hours ago.
You had been awake long before the sun rose behind charcoal clouds, listening to the rain pelt your window relentlessly. You sit propped against your pillows, lost in deep thought… shameful deep thoughts. Most of your night was spent tossing and turning, what little sleep you did get wasn’t filled with the usual empty darkness, or the occasional bad dream; instead Aaron had taken up every unconscious thought.
You had dreamt of his hands on your body, much like the day before, only this time there was even less in between his burning palms and your skin. You could feel the reverberation of unheard words from his chest into your back, his hands slipping up, up, up cupping your breasts through your bra. His hips ground against your back, the buckle of his belt biting into your skin as his erection pressed against the swell of your ass. Then his palm began to travel lower, straight to your-
You shake your head fiercely, before smothering yourself with a pillow, groaning loudly. You stay like that for a few long minutes, desperately trying to ignore the ache between your thighs until it becomes to much. Throwing the pillow across the room you climb out of bed and head straight for the bathroom, determined a scalding shower would set your mind right.
*~*~*~*~*~*
Steam billows out of the room after you, a scratchy towel wrapped tight around your body, another holding your hair in place atop your head. The skin along the tops of your shoulders and breasts glow pink, having used the hot water liberally. You make your way over to the bags you had placed on the floor last night, grabbing the closest one and rummaging through it.
Something smooth and soft slips against your hand and you grab it, pulling it free of the wadded up clothing. Realizing you should really organize everything before it all becomes a wrinkled mess. Dropping the bag you unfold a Champaign colored silk night gown. It’s simple, a trim of lace adorns the bodice and it reaches about the middle of your thighs, a small slit up both sides. You can’t remember Aaron ever placing it in the cart otherwise you’d of protested.
A large part of you doesn’t want to wear it, or any of the clothing for that matter. That part was called shame. Shame that he had so easily talked you into letting him buy you all of these clothes, better yet talked you into this whole mess in the first place.
But another part of you, the one that really did not want to wear the same sweats again for the 8th day in a row, won the battle. With a defeated sigh you change into the gown. It’s hugs your body, accentuate your curves and clinging to your damp skin. It’s soft, comfortable, and smells clean, that’s all that matters to you.
You grab your over night bag, pulling out your iPod and headphones before crawling back into bed. You set up your computer to finish working, before pressing play on the little pink device and popping in an ear bud. Your phone buzzes on the nightstand only once, but you ignore it, instead typing away on your computer.
*~*~*~*~*~*
Morning slowly rolls into lunch, a half eaten croissant sandwich lays on your nightstand as you dutifully work, bobbing your head in time to the music.
‘What’s in your head, in your head? Zombie, zombie, zombie-ie-ie-ie, oh’
Something connects with your door, the sound reverberating through the room making you scream. You rip out your ear bud, holding your breath as a series of knocks rattle your door, making your stomach swoop and drop all at once. Slowly you move from your bed to the door, unlocking it and pulling it open a crack. Aaron’s usual hard stare greets you, but his cheeks are tinged red, his lips pressed into a thin line. A shudder wracks through your body at the intensity of his stare, your palms feeling clammy against the door handle.
“Um… hi?” He doesn’t say a word as he wraps a hand around the door, forcing it open and you out of his way as he barges inside. “Hey!”he stops in the middle of the room, one hand on his hip and the other rubs at his forehead. He’s dressed in a darker pair of blue jeans this time, paired with a black collard shirt, probably more appropriate for his conference calls.
“Does your phone not work, or have you just been-.” Aaron turns then and whatever annoyed tyrant he was about to go on dies on his tongue at the sight of you. You’re standing at the door, eyebrows raised and eyes a little wide in panic, but it’s not your expression that stops him. His eye dip to your body, noticing what you’re wearing and something in his stomach stirs at the sight. The dress is stretched around your body, specifically across your stomach, an indent where your belly button is. Your hips are accentuated and he realizes with a small thrill that the fabric is just barely see through as he gaze travels from your breasts to your face.
“Fuck.” He breaths out, and a shiver skirts down your spine at the rumble of his voice, blooming into something warm and fuzzy between your hips. Aaron slowly makes his way to you, and this time you stay rooted to the carpet, your chin lifting and the back of your head bumping against the door as he stops a few mere inches in front of you. “You’re going to be the death of me.”
Aaron reached up, dragging his knuckle across your spaghetti strap, brushing across your collarbone where it stops on the curve of your neck. He cups the side of your neck, half of his palm resting against your jaw as his thumb sweeps back and forth. That warm and fuzzy feeling has caught fire, burning with a demanding intensity that leaves you reeling.
“My… My phone?” You ask absently, anything to change the direction of what might happen, his dark eyes snap to yours and you wish you had never spoken, anger and lust swirl together in his irises, his pupils dilated.
“Your phone,” He repeats, head tilting slightly as if he couldn’t quite remember what he came here for. “Were you ignoring me?”
You shake your head, then rethink his question. “Well… no not outright. I was working and in my head space, I remember my phone going off a few times but I honestly didn’t think about it.”
Aaron can only find honesty in the doe eyed look you’re giving him. “That’s two, sweetheart. You need to be more attentive.” Your eyebrows furrow, your soft gaze shifting to something hard as you glare up at the older man.
“Be more attentive? If you really needed me you could of just called. I was busy doing work, I still am.” You snap, gesturing towards your bed. He keeps his hand firm on your neck as he turns, glancing at your open laptop and he can faintly hear your music playing. “And what do you mean by two? Why do you keep counting?”
His thumb presses against the bottom of your chin, tilting your head further back and the pressure makes you squirm. He turns back with a small smile, something impish laying behind it. Aaron ducks down closer and you go still, his breath fanning over your lips and you can smell the tingling scent of mint.
“I did. Twice in fact. I’m counting the amount of times you break your rules, how ever many that is will help us decide what your punishment will be.” Aaron watches the blush slowly form across your cheeks before it seeps down your neck underneath his hand. He would be a lier if he said the effect he was having on you didn’t go both ways.
“We didn’t agree on any punishments, and how can I break a rule I didn’t know about?” You utter, quietly, your eyes betraying you and dropping away from his stare. Aaron smirks, nodding as he smooths his hand down to your collarbone, feeling the wild thump of your heart through your skin.
“That’s why I’m here. We’re going to discuss everything. Over lunch.” He steps back leaving you glued to the door staring at him baffled. “What are you in the mood for? We’ll order something in instead of risking the weather.” And as if the sky could hear his wise judgment a roll of thunder shakes the building. You squeeze your eyes shut until the noise dies off and the only thing that can be heard is the rain splattering against the window once more.
Aaron watches you, gaining a new piece of information, before walking towards the nightstand where the muted green hotel phone lays. He notices your half eaten breakfast sandwich and mutters something you can’t quiet hear.
“Um.. pizza?”
“Pizza it is.”
*~*~*~*~*~*
Not long after a steaming pepperoni and sausage is sitting on your dresser. Aarons posted in the chair again and you’re perched on the foot of the bed, picking at the melted cheese glancing your boss’s way every now and again.
“You look like you have something you want to say.” Aaron says, taking a large bite of his slice. Your shoulder rises and falls, watching him openly now. He wipes his mouth with a napkin, leaning back in his chair, one leg crossed over the other. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him look so… human. This is the same man you’ve witnessed stand his ground against men ready to kill, talk down others who are ready to end it all; protect his team with a fierceness that goes unmatched by any other. It’s hard to think of him as anything else besides SSA Hotchner, but right here… is just Aaron.
“I don’t know… I guess I’m still trying to wrap my head around this.” You admit, biting into your lower lip. “Everything is just… it’s such a sudden change and hasn’t been easy to get use to.”
Aaron smile is pitying at best and you want to convince yourself you hate it. “I know baby. You’ll get there, though. We have the entire month to smooth everything out and come to understand each other better.” The loose use of different pet names makes your insides bubble with craved affection, shame tinting your skin. “Are you ready to talk?”
“I don’t really have a choice do I?”
“You do, at any point you can call it off, but you know exactly where that leads.” His tone is all to knowing of your decision and you huff, scrubbing your hands across your face. He takes your silence as reluctant agreeance, pulling out his phone. “Last night I came up with some rules, punishments and rewards that I think will suit you and I the best.” He taps away at his phone for a few seconds before continuing. “The first, simple, call me Aaron when it’s just the two of us. Second, don’t doubt me when I say I am buying you something or taking you somewhere. Money is not an issue. Third-.”
“Answer my phone at your beck and call?” The sarcastic question sort of fell from your lips, causing Aaron’s eyes to narrow as he sets his paper plate down on the pizza box.
“Third.” He emphasizes, drawing out the word. “Check in with me. I need to know you are okay, if you’ve made it where you are going, if there is anything you need. It’s important that you do so.”
“That’s going to be hard to do when we will be on cases and working.” You point out, picking apart your pizza and taking small bites of the greasy dough.
“That’s why all of these rules are moldable to how we live. Work is for work, but some things will still apply. Like making sure you are eating, drinking plenty of water, getting rest when you can. After hours, when it’s just us, I expect you to follow your rules completely.” He watches the way you pluck off the pepperonis, setting them off to the side. “Punishments won’t be a daily thing like it is with others. We can pick a day where we sit and go over everything you’ve done wrong for the week, then decide your punishment from there. I have a few ideas such as choosing your clothing for the week, have your write lines, have you kneel for an extended period of time.”
Your nose scrunches, the next thing your peeling from your pizza is the little balls of sausage. “That all sounds a bit childish.”
“You aren’t wrong. But you’d be surprised how childish a person can act when given rules.” You roll your eyes making him chuckle. “Just like that.” You shoot him a halfhearted glare that he returns with a smile. “But if you’ve been a brat all day, disobeying me and forgetting your rules multiple times, then I may need to resort to something a bit harsher. Putting you over my knee, bondage, collar.” He watches your face flush, eyes going wide like a full moon. “Even then. It’s more so about the embarrassment than it is ever about the pain. Some people find these things enjoyable.”
“You can’t be serious.”
