#OH MY GOD THE DREAMS I HAVE NEVER DREAMT ABOUT A PIECE OF MEDIA AS MUCH AS I HAVE WITH AVENUE Q

[amphibifish]

bro i dunno if i'll ever have anything like my lps phase again

[chibsandchill]

Stolen moments under silk sheets (18+)

Fandom: HOTD (House of the dragon)

Pairing: Aemond x AFAB!reader

Summary: Aemond is touch starved. That’s it. That’s the whole story. Kind of. 

Masterlist

My requests are open! 

MDNI NSFW (warnings under the page break). SFW version here!

Warnings: Including but not exclusively slivers of angst sprinkled here and there, fluff, oral sex (m & f receiving), p in v sex, creampie, obsessive behavior, obsessive thoughts, descriptions of metaphorical self-harm, very brief mentions of the dance and the events that happened (some canon divergence), Aemond is his own warning, canon typical themes, the beginning is a bit slow, grammatical and spelling errors (English is not my first language)

I am not responsible for your media consumption 

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The roses in your garden have begun to wilt. Summer is leaving, and winter claims all, but you remain untouched by the darkness that crept ever closer with each passing cycle. Your roses may have lost their vibrant colors but your face remained as bright and beautiful as ever. You thrive even in desolation – the harsh winds cannot steal the warmth from your cheeks or the spark from your eyes. 

“And you say you do not care for gardening, my love.” 

He’s almost startled by your presence, but since the war very little caught him off guard. But that look in your eyes? The overwhelming affection? That was something Aemond reckoned he would never get used to. And yet he could not get enough, you had awakened a beast inside him that fed and craved all things you. A smile did not satiate him like it used to, a night spent together felt like a fleeting moment spirited away by vengeful gods. 

Aemond hums. “Your passions are my passions.” 

You wrap your arms around his waist, resting your face on his shoulder. He felt, in that moment, as if he was standing on jelly, his knees threatening to buckle and his spine like liquid. There was not enough of you pressed against him. He felt burning hot and freezing cold at the same time, his skin crawling with want and desire, his cock half-hard already and his mind buzzing. 

“Clever.” You chuckle into the crook of his neck. Aemond shivers as your warm breath hits the sensitive skin there. 

“Did I wake you?”

His words are a whisper. Soft and with underlying guilt. You do not sleep well anymore, not without him. Too much has happened. The death of Jaehaerys proved that there is no sanctuary that cannot be breached, not a lock that cannot be broken, and not a part of you that will not suffer.  

You shake your head. 

“Liar.” 

“I was already awake. I like to…” 

“Hm? There is no judgment here.”

There was not an inch of you that he would part from – not a sliver of you he would not take, and not a piece of you he did not dream of devouring. The opposite was also true, for he craved to be taken, to be devoured and kept more than he ever dreamt of possessing. Aemond would have all of you, had woven that promise into the very fabrics of your marriage, embedded the words as if they were a spell into his vows, and oh, how sweetly you had smiled upon hearing them. He doubted you heard them for what they truly were. Are. 

“I watch you,” you confess, “when you sleep. You look so… so peaceful. The war has yet to poison that.” 

He blinks. Seconds tick by, but Aemond is too busy staving off the greedy blush from turning him red to respond. He is unable to respond, truly, even were he not practically glowing at your words. Words clump together on his tongue. 

“I should speak to the Housekeeper then,” Aemond clears his throat, “ if the room is so lacking you need to resort to staring at me. Though, perhaps I should thank her for her oversight that surely allows you to fall asleep quickly.” 

The corners of your lips fall, barely, but there is nothing about you he does not notice. There is nothing you can hide from his greedy eyes. 

“Twas a compliment, husband.”

“Perhaps a visit to the Maester is needed-”

You press a hand flat against his cheek and he falls silent. Your thumb brushes across his cheekbone to the apple of his cheek, to under his eye. There it rests, caressing him. He wants more. Your touch is only skin-deep, and it is not enough. If he could, he would press himself against your skin until all that remained of him was fading heat. Until he was but a faint whisper on the wind and his memory lived on only in you, for there was not a part of him he did not wish to give you. He would carve a place for him in you – in your heart, so that he would be close always. You would beat as one, breathe as one.  

“Yours is a beauty that the gods go to war for.”

“Perhaps once.” Aemond looks away. 

“Scars are stories of hardships overcome. They are marks of victory, do not think they make you less. They never will. Not to me.”

“Perhaps so, but I am not whole. There is a piece of me that was stolen and I can never get it back. The gods would not even glance at a man such as I for anything other than a feat of greatness.”

“And you have shown them many,” you press a short kiss against his neck. “You claimed the Queen of all Dragons,” another kiss, “you won many battles on dragonback,” another kiss, “you showed mercy to your enemies,” a series of kisses follow that claim, all inching up his neck. “You saved your brother and Sunfyre,” a kiss on his cheek, “you were crowned King by the smallfolk”, this kiss fell on the corner of his lips, “and you have been a most attentive husband.” 

A kiss straight on his lips. Aemond melts into it, pressing himself into you. You pull away too soon and he finds himself chasing after you, desperate for one more touch. 

“The gods give the toughest battles to their strongest soldiers.” You thumb the skin under his eye, “and you have won them all. Take pride in that. Gods know I do.”

“You do?” He asks. 

He did not think himself strong, or a champion of god given battles. His weaknesses tower over the oasis of strength, and so they are hidden to him. But he is not a vain man, that is not why he hates Luke for stealing his eye. 

You smile. “Of course. And I think all the beauty in the world fades compared to yours. Scars and all.”

Aemond is not sure he believes your words, but he believes you. It is a conflicting mess of jumbled thoughts mingling with the words of others. He was never the beauty of the family, his dragon was not the beauty of her kin. His life was one of hiding, of pride hidden beneath compliance, of hatred festering under blushing skin. 

“You flatter me, my love.” He says before his eyes wander back to your roses. “Yours is the only opinion worth hearing. The only one that matters.” 

You hum. “Come back to bed, Aemond.” 

“As my Queen commands.” 

The draping curtains flutter in the soft autumn wind, and from Aemond’s side of the bed he could see out across the Blackwater Bay. Sometimes when the wind is harsh and the rain plenty, Aemond is back in the skies above Storm’s End. He dreams of thousands of ways he could have saved Luke, though he does not wish he lived, not truly. In some dreams he thought of ways he could harm him further – truly punish him for what he took from Aemond that night. 

You can never have all of him. Not anymore. Though he dares not tell you that is why he cannot look at himself in mirrors. He would not show you the twisted being that hid under his skin. The one that would gouge out his other eye without hesitation were you to ask and smile as he did so. 

He could never, would never forgive Luke for what he stole from you. It is a hatred so woven into his very being that he would carry that with him even in all Seven Hells. 

“Come,” you beckon, kneeling on the bed. “If my words alone are not enough, I will prove it to you.” 

“Prove what?” 

His voice is low, filled with desires transcending earthly flesh. His is one of hunger for your very soul. 

“Come here and I will show you.” Your smile is coy, playful even. There are half-wilted petals from your roses on the bed behind you. They form no pattern, haphazardly thrown across the sheets.

He wonders when you put them there. 

Aemond comes to a stop in front of you, hands clasped behind his back, posture ramrod straight. He feels as though he is standing in front of the gods themselves, awaiting judgment. He hopes that he is enough, even if he cannot offer you all of him. There will always be a piece of him enduring the times alone. 

He does not feel worthy of you. No amount of petals carefully gathered off prickly stems will soften the harsh edges of his being. The love he grew up around was conditional, and though he was rarely struck, their words were as sharp as daggers, and left deep scars that will never heal. It left him jagged, bleeding, tearing at the seams with a beast untamed. In the image of you he tried to mend himself, with your love he patched the holes left by cruel words. He tore the flames from his breath so that his wrath could never burn you, the claws from his hands so that his touch would always be gentle. Not a piece of him was worth suffering in the absence of anything you. 

He was a dragon playing at being a lover. 

But he broke his wings for just a glimpse of you, then forced himself to fly when you desired to feel the wind against your face. You could not see the darkness oozing from the cracks of him, of your husband as you knew him. 

If it meant losing you, he would be a dragon no longer. 

He could simply be him. 

Aemond. 

But Aemond knew not who he was anymore. He knew who he was forced to become, and who war made him. But war was no longer, and yet the man rising from the ashes of his kin’s pyres remained. 

“Aemond?”

“Yes?”

“Where do you go when you get so lost in your head?” 

He does not wish to reveal to you how deep his longing for you goes. It is etched into the walls of his heart, it is a bottomless pit that calls only your name. He can never fill it. It aches and aches, and he longs and longs. His envy knows no bound, it is endless in its hunger for you. He would have all of you if he could, just as he wants you to have all of him. Every thought in your head, every feeling, every sensation. 

“Lost. I get… lost.” He confesses. The words are raw and a piece of his armor is cracked open to reveal mangled flesh of all Aemond’s that has been and will be. His recreation of himself in your image is as endless as his need to please. 

“Oh, my love,” you whisper. “Let me take care of you.”

You reach for the strings on his trousers before you pull them down. He steps out of them easy enough, though he feels awkward standing there with his tunic on. Though you did not leave him to suffer for long before you pulled his shirt off as well. You palm at his chest, touching every divot and lean muscle on his chest. It is overwhelming. He almost feels like crying. 

Your fingers massage, they scratch, they soothe and they burn his feverish skin. Your touch sets him alight. He can feel your love through every pass of your fingers over his skin. You press against the lean muscle, caress the slopes and divots of his flesh. Though you have long since memorized each other’s bodies, you touch him as if it is your first. His mind is dizzy with you, he feels as if he’s falling and drowning at the same time. The pleasure fills his throat, his lungs, and yet it also sweeps him off his feet, knocks the breath out of his chest. He wants more. He wants you to press harder, to mark him. You could press through his skin, through his muscles and ribs, and grasp his very heart, and you would still be so far away he wanted to weep.

His cock stiffens, though you keep touching him. You brush over his right nipple, then the left, then both. It is a strange sensation – one he’s not wholly against. 