Aaron’s smile takes on a more devious twist, letting his head rest against his fist as he props his arm on the chair. “Maybe you’ll just have to find out.”
You stare at him in shock, your half deconstructed pizza laying forgotten in your lap as your insides burn. Your mind betrays you, questions popping up like wildfires; what would it feel like? Would he leave marks on your skin? Would you enjoy it like he says?
Stammering you drop your gaze from his, his smile never fading as he searches the soft planes of your face, forcing himself not to look any lower than your exposed collarbones and the gentle slope of your shoulders. You set your plate to the side, crossing then uncrossing your legs, the bed creaking as you try to sort through your thoughts. “Can um… can I ask you something?”
“Always.”
“Does David know? And if so is there anyone else?”
Aaron nods, then quickly raises his hands at the look of panic crossing your features. “David is the only one who knows, and that’s not because I told him out right.” Your panic quickly melts into confusion. “David is the one who suggested I bring up a contract with you.”
Your jaw drops, absolutely flabbergasted. “Wait.. David’s… he’s into this?” Aaron nods again, letting you piece together what you will with that crumb of information. “Oh… so… that means the two do you were talking about me.”
Aaron laughs, a deep pleasant sound. “I promise, it wasn’t anything like you might think. We are just worried, and he thought it would be more appropriate coming from me than him.” Despite his humor you can feel panic rising steadily in your chest.
“Ho- Aaron what if someone finds out?”
“There isn’t any reason for anyone to know.”
The iron grip of your blooming panic wraps itself around your throat, your body humming with a desperate need to move and open your lungs. You stand from the bed and begin to pace the small area, passing Aaron with each turn on your heel.
“What if one of us slips up? The amount of trouble we could get into is-it’s astronomical. I’d be forced out of my job because I’m suddenly a woman who sleeps with their boss. You would be forced to resign but of course they’ll go easy on you-.”
“Honey-.”
“-Even if it doesn’t get to that point, the entire team will see me differently. They will question the authenticity of my role and my job. Oh God, and Morgan would be relentless with the teasing.”
“Y/n.”
“He still calls me señorita after I messed up my order at that Mexican restaurant a month ago! He’d never let us-.” Aaron leans forward, capturing your wrist as you walk by with a sharp tug. Pain laces up your already tense muscles and on instinct you turn, your hand lashing out and connecting with the side of Aaron’s face.
Everything goes silent, both of you stuck staring at the other in shock. “I-I’m… I didn’t mean-.” Aaron pulls you down and you clumsily fall into him, knee banging against the chair; your free hand landing on his shoulder. Aaron wraps a hand around the back of your neck, squeezing and before you can utter a word his lips crash into yours.
A muffled squeal escapes the back of your throat, squirming in his tight hold but it proves useless as his other hand drops your wrist, circling the back of your thigh and pulling you fully into his lap. Thighs caging his hips, chest pressed tight against his you squeeze your eyes shut. Aaron depends the kiss, moving his lips against yours allowing a few whimpering syllables to reach the air.
Your heart hammers painfully, your hands gripping at his shoulders but to your surprise you find your body relaxing. Every panicked thought is eclipsed by Aaron as his tongue slowly traces the seem of your lips, asking for entrance that you hesitantly give. But once you get your first taste of him you know you’re gone for, a soft moan rattles through your chest and Aaron devours it, licking into your mouth like a man starved.
His rough hand slips up your thigh, mindful to stay over your dress as it rides up, to cup your ass, squeezing the fat making your hips jump. The involuntary movement makes you grind down against him, pulling out another moan that is quickly followed by one of his own. He is all you can focus on, the fingers in your hair at the base of your skull, the growing bulge pressing into your heated core, the way the side of his nose bumps into yours. His thighs shift, sliding you further into his lap with a ragged groan.
Slowly, almost unwillingly you pull back, sucking in deep lungfuls of air. He gives you the silent moment you need, his fingers scratching your scalp slightly as you try to compose yourself atop him. He can’t stop the way his eyes roam to your lips though, the short taste of you forever imbedded in his brain.
When you finally let your eyes flutter open you meet his half lidded gaze, you lick your lips. “I-I need some time alone…”
*~*~*~*~*~*
Two hours later your phone buzzes on the nightstand, you glance at it from where you lay, curled up on your side in bed. Your fingers keep tracing your kiss swollen lips, unable to stop thinking about anything else. Grabbing your phone you roll onto your other side, opening your texts.
A new message from Aaron pops up, and your thumb hovers over the screen, your stomach churning with anticipation. Clicking the screen a long message pulls up.
‘Let me know what you want to change, my sweet girl.’
A smile tugs at your lips without your permission, cheeks reddening as you read over the list of rules, rewards, and punishments that follow. At the very end, boldened followed by a question mark is the word:
‘Spanking?’
You take a deep breath, sealing your fate with a few clicks of your keyboard.
Thank you all for the amount of love this has received 😭 I can’t wait to continue writing the rest of this story. Please comment below if you would like to be added to the tag list!
Tag List: @kneelforloki @hmett20 @axionn @ncis0mrs0gibbs @morgthemagpie @zaddyhotch @little-miss-cherry-cola @fandomawesomness @heart-breaker8 @aad1993 @obsessed-oops @supercriminalbean @lex13cm @rosiehale23 @emptybagofchips77 @icarusgloom @imr0nni3 @cashtons-wife
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aph-mable · 1 year
Text
Dp x MHA prompt/story; ghostly child.
Okay so this idea been turning in my head for most of the day so I'm going to try to write this, anyone is free to add to it too.
Main plot is this; Danny is on the run from the GIW, being injured enough to cause him to de-age to around 6-7 years old. Same power strength and mind, but suffering from pretty bad injuries such as dissection, and having a lightning scar on his arm from the accident, others are from dealing with the other ghosts.
Danny does try to survive by himself, mainly useing the tricks and abilities he learned from his rouges, mostly doing the bare minimum to get by like steal food and clothes, sometimes kick bad guys to the curb but mostly keeps to himself.
He is in the MHA because during his escape he ended up creating a portal, while doing so he was begging for safety and to finally be accepted, the infinite realms awnsered by placing him a universe of heros, though it takes Danny some time to realize that.
Now with that established time to try and start the story, (though writing this while a bit tired)
___________________________________
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Danny's bare feet echoed as he ran through the rain storm, it made his body shiver yet he kept pushing through as his medical gown was almost causing him to trip due to it being a size a bit to big.
Yet it didn't matter to the young boy as he ran through the dark streets and alleyways, the pitch blackness of the night helped cover his tracks as he pushed his body forward.
All Danny knew was he needed to run, get away from the men in snow white suits, or else his blood will be splattered again.
No, no, that can't happen again, they had already cut Danny's body over a thousand times that he worried if there was anything human left of him.
His hair was already permanently white, his eyes now a sickly green that shined like spot lights in the dark, he even lost the real need to breath which was the only reason he hasn't collapsed yet.
The sickly young boy only stopped running when he slammed into a trash can, causing him to fall over and cry out in pain as his hands and knees bleed out a toxic red and green.
Painful sobs escaped his mouth as he culled up behind a dumpster, useing what little shelter from the pouring rain.
Finally unable to go any further Danny passes out, coughing now and then as he falls into a restless sleep.
--------------------------------------------
The sounds of birds chipping and passing by cars woke up Danny as the sunrise peeked though the clouds.
Rubbing his eyes and sticking to the shadows Danny crawled from his hiding spot to see where he even was, everything felt so much bigger then they used to be and it was kind of scary.
When Danny peeked around the corner what he saw made his eyes widen.
People and humanoid creatures walked the streets, drove in cars, and chatted away like there wasn't a problem in the world, living their lives without a care around them.
How long was Danny locked up? How far has the world move on that both human amd supernaturals could live together without fear? Would he be accepted for once or rejected again and hunted?
Too many questions filled the young halfa's mind, he needed to get away from the crowds and find some where safe, after all the Guys In White was most likely still looking for him.
Backing away further into the shadows Danny took twisting turns and back paths just to try and stay hidden. Ducking behind whatever he could find like a scared beast whenever a loud or sudden noise happened.
After hours of wondering the streets a painful growl came from Danny's stomach, reminding him that he was still human enough to need food, real food, not just literal trash.
Grumbling Danny went looking for an out of way convince store or small food shop, knowing full well he will have to steal from it. He would possibly go to a bigger food chain that wouldn't care as much about a few missing items, but Danny was still scared of being seen by too many people.
Finally finding a shop that was out of the way and didn't seem to have even a customer inside it Danny took his chance.
Pulling at his core and useing what energy he had, turned himself invisible and intangible as he walked right through the door.
Moving quickly he grabbed what his tiny arms could hold, which was a water bottle and twi pre made sandwiches.
Looking at the check out counter he could see a very tired looking young lady with stripes and long fangs, looking close to a wearcat, bored out of her mind. Werid words and colorful posters sounded her like some kind of ads.
Seeing he wasn't noticed yet Danny bolted for the door.
His invisibility slipped just as he passed the store clerk, leaving her only a sight of a small white haired boy in a werid gown phasing though the doors. It took only a second to make her realize he was running with unpaid store items.
Danny could hear distant yelling as he booked it back to the darkness of the alleyways, catching a few other people's attention but escaping.
Once sure no one was chasing him, Danny wolfed down his sandwiches and downed the water. Ancients, he hadn't even eaten or even got a proper drink like that in ages, tye most he gotten was the bare minimum to keep him alive.
Now a bit more fulied and a clearer mind Danny was planning his next move, which was finding a place to well, live in. A place to hide away from and maybe make his new haunt if it stays a good spot.
As he dusted himself off a near by broken mirror caught his eye. Moving forward Danny could see himself for the first time in a long while... it was a bit distressing.
Standing in the reflection was a young boy no older then 7, with snow white hair that was long and tangled with ectoplasm abd blood, wearing an oversized medical gown that was torn at the bottom, showing his recent knee injuries and barely hiding his lightning scar and others. Lime green eyes stared back at him as tears were rolling down his crumb covered face.
Not wanting to look at the monster in the mirror any longer, Danny matched forward in hopes to find an abounded building close by so he wouldn't have to pass out on the streets again.
----------------------------------------------
An unknown amount of weeks passed by, during that time Danny had found an old shack not to far off from a small stream and bridge.
From there he stole the odd blanket or clothing that were left in the wind to dry, making a nest withing the rotting boards. Danny manged to get his hands on a few shirts and shorts that would fit his smaller body better, yet kept the bloodied hospital gown, mostly as a way to cover up a big hole in the wall.
During his raids to get resources Danny did get spotted many more times, especially when trying to snach food, but so far hasn't been chased further then a block or two.
Danny had quickly found out two major factors of this new place; firstly he couldn't read anything, everything looked like werid squiggles and lines, that might be due to him not being good at reading in the first place or the fact he only knew how to read/write ghost since that's what he did to pass the time. Secondly was there were heros and villains, and he wasn't sure who he was more scared of.
Heros were easy to spot since they wore costumes and announced themselves, villains were more subtle most of the time until they start causing trouble.
Danny had a few run in with the latter, mostly just jerks who think a kid would be an easy target. They were proven wrong quickly when Danny knocked them out by barely trying and dragging them to what he thought was a police station.
Heros were much more tricky, Danny mainly blots whenever he sees any, same with police in person, because what if they worked with the GIW? What would happen if they find out Danny was nothing but an abomination, a crime against life and death.
He wasn't going to risk it.
Yet unaware to Danny due to his adventures he had been spotted multiple times by civilian and a few heros too, one or two may have caught a picture of him back when he was still in his medical gown. And with him naturally running whenever a hero was spotted things were getting suspicious.
Heros and officers were alerted to the presents of a young boy who's case was looking scarily similar to another.
Which lead to Danny's main problem now...
He keeps getting chased by heroes!
Danny mostly avoids them by phasing thorough buildings but it was getting annoying. He started to use his intangiblity, floating, and ice abilities more, he didn't use his ecto blasts since he didn't want to cause that much harm. So far he's been stalked and chased by a werid guy made out of wood, a cowboy, and a rabbit lady just this week! That's not counting the police trying to corner him.
The only ones now that weren't giving him any trouble were normal people and the odd villan.
All Danny wanted to do is eat a good sandwich and maybe relax a bit.
_____________________________________
Going to stop here for tonight but might add more later, any suggestions on how to make this story better is appreciated too.
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shuttershocky · 8 months
Note
Correct me if I'm wrong, but the Tsukihime remake takes place later than it was originally set, right? Do you think that is better than having it remain in the early 2000s/late 90s?
Correct. The original Tsukihime was set in 2000, while the Remake is set in the 2010s (I believe it was 2014).
Rather than "better or worse", I think the Tsukihime Remake couldn't have been set at the turn of the century anymore. Nasu's said before about how he's a very different person now from the person that originally wrote Tsukihime, living in a small apartment with Takeuchi working multiple jobs to support them both and having no money or fame to their names at all.
I believe that setting the Remake in the exact same setting, with Nasu attempting to recreate from memory what he made during a time that was certainly full of bad memories, would have just led to a worse version of Tsukihime.
The Remake doesn't just show Nasu's growth as a writer like giving Arcueid more agency or fleshing out the once bare-bones Church, it also shows you how Nasu's own thoughts have changed with the times. Remake Shiki is even more melancholic than the original, prone to rambling about things like how the internet has truly changed society by making a world where everyone is connected to each other 24/7, but it's also made teenagers lonelier even when more people than ever are at reach of their fingertips. The original Shiki talked up a lot about treasuring life, but Remake Shiki muses about the experience of living, how children these days can no longer dream when the life path of a student has never felt more rigid, and yet there still is something fun and joyful in physically being among other people, even as you all go through the motions day to day.
Even Shiki and Aoko's meeting has been changed with the new setting. Unlike Tsukihime, the Mahoyo VN kept the original Mahoyo's setting of 1989. This means that in the original Tsukihime, Shiki would have met Aoko at 20 (they meet in 1992), and Shiki's beloved sensei was only a couple years away from the brash, impulsive, temperamental, and wildly irresponsible Aoko that we see in Mahoyo. She would have barely been an adult when she changed Shiki's life forever.
The Remake however, moves their meeting to 2006, where Aoko would be 34. Not only does her maturity and influence on Shiki make a lot more sense, it also represents Nasu's own matured experience as a writer.
Tsukihime was Nasu's first real commercial hit as a writer, and back then the 20 year old Aoko would have been just like Nasu at the time if he were to help out a novice—Someone young and raw, still in the middle of finding themselves but passing on words of advice to someone even younger. By the time of writing the Tsukihime Remake however, Nasu has long since risen to the top, with a veritable library of acclaimed works under his belt and close to the entire otakusphere passingly familiar with a certain swordswoman of his creation.
So to better reflect that, Aoko would have had to be older, someone who has already lived long enough that they can look back on being a kid with fresh eyes. There's a reason why Aoko's influence on Shiki is emphasized even more in the Remake than in the original, the words Shiki takes to heart were spoken by an Aoko that had already lived it.
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whumpily-ever-after · 3 months
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Circle: Two Worlds Connected Whump List
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Summary: A show told in two parts, one in 2017 and the other in 2037. In 2017, Kim Woo Jin and his twin brother Beom Gyun are on different paths. Woo Jin is a dedicated college student, while his brother is determined to find the alien who disappeared with their father when they were young. Even with those differences, the brothers are close and determined to protect each other as the only family they have. But when students begin dying, the two are thrown into a mystery that threatens their lives. In 2037, people’s emotions are controlled by a chip in their necks, but not everyone believes in the goodness of this invention. A detective, Kim Joon Hyuk, is determined to discover the secrets of the past and the true motives of those controlling the chips.
Genre: Thriller, mystery, sci-fi
Country: South Korea
Year: 2017
Watch it on: Tubi
Warning: Some cases in this show deal with su*cide.
Spoilers ahead...
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Whumpee: Kim Woo Jin played by Yeo Jin Goo
Episode 1: Pushed against a wall | crying, concerned for his brother
Episode 2: None
Episode 3: Grabbed by his jacket, punched in the face, in a fight, worried about his missing brother, cut on his cheek, blood on corner of mouth
Episode 4: None
Episode 5: Concerned for his brother, emotional
Episode 6: Crying
Episode 7: Gun pointed at his head, forced to walk, gun pointed at his back, scared
Episode 8: Scared, grabbed by the shoulders, told he has to find something or his brother will suffer | crying | scratched on the face, upset after an encounter with his grandma with dementia | punched in the face, hit in the back, kicked in the stomach, falls to the ground, grunting in pain, forced to stand, punched in the face, falls to the ground, coughing, punched in the face, kicked repeatedly, blood on his face, finds his brother, crying
Episode 9: Face covered in blood, crying, holding his brother in his arms
Episode 10: Crying
Episode 11: Grabbed by his shirt, choked, coughing, betrayed | manhandled | chased, gun pointed at his forehead, forced to his knees, held in place, chased, hit by a car, wakes up in a locked room | (2017) in the hospital, oxygen mask, doctor says his organs are failing | (2037) learns he is a clone
Episode 12: Manhandled | thrown into a room, taunted, told he was abandoned | manhandled, forced to his knees, gun pointed at his head
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Whumpee: Kim Beom Gyun played by Ahn Woo Yeon
Episode 1: Worries he might be crazy, emotional
Episode 2: In the hospital, injured leg, scrape on his face
Episode 3: Locked in a room in an abandoned building
Episode 4: Locked in a room, struggling against someone trying to drug him, hair grabbed, drugged, passes out
Episode 5: Manhandled | forcibly taken away in the back of an ambulance, bloody hand
Episode 6:  Locked in a room, grabbing his head in pain, bleeding from his nose
Episode 7: Grabbing his head in pain, bleeding from the nose, scared, grabbing his head, knocked into a wall, falls to the floor, unconscious | (flashback) tied to a chair (rope)
Episode 8: None
Episode 9: Held in his brother’s arms, blood on his face, helped to walk, on a stretcher | losing his memories
Episode 10: Given a sedative, nearly kidnapped
Episode 11: Has a seizure | in the hospital, shocked, given CPR | has surgery
Episode 12: None
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Whumpee: Kim Joon Hyuk played by Kim Kang Woo
Episode 1: None
Episode 2: Hand on his head, groaning in pain, painful flashes of memory
Episode 3: Nightmare, holding his head | punched in the face, blood on his lip | emotional, says he has no memory of who he is
Episode 4: Emotional | crying
Episode 5: Crying
Episode 6: At gunpoint, shot with a dart, dizzy, falls to the floor, unconscious, dragged away, carried on someone’s back, nearly has a chip implanted in his neck, rescued
Episode 7: Emotional | crying
Episode 8: At gunpoint
Episode 9: Told his brother is still alive, in a fight, chased | told his brother was killed
Episode 10: Crying | at gunpoint, held against a wall, locked in a room
Episode 11: Reunited with his brother, emotional, pain in his head, flash of memory | learns his brother is a clone | crying
Episode 12: None
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Whumpee: Lee Ho Soo played by Lee Gi Kwang
Episode 1: None
Episode 2: In a chokehold
Episode 3: Grunting in pain, hand on his forehead, stumbling, grunting in pain, hand on his forehead, breathing heavily | stumbling, using a wall to hold himself up, hand on his forehead, bleeding from his nose, scared | pushed against a wall, emotional
Episode 4: Emotional
Episode 5: At gunpoint, hold his head in pain | bleeding from his nose
Episode 6: Pain in his head, shaking, memories returning
Episodes 7-9: None
Episode 10: Pushed against a car, manhandled | single tear, forced to sit
Episodes 11-12: None
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anki-of-beleriand · 11 months
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Bad Liar ch. 4
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Summary: Life is about lessons, and Wanda has been learning some harsh facts that had define her life and taken her to a place in which she was given a second chance. Then, all of a sudden, she meets you, and she realizes why it's easier to lie to yourself than to accpet what's right in front of her.