Then, 

your fingers brush against his abdomen, trace the outline of his abs, then dips below. You grasp him firm in hand, and Aemond thinks he sees stars. You are so very soft, and he is so very very hard. 

The whore Aegon forced on him at his thirteenth name-day held him tightly, too tightly, then rubbed his skin raw, and still he could not force himself to come. He remained flaccid and cold in her calloused hands, even as Aegon jeered and leered from his place on the dais. 

But you showed none of her cruelty, none of the cold indifference. Just your presence took him halfway to completion, and he doubted it would take much more. Your other hand reaches below to cup his balls. That touch is less gentle, more firm. You start to twist the hand holding his cock, bringing it back and then forth in long, slow movements. You switch between firm, soft, fast, and then slower. But it is never not gentle. And you never look away from his eyes.

Though half-lidded, jaw slack and chest heavy, he stares at you. Pleasure of the flesh is second to the connection he finds in your eyes. 

His eye blinks wide open at the new sensation. Your mouth is warm and soft like silk. It is heaven made flesh, and it makes his knees tremble. You envelop him, tongue hot on his cock. You pay special attention to his head; trace the veins and the weeping slit with extra care. And, oh, is he weeping. 

Aemond needs more. 

He wraps his fingers around your hair, then gently guides you back and forth. A single shake of your head would free you from him, should you wish, but you don’t. Your tear-filled eyes plead with him for a tighter hold, and he complies. A bit. But he is soon lost to the pleasure of your mouth, and so as his eye flutter shut and he shudders, he finds himself guiding you all the way down so that your nose meets the short hairs at his base, and then back up just far enough that your lips wrap around his head. 

The reverence of a septon to the gods are nothing compared to that which he whispers your name.

Though if he finds the most pleasure from your sucking his cock or from knowing that a piece of him was inside you, he would never know. You swallow him down so easily, and with so much enthusiasm he is mournful that there is not more he can give. 

There is a knife on the chest by his feet. He wonders, would you swallow all of him as easily as his seed? If he cut himself would you lap at his wounds? 

Then, you pull away. You crawl up the bed until you fall down on the many pillows at the top of the bed. He follows without thought, kicking off his shoes and socks. His hair tie is next and his pale hair falls down his back. You are not prey, and he is not a predator, but he feels a thrill chasing after you into your marital bed. It sets his blood alight with desire. 

“That was cruel.” He says. “I was close.” 

He wasn’t. Your passions are his passion, your pleasure his pleasure. 

“Then I suppose you should get revenge.” You bite your lip. 

Your nightwear is thin. It is easily swept away from your body and thrown on the floor. 

“Yours is the beauty gods would die for.”

“It is all for you.” You tell him as you lean back against the pillows. 

His eye rove over you. Not an inch of you is not perfect, not an inch he did not love. All of you on display for him; an offering for a vengeful man. You are not unmarred by the war, and there is not a scar he does not kiss. He feels your pain as if it was his, and each wound on your body is his failure. 

“We match,” you told him once. 

He did not have the heart to tell you that this was done in your honor, to take the pain from you and deliver it upon him. He cut himself open for all the gods to see, then demanded they scar him as they did you. 

Aemond runs his hands along your form with the same careful love as you did him. His hands caress the skin on your ribs, dance around your sensitive nipples to lay flat over your heart. It pounds against your skin, calling out to him. His beats in turn. Then, he turns his attention to your breasts. You are most sensitive there. His lips wrap around a nipple, and you gasp. His hand wanders down your stomach, through the hair covering your cunt, and then he presses down on your clit. You jump into his touch, eyes widening at the sudden pleasure. 

“Aemond.” You moan. 

His mouth comes off your nipple with a wet ‘pop’ before he leans down and claims the other. He presses tight circles into your clit, alternating directions, then he moves his index finger to nudge at your entrance. His thumb stays on your clit, but the motions are lazy. He spells his name, then yours, then he stops. 

Aemond pulls away, but not for long. 

He moves down your body, about to put his lips against your cunt, when you pull at his hair. Aemond groans into your flesh. His desire for you is akin to drunkenness. He is dizzy with it, crazed with a need that can never be satisfied. Still, he presses himself against your folds, tongue darting out to lap at the wetness there. 

It trickles down the abyss of his desire, and in turn it grows. The hunger deepens, hollows out his chest. 

His thumb stays on your clit, but only for a moment before his nose replaces it. He grabs your hips and brings you closer to him. His face is all but buried in you, and yet it is not enough. Your wetness covers his lips, his chin, his cheeks. His tongue digs inside you for more, tip of his nose pressing against your clit in that way that makes your head spin. 

Time seems to stop, your pleasure endless, his chase bringing him closer and closer, and deeper. He presses a finger inside your entrance, before you give way and he thrusts it inside. He pumps it when his tongue darts away, so that you are never empty of him. 

Then, just as your hips start to shake, and your moans grow louder, you pull him away. He protests, loudly, but it falls on deaf ears. You pull him up to you, and he is reluctant to follow. Aemond feels cold and lost, but is then altogether found and warm when your hands wrap around his cock again. 

And the next moment he’s burning. 

You guide his cock inside you, and he sputters to life. His lips press down on yours, uncaring of the taste of him inside your mouth. He needs the connection, needs you. Aemond thrusts wildly against you for a few moments, his cock driving in and out of you with filthy wet sounds. 

You hold his face in your hands as you kiss, and his thrusts grow more controlled. Aemond wants it to last. Wants to drag out your connection for as long as he can, but he can feel his orgasm building already. His lower back aches with it, his toes curling against the bedsheets. He moves to slow down but the second he tries, you wrap your legs around his hips, pressing your feet against his buttocks to slam him into you. It is the same when he tries again, until he drives back with the same force as you drive him back in. 

The pace is maddening, your sounds so sweet he feels like he’s drowning. He knows not where he ends and you start, but he would have it no other way. If he pushes into you hard enough would you truly become one? In body as you are in soul? 

“Gods, Aemond,” you gasp at a particularly hard thrust.

Aemond brings his finger back down to thumb at your clit as apology, and you sing even sweeter for it. 

Time means nothing, there is only you and him. And then you’re falling over the cliff of pleasure, and he dives after you, clinging to you with bleeding fingers. Your pleasure is his pleasure, two halves of a whole finally forcing themselves together. There is not a crack in your connection, and Aemond thinks he sees stars as his vision goes white. He gasps and moans into your mouth, your pants and sounds of pleasure drowned by his need to bring himself closer to you. 

He lets himself fall upon you, cock softening inside you. His head spins still, but his heart beats like a drum in his chest at knowing that he’s once again been claimed by you. Even when he pulls himself free (reluctantly) there is still a piece of him in you. A piece that would never blossom into something more, for Aemond would not part with a single part of you, not even for himself. 

“I love you,” you pant into his ear. 

“Not as much as I love you,” he says in return. 

You laugh. “‘Tis not a competition, husband.” 

“No.” He agrees, with an easy smile. It is the truth. 

Aemond had won the war, and he had proven himself. And so he would never part from you again, even were the gods to try and force him from your side. The threads of your destiny are weaved together into one singular past, present, future. 

His beauty may be what gods fought for, 

but Aemond? 

Aemond would fight all the Gods, both old and new, 

for just one more stolen moment under silk sheets. 

[dreamingbluestonight]

I just realised that " we made it " by Louis Tomlinson fits RBRW so perfectly like-

'Cause we made it, underestimated and always underrated Now, we're saying goodbye, waving to the hard times Yeah, it's gonna be alright'

-Literally, alex and henry made it in the end. They were constantly stopped by the hurdles of their position and responsibilities to their respective countries. At the end of the book both of them had what they have dreamed of, for henry it was his freedom, his dignity and the life he thought he never would have and for Alex, he has henry, his position in his mother's campaign.

' like the first time, Met you at your doorstep, remember how it tasted Looking into your eyes, baby, you were still high Never coming down with your hand in mine'

-I don't think I have to explain what our beloved gays have done after the state dinner. Primarily I would like to highlight the new year's kiss and how the rest of the scenario there has unraveled .

'Oh my, I remember those nights Meet you at your uni, cheap drinks, drink 'em all night Staying out 'til sunrise Share a single bed and tell each other what we dream about Things we'd never say to someone else out loud We were only kids, just tryna work it out Wonder what they'd think if they could see us now'

-I imagine this as the time Henry visited alex in texas during Campaign period and how they had such a good time, learning more about each other. We definitely cannot forget the e-mails and the texts that they shared , how intimate and private those are for each of them. They weren't really kids but they still were in this beginning stages and middle stages of their relationship. They still don't understand what they truly want but are reaching a point of mutual commitment (I know Henry was head over heels in love but just bare with me luvs).

'Oh God, what I could've become Don't know why they put this all on us when we're so young Done a pretty good job, dealing with it all when you're here Don't need to say no more Nothing in the world that I would change it for Singing something pop'y on the same four chords Used to worry 'bout it, but I don't no more'

-They way they were forced out of the closet and put under scrutiny for being themselves. They were put on every single piece of media as a piece of meat. Before they are the FSOTUS and The Prince of Wales they are human, they are young teenager utterly in love , they didn't commit a crime nor made a sin. All they did was love each other. Alex took upon the leak as an opportunity to tell people, fucking educate them about the importance of coming out of the closet on their own terms. No one should be neither forced out or pushed back in. As per Henry, he finally stood up to his family, he chose to be with Alex because he loves Alex and he will always love him. They both done a pretty good job dealing with all the press, their families and basically the entire world.

I really want to pinpoint the lines in the end toward Henry because he just accepted his fate that he would be married off to a beard and be a spare he was supposed to be. He didn't dare to change that perfect prince look before he realised he actually had a chance to be himself. But when he was with Alex he dared to hope for a life he felt he deserved. Finally he did get the life he dreamt of, he doesn't need to worry about anything no more.

[fairiesdowntheroad]

la la lost u | h.js

summary: joshua left you behind for new york,to chase his dreams as a performer.he promised you that long distance would work,but both of you gradually lost yourselves in two different places.

genre: heart-wrenching angst,shua being an fboi,yn being kinda stupid

warnings:swearing,mentions of sexual innuendos,a lot of tears shed

A/N : I strongly suggest you listen to la la lost you by NIKI while reading this.It’s one of my favourite songs at the moment,and the song reminded me of cheol at first,but i decided that writing this about shua would make more sense

While I'm on Sunset, are you on the subway?