Pairing: Wanda Maximoff/ Female!reader - America/Kate - Mentions of past Vision/Wanda - past Natasha/Reader - Some Female!Reader/Carol Danvers - past Shuri/Female!reader
Warnings: Slow burn - Enemies to friends to lovers - Mentions of abusive relationships - Toxic relationships - angst - drama - mentions of abuse - more tags as the story progress.
Author's note: In the midst of celebration R and Wanda cross paths once more, and this time around something changes, and after that nothing would be the same. Some clarifications, R parents died almost two years ago from the moment the story takes place, and her relationship with Shuri ended almost 8 months before meeting Wanda.
Thank you so much for reading, commenting, liking and reblogging the story guys! Remember that English is not my mother tongue, so forgive my grammar, spelling and funny mistakes.
Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 - Chapter 12 - Chapter 13 - Chapter 14 - Chapter 15 - Chapter 16 - Chapter 17 - Chapter 18
Chapter 4
Shaky foundations
The sound of muffled conversation resounded in the empty balcony. 
The cold breeze of the night brushed away the pearly drops of sweat pouring from her face. The sweet freshness of the rainy air filled her lungs, while her heart tried to slow down the heavy beats against her chest. She clenched her eyes close trying to stop the world from spinning too fast, too unsteady under her. 
Laughter and music tried to deafen her, but the ringing inside her head made it impossible for the buzzing to kick her senses completely. Her trembling hands rested upon the stony rail, her knees buckled up under her weight and the sobs she was trying to hold back came forth with a defeated sigh. 
The night had started out pretty well. 
Natasha had lent her a beautiful dress that complemented the figure she forgot she had. Her hair had been put up into a ponytail, with light makeup and low heels, Wanda had entered into a world of glamour and power she had only witness under the shadow of Vision.
Wherever she looked, she would recognize people from the news and the magazines, the parents and contributors of a school that was destined to raise the future of the nation. 
There were no cameras, no press. 
It was only them enjoying a light evening in one of Tony Stark's convention centres. Natasha Romanoff had kept her promise to never leave Wanda's side, the woman took her by the hand around the room filled with people eager to meet the new English teacher. By now, Wanda realised that her students had not been afraid to talk about her, and her name was in the lips of many proud parents that praised her work with their offspring while promising money, status… Power.
It was too much, too soon. 
The last time she  had been under so much scrutiny Vis had taken her back home with an anger and hatred Wanda would not forget any time soon. She still had the scars on her back, the souvenir of a man that had claimed property on her by any means possible. 
You are nothing more than a common whore, fucking disgusting I have to throw up everytime I have to touch you… The only good thing about you, it's what you have between your legs. 
Wanda shivered under the memory of that particular night. The scars on her back burnt with the remembrance. 
"You are safe." Natasha had noticed her distress as soon as it happened, Wanda had grabbed the hand of the older woman taking into the comfort of her sympathy. 
"Now, lift that chin up and let's meet with the real people of money around here." Natasha winked at Wanda leading the young woman down the hall towards the main table. 
Up until that moment, Wanda had not met with any of the school board members in full. But as they approached the table, Wanda realised she was about to have her world turned around by the people shooting at her curious glances. 
"Romanoff, as always, your taste in women is impeccable." A dark haired man declared, his smile bright and full of mischief with dark glasses and a flirty attitude, Wanda recognized Tony Stark almost instantly. 
"Shut it, Tony." Natasha shook her head, and while the gesture seemed familiar and teasing, Tony could see the warning glint in Natasha's eyes. "This is Wanda Maximoff, the new teacher for the Special Class."
"Mr. Stark, it's an honour…" Wanda stretched her hand clumsily, her cheeks burning red when the man lowered his shades to lock eyes with her. 
"If what Romanoff says about you is the truth then, the pleasure is all mine…" Tony stretched his left arm showing the rest of the people at the table, there were three empty spots, and soon he lifted a single eyebrow at Wanda. "Please, Mrs. Maximoff, we were waiting for you."
"And, Y/N…" A woman with light brown hair said smiling at Wanda. "But she must be fighting with her sister over the phone."
"As always." Natasha rolled her eyes pointing with her hand to the woman. "Please, meet the only woman that can put up with Tony, Pepper Potts."
"I resent that!" 
Wanda soon found herself meeting everyone at the table and being part of a group she never thought would be this… Amicable to her. Sitting right beside Tony and Pepper was Loki's older brother and guardian Thor Odinson and his wife Sif. Then, there was Steve and Bucky, the legal guardians of the Captain of the football team Sam Wilson. To the other end of the table was Clint Barton and his wife Laura, who were in charge of the exchange students program and then there was Kate's mother, Eleanor was the CEO of one of the most important security businesses in the nation. 
Wanda had been overwhelmed by the full presentation, and she had tried to hide her awkwardness behind a tentative smile and stumbled words. Everyone was kind, commenting on Wanda's best traits while directing the conversation to general matters that the redhead thanked silently. 
Finally, Wanda sat just beside Natasha with an empty spot by her side, she furrowed her brows glancing at the blond-haired woman sitting on the other chair. 
"Finally but not least, that's Carol Danvers, Y/N's companion." Natasha stated, Carol tilted her head stretching her hand to greet Wanda. 
"A pleasure to finally meet someone normal amongst this lot." Carol said, winking at Wanda. 
For some reason, Wanda smiled at the comment looking around the table then at the empty spot. Carol waved her hand while pointing with her head to the other side of the room. 
" Y/N is the one with money, not me." Carol returned her attention to the table, everyone was already engaged in conversation waving the two women alone. "And, this is my first event, just like you."
"Good, I was afraid this could be too awkward for me to suffer alone."
Carol let out a soft laughter, Wanda relaxed a little, finally finding her confidence as she engaged the other woman in small talk. 
Everything seemed to be going well, Wanda was finally finding a spot in between her awkwardness with which she would work while trying to enjoy the evening until a familiar voice broke her bubble of happiness all of a sudden. 
"I swear to God my sister is impossible to deal with when she is around your brother, Thor." You came in putting your mobile away while dropping on the chair, you furrowed your brows turning to the gaping woman glancing at you with disbelief, anger and uncertainty all in a single glance of emerald green. 
" You!" Wanda finally sputtered, you raised a single eyebrow tilting your head to see Natasha highly shocked at Wanda's reaction. 
"Me. Yes, as far as I know, Princess." You replied mockingly, Wanda clenched her jaw jumping startled when Natasha leaned over. 
"Do you know Y/N?" 
"Know?" Wanda turned to Natasha with a hint of disbelief tainting her voice. "Do you remember the… The…the bi… The rude woman I met on my first day here?" 
You leaned back on your chair watching with growing amusement the red-head's reaction to your presence. Everyone had their eyes on the both of you, Carol sneaked her hand under the table placing a hand on your thigh while cocking her head with curiosity. 
"I do…" Natasha trailed off before shooting you an annoyed glance. "It was you?!" 
"It was me what, Tasha?" 
"You were being a bitch to Wanda on her first day here!" 
Wanda opened her eyes wide at Natasha's words, her cheeks colouring red as now the attention of all the presents at the table were on her. You made a face while taking a glass of wine while shrugging. 
"I wasn't being a bitch, she just couldn't take it that I was faster and smarter than her." You replied tilting your head to the redhead. "Really? You have been complaining about that?" 
"It's not… I didn't…" Wanda scoffed at you, obviously affronted to be this close to you. "God, who are you anyway?" 
Natasha winced at the question, everyone turned their attention to you but all of a sudden you were very busy playing with the red beverage on your glass. 
"Wanda, let me introduce you to Y/N Y/L/N, who recently became the head of Alchemax Corp." The introduction was quite simple, but Wanda just as everybody else on the planet had heard the story of such a company. 
She kept her eyes on you, though it looked as if you were unfazed by such revelation. Money was certainly something you didn't lack, but by the time Wanda met you it wasn't something you reek of. For a brief moment, everyone was pretty silent, and you growled rolling your eyes while shrugging while drinking your wine in a single sip. 
"Right, nice to meet you, Princess." 
Carol furrowed her brows at the nickname, while Wanda turned away flustered without knowing how to react. 
In the end, she went for the most familiar emotion she related to you. Anger. 
"Not my pleasure, unfortunately."
"Woah, you really make up for good first impressions, Y/N." Tony chuckled, lifting his glass to you before turning to Wanda. "She is not very nice when you know her at first but, after a while, she warms up to you, right Romanoff?" 
"Shut up, Tony!" 
You disconnected yourself from the conversation soon after, the tension between you and Wanda was still quite palpable for you, but it seemed for everyone around the room it was a thing of the past. The hand on your leg drew circles, trying to help you reach a comfort you didn't feel. 
"So, besides fighting over food at the supermarket, and crashing your car against your neighbour's, you're into teaching teens, Princess?"  You asked after a while, everyone at the table was either busy eating or had left to go around the room and socialised. 
Wanda blinked a couple of times, her attention drifted from the plate in front of her to you. The infuriating smile dancing on your lips made her blood boil, Wanda scoffed leaning back while looking around for some back up.
She was alone, though. 
Tony had dragged Natasha away with him, and Wanda was left alone with you to her left and a pretty boisterous Thor to her right. You tapped the table with your fingertips, your gaze travelling down the features of the young woman sitting beside you. 
You had noticed her beauty before, but right now she was looking stunningly beautiful. There was a light of innocence on her that made her cute, it made your heart flutter with something akin to attraction and the mere thought scared you a little. 
"I am a teacher, yes." Wanda finally gave in, the fork in her hand putting away some of the food she would not consume that night. 
"I see." You whistled impressed, the glint of teasing in your eyes warning Wanda your next comment would be a stupid one. 
"Smart, even though you're an awful driver." You chuckled, lifting your hands in a sign of peace at her enraged expression. 
"You…" Wanda took a deep breath trying to control her anger, now that she knew who you were she would need to measure her words. You could see her effort to keep her tongue controlled and a part of you hated it. 
"Why are you so…infuriating?" 
The question came with a tired huff, the redhead woman didn't even dare to look at you but instead of waiting for an answer she just stood up and walked away leaving you with an empty mind and a yearning heart. 
"Hey, did you know Hope is here?" Carol sat to your side, her hand placing itself in your thigh. 
Your eyes popped open, turning your head you went to look around for the woman before settling your eyes on Carol who was giggling at your reaction. 
"I mean, here in the country and the city, silly not here-here." 
"Oh, no, I didn't know…" you mumbled, frowning a little. "She didn't call me…I mean, not that she needed to is just…" 
Carol softened her features, placing a comforting hand on you. She leaned in to place a kiss on your cheek while her hand played with your hair. 
"I'm sorry, I thought you guys were talking again."
You offered a terse smile, the air around heavy and hot. 
"I think it's complicated." You tried to cut off with the topic, but Carol would have none of it. She knew your friendship with Hope was something you had treasure from an early age, but things had gone out of hand after your last relationship. 
Carol frowned, taking a sip from her beverage before speaking. 
"I thought that after everything was cleared up, she would side with you instead of being a bitch about it."
The world came to a stop, Carol knew she had made a mistake the moment her clear eyes fell on you. Your hand had grabbed the glass of wine tightly, the memories assaulting your senses. 
"Things have not been the same since Shuri, I wasn't her only friend… And for Hope it was harder to understand the whole situation." The name of your ex-girlfriend rolled out of your lips with the same pained expression it usually did. 
"She is not being a bitch she just…she doesn't need to lose her two oldest friends for something like this."
It was enough to make Carol stop, your body tensed completely and the moment was broken. Carol pursed her lips leaning back to fix her position on the chair, the warmth in her eyes turned to pure cold and you knew you had broken an unspoken rule between the both of you. 
"Y/N…" Carol started but you stood up. 
"I think I'm going for a drink." You finally mumbled leaving the table behind, Carol staying there her eyes glancing regretfully at you glass full of wine. 
______________________________________________________________
Wanda was not sure how she ended up in her current predicament, what she did know was that her heart rate had increased exponentially and her body was sweating profusely at her current situation. 
The man standing before her was huge, with big muscle arms and an imposing figure. His eyes were black, and while his smile appeared to be kind there was a strange tension around her eyes that made people doubt his intentions. Simon Williams had set his eyes on the new teacher the moment she crossed the threshold of Stark's convention centre by the arm of Natasha. 
The woman didn't look gay, mostly shy. 
Which was perfect for him, shy women were terrific in bed and usually easier to convince than regular ones.  After he finally got his chance at the redhead, he realised this one would be harder to crack. She was not only shy, but a bitch. Almost unresponsive, and kind of dull, Simon decided to go all in with his open flirtatious nature and his comments, he wanted to make it clear to the woman what he was looking for. And if that didn't work the way he wanted, he could always toss in the name of his father and see how this would ease the woman's attitude. 
Wanda from her part was trying to locate Natasha with her eyes, but so far she had failed miserably. No one had noticed her in this dimly lit corner, and she was certain the huge man was hiding away her frame and probably the expression of pure terror she was sporting at the moment. The young woman winced, her body froze completely while her eyesight went blurry when Simon placed his hand on her forearm, leaning in his hot breath filled with alcohol and hit her in the face. 
"So what do you say, Princess?" 
The nickname under his lips, with the suggestive tone and his deep guttural voice made Wanda shivered in fear. She felt trapped. And the only thing she could see at the moment was Vision hovering above her, punishing her for, once more, bringing the attention of a man. For being the whore he always thought she was. For Wanda the man in front of her didn't look that different from Vision, he had the same dangrrous vibe, the same threatening gestures. Wanda was scared, and didn't know how to get out of that situation.
"By the heavens, Simon, are you tormenting another poor soul with your breath and macho persona?" Your voice broke the fear Wanda was in, her heart leaped in hope when she saw you frowning at the scene. 
Simon Williams stepped back, his annoyance evident on his face and the mocking curve on his lips. 
"L/N."
You were unimpressed by his height, looking him up and down you then redirected your eyes to Wanda who was still frozen in the spot. You tilted your head noticing the sheer terror on her face, the eyes wide open and the rictus on her lips. Simon had not made note of this, of course, he was a brute that thought with his dick and not his brain. If he had one. 
"I thought you were with that dyke friend of yours, the blond one." Simon slurred mockingly. "She dumped you already?" 
You smirked, your eyes turning to ice while you started walking around the table, never leaving the eyes of the man in front of you. 
"You know what's the difference between you and me, Simon boy?" 
The man clenched his jaw, lifting his chin to send a defiant glance your way. Your tone never changed, but you had walked around until you were in between Simon and Wanda. 
"That I don't get dumped by black bitches?" 
You chuckled, a humourless laugh that was followed by a glance of pure amusement. 
"That your mother loves me more than she does you."
Wanda didn't know what happened, the only thing she knew was that soon a deafening crash was heard and the big man had launched at you with rage and unsteady footsteps. You had grabbed the red-haired woman dragging her to the side, and the man had tripped on a chair and landed on a marble table that ended up on the floor. 
Your hand had closed tightly around Wanda's wrist, and by the time Wanda was finally aware of what was happening panic rose to her throat and with a harsh slap she freed herself from your touch and ran away from the scene. 
Wanda put a hand on her mouth, tears fell freely on her face while she tried to grasp her sanity. She could only think of what had happened, of the mistakes she had made through her life… Of the slap that was going to get her fired.. 
She had her eyes closed, breathing was getting harder and harder, the sobs strangled in her throat. She gasped when two hands placed tenderly in her shoulders, she had expected to see Natasha not you. 
"Stop it." You spoke calmly, softening your features without losing your firmness. 
Wanda tried to breathe, but it was getting difficult and the tears full of memories were not helping her case. 
Wanda tried to calm herself, but it was almost impossible. Then, your arms wrapped around her and the woman started crying non-stop until she almost fell to the floor. You held her steadily in your arms, the sound of the party going on inside the room was not enough to quiet Wanda's cries. 
The moon was already igniting the skies, the light rain falling on the ground and while the night was completely cold you could only feel the warm body against yours. The trembling of the thin frame, while her tears covered your blouse and her hands held onto you as if there was nobody.
Whatever story was behind those tears, whatever story was behind those green eyes you wished there was something you could do at the moment. That there were words that could stop her suffering, but there was nothing you could do.
While the party continued right outside the balcony, you held onto Wanda offering the only comfort you could at that moment. Your arms and a protective embrace against the cold and rainy night.
______________
Carol stood right in front of you with her lips pressed together, and her hand grabbing the small purse she had taking with her. The idea of a perfect, romantic night with you went to hell the moment you two discussed at the table but she thought the night was young and she would get the opportunity to redeem herself.
Now that your car had an unsuspected guest waiting for you to go in, Carol was sure trying to get to talk to you was going to be more difficult than before. You stood in front of her, scratching the back of your neck in the same nervous way you did whenever you felt lost. Carol nodded turning away before her whole face changed and she offered you her best smile.
“I understand.” Carol let out a breathy laugh, her hand brushing away her hair before she stepped closer to you, you grabbed her hand putting her closer.
You tried to hold back your expression, there was just something wrong about the situation.
“I…I will make it up to you, Carol.” When you put her closer, and your lips brushed against hers it made you trembled. “Call you later? Perhaps, we can go out tomorrow…or you can come over and have some lunch with me and America?”
The words were out of your mouth before you could stop them, Carol seemed pleasantly surprised at this and soon she was kissing you with more passion. You smiled through the kiss stepping back, Carol blushed lightly licking her lips while nodding.
“Yeah, I would like that.”
“Good then, talk to you later.” You stepped back finally turning around going to the car, Carol’s voice stopped you just before you went in.
“Be careful.”
Carol wanted to add something else, but she refrained herself waving at you. With a last gesture, you went into the car and soon you found yourself driving down the streets towards Wanda’s house. The woman was sitting right beside you, her head on the window and her hands wriggling together nervously; you were tempted to say something, anything at all, but Wanda had not talked since the incident in the room and her breaking down in the balcony.
The car ride was very silent, the tarnish windows didn’t allow for a good sightseeing in the city but Wanda didn’t care. She was just trying to forget what had happened, how stupid she had been for breaking down and for letting a stranger get to her the way he did. How would she take care of her children if she couldn’t even face some stranger? How would she change her own life if she was still so afraid?
She was weak.
And Vision was right.
She couldn’t do any good without him by her side.
“I lost my parents to an accident.” Your voice broke Wanda from her thoughts, the woman jerked away turning to you before her eyes focused on the lane that was right in front of her home. You leaned back not even looking at her, your voice was flat, as if this story was something you weren’t especially thrilled to be sharing at the moment.
“I was young and…I have to take care of my sister, and then stop doing what I wanted to do because I’m the head of a big empire and…I am the only one that can…” You trailed off lifting your head while glancing at the roof of your car. “There is so much paperwork! God, I hated it, you know?”
You turned to Wanda; the woman was half listening to you not really understand where that conversation was going.
“I hate it.”
Wanda furrowed her brows, her arms wrapping around herself. Silence filled the loneliness inside the car, you shrugged, turning your attention back to the road. 
"There are things we can't change, I guess."
"We just had to live with them." Wanda mumbled in the end, you snorted, shrugging again. 
"I guess we have to."
Her eyes flickered tentatively to the side, then she finally faced you and there was nothing you could read on her face. She was looking different, though the fear was hiding behind the glistening tears in her eyes. 
"Thank you."
You smiled at her, nothing too friendly, just polite. The woman earned your sympathy that day, it was pretty obvious by the reaction she had that things had not been easy for her. Whatever happened in the past, Wanda was still a work in progress. 
Nothing else was said, and soon Wanda exited the car and went down her entrance directly to her home. 
You would sit in your car for a couple of minutes, before you realised that the redhead had been tormenting your thoughts since she left the car. By the time you were back home, your back against the door you couldn't stop thinking about the night. 
About Carol. 
About the incident. 
And most certainly, you couldn't stop thinking about Wanda and how you suddenly felt overprotective of the redhead. With these confusing emotions pouring out of your mind, you turned off the car and went home.  ______________________________________________________________
America stretched out, her mouth opened wide with a deep yawn while her eyes almost dropped with tiredness. She tried to get a glimpse of the piece of paper in front of her but was almost impossible to make out the words without seeing the blurry figures of the letters.