While I drive, are you gettin' on the L-train?

You’d always be wondering what would he be doing now.You stayed in Los Angeles,where you both grew up in.You’d experience beautiful sunsets while driving through the city,which you used to do with him.He on the other hand,moved to New York,to chase his dreams.

You were devastated at first,but you couldn’t stop him from leaving,you didn’t want to cut his wings,so you let him go.He dreamt of being a performer,making it big in the entertainment industry,but at what cost?

He’d lose a lot of things,the beautiful sunsets he watched with you,the lively atmosphere which would feel nostalgic to him,and now he’d be taking the L-Train in a busy,gloomy city.You hope he hates it there.

And fuckin' on Brooklyns in Brooklyn

Your Chelseas in Chelsea

Hope that eases the pain, so you remember to miss me

Joshua promised that everything would be fine,he promised that you’d both still be in the loving relationship you both were in.He made so much promises,yet he couldn’t even keep his word to one.

When he first left,everything went fine.There were messages every hour from the both of you,video calls every night filled with giggles and ‘i love yous’.You really thought it would be alright for him to be far away.

He managed to join a company and started to record songs.He’d tell you the progress of everything,when he would start to record the music video,the songs he wrote,and so much more.You enjoyed listening to him,knowing he was happy.

The hole in your heart that he mad when he left was starting to heal,until he tore it all down again.As months went on,the messages started to come mostly from you,and all you got were short replies.

You didn’t make anything of it at first,he was probably busy anwyays you thought.Video calls were only on weekends now,with his excuse that ‘he was getting busier recording songs’,what a liar.

If only you hd put the pieces together quicker,maybe you would have saved yourself from getting hurt.He’d been cheating on you for two months.

He cheated on you with this girl called Vanessa,who the hell even gets his pants tangled with a girl called Vanessa? She was pretty,you’ll admit,but she was such a bitch.Of course she was,she had sex with him!

You found out about them when you were calling with him,he had picked up.You were at home,lying on your bed after a day of attending exhausting classes in university.”Hey Vanessa sweetie” he cassually said.You were not surprised at first,Joshua had always called you sweetie throughout your relationship,but when you replayed what he said in your head again,you started getting suspicious.

“Who is Vanessa and why are you calling her sweetie?” you questioned.He didn’t say anything for a few seconds,he strangely just stayed silent.You were freaking out and thoughts began to race in your head.

Joshua cleared his throught before replying “Oh I just got her name mixed up with yours”.Feeling unsatisfied from his answer and starting to feel angry,you decided to speak again

“You didn’t answer my question,Shua.Who is she?” You pursed your lips and clenched your fists into tight balls.An ache started to form in your stomach as tears welled up in your eyes.

“She’s...she’s no one okay? Don’t worry about it.” Joshua said.He felt nervous,his palms were sweating and heart started racing.He didn’t mean to call you Vanessa,it just...slipped from his mouth.He had contemplated on telling you the truth,but he knew you would erupt if you found out.

“If she was no one,why would you call her sweetie?”

Shit,you put him in a tight spot now.He opened his mouth to say something in return but,his words had failed him.He knew he should have never slept with Vanessa from the start,his moral compass wouldn’t allow that.Joshua sighed,not knowing what to say. He’d just have to come clean.

“I’m sorry.I’m so sorry” he squeaked out.The atmosphere was hushed.He was petrified to know what your reply was.

Everything started to click.The reason he couldn’t text that much,the reason calls were only for weekend,and those short short replies.

He had been cheating on you,and you couldn’t put all the pieces together.Your jaw dropped and your eyebrows raised.The tears that were welled up started to fall freely now,you were crestfallen to see how unloyal he was.

“Sorry doesn’t fix everything you idiot.” you said before hanging up.You curled up into a ball and bawled your eyes out for..god who knows how long? The person you devoted your heart to,your other half, he was just another cassanova.

The worst part was that,he didn’t even try to call you back.

All my demons run wild

All my demons have your smile

In the city of angels, in the city of angels

It had been a month after you ended things with him. It was tough at first,you frequently saw him posting on his social media about how he was still living his normal life even after he tore your heart out.There were photos of Vanessa,which made you even more pissed.

You decided to delete everything that contained him in your phone,you blocked his number,even if your heart felt like it was so wrong to do so,but you couldn’t stay hung up over him forever.

You told your friends what happened between you and Joshua,all of them were super supportive on your side and said that he was stupid for playing with your feelings,but you still felt numb.

Deciding to move on and try to date other people even became a problem because of him.They all reminded you of him.Sometimes it was his hair,his eyes,his laughter,and his smile.

God,whenever you noticed that somebody had the same smile as him,your heart sank.He was so stupid to throw you away just like that,yet he’d still stay in your mind.

Hope New York holds you

Hope it holds you like I do

While my demons stay faithful

In the city of angels

As time passed on,you learned to let go.You started to be a normal person again,the person you were meant to be.You started talking to your friends more,going out more,you were getting back on track again.

While recovering,you managed to bring yourself closer to Wonwoo.He was one of your chilldhood friends who you grew up with,and had always stayed.

Wonwoo is one of the kindest people you know.He was the type of person you could tell anything to,and he would listen.In fact,he was one of the few people who you told first about the breakup.

He had just listened and comforted you with kind words when you broke down telling him what happened.He assured you that you were not the one at fault,and from then on you were always by his side.

You started getting closer to Wonwoo from that day,offering to go out to cafes and have lunch or dinner together whenever there was a little window of time in your schedule.Most of your time was gradually starting to go to Wonwoo..and then you started catching feelings.

Wonwoo had also confessed to you first,it was when you were having lunch together at a small cafe where you lived nearby.You were chewing your food when he suddenly blurted out “I’m in love with you.We should date”

You were surprised at first,but you accepted his offer and from then on,were one strong hell of a couple.

You didn’t expect to get into another relationship affter Joshua,but Wonwoo proved that it was okay to love again.He had got you to heal.Soon after,you fell head over heels for him,and Joshua slipped from your mind.

You unblocked Joshua after some time,you had made peace with what happened.He did follow you on social media again,he even saw your posts with Wonwoo,but he didn’t say anything though.It wasn’t like you were expecting him to.

You learned to close the chapter of Joshua in your life.The chapter had ended,and now there was a new one that began with Wonwoo.

Joshua would just stay as a memory,and you were gonna be fine with it.

[j0hnj4ej3n]

fate brought you home to me

soulmate!jaemin x fem!reader (part 1!!)

click here for part 2 !!

word count: 4.8k

warnings: slight angst 

note: i just had this idea randomly one day, i’m sorry if its not good but yes i still hope you enjoy reading it !!

Everyone has someone who is made for them in this world - soulmates. Some soulmates do find each other, they fall in love and live happily ever after. However, some people aren’t so lucky. Some soulmates end up falling out, some don’t ever find their other half and some merely don’t believe in soulmates. 

Every child receives their soulmate notebook as a way to communicate with their other half. It starts out as a plain, white, covered notebook, until one of the pair writes in it. That’s when unique designs start to appear on the cover. Whatever is written in one notebook will appear in the other and vice versa. That way, soulmates might get to find each other one day. At least, that’s what’s supposed to happen. 

Jaemin just turned five when he received his notebook. When his parents explained what it was used for, young Jaemin was excited to find out who his soulmate and new friend would be. As an only child, Jaemin found himself feeling rather lonely at times. He only had a few friends at childcare and was alone most of the time. 

That night before he went to bed, Jaemin took out his colourful markers and decided to write a message for his soulmate. In his best efforts to make his words neat and pretty, he wrote, “Hello soulmate! My name is Na Jaemin but you can call me NANA! I am 5 years old now, I hope we can be friends!” He finished off by drawing pink hearts and flowers around his message with a cute little bunny on the bottom right of the page. He looked at his finished product and smiled proudly before closing the notebook. He gasped as he witnessed the previously white cover turning baby pink and a pretty drawing of a fountain appeared on the center of the cover. With that, Jaemin placed his notebook carefully in his drawer beside his bed before tucking into bed and made a silent promise to himself and his soulmate that he was going to protect this notebook with his life. 

You were six when your mother presented you with a baby pink notebook that had a pretty white fountain on the front cover. “This is your soulmate notebook and by the looks of it, they already wrote in it,” she said as she handed it to you. You looked at her in confusion, “What’s a soulmate?” you asked as you flipped open the notebook, and you noticed how the first few pages were filled up. Your mum slowly explained to you the concept of what a soulmate is and when she left you alone in the living room as she went to prepare dinner, you read what a particular boy named Na Jaemin wrote in the few first pages of your notebook. 

“Hello soulmate! I do not know your name yet so I can only call you soulmate for now. How old are you? What colour do you like? I hope you will write back to me soon! Have a sweet dream tonight! - NANA” 

“Hello soulmate, it has been a few months. My mum says that maybe you do not have your notebook yet, that is why you have not written back. I hope you get it soon, so that we can be friends! Goodnight soulmate! - NANA”

“Hi soulmate, it has been a year since I wrote to you. It is my birthday again, I am 6 years old now. Sorry I did not write to you for so long, I sometimes forget about the notebook. For my birthday, I wished that you would write back to me. I hope it will come true soon. Goodnight. - NANA” 

“Hi, have you gotten your notebook yet? Today is my birthday again, I am 7 now. I have a best friend now, his name is Jeno. But other than him, I still do not have many friends so I am feeling quite lonely. I wished for you to write back to me again this year. But I think it won’t happen so soon. - Jaemin” 

You realised how with each page, his pages got less colourful and were no longer decorated with drawings. You understood how it feels to be lonely as you too didn’t have any siblings. You felt a little sad because he said he felt lonely and so you wrote him back right after you finished reading his messages. You took out your colour pencils and scribbled away. 

“Hello Jaemin! I am y/n and I am 6 years old this year. I only got my notebook today, I am sorry that I did not write back. I want to be friends too! I like the colour pink, what about you? Happy birthday Jaemin, I will be your friend now so the two of us will not be lonely anymore. Talk to you soon! - Y/N” 

That night, Jaemin flipped open his notebook, expecting no replies from his soulmate again. He was getting used to being disappointed with the lack of replies but still, he checked it every night out of habit. That’s when he flipped to the new page and realised that there was another message written in blue colour pencil and a drawing of a stick boy and stick girl holding hands. He stared at the page, frozen with both shock and a wave of happiness. “M-mum! She wrote back, SHE FINALLY WROTE BACK!” Jaemin shouted as he ran out of his room to the living room to show his mum the newly filled page. 

He held it with both hands, proudly showing it to his mum as he jumped up and down. They read the message together and right before bed, Jaemin wrote back to you excitedly. That night, he went to sleep with the biggest smile on his face. 

Since then, you two wrote back and forth to each other and got to know each other more and more. You learned that Jaemin liked pink too, his favourite animals were bunnies and samoyeds (he said he couldn’t decide) and that he liked strawberry but doesn’t like strawberry flavoured food. 

He learned about how much you liked baking with your mum and how you liked bunnies too but have a fear of dogs. He also learned that you sadly don’t live in Seoul like he does. That however, didn’t stop him from inviting you to his 10th birthday party. If anything, you would consider Jaemin your best friend, you’ve been writing to him for 3 years now and other than your mum, he knows you best. 

It was obvious how you couldn’t attend his party but you still wished him a happy birthday that day. “Happy Birthday NANA!! I’m sorry I couldn’t be at your party but I hope you have the best day today. I truly hope we get to meet one day, maybe when we’re older, then we can celebrate our birthdays together. Fun fact! I’m moving to a new apartment soon, I’m quite excited to move. Sadly, it isn’t any closer to Seoul. If I get to go to Seoul one day, we should meet up. Anyways, I have to go, Happy Birthday again NANA! <3 - Y/N”

He wrote back telling you he had a blast and that he understood that you couldn’t make it. He went on to tell you how much fun he had at his party and how you two should definitely meet one day. That day when he blew out the candles, he wished that he could meet you soon. 

A few months later, in November, you finally moved to your new apartment. You didn’t get to write to Jaemin for two nights because you had your notebook kept in one of the moving boxes but you promised him you would write to him again once you unpacked. After unpacking everything however, you couldn’t find your notebook anywhere. You panicked and even asked your mum to help you search for it. “I’m sorry honey, maybe you left it at the old place. Or it got lost somewhere. We’ve searched everywhere,” she told you as tears brimmed in your eyes. That night, you cried in your mother’s arms, extremely devastated over how you might never get to talk to your soulmate again. 

Weeks after your last message, Jaemin still checked every night to see if you’ve written back. Months and years have slowly gone by with no sign of you writing back. He still continued writing, telling you bits and pieces of his life. He got his first phone when he turned 12, the first thing he did was to try to find you on social media. Anything to try to contact you again, after all you were his soulmate and your sudden disappearance left a void in his heart. However, with less hope and a lack of any response from you, he slowly stopped searching online and his messages also got evidently lesser. Yet, every birthday from then on, he continued to wish for you to write back again.  

It’s been years since you last saw that pretty baby pink notebook you loved so much. You’re eighteen now and have finally (and thankfully) graduated with good grades. You’ve always dreamt of moving to Seoul to attend university there and after much consideration, your mum gave you the green light. 

You’re leaving for Seoul in 3 days and you were going to live with your aunt throughout your stay there. It was 1 in the afternoon and you and your mum were rushing about trying to pack whatever you need for at least the first semester of school. You were putting your coats and sweaters into one of the cardboard boxes since it's still pretty cold in Seoul and you wouldn’t want to catch a cold and miss any lectures. 

“Here, I found some notebooks in a box in the storage room, I totally forgot the box was there. Maybe there’s some of them that you can still use so you don’t have to spend too much on stationery,” your mum then plotted a stack of notebooks on the space beside you as she continued to run around trying to make sure you have everything you need. 

After sealing the box filled with your coats and sweaters, you turned your attention to the stack of notebooks next to you. That’s when an oddly familiar baby pink one caught your eye among the stack. You quickly took the two other notebooks off the stack and was face to face with the pretty baby pink cover and the fountain planted right in the middle. You let out a chuckle in disbelief, repeatedly saying “Oh my God” as you picked the notebook up and scrambled to your feet. 

“Mummy! It’s here, it was here all along,” you ran to your mother who was in your room, packing more of your things into a box. The two of you shared your excitement as you sat on your bed and started reading your past messages you shared with Jaemin. You came across the last message you wrote to Jaemin, the one before you moved and ‘lost’ the book. Suddenly, you felt a little anxious to flip to the next page, you started feeling that same guilt you felt when you first lost your book. You always wondered how Jaemin took your sudden ‘disappearance’, he must have been so sad or maybe he got angry at you. So you closed the book before you could find out and decided that you would wait till you’re done packing before you continue reading. 

Throughout the next 2 days, you finished up the last of your packing, with everything you needed placed at the back of your mum’s car, you were ready to go to Seoul. Tonight would be your last night at home and that baby pink book that stayed untouched on your bedside table was calling out to you. So after washing up and before going to bed you finally picked it up. 

You remember how much you wanted to get a phone so that maybe, just maybe you could find Jaemin somewhere on SNS. But when your mum finally got you a phone, it seemed hopeless trying to find him on social media platforms. The number of people named Jaemin and for all you know, he might not have put his name as his username. Soon, you gave up trying to find him, believing that if the two of you were truly soulmates, fate will bring you two back together again. 

Yet here you are, fate finally giving you the chance to reconnect with the boy who would cloud your thoughts late at night every now and then and you’re too nervous to even flip beyond your last message. 

“Stop being such a wuss y/n, what are you so afraid of?” you scolded yourself, really though, what are you so afraid of? Jaemin would never get mad at you, he was always so sweet and understanding. You lost your notebook, it’s not like you didn’t want to reply to him on purpose right? He would understand, he’s your soulmate after all, he wouldn’t blame you, right? 

You took a deep breath before finally turning the page. 

“HI Y/N!! It’s been about a week, have you moved to your new place? It must be really pretty, just like you! I don’t know why you haven’t been writing back but my mum says you’re probably still busy with unpacking. I miss you y/n, write me back once you see this! - NANA <3”

“Hi y/n, how have you been? It’s been months, are you okay? Did something happen? I really hope you’re okay, I just really miss you. The new school year started and I’m really enjoying going to school with Jeno. We joined the basketball club but Jeno is a lot better than I am haha, I’ll still try my best though. We also made a new friend, his name is Donghyuck! You must be enjoying school too, I hope you have many many friends so you won’t be lonely. Just hoping that you’ll write back to me soon, I miss talking to you y/n. Have a goodnight, sweet dreams~ - NANA <3”

“Happy Birthday y/n! I hope you had a good day, you’re 10 now! I wrote again to wish you but saw that you still haven’t written back. I’m asking for a mobile phone so that I might find you maybe online, I’ll give you my number then. Have a good birthday y/n, I hope you’ll always be happy and healthy! Please write back to me soon, you didn’t forget me did you? - NANA <3”

“Hi y/n, I just turned 11 today, Jeno, Donghyuck and I went out to eat and played at the arcade. I had a really good day, it would have been better if you wrote back to me though :( What happened? Where did you suddenly disappear to? I still don’t have a phone yet, my mum bought me new basketball shoes instead and they're really cool too! Wishing you would write back to me soon, goodnight y/n. - NANA :)”

“Hey, it’s my birthday again, I’m 12 now. Sorry I forgot to wish you a happy birthday this year. I’ve always been busy with basketball after school, we’re graduating and going to middle school soon. Jeno, Hyuck and I are planning to go to the same school, the one closest to our homes. I’m thinking of stopping basketball and joining volleyball though, what do you think? Should I go for it? I don’t know why I still write here, you haven’t replied in forever but I got a phone for my birthday this year! 0XX-XXXX-XXXX here’s my number, if you ever see this you can text me or something. Have a goodnight y/n. - NANA”

“So, I did change to joining the Volleyball club, this feels more me, can’t really explain why. I still can’t seem to find you online anywhere. I’m 13 now, school is pretty fun I guess. There was this new transfered student from China today, his name is Renjun and he stays really near Hyuck, now there’s 4 of us. Anyways, I hope you’re doing fine, maybe you actually lost the notebook. How am I ever going to reach you then? Jeno and Hyuck have already met their soulmates, we haven’t really asked Renjun about this yet. Hoping I’ll get to meet you one day. Goodnight. - Jaemin”

“Hey, it’s been a long while since I wrote to you. My family moved so I live nearer to where my future school is but that’s a little far away from my friends. It’s fine though, we all still go to the same highschool so I still see them regularly. I was putting away all my stuff while unpacking and decided to write to you again. You must have started high school too, since I’m already graduating soon. I got a scholarship from my dream university because of volleyball, that’s pretty cool right? Anyways, I see you haven’t replied. Still, I hope you’re living well. - Jaemin” 

“I turn 20 in a few days. For the last time in the past 10 years, I’ll be wishing for you to write to me.” 

There was a pang in your heart as you read the last message Jaemin wrote to you. His 20th birthday had already passed and he hadn’t written to you since then. Has he really given up waiting for you? You wouldn’t blame him though, he’s been waiting for years. But he still is your soulmate and the thought of him not being a part of your life anymore hurts, even if you’ve never met him before. Soulmates are still connected to each other some way, somehow, but would it be too late for you to write back now? 

Then you remember that he left his phone number for you. Even though it was from years back, it was worth a shot… right? You quickly unplugged your phone from the charger and saved his contact into your phone. Now you’re just staring at his contact on your phone, tempted to press the call button, curious to know if the owner of the number was still Jaemin. 

Seeing that it was already almost 1am,  you decided that you should go to bed soon since you’re moving to Seoul in a few hours. So you stopped yourself from calling the number and decided that texting him would be the more logical way right now. With nervous hands, you started typing. 

“Is this Jaemin? I’m y/n… your soulmate, do you remember me? Sorry I’m only reaching out to you now, when I moved years back, I really couldn’t find my notebook so I couldn’t write to you. I’m so so so sorry, I hope you’re not mad. I’m sorry you waited for so long-” you realised you were rambling and you sound so… weird and definitely uncool. So you backspaced everything and settled for a simpler text. 