“I think we should call it a night.” Kate mumbled noticing Loki was already fast asleep right beside Kamala, the both of them were cuddling with Yelena taking pictures and giggling like mad.
America snorted nodding tiredly, her eyes soon drifted to the twins and Balder that were fast asleep on the sleeping bags she had fixed for them. Taking care of the boys had been quite easy, America was always surprised to see just how well-behaved the Maximoff twins were; she didn’t want to comment much about it, but she had also seen the look of fear in their eyes, the way they turned to the clock and the door whenever they heard a noise of a car driving by.
“You’re thinking of that again.” Kate leaned in, her hand placing softly on top of America’s one.
For a brief moment, America glanced at their hands while her cheeks burnt lightly. Kate leaned in resting her head on her shoulder, her eyes centring on the form of the twins before she lifted her face to America.
“I just…I can shale the feeing they really had it rough for a while.” America furrowed her brows, her heart beating hard when she felt Kate shifted closer to her. “You should see him on that first day, and Mrs. Maximoff is sometimes…just like them.”
“Well, my sister is keeping everything tight in her office, and I haven’t been able to get much of her.” Yelena slumped on the sofa; her eyes gleaming mischievously to the pair sitting at the other side of the room.
“I can try to do the investigation online.” America and Kate jumped startled; Loki was glancing at them with the same mischievous glance Yelena was shooting at them.
“I thought you were asleep!” America shifted on the chair, her sudden movement putting her away from Kate who couldn’t help but lower her gaze hurt.
Yelena sat watching as America stood up, she stretched before babbling away having some drinks before they could discuss the Wanda Maximoff situation in further detail. Kate crunched up her nose, rolling her eyes slightly annoyed by this.
“…And, if you think you can find something without getting caught…”
“Excuse me?” Loki straightened up rather offended. “Are you doubting my abilities?”
America rolled her eyes trying to evade Kate for a moment, “of course no. But I do think that if they found out about that…”
“We could get into a lot of trouble.”
Kate hated the passion with which America dealt with the situation, ever since the new teacher showed in their lives it was quite evident for everyone in the group that America was quite found of her. Kate knew it was stupid, but whenever America got something into her head she went all the way until she got answers; her passion was one of the things Kate loved the most about her.
“I guess, there is not escaping this then.” Kate mumbled offering a weak smile to America, the young woman opened her eyes quite shocked but happy.
“That’s the attitude, Kate Bear!” America wrapped her arms around the other woman, wriggling her eyebrows before letting go and walking to Loki.
“We could always go to her home and look for information.” Yelena chimed in playing with her phone.
“Why is it breaking in and some minor crime with you, Lena?”
“Excuse me? You’re the one hacking into private records.”
“I am not hacking into private records.” Loki retorted. “I will do it, but…”
The discussion went on and one, America sat near the window her eyes narrowing lightly at the sight of a car parked nearby. Kate sat beside her, chuckling at the discussion that had just woken up Kamla and Balder.
“You think this is stupid and that I shouldn’t mess around with this, right?” America could see Kate was not comfortable answering her question, but she didn’t need to it was obvious that Kate didn’t like the whole situation.
“I just think that you are thinking too much about Mrs. Maximoff, that’s all.” Kate shifted uncomfortably, her hand placing on the young woman’s knee.
America lowered her gaze for a moment then she just shrugged lightly.
“I just…I think there is something else, and the twins…” America lifted her face only to lock eyes with Kate. “I just think…”
“Here comes, America Chavez, the defender of the unfortunate and those who don’t have a voice.” Kate chuckled resting her head on the back of the sofa, her eyes taking in the soft features of the young woman sitting in front of her, on the bashful smile on her face.
“When you said it like that, sounds cheesy.”
“It is cheesy.” Kate shivered when America grabbed her hand leaning closer.
“I just have a gut feeling about this, you know? Kate, you should have seen the fear in those kids. I just want to make sure…”
Kate didn’t need to hear anymore about it, America had already made her mind and whether she liked Wanda or not, there was something she couldn’t take and that was a kid sad or suffering. America had been there, and that usually made her a sucker for helping people around her; and as always, Kate was there to help her up.
If she was to be honest, America was not sure as to why she was so adamant in finding more about her neighbour and teacher. There was just something inside her that told her it was necessary; it was the right thing to do; so she went with her instincts and decided to take a look into the case.
“I guess I can also help in the search, I know that Jack would be more than happy to help me out and we can see if there is anything to know about her.” Kate felt butterflies fluttering around her stomach at the sight of America’s smile; the brunette offered a shy smile before looking away to the street.
“Thank you, Kate. I know you don’t like this, but…maybe if I get my curiosity satiated it would be easier.” America furrowed her brow when her eyes fell on the form of your car, it was parked right next to your house. “Is that my sister?”
Kate had already noticed this, she leaned in pursing her lips while recognizing the plates.
“Looks that way, why is parked over there?”
The question went unanswered, at that moment Kate’s phone rang and America’s vibrated on the table. Wanda was letting America know she was home, while Jack was telling Kate they were ready to pick her and Yelena up.  Soon, Loki was also picking up his stuff while the conversation turned to the project and what they should do the next day.
You stayed inside your car for a moment, the night had been tiresome and confusing. The woman living next door was not leaving your mind, and all you could think off was how to forget the whole drama you certainly didn’t need.
Your phone vibrated, your eyes drifted to the screen to see the name of Carol and Natasha there. More than a couple of messages, and missing call from your sister. You sighed tilting your head until you were looking into the yellowish light coming from the house next door.
“You gonna stay there all night, or are you coming inside, doofus?” America rested her weight on the car, there was a light frown on her face but otherwise she was just looking tired and happy to see you there.
“I don’t know, are you guys making a ruckus like last time?” You exited the car chuckling when America winced at the memory.
“Nah, we were really studying and babysitting.” America put her jacket closer, her eyes went to your car then to the neighbours home, you turned your head focusing your attention back to your home.
“How did it go? Why are you here in the cold?”
“Well, I saw you get here but never get inside…everything good?” America placed a hand on your forearm, her concern stare pierced right through you knowing there wasn’t much you could hide from your sister.
“Yeah, I just…it was a strange night, you know?” You rested your weight against your car. “I’ve got into a fight with Simon Williams and then…well, Carol and I got into a discussion over Hope…”
“Whoa, quite the night…” America chuckled nodding towards the house. “I only stopped a couple of fights and tried to distract the kids from doing something stupid.”
“The twins and Balder?”
“Humph, Balder and Loki.” The both of you chuckled at this, America rubbed her hands glancing back at the house then at you.
“I’m going to take the twins to their home, Kate and Yelena are coming with me and Loki is waiting for Thor.”
You nodded pointing to your car, “need a ride?”
“Nope, they really do live next door, you know?” America observed with utter care your reaction, you tensed completely furrowing your brows while lifting your eyes the light next door.
“You mean…” You trailed off remembering the children crying in the car, and the fact your neighbour had mentioned the kids before. “Wait, that woman is your teacher?”
America rolled her eyes making a face, “well, duh, I thought you knew.”
“I didn’t.”
There was nothing else you could say, and soon you were remembering those brief encounters in which she mentioned her kids, in which you heard the cries from the children. And it was obvious you were overlooking something about the woman you had insulted and mocked ever since your crossed paths on that supermarket a couple of months ago.
The woman you had defended that night, and the one you had tried to comfort that night. The sound of our phone called your attention, the name on the screen made your heart jumped in anticipation. Carol Danvers.
America took a closer look at you, her lips pursed as you put the phone out ready to answer.
“Try to not take to long, and it is really cold tonight. Take a jacket and make sure the kids are wearing something warm.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
You nodded at your sister before picking up the phone, “hey, you, how did it go?”
America watched as you walked into the house, the door was left opened and the young woman stood there wondering…and then, all of a sudden…planning.
This ought to be interesting.
___________________________
There were only dark clouds with freezing winds disturbing the activity of the inhabitants of the city.
You wrapped the scarf tightly around your neck, your eyes lifting to the sky observing the gliding clouds right above your head. It had been almost a week since the party and the incident, and in all this time you could only think of was the woman living right next door.
It was ridiculous.
The woman was just someone quite easy to torment, and while she might be attractive she wasn’t that extraordinary. She was not that important. She was not even a friend or anything at all, she was just your neighbour, and the mother of the kids America couldn’t stop talking about.
God, if she had kids she was most probably straight as an arrow and might even had a lover boy around.
You jerked startled when a hand placed itself on your shoulder, standing right behind you wearing a black coat and a black beanie and liner gloves. There were bags under her eyes, but her smile was tentative and a little shy, behind her was her car and you could see the small heads of the twins through the window.
“Hey, I…” She started trailing off when you didn’t even react, just stood there watching at her with the same unreadable stare you had been sending her way whenever you two found yourselves on the lane. “I was wondering…”
There was a moment of silence in which you shifted one foot to the other, your lips curling lightly into an easy smile while there was a teasing glint in your eyes.
“Gonna talk anytime soon, Maximoff? I need to be somewhere else.” You observed as her cheeks burn lightly, she looked away before the warmness in her stare was replace by a familiar coldness of annoyance.
“I was just wondering if you were okay.” She said stepping back while turning to her car. “I see that you’re still the same jerk, so have a good day, Ms. Y/L/N.”
You watched the woman get into her car and leave without anything else left to say, you grabbed your keys cursing mentally at the fact your heart was beating so fast and all of a sudden you were back into high school talking to the most beautiful woman ever.
Really, Maximoff was not even that good looking, and the meek personality of hers was not attractive at all.
“Hey, you okay?” America frowned watching you from the passengers door, you turned sharply nodding.
“Yeah, why?” You asked approaching the car and getting inside, America sat beside you narrowing her eyes.
“I don’t know, you have been weird as of late. Anything you want to share with me?”
“Nope, nothing at all.” You sighed leaving the house with music blasting through the speakers. “Any plans for tomorrow, kiddo?”