1:15am - hi, is this jaemin? -

You continued charging your phone after that and quickly went to bed, letting your mind be filled with the thoughts of your soulmate until you were too tired and fell asleep. 

It was a Saturday morning and Jaemin woke up to his alarm promptly at 6:30am, like every other weekend morning. He remembered listening to music after bathing and drying his hair, the training from that evening causing his eyelids to feel heavy. Now, he was sitting on his bed, his hair messy as he rubbed his tired eyes awake. On the bed beside his own, Jeno stirred in his sleep, “Get up, let’s go for a ride before it gets too sunny,” Jaemin said as he pulled Jeno’s comforter off him before walking to the toilet to freshen up and change into appropriate attire for their weekly morning cycle. 

After Jaemin’s family moved closer to the university to make it easier for him to commute to and from school, he ended up moving into the school’s dormitory with Jeno. It was more convenient for the two student athletes too, since training was so tough at times, it was just easier to walk 10 minutes back to the dorm instead of taking the bus 20 mins home. But it was comforting to know that home and family are nearby. 

After changing, he exited the bathroom as Jeno entered sleepily while mumbling a tired “good morning”. Jaemin greeted him back before heading to the kitchen to heat up the sandwich they got from the school cafeteria yesterday for breakfast for the two of them. After they finished breakfast, they took their helmets, put on their shoes and were ready to go downstairs to get their bicycles from the parking area. 

They were about to enter the lift when Jaemin suddenly noticed the lack of weight in his pockets, “Ah, Jeno, hold on a sec. I forgot my phone,” he said as he walked back towards their dorm. “Some things just never change… Jaemin, hurry UP.” Jeno grumbled and eventually shouted from inside the lift, frustrated despite being used to Jaemin’s forgetfulness. 

“Alright, alright, I’m back don’t need to shout my dear Jeno,” Jaemin said as he walked into the lift, eyes frowning slightly at the message notification on his phone screen. “Hey, do you recognise this number? I got a text from it but it’s not someone from my contacts,” he asked Jeno as they were walking towards their bicycles. Jeno took a look at the number and shook his head, “Nope, but whoever that is seems to already know you.” 

It wouldn’t hurt to reply anyways, so he did quickly before putting his phone away and unlocking his bicycle from it’s parked spot. 

You were moving the last of your things to your aunt’s house with both your aunt and your cousin, Jisung’s help. You had a pretty tearful goodbye with your mum this morning when your aunt and cousin came to pick you up but she had things to settle at work so she couldn’t help you move. It’ll be another 3 months till your mum has free time to come to Seoul to see you so you couldn’t help but feel sad and slightly scared to live away from the woman you have seen everyday of your life. 

“There’s the last one, man… Why do you have so many boxes anyway?” Jisung complained as he placed the box on your new bedroom floor with a thud. It was a pretty room, a little bigger than yours back home. They were kind enough to have bought a new study table and cardboard just for you and you were grateful overall that they would offer you a place to stay, although your aunt claims that it’s nothing you can’t help but feel bad because she had to prepare so much just for you to move in with her. 

“I’m staying here for a few years Jisung, not a sleepover, am I supposed to just bring 5 pieces of clothes? But thanks for helping me move little guy,” you replied to his question as you tiptoed to ruffle his hair. “Me? Little? I can barely hear you from up here shortie,” he said as he swatted your hand away for messing up his hair. You punched his arm for calling you ‘shortie’ as he laughed at your offended expression. 

You spent the day unpacking and barely touched your phone. Truthfully, you were busy from unpacking but a part of you avoided checking your phone because you were nervous to see if Jaemin replied - or if it was Jaemin at all. You finally finished unpacking with the help of Jisung and his height, you placed the baby pink notebook carefully on your study table, beside your laptop. 

You took a quick bath and finally sat on your bed letting your muscles relax after the long day. You remembered how your mum told you to call her before you went to sleep so you took your phone from its spot on your study table and was going to call your mum when you saw that Jaemin replied to you. You literally froze upon seeing his name on your screen and your heart was on the verge of exploding after reading his reply. 

6:50am - hey yea it’s jaemin here, who’s this? -

You wanted to cry, out of happiness? Or maybe it was from how nervous you were to reply to him. What if he actually is mad at you? Or maybe he didn’t want to talk to you anymore? But you wouldn’t know until you try right? 

8:13pm - hey, it’s y/n here. - 

8:15pm - after i moved, i really couldn’t find the notebook so i couldn’t write back to you. i found it while i was packing for Seoul a few days ago, i’m so sorry for making you wait so long and you’re probably mad at me but i’m really so so sorry :( anyways, i hope you're doing well jaemin -

Upon clicking send, you threw your phone on the bed, afraid of his response; if he even decides to reply to you. So you sat there two feet away from your phone, like an absolute idiot, staring at your black screen. Two minutes went past and he hasn’t replied, you wondered if he has even read it yet. Five more minutes later, you started to get impatient as you frowned at your still black screen. You sighed and decided to head downstairs to use the house phone to call your mum instead, since that was what you intended to do before you got distracted. 

Jaemin was doing some research for his assignment while eating his favourite brand of cup noodles. He was reading some article as he picked up the cup of noodles, slurping away when his phone lit up with a ‘ding!’. While chewing, he picked his phone up and unlocked it to read the text. 

When he read the messages on his screen, he gasped, forgetting how much food he had in his mouth and ended up choking. He coughed repeatedly and quickly grabbed the coffee on the table to drink in order for him to calm down. “Are you okay? What happened?” Jeno asked, looking up from his phone after hearing Jaemin cough. He got up from his bed to pat Jaemin on the back, trying to make sure his friend doesn’t choke to death. 

After Jaemin stopped coughing, he turned to Jeno and shoved his phone into his hands. Jeno’s eyes widened as he read the message over again before looking at Jaemin who was staring back at him. This unspoken excitement evident in the air, “W-what are you waiting for? Reply her,” Jeno shoved the phone back into Jaemin’s hand, Jaemin’s assignment long forgotten. 

“I don’t know what to say, I haven’t talked to her in like… forever” Jaemin said as his leg bounced up and down, he never imagined this day would come. Every birthday wish, every 11:11 spent on you and you finally returned to his life. Finally. But now, his mind’s a blank and he doesn’t know where to begin. 

“Maybe start by telling her you’re not mad? She seems to feel really bad,” Jeno said and Jaemin nodded, unable to really speak after being so emotionally overwhelmed. You’re his soulmate, he couldn’t even find it in him to be mad at you. He’s just glad fate has finally brought you back to him. 

After talking to your mum on the phone and eating ice cream with Jisung in the living room you go back upstairs to your room. You finally pick up your phone to see if Jaemin replied, you took a deep breath as you unlocked your phone to see that your message app has a small number 2 at the top right hand corner. You clicked on it and Jaemin’s message appeared on your screen. 

8:31pm - no no, i’m not mad at you. but wow it’s been so long, i’m doing great and i hope you are too. - 

8:33pm - are you already in Seoul? do you maybe want to meet up? to just catch up and stuff :) -

You felt relief wash over you when you saw that he wasn’t mad. You’re glad, you wouldn’t have known what to do if he was actually mad at you. Even after waiting for so long, he didn’t hold it against you. Being able to reconnect with him after so long brings you a sort of warmth you can’t quite describe. 

8:45pm - i just got here today and yes, i would love to finally meet you -

[dabisangel]

Hey boo you write Dabi beautifully! You deserve lots of love💖 if I may, can I please request an angsty fic where Dabi has a near death experience, really thinks it's his end and civilian!reader somehow saves him (right place right time) he think he dreamt her up before he almost dies and they some how cross paths again and becomes infactuated with her ? (Sorry it's super long) if you're not feeling this it's all good 💖💖

OMg thank you for sending this ask. I kind of went out of control and wrote 4k words for it. I hope I did your idea justice! 💖

“Infatuated”

Pairing: Dabi X Reader

Genre: Angst

Warnings: Near-death experience, stalking.

Word Count: 4619

——————————————————————————————————

Dabi was no stranger to being in dangerous situations, but then again life comes at you fast.

His body laid on the cold pavement. Heaving sounds leaving his lips as his chest rose and fell quickly.

‘Is this really how I meet my end?’ his mind began to swirl and every alarm for survival was blaring in his head. 

 He knew that it was only a matter of time before he bled out. 

The bastards that ambushed him made sure of that. 

They’d followed him after recognizing him at the infamous “Blue Flame”, wanting to see if he was as strong as they’d heard he was. 

As he laid on the pavement he retraced the moments in the alley just moments before. He had already been tired before they attacked, and he was nearing his limit with his quirk. Under the dull ache of his stab wound, he could still feel the burning sensation on his skin. They’d attacked him relentlessly, and he couldn’t manage to defend himself. Much to Dabi’s surprise, when it came to the final blow, the tallest of the 3 men stopped suddenly. 

“It looks like you’re not nearly as strong as the media makes it out to be.” The men loomed over his body, making eye contact before crouching close to him. 

“And now…..” he grinned widely. “You’ll die in the street. Like a dog.”

Dabi didn’t have the energy to respond, and he clutched at the deep stab wound in his side. 

The men kicked at him a few times before leaving, snickering as they sauntered away from the alley. 

It had been 10 minutes since then. And he was in absolute agony.

Tears pricked his eyes as he stared up at the night sky. ‘There are so many’ he’d thought to himself as he stared at the stars.  Suddenly he regretted never looking up at the sky like this before. He regretted that he took so many small things for granted. He regretted everything. 

He wheezed more as he heard footsteps approaching. 

———————————————————————————————————

You turned the corner while tapping at your phone tiredly. Your other hand held onto a few grocery bags, which held the ingredients for your dinner. 

As you turned into your usual shortcut alley, you froze. 

Your eyes met the man on the ground, and the pool of blood next to him.

Your whole body froze before something clicked in you, causing you to drop your grocery bags and sprint over to him. As you kneeled next to him you breathed heavily, waving your hands frantically “oh my god are you okay. Jesus. I’ll call an ambulance oh my god.”

His eyes stared blankly at the sky, not budging to look over at you. “D-Don’t.” He struggled to speak.

You ripped a piece of your shirt, pressing it to his wound. From his lack of reaction and the way he laid limp on the concrete, you could tell he’d lost a lot of blood. “Don’t!? Are you crazy? You’re going to di-“

“I never realized.” 

Your eyes moved from his wound and up to his face for the first time. 

“The night sky is so beautiful.”  His words were slurred, and you could tell that he was becoming delirious. 

After a few moments of staring at his bloodied face, you recognized him. His eyes were a clear blue that were all too familiar. You had seen those eyes. Many times on the news, accompanied by flickering cerulean flames. Instantly you recognized him as one of the members of the LOV.

The reality of the situation in front of you set in as you began to shake. A villain was dying in this alley.

And you had no idea how to navigate this situation. 

You hesitated to speak, as you pressed onto his wound. You winced as you felt the warm liquid soaked through the piece of cloth, and you repositioned yourself next to him.

“What’s your name?” You asked.

“Dabi.”The name came out so quiet that it was nearly a whisper. You began to worry he would lose consciousness. Studying his eyes you noticed that were dangerously low and his breathing was becoming increasingly more shallow. The stab wound in his side certainly wasn’t doing him any favors either. 

“Dabi?” You spoke uncertainty

He didn’t respond.

“If I don’t help you. You’re going to die.”

A small smile painted his lips as he hummed gently, closing his eyes completely. “I feel so light. I’ve never felt anything like this before. Can you feel it too?” His words turned into rambling before he wheezed again. 

“Dabi keep your eyes open.” You spoke softly. Fear began to collect in your chest as he didn’t.

He was clearly very delirious. 

You weren’t sure what you should do. You knew that he was a villain, but he was no threat here now. You knew that if you called an ambulance, the police wouldn’t be too far behind to take him away. And as you stared at his broken state your heart panged with sadness. 

“Dabi. Look at me.”

His eyes fluttered open at your words, clearly struggling to keep them open. He glanced over to you, his azure eyes staring straight into yours. 

 “Wow.” He breathed raggedly. “You are an angel”

He continued to stare at your face for a few more moments, studying each feature carefully. “Are you taking me to heaven or hell?” You watched as his eyes flicked up to the sky again.

You were taken aback as he spoke. An angel? A blink was the only response you could muster. 

“You belong up there, you know.” His eyes watered a bit, up towards the sky. “Do you think I do, too?”

He coughed roughly, and you continued to apply pressure, your mind racing.

“I’m…. I’m gonna die here, huh?” He squeezed his eyes shut. 

“No, you’re not. I promise you.” You pulled out your phone and dialed a number frantically, shaking as it rang. Hoping that the number was still in order. Praying they would pick up.

When you heard her voice over the phone you sighed in relief, finally relaxing a bit.

“Hey, it’s y/n.  I need a favor. And I need you not to judge me for it.”

———————————————————————————————————

One month later

He woke from his sleep in a cold sweat, gripping at his side. Slim fingers ghosting over his stitches as small pants left his lips. 

Eventually, he gathered the energy to swing his feet over the side of the bed, as he raked his fingers through his hair. 

Every night since then he had the same dream. Over and over. He was dying in that alley, shrouded in misery and darkness. Until eventually, an angel descended from the sky, taking him into her arms and saved him. She was so beautiful. He was certain he’d never seen the woman in his dreams before, but he couldn’t get the face out of his head. Every feature was so clear as if he’d seen it a million times in person. 

He couldn’t remember if you were real or not. 

Shaking it off and he made his way into the bathroom. The soles of his feet pressed against the cold tile, as he looked into the mirror. That day truly haunted him.

Getting his revenge on the men that attacked him was the first step he took when he regained his strength. It was a spectacle. One that placed a newfound fear into the hearts of anyone that dared to think of harming him in the same way. 

Remembering the way it felt as he laid on the concrete, and the feeling that washed over him in that alleyway confused him. The moments replayed it in his mind more times than he could count. He remembered staring into the sky and feeling absolutely at peace. It sent a shiver down his spine.

The entire situation was something he truly wished that he could forget about.

After shaking his head again, he studied himself in the mirror. 

All he could do was think back to that face. The one that graced his dreams, and how he longed to see it again. He longed to thank you. But he couldn’t tell reality from his dreams anymore. 

He remembered being attacked, and the horrifyingly calming feeling of bleeding out on the pavement. He remembered the delirium. And then nothing. A blank slate, before waking in his bed with toga watching over him nearby. A groan left his lips as he remembered her taunting him and saying something about “it’s about time you woke up.”

The entire time he was out, all he could dream of was your face. And your eyes. And your voice. 

But everyone in the league convinced him that there was no girl that fit the description he gave. And that he was alone in that alley until Toga stumbled upon him. 

He thought he was going mad.

Deciding against more self-reflection he left the bathroom and began to get dressed. 

As usual, he planned on spending his night outside of the hideout, hating the claustrophobic feeling it gave him. He went into town, with his hood up, walking the cold street at night. 

It had been about 20 minutes since he’d departed from the hideout, and he made his way to the only part of town he could stand. It was a small section of the city that contained bars, restaurants, and shops. Tons of things to look at, and keep his mind busy. As he walked toward his usual bar, he stopped in his tracks as he heard your voice. It sounded so familiar. 

Moving to hide behind the corner he brought his hand to the cold stone of the side of the building. His eyes widened as he saw you, and his heart began to race. An unexplainable feeling filled his chest. Happiness, relief, fear? He couldn’t tell. 

As he watched you speak and laugh with your friend he held his position and began to shake. He couldn’t begin to explain the feeling, but one thing he knew for sure was that he was elated.

He watched you for about half an hour in complete awe. His memories of you began to come back slowly, the real ones. Not distorted dreams.

Remembering how you tended to his wound. How you said his name. How you saved his life. 

Some things were still foggy, but one thing that was certain was that he owed you his life. 

Tearing his eyes away from you he decided that he needed to get home. As a wanted villain, he didn’t like staying in one place for too long. But he didn’t want to lose sight of you, in fear of never seeing you again. 

Thoughts jumbled in his head for what felt like an eternity before deciding to stay. 

He watched as your friend left you for the night, and you said your goodbyes. 

He watched you as you left the bar.

He watched you as you walked home. 

He almost felt wrong as he followed behind you, aware that you were oblivious to the fact you were being followed. He hated that you took no precautions, and put yourself into danger this late at night. He wanted to protect you. 

After he saw to it that you were safe and sound in your apartment a smile graced his lips and he walked home. 

———————————————————————————————————

One Week Later

When he saw you again, chatting at the bar with your friend he didn’t hesitate. His mind went blank as his legs carried him over to the bar quickly.

“We need to talk.” He interrupted 

You looked up in response to the intrusion and a gasp left your lips as you met his eyes. 

It took you by surprise that he was here, and seemingly recovered. 

He looked different this time. Fully alive and well, and that made you smile. 

You excused yourself from your table and went to the front of the bar with him. 

Neither of you said a word for a while, you figured there was something he wanted to say.

You weren’t sure if you could trust him.

“You saved my life.” He stared down at you with a look you couldn’t decipher. He looked confused. “I thought I was crazy.”

“I’m glad to see that you’re okay.

“Why did you save me?” He furrowed his brows.

You swallowed hard as you remembered the sight of him in the alley, and his continuous ramblings as you stitched him up. You were certain he wouldn’t make it. But you didn’t give up. And here he was. 

“I-I couldn’t let you die.” You spoke honestly.

“I remember you saying my name. You knew who I was. Why would you do something like that for a villain.” 

You gave a half shrug. “You were…” you took a breath “fading in and out.” Your eyes met his.

“In that moment. Things were…different.”

He blinked, waiting for you to finish.

“We were just two people.”

He blinked again.

“In that moment you weren’t the big bad villain they write headlines about. You were a man. And you were dying.”

He felt numb.

“And what about know.” He asked

You blinked and took in a raspy breath.

“You’re still a man. And we’re still just two people. And I’m glad that I was able to save you.”

His heart skipped a beat.

 “Why aren’t you scared of me.”

You shrugged, “I don’t know.” You said with a laugh “I’m just…not? Do you want me to be?”

He stared ahead. “That’s your choice.”

Silence lingered over the two of you for a few moments too long.

“I can’t really remember what happened.”

It felt odd to speak to him so casually. 

Your eyes flicked to the stars above you. “You were pretty fond of the sky.” You looked over at him “you asked if I thought you’d go to heaven.”

He grimaced. 

“I thought of you a lot after that.” You said honestly, which gained his attention. 

“I kept looking at the news. Over and over and over.” A small laugh left your lips. “I kept looking for you.”

His mouth went dry. “I’ve been looking for you too.”

It warmed his heart a bit that you had been looking for him all of this time. It made him feel better about the fact that he had been thinking of you nonstop. At least the feeling was mutual.

“I wanted to….” he shifted uncomfortably “I wanted to thank you.”

You smiled sweetly

“I kept having this dream. Over and over.” He frowned. “Everyone kept telling me I was crazy. And that you weren’t real. But I couldn’t get your face out of my head.”

“You dreamt of me?”

He ignored your question

“I felt like something was missing. I couldn’t stop thinking about you.” 

You couldn’t believe how honest he was being.

His eyes met yours intensely which caused you to shudder. 

“I owe you my life.”

Your eyes widened, and you raised your hands in protest, “Hey hey. No, you don’t.”

His stare didn’t falter. 

“I do. I would’ve died in that alley if it weren’t for you.”

You were flattered honestly, but you were no hero. In your heart, you felt it was just the right thing to do. What kind of person would you be if you let a man die in the streets?

“What is your name.” His voice snapped you away from your thoughts, causing your attention to turn back to him. 

“It’s y/n.”

At that moment he remembered fully and everything clicked into place for him. Every memory of that night flooded in as he remembered you calling someone on the phone, frantically trying to save his life. He remembered as you told him your name, and applied pressure to his wound. He remembered Toga coming to your aid. And he pondered how you knew her in the first place. But above all, he imagined The risk it must have took.