America shrugged watching her phone, “Mrs. Maximoff asked me to babysit, and later I think I will meet with Kate, why?”
“Oh, okay I…” You trailed off biting your tongue before you could ask about the babysitter job. “I think I’m going over to Hope’s.”
Here America tore her attention from her mobile, she was highly shocked at your words and you could tell the young woman was dying to ask a hundredth questions. But she knew better.
“You really are going?”
“I figure…I figure we need to talk, right?” You shrugged looking at America out of the corner of your eyes. “Besides, I miss her, so I think it is time to patch things up with her.”
“I guess you’re right, and it will give you the chance to talk about whatever is up your ass.” America mumbled, you snorted shaking your head.
You loved America, but if you started telling her about your recent idiocy you wouldn’t hear the end of it. And, knowing America the way you did, you knew she would snoop around only to give you a chance to be out there and be happy again.
Snow started falling that same night.
The news broadcast the miracle of White Christmas as if it was something everyone should be grateful for. But in reality the only thing it did to you was bring sore memories of the accident in which you lost your parents. Life had been different two years ago, and everything had been brighter back then; now all there was for you were problems.
You lifted your gaze to the office building in front of you.
Hope Van Dyne had built her little practice off scratch as soon as she was out of her parent’s watchful eye. She was one of your oldest friends, and the person you had gone to when everything went to hell; right after your parents died and you had to take care of America she had been right by your side with Shuri but after what happened…
You sighed.
It had been almost a year since you had seen or talked to Hope, and you missed her. Finding out she was back in town was hard on you, and that Carol was the one telling you this was even harder. Pressing your lips together you left your car and went inside the building, with hope bubbling up your chest that this meeting would be different to the last one you had with her.
The office was empty.
It was warm inside, and the place was looking cozy with a coffee maker and some warm water at the ready for anyone that would come in. Your eyes lifted to the camera right at the corner, the small red light blinking on a corner that served as a bell to announce the arrival of new patients. You stepped inside looking around the sofas and the chairs, the space Hope had build in a couple of months she had been back into town.
“I thought you would never come.” Hope stood by the door of her office; her eyes softened when you finally turned to her. “I’ve been meaning to call you, but…”
“You misplaced my phone number?” You asked, offering a half smile.
“I wasn’t sure you wanted to talk to me, Y/N.” Hope stepped inside the waiting room, her feet taking her to the coffee maker where she served two small cups.
You took the one she was offering, while looking around the room with a smile.
“I’m glad to see you here, Hope, and I love what you did to this place.” You took a sip from your coffee looking down to the floor. “This is your dream come true, I’ve been hearing you are quite the success around here.”
Hope allowed herself a small smile, she sat down in one of the love chairs in the corner, her eyes never leaving your passing form. It had been a while, but you were just like she remembered you; and whether good things of bad things had happened between you two, she was still your best friend and she knew you even better than you knew yourself.
“Thank you.” Hope wrapped her hands around the cup of coffee smiling softly. “It was really hard, I started it back in NY but I didn’t want the big life in the big apple, I want something…homey. So I came back.”
“I can see that, it’s good to see you again, Hope.” You trailed off not knowing what else to say, Hope sensed your hesitation and soon came the questions you were dreading to hear from her.
“And you, Y/N, how have you been?” Hope leaned forward, her eyes never leaving yours. “I’ve heard you finally took care of the business and that you have been dating Carol, how is it going so far? How is America? How are you, really?”
You snorted sitting down as well, shaking your head you lifted your stare to the ceiling holding back the tears trying to form in your eyes.
“I’ve been…better, I guess.” You tried to lie but Hope was a pretty good psychiatrist and either way, the idea of coming to Hope was to be honest with her. With you.
“It’s been hellish at work., trying to get the ropes of the business. And America is fine, you know her, she is more of a fighter that I am.” You allowed yourself a bitter smile, “she is the one holding me tight and feeding me.”
“The youngest ones are always the responsible ones.” Hope chuckled tilting her head. “I’m glad to hear you have her trying to keep you from starving to dead.”
“Yeah, she is a good kid. Good grades, good friends, she even got a job now.”
“She does?” Hope was highly surprised by this, you didn’t need the extra money of course, and hearing that America was working was something she had never heard from someone that could actually buy whatever they wanted whenever they needed it.
You leaned forward, and something in your posture and the way your eyes gleamed told Hope this was a story worth listening to.
“Yeah, twins. They live next door and she has been rocking it.” You shook your head shrugging. “The mother is this young woman, teacher at her school and…well…she is…nice, I guess.”
“You guess?”
You rolled your eyes shaking your head, “I’m not one of your patients, Hope.”
The other woman chuckled, “I know that. It’s just…It has been a while.”
“I know.” You hesitated for a moment before speaking again. “Look, I was thinking maybe dinner? Or coffee?”
“I’m not one of your girls, Y/N.” Hope laughed at the horrified face you put on at her suggestion.
Somethings never changed.
And the both of you were glad some things stayed the same.
“Please, ugh…would be like hitting on my sister.” You rolled your eyes, turning to Hope. “So, what do you say?”
“That sounds perfect. I have an appointment today, and then Scott and I are going to my parents place but what about next week?” Hope said tentatively.
“That’s alright then, I can squeeze you in my schedule and we can really have a talk.”
“And you can tell me about Carol, and what was really going on in your life.” Hope said trying to get more out of you. Your posture, the tension around your eyes and the sudden shifted of your body told her everything she needed it to know.
“Right, Carol okay…yeah, sure we can talk then, I…hope you still have my number then?”
“Right under the emergency one, yep.” Hope declared standing up.
You stood up as well ready to say good-bye when the door of the practice open and in there came Wanda Maximoff in all her glory.
The woman stood there with her auburn hair covered by the same black beanie she wore the day before, with a black coat on and her cheeks red for the cold. Her green eyes opened wide at the sight of you, you were just as shocked as her, and once more your heart rate increased, and the horde of butterflies in your stomach didn’t help to improve things.
“Oh, I-I’m sorry, Doctor Van Dyne, I didn’t know you were busy, I can come later…”
“No, no…I’m not a patient.” You replied rather quickly, you turned to Hope lifting a hand in a gesture of good-bye. “I’ll text you, and we can arrange that date, don’t bail on me, Van Dyne.”
“Oh, I hope I didn’t interrupt…” Wanda started again, she hated the fact all of a sudden seeing you in a place she thought was a safe place for her you came all of a sudden making her heart speed up, and the tingles in her chest and abdomen increased.
“You didn’t, Maximoff, don’t sweat it.” You winked at the woman patting her awkwardly on the shoulder. “I’ll be going, have fun!”
Hope held back her laughter when you almost crashed against the door in your hurry to leave the place. Wanda stood there rather awkward, out of place while her lips quivered trying to say something. Soon you were gone, and Wanda was left there wriggling her hands nervously with her stare lingering on the door.
“I’m sorry, Doctor Van Dyne, I didn’t want to interrupt…” Wanda started but Hope shook her head standing up and going to the coffee maker again.
“You didn’t interrupt nothing, Wanda, no need to worry.” Hope poured another cup of coffee she offered to the woman still standing by the door.
It had been a couple of weeks since Wanda had come in, the woman had not improved at all and Hope was having a hard time trying to reach out to her because of that. Seeing her back into her practice, well Hope thought perhaps something had happened for the young woman to be here.
That you two know one another was complete surprised for Hope, and your reaction and hers…well, that ought to be interesting to dig in.
“Y/N it’s an old friend, we were just catching up.” Hope pointed to the sofa on her waiting room, Wanda furrowed her brows but took the offering chair. “I think we could do our session in here today, no one else is coming and well, I find this sofa so comfy, what do you say?”
“Yeah, yeah sure…that’s…nice.” Wanda sat down with the cup on her hands, she bit her lower lip for a moment before speaking again. “So, you and…Y/N…are friends? I…that’s a surprised.”
Hope held back her reactions; she offered a simple nodded emptying her cup.
“Yeah, we have been best friends since forever.”
“Oh, I see.” Wanda pressed her lips together tilting her head, she frowned while her mind tried to tie up more questions to know more about you. Wanda hadn’t come today to talk about you, she was there to talk about what had happened.
What you had done, what Wanda had done.
“So, how did you two meet?” Hope asked all of a sudden, she was looking curious but nothing out of the ordinary.
Wanda shook her head, she opened and closed her mouth before speaking again.
“How did you…I mean, I don’t know her.”
“She did call you by your last name.” Hope chimed in, her amusement mixed with curiosity was making her look at the situation under a different light.
Wanda blushed lightly looking away, she remembered you calling her by her last name. Your eyes, your smile and that infuriating tone of voice…
“Right I…forgot.” Wanda tried to smile but it came like a grimace. “We’re…we’re neighbours.”
Now, this particular piece of information was quite interesting, then a light bulb came into Hope’s mind and she couldn’t hide her surprised this time around.
“Oh, she is the neighbour you told me about! The one that got on your nerves by being…”
“A bitch, Yeah, that’s her.”  Wanda broke into an easy smile, she lowered her eyes and soon, Hope found herself hearing a story she was not asking for.
______________________________________________________________
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oubliette-odette · 8 months
Text
The Reluctance of Love Pt. 1
I don't like the fated mates trope. But I think it's because I don't personally like how people write/interpret it (no hate, just not for me. Also I'm asexual so...I'm built different or something. shrug). So this is me trying to write fated mates my way.
Orc Male x Half-Elf Male, Fated Mates, Forbidden Love, Slow Burn Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9 Word Count: 2443 (average 18 min read) Content Warnings: mention of mating, nothing happens....yet ;) All orcish is from orcishdictionary.com, created by Matt Vancil. Not beta-read. Criticism is welcome, but be sure to distinguish criticism from hate.
My world shattered the day I saw him, my raebukan, my mate.
The pride of Orc tribes is centered on two things. The first being the pride of our warriors who defend and conquer in the tribe's name. The second, the pride of bearing and rearing many children together as a tribe through the groupings of mates. To ensure that all children be born strong, our bodies experience lordhovid - an intense physical pull that is described as a boiling in the blood that occurs upon seeing your mate. Lordhovid does not still until physical intimacy.