He pulled a box from his pocket and held it out to you. It was a blue velvet jewelry box. His eyes flicked up to yours. 

“This doesn’t even begin to repay you. But I feel like it’s a start.” He pushed the box towards you.

In the past week, he had seen you stare at it in the window of a department store. You groaned to your friends about how expensive it was, and how you would kill to get your hands on one for yourself.

Taking the box into your hands you eyed him curiously. “What is it?”

He nodded at the box “open it.”

You followed directions and slowly lifted the lid. Your heart seemed to stop in your chest as you looked down at the necklace. It was a dainty silver chain, with a beautiful teardrop diamond pendant hanging at the bottom of it. You admired the way it shined in the night lights, your mouth agape. No one had ever gotten you anything like this.

“Y-you got me this?”

He nodded, “I happened to see you staring at it.”

You ignored his mentions of stalking.

“I-I…it’s beautiful. But… I can’t take this. It’s too expensive.”

Your eyes flicked up at him as you remembered the price tag “This was at least $1000.”

“Take it.” He said plainly “I need to repay you somehow.”

You asked him to hold the box as you began to put it on, you caught your reflection in one of the shop windows near you.

He admired you silently. You really were just as beautiful as he’d dreamt. 

He gave you the box back and began to say his goodbyes. You stopped him, grabbing onto his wrist as he turned away. He froze and stared back at you, which caused you to let go quickly. 

“Will I ever see you again?” You asked. You also hadn’t been able to get him out of your head. Since Toga had shown up to the alley and taken him away, you wondered what had happened to him. You really hoped that he would make it. 

And here he was. Standing in front of you.

The corners of his lips twitched, almost forming a smile. “You will.” 

Watching as he disappeared your heart panged. 

Days passed and you never saw him, no matter how hard you searched. There wasn’t even anything on the news.

Days later, when you returned to your apartment, you noticed a box at your front door. You brought it inside and inspected it. Inside was a top that you had admired in a store a few days ago. It was obvious that he had been watching you, which made you feel uneasy. Although you felt as if it didn’t creep you out nearly as much as it should’ve.

Your head immediately snapped up and you rushed to your window, peeking outside. He had to be out there somewhere. 

On one hand, you’d realized how creepy this was. The feeling of being watched, and receiving gifts. It was a textbook creepy stalker. On the other hand, you felt as if you had bonded with Dabi, regardless of his unconventional method of ‘repaying’ you. When someone is in their dying moments, they tend to get very personal. Sharing things that they’d never shared with anyone. You didn’t fear him, though. Even though you realized you probably should. 

This carried on for weeks

Random gifts placed delicately outside of your apartment door. A dress here. A necklace there. Always something.

You had a strange feeling about it, and you knew that you should probably be afraid. 

But as time went on you could tell that these gifts weren’t of creepy infatuation, but rather endless gratitude. They weren’t strange ransom notes covered in blood or a doll made from human hair. Instead, they were expensive. Really expensive.  Thoughtfully picked out gifts, colors of each one complimenting the other. Matching earrings for the necklace he’d given you. Shoes that matched the color of the satin dress you’d received earlier that week. 

You felt guilty that he kept leaving you such nice things. You didn’t feel like he owed his life to you. 

But you could tell he did.

You headed out that night, on a mission. You wanted to put an end to this game of never-ending cat and mouse. And for some inexplicable reason, you just really wanted to check up on him. The plan was already set in motion as you headed to the bar that he’d approached you at the first time. You ordered a drink, sat, and waited hoping that he would show up.

———————————————————————————————————

He felt indebted to you in a way that he had never felt for anyone. 

Knowing that this infatuation was probably unhealthy he knew that he should stop. 

But he couldn’t.

He left you present after present, hoping that he could fill the hole of debt he felt for you. But he couldn’t. 

It would never be enough. 

He headed out to the bar, hoping to drink enough to wash away all of his feelings. The trauma of a near-death experience and his fixation with you were two things that weighed at him like nothing else ever had. 

Taking a seat at the bar he quickly ordered a drink, downing it as soon as it was given to him. 

He groaned as he felt someone slip into the barstool next to him. 

“Hi.” Your voice was soft as you greeted him.

He looked at you in disbelief before giving a wry smile. 

“I’ve got quite the stalker, don’t I?” 

His comment caused you to roll your eyes as you settled onto the barstool. 

“I think I could say the same”

He took a sip of his second drink and raised his eyebrows as if to say ‘touché’.

“Where have you been?” your voice came out a little angrier than you had anticipated.

Taking another shot he ignored you, tapping his fingers on the bar steadily. 

“You told me I would see you again and you disappeared.”

You thought back to all of the gifts he’d left for you. And how he knew where you lived, and how he watched you. Your ears began to heat with a mixture of emotions. Anger? Frustration? You couldn’t tell. You couldn’t understand why he wouldn’t just come to see you, rather than leaving ominous packages.

“And what’s with you giving me all of this stuff?” 

“I told you.” He said taking yet another shot. “I need to repay you somehow.”

Truly, he was struggling. And it was very apparent. He couldn’t begin to wrap his head around the fact that material things wouldn’t be enough to dig him out of this hole. To get rid of this feeling. To wash away his debt.

He knew that drinking probably wouldn’t help either.

“You’ve already repaid me.” Your voice was soft as you broke the silence.

“And not with all of the gifts.” You lowered your voice. “You repaid me by pulling through. By living.”

He turned to you. His eyes narrowed in confusion. 

“I don’t know why. But I feel close to you. Like I understand you.” You trailed off, as you fondled the necklace that rested on your collar bone, instantly feeling guilty. “But please…. stop giving me gifts.”

He didn’t know what to say. He pondered saying thank you again, but he was sure that’s not what you wanted to hear.

“Okay.” He spoke plainly, staring ahead

Both of you stayed quiet 

His hands gripped the glass cup before he spoke low enough for only you to hear. “That night. Was my darkest moment ever.” He took a breath. “It haunts me.”

Your heart skipped a beat as you watched his eyes and the despair that floated inside of them.

You didn’t initially peg him as someone that even had a weakness or would be afraid of anything. But it dawned on you just how deeply a near-death experience could affect someone and the way that they live their life. 

You realized just how traumatic it was for him.

He continued to speak, not daring to look at you. “And out of that darkness, and trauma… the worst experience of my life….” He looked up, and into your eyes. “Came you.”

You felt an emotion that you couldn’t quite explain crawl into your chest.

“I don’t know what fuckin endorphins you triggered in my head but I cannot stop thinking about you.”

Watching as he fumbled over his words you bit your lip nervously. You had never had someone express such deep emotions for you. 

“Every time I see you. It’s. I don’t know.” 

You watched him carefully, in awe. While you weren’t sure you felt as intensely, you certainly felt the same way. Then again, you weren’t the one that almost died. 

His alluring mystery definitely added to the fact you couldn’t stop thinking about him. The fact that no one really seemed to know much about him, including the internet. You knew because you’d spent hours showering the net for the slightest bit of information on him, but of course, not much turned up. 

“I think about you all the time too, you know.” You tapped your fingers on the bar. “You worry me to death.” You cringed at your choice of words, but it didn’t seem to sway Dabi. 

“I watch the news all the time. Just looking for a hint of flames anywhere.” You whispered to him, careful that no one overheard you. “I don’t know. Seeing you like that, it just made me afraid it would happen again. That I might find you like that again. It was really scary.”

He looked over at you. 

”And I know we barely know each other but I think it’s pretty clear that we’re bonded already.”

You stopped your rambling and studied his face. You could tell he was tired. He probably wasn’t getting much sleep these days. 

“Can we just. I don’t know. Stick together?” You blurted, placing your palms onto the cold countertop.

He lifted his eyebrows at the suggestion. 

“Well, clearly you follow me around. And I’m pulling my hair out daily, trying to find you, hoping that you’re still okay.”

He continued to stare.

Realizing that you were rambling, you wondered if he’d ever speak up.

Your words were teetering on the line of desperate. Not really knowing if you could convince him. “So can we at least just stay in contact. Please? No more sneaking around, or gifts.” 

Again, he said nothing. 

“I just want to know you, and to know that you’re okay.” You shifted uncomfortably and began to worry that this was all a mistake in the first place. 

He didn’t speak for a while longer, processing everything that you’d said. He couldn’t help but agree with you. He wanted to stay close. He wanted to keep you in his sight. 

“If you want to give me anything, this is what I want.” You spoke cautiously, hoping that he would finally speak.

He blinked before reaching out for your hand and giving it a light squeeze. 

“Okay,” he replied with a small smile, staring into your eyes. “God, you sure do talk a lot.”

You squeezed back and laughed a bit.

“You have to swear.” You spoke seriously making sure that you didn’t waver

He’d never say it out loud, but there was truly nothing in the world that he wanted more than to stay close to you.

“I swear.” he squeezed your hand again before staring into your eyes seriously. “You have my word.” 

[just-dreaming-marvel]

NINETY SIX - RUN THROUGH THE PARK

LEGACY: A Tony Stark Daughter Story

MASTERLIST

< previous

Word Count: 1,475ish 

Summary: Tony, Pepper, and Bailey are taking their normal run through the park when they get stopped by an unfamiliar face.

Tony, Pepper, and I were doing our usual morning run through Central Park the day everything changed. Tony was talking Pepper’s ear off about something that wasn’t quite making sense. I tried my best to ignore their banter, focusing on my run and clearing my head.

“Slow down,” Tony’s voice broke through my thoughts, mainly talking to Pepper.

“Honey,” Pepper responded, sounding a bit done.

“Slow down, slow down. I’ll spell it out for you."

“You’re totally rambling,” Pepper spoke over him as the three of us slowed down but kept walking on. 

“No, I’m not,” he stated.

“You lost me,” I interjected. Admittedly, I wasn’t really listening but he had still lost me.

“Look, you know how you’re having a dream, and in the dream you gotta pee?” Tony asked.

“Yeah,” Pepper and I both responded, nodding our heads. This was going to be interesting.

“Okay, and then you’re like, ‘Oh my god, there’s no bathroom, what am I gonna do?’ ‘Oh! Someone’s watching.’”

“Right,” Pepper said.

“‘I’m gonna go in my pants’,” Tony continued.

“And then you wake up, and in real life you actually have to pee.” Pepper stated.

“Yes.” Tony excitedly agreed, thinking that Pepper was finally understanding and turning around to walk backwards.

“Yeah,” Pepper said. “Everybody has that."

“Right! That’s the point I’m trying to make.” Tony said, stopping in front of Pepper. I stood to the side, watching this play out. I was really confused at what he was trying to get at. “Apropos of that, last night I dreamt we had another kid. So real.” 

 “We named him after your eccentric uncle. Uh, what was his name?”

“Right.” Pepper nodded in understanding. Tony had been bugging Pepper a lot more lately about having another kid. It was really funny and endearing.

“Morgan! Morgan.”

“So you woke up…”

“Naturally.”

“And thought that we were…”

“Expecting.”

“Yeah.”

“Yes?” I could feel Tony’s excitement increase.

“No.” Pepper shook her head. I felt something off about her answer, but I waved it off as Tony’s strong emotions.

“Please. Maybe?”

Pepper grabbed onto Tony’s arms. “We don’t even have a wedding date yet.” 

“You set August 27th…” Pepper let go of him. 

“That’s the decoy date,” I interrupted, rolling my eyes. I don’t remember how many times we’ve been over this whole decoy date thing with him. I thought he was suppose to be a genius or something.

“So we have to get married before that date?” Tony continued as Happy drove up behind him in a golf cart.

“No, after that date,” Pepper said. 

Happy stopped the cart. “You know you two should just elope,” he stated. Tony, Pepper, and I turned to look at Happy. 

 “Because this media circus that’s going on,” Happy motioned all around him, “is driving me crazy.”

“Okay.” Tony nodded as he listened to his old friend ramble. 

“This is me on edge,” Happy said. I nodded in agreement, feeling his anxiety.

“I’m sorry.” Tony set his hands on the cart’s seat and leaned into it.

“Because I’m trying to keep all the pictures out of the paper and off the internet so your wedding’s not ruined.” 

“No one’s working harder than you.”

“Do you remember that kid from TMZ that you had me trade paint with on the FDR drive? Well, I got a case against me now.”

“That’s my fault?”

“Yeah, it’s your fault! ‘Lose ‘em, Hap. Lose ‘em, Hap,’ like The Godfather.” Happy waved his hands around. “It’s really funny. Now I gotta go to court.”

“That’s why we want you to get out of the cart and just destress, just walk with us.” 

“Yeah, Happy,” I joined in. “It would be fun. Plus, all your stress is starting to get to me.”

Before Happy could respond, something caught his attention. He whipped his head to the side and started shouting. “Burt! I see you, Burt!” He nodded and then pointed over to some bushes. We looked over to see a man hiding there with a giant camera. “Hold on.” Happy started up the cart again. “Burt, you son of a bitch.” He started driving off. “Come here, Burt! Come here!” The three of us began to walk again. 

“Man, we gotta get him a girlfriend,” Tony stated. Tony turned around to look at us. “You know anyone? Anyone come to mind?” Pepper stopped walking and chuckled as she shook her head. “What?”

“How about May? May Parker? Peter’s aunt?” I suggested.

Tony walked back towards us. “Not a bad idea, kid. Now.. where were we?” He thought for a second. “Oh, yes!” He snapped his fingers as he remembered. “Us expecting… I had a dream about it. It was so real.” 

“If you wanted to have a kid,” Pepper untied Tony’s jacket sleeves that were keeping his jacket on his shoulders and tapped the chest piece. “You wouldn’t have done that.”

“I’m glad you brought this up,” he also pointed to the chest piece, “Cause it’s nothing. It’s just a housing unit for nano particles.” 

“He’s right, Pep,” I broke in. “But we’ve already explained this.”

“Well, it’s not helping his case, okay?” She said.

“No, no, it’s an attachment, it’s not a—“ He tried to continue.

“You don’t need that,” she insisted. 

“I know. I had the surgery. I’m just trying to protect us.” He motioned to the three of us. “The future uses,” he motioned to the two of them, “and that’s it. Just in case there’s a monster in the closet, instead of you know…”

“Shirts?”

“You know me so well. You finish all my sentences.”

“You should have shirts in your closet.”

“Yeah. You know what there should be? No more surprises.”

“That’s funny,” I scoffed.

 “We’re gonna have a nice dinner tonight,” Tony ignored me. “Show off this Harry Winston. Right? And we should have no more surprises. Ever. I should promise you.”

“Yes.”

“I will.” Tony then kissed Pepper.

“Thank you,” Pepper mumbled as they kissed.

I watched on as they continued and an orange circle appeared in front of us. A tall man walked out of it. He was wearing all blue, a red cape, a weird eye shaped necklace, and had similar facial hair to Tony’s. 

“Tony Stark,” the man said in a demanding voice. They broke away, shocked and confused. I stepped closer to them. “I’m Doctor Stephen Strange. I need you to come with me.” 

Tony grabbed onto Pepper’s shoulder and she quickly grabbed onto his arm. I felt his fear and anxiety began to rise, as well as my own. I stepped to the other side of him and grabbed his free hand, trying to calm his emotions a bit so that he could focus. He gave my hand a gentle squeeze as a thanks when I sent a wave of calm through him.

“Oh, uh, congratulations on the wedding by-the-way,” Doctor Strange continued.

“I’m sorry, you giving out tickets to something?” Tony harshly asked.

“We need your help,” the man answered. “It’s not overselling it to say that the fate of the universe is at stake.”

“And who’s ‘we’?”

And then the last person I had thought we’d see emerged from behind the Doctor Strange guy. Bruce Banner. It had been three years since anyone had last seen or heard from him. Three long and eventful years. Where had he been all this time? And why was he just now showing up? And why was he wearing Tony’s clothes?

“Hey, Tony,” Bruce nervously greeted.

“Bruce,” Tony said, surprised.

“Pepper. Bailey.” He slightly nodded at us.

“Hi,” Pepper responded.

“You okay?” Tony quickly asked Bruce. 

Bruce quickly gave Tony a desperate hug, not answering the question. Tony grabbed onto Bruce, Pepper and I both stabling him as Bruce collapsed into him. As my hand made contact with Bruce, many of my questions were answered. I saw everything that him and Thor had been through and what he had just come to warn us about. 

 I gasped loudly, trying to stop the tears that threatened to escape my eyes, as I dropped my hand and stepped back. A fear and dread came over me that I had never felt before. 

“Bailey?” Tony questioned. “What did you see?” Bruce turned to me, confused. That poor man had missed so much, yet had been through his so many of his own issues as well.

“Oh Thor…” I whispered to myself, looking down at my feet. “I’m so sorry Bruce.” I looked up at him. “I didn’t try to get into your mind. It just happens sometimes. I can’t always control it… I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, Bailey.” He took a careful step towards me, putting a gentle hand on my arm. “So I take it that you’ve seen it all?” I nodded. “Then we’re going to need your help as well.”

next >

[just-another-romantic]

Six Times: Part 6/6- The One Time He Did

Series Summary: Five times Bucky wanted to kiss you + the one time he did

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: loads of depressive thoughts from both the reader and the soldier, fluff-so much fluff to make up for the angsty mood.

“We deserve a soft epilogue, my love. We are good people and we’ve suffered enough.” - Nikka Ursula.

Hands. The workers of our bodies. So many precious moments captured by them. Slender fingers dancing across the bridge of porcelain keys, the magic that sparks when two lovers intertwine their hands together. There’s a reason why old witches read palms, they had seen secrets in ways no one else could. Hands gathered crops, knitted clothing, stitched wounds together again. Hands give life.

Bucky had never liked his hands, for multiple reasons, really. He hated the way his veins popped out on his skin, how calloused they were from working in Brooklyn. He hated that he never had long enough fingers to play the piano or the guitar or no matter how many pretty girls held his hand, they never fit perfectly and there were never explosions of skin on skin.

After that long fall in Austria, he hated how he only had one. And after many cold, sleepless nights in a prison cell when Hydra had to keep him awake, Bucky hated how they were a weapon of war.

Now, sitting on the roof of Avengers tower, looking out on all of New York, Bucky looked down at his hands, blinking tears out of his eyes. He hated his hands more than ever because they had almost taken (Y/n)’s life. 

Obviously, Bucky had no recollection of it- memories of the Winter Soldier only came back in dreams, so vivid there was no denying that they were real. He woke up in his bed with a pounding ache in his right temple. Steve sat next to him, a face so grim it made Bucky’s heart drop.

“What did I do?” he asked, his voice raspy and dry.

Steve just whispered, “She’s in Med bay. We could’ve lost her.” The captain might as well have torn the sergeant in half.

That was a month ago. Bucky refused to see her, even when she got out of hospitalization. It was safer that way. He couldn’t hurt her anymore.

But (Y/n) was persistent. She knew it wasn’t him that blocked her airway, it was the ghost of what he had to become many many years ago. She didn’t even need to forgive him if there was no way her heart could be mad at him.

However, she still respected his space. She knew that he was ignoring her for a reason-fear. Fear of hurting. Fear of anger. fear of everything that was unknown to him. Instead, Bucky would find letters slipped under his door, the ink of (Y/n)’s loopy cursive bleeding through, still fresh. She built dreams in paragraphs, telling him how there was no possible way for her to be angry. She signed every letter with I love you. Bucky wished he could believe it.

There was no way she could’ve meant it. Bucky was awake at 3:30 in the morning only because he dreamt of it; he had remembered it. (Y/n)’s eyes red and popping, the way how she had tried so desperately to make reason with him, the way her hand delicately caressed his face before passing out, as if it was a romantic moment instead of deadly. 

Just as he was contemplating whether to stay or not, his ears picked up on the soft patter of bare feet against the concrete roof. “FRIDAY still tells me when you have a nightmare,” (Y/n) explained, “guess Tony still has that coded in whatever system.”

Despite himself, Bucky turned to look at her. The first time he laid eyes on her in a month. Her bright eyes were glossy and red rimmed, underlined with dark circles, her hair a mess from sleep and sweatpants and T-shirt wrinkled and lopsided. She was a specimen of true beauty. Her name spilled from Bucky’s lips the same time his did her own. She