Most orcs experience lordhovid many times in their lifetime, gathering multiple partners that together rear large broods of children. The larger the brood, the greater pride the patriarch of the brood holds within the tribe and rises in rank of influence.
I, Drunrag Ularat, had never experienced lordhovid.
There had never been signs that I would ever feel the sensation of my blood burning for another. And while my brood brothers and sisters from my litter all began to bear children of their own, I remained. I remembered the way my broodmothers whispered to one another behind my back about me. I heard theories that I was unlucky, cursed, born dishonorably. My broodfather soon pretended that I didn't exist. My brothers and sisters did the same.
I tried to remain faithful that Gruumsh would change my fate, that I would lock eyes with a fierce orc-woman and feel the burn I heard so often about. But each looked back at me with only a coldness I had become too familiar with.
I left home, unable to bear the dishonor I continued to bring to my family. And I struggled through my young adult years earning my pay through hard manual labor. I learned to read and write in common to gain favor with those who hired me. I learned that my brute strength wasn't the only quality about me that could bring me honor. The older I got, the less I travelled, until I settled into a small merchant town on the coast, and worked in the forges during most of the year, crafting weapons and tools. The guilt and shame that I carried from my failure as an orc soon faded as the years passed and I settled into a rhythm that worked best for me in the quiet buzz of my coast town. I soon understood my true feelings from my childhood. I was relieved that I never had to juggle romance and physical intimacy. Even despite my lack of mate - I don't know that I ever really understood mating the same way as my tribe. It didn't make sense to me, and I didn't really want anything to do with it.
Until that fated day.
I had woke that morning with a pounding headache, and I remembered grumbling about it as I shuffled out of my room. The space was always cramped - due to my size - but it felt near claustrophobic that morning. I ran the back of my hand against my blurry eyes and blinked furiously as I peered into my food storage - only to find an onion as my offering for breakfast. I grumbled and reached for the snapsack I kept draped on my single chair and the pouch of coins that i shoved deep into the pockets of my breeches.
The morning was quiet, and the sea air was invigorating most mornings, but that morning, breathing it in only made me sneeze and the pounding in my head knocked harder against my skull. I groaned outwardly. As I walked down the cobblestone path towards the market circle, I felt a tightening sensation in the pit of my stomach with each step. Nausea overwhelmed me. Strange, since orcs have excellent constitution and I hadn't eaten a thing since the day before. I swallowed down the bile that built in my throat and forged ahead.
The market was always busy at any hour and I learned to know which vendors were more kind to me than others. It was still fairly common - and expected - to get strange lingering stares and off-kilter remarks made in my direction. I learned to ignore it, but today I already felt too unsettled to be able to shrug it off as easily as normal. I stopped by a bakery and exchanged my gold for a warm loaf of bread, then made my way down to where a stall was selling freshly picks fruits. Golden globes of fresh juicy fruit tempted me and I retrieved another set of coins before reaching for three shiny, firm globes into my sack.
As I deposited each one in one by one, I felt the tingle on the back of my neck that was someone was staring at me. With a fruit still in hand, I glanced to my right, ready to face a disgusted customer.
It was then that I looked up and met his gaze.
He was small. Maybe not by human standards, but I still considered most humans small - so he was also small to me. Willowy and thin, brown skin and long coppery curls, the ends teasing his skin around the base of his smooth, tantalizing neck. I spotted the soft pointy ears of a half-elf. Not quite as long and slender as an elf, but gently sloped up to a rounded point that poked through his mop of hair. Green-gold eyes - reminiscent of the fruit in my hand- met mine. They were large, curious eyes that looked back at me unflinching and kindly.
I couldn't look away. I didn't want to look away. He was beautiful. His lips were curled upwards naturally - like he always had a joke or funny story to tell. His lips parted as he gazed back at me, an open mouth smile just for me. There were no thoughts in my mind.
The burning began in my heart. A strong pulsing rush of boiling blood that started to spread and sear through every part of me. I stood there, unable to move and unable to look away from him. I felt so much joy, so much elation upon the sight of him, but it quickly was overrun with panic, confusion, and fear.
Never in the history of orcs had I heard of a male orc experiencing lordhovid with another male orc. It was common to have casual lovers of the same sex - but never mates. Mates were ones who promised children and the continued growth of your broods. I didn't understand - how could this man be my mate? I didn't want this. I was happy alone. Happy to be left alone. I gazed at him and the burning desire surged and bubbled until a loud, explosive breath escaped my lips. An exhalation of panic.
"Fuck." I breathed. I didn't want this.
"Sir, you alright?" The vendor asked me.
I grunted in response. I didn't break my gaze, everything in me was screaming inside me to take the half-elf and claim him here in the streets, in front of everyone. I hated that I even considered it. I didn't want that. My body and my brain remained at war, and I unable to move.
The half-elf's eyes narrowed. And he approached me slowly. The way he moved, the way his long legs and slender hips weaved through the crowd with ease, like water on glass. His eyes didn't leave me, and the walk towards me felt like it was a hundred miles between us. My breathing was growing ragged with each step. I was fighting everything not to run away...or run to him.
"I apologize if I have offended you." The half-elf said as he approached me. "I didn't mean to stare." His voice was gentle, smooth and rough at the same time. It reminded me of the sound of a harp, smooth and flowing out like song. I shuddered, my fists clenched. Closer up, I could see he had a spattering of freckles across his face, they were adorable and I wanted to spend the rest of my life counting how many existed on his body. I wanted to die for thinking of this stranger in front of me in such a base manner.
I blinked and swallowed heavily, my brain moving slower than normal. What could I do? What do I say?
The half-elf hesitated, reaching a hand out to me. I jerked back, fear and alarm and lust seizing me at once. He also jerked back. I saw that his hands were shaking. Was he afraid of me? I glanced up to his face again and saw that his eyes were wide and his lips were parting, he was breathing heavy.
He let out a heavy breath and whispered, "Can we go somewhere private? Something has come over me and I need your help."
Somewhere private.
Alarms bellowed in my brain. No. I can't be alone with him. I can't trust myself.
Before I could react, the half elf snatched my hand with both of his own. The warmth that radiated from his touch was cooler than the burning inside me and I felt my panic still. For how long I didn't know.
I let him drag me through the streets. My size didn't allow for a smooth walk, and I wasn't right in the head. I brushed and bumped against dozens of people. They likely glared at me, but I could only look at the back of my mate's head and wonder at how someone's hair could be so long and so curly at the same time and what it smelled like, what it would feel like against my cheek.
I found myself being pushed against a wall in a lonely street. I didn't know where I was. I looked down at the half-elf. His breathing was harder than before, and he stood very close to me. He only reached to my chest. My hands lingered close to his shoulders, eager to wrap around him. Around his waist. His neck.
"What did you to do me?" He said, an edge of desperation in his voice. "I don't know what I did to offend you...but please I beg you to remove whatever this curse is."
I may not be an honorable orc like my brothers and sisters, but hearing lordhovid be equated to a curse felt culturally offensive. It was true that I too didn't have any interest in these emotions, these urges. But it was the honor of an orc to experience this and feel the binding between one's self and their life-partner. And though I had grown to appreciate and become comfortable with my fate...I couldn't deny that there was a building excitement that I was finally feeling it with someone. The excitement also scared me too.
"Do you understand me?" He said pleadingly, and then he muttered to himself. "Damn, maybe he doesn't speak common."
"I understand." I managed to rasp out. My hands itched to hold him. I ignored it and wrestled through the rest of my words. "I - You are not cursed. What ails you also ails me."
"What is it?" He asked. "I'm feeling sensations that I am unfamiliar with."
"It is lordhovid. My people's mating instinct."
His eyes widened. "Why...why am I feeling it?"
I shook my head, "I don't know. This has never happened in our tribe. I am sorry."
"How do we stop it?" He asked. "Don't tell me I have to sleep with you?"
I looked away from his gaze, I couldn't bear to see him look at me with disgust. I felt a whimper escape my lips. It was too much to be so close to him and not hold him. I didn't want to hurt him, I didn't want him to be scared of me.
"I'm sorry." I breathed out.
"You...have you experienced this before?" He asked. "You seem more scared then me."
I shook my head. "I am krandad. Broken. I brought shame to my family because I was unable to mate."
"I see." He said, his voice sounding very calm under the circumstances. "And so now you experience your first...impulse...with me?"
I nodded. "I'm sorry."
He sighed. "Please stop apologizing. I'm starting to understand that this isn't really your fault."
I dared a chance to look to him. His hands were caught running through his hair, and he was also looking down. He was truly the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. I don't know if the lordhovid would change that for me either. He was simply radiant.
"What's your name?" he asked. "If I am to sleep with you, I'd like to know who you are." He put a hand on his chest. "I am Altan."
"Drunrag." I said.
"Drunrag." Altan said, and a smile returned. My knees weakened when he said my name back. The orcish name on his tongue sounded like poetry, like art. Oh, if I could hear him say my name again and again and again.
"You...are not afraid of me?" I asked.
He shook his head, "I think I'm faring better than you right now actually." He laughed.
I had to close my eyes to his radiance, his laughter was too much and I clenched my fists.
"Sorry," He said. "I can tell that I'm affecting you."
"Not your fault." I breathed. "I should just go. I can't do this to you unwillingly."
"What?' He asked.
Before I could say any more. I surged all of my strength to rip myself away from the wall and I ran and I didn't look back. My body continued to burn, and I felt an aching inside me that stretched from my body and remained with Altan. It was trying to pull me back. But I would not go. With each moment I spent with him, it had only become harder to deny my body's instinct to mate with him. I didn't want to do that to him. He was too good
None of this made any sense. I couldn't experience lordhovid so late in my years. I couldn't experience it with another species and I certainly couldn't experience it with another man. I didn't even want to begin to process the anger I felt when I had finally made peace that I didn't even want to mate with anyone.
My broodmothers had been right all along. I was broken. I was flawed and I never would have brought honor to my tribe.
I didn't open the forge that day, but instead crawled back into bed where i remained shaking and shivering.
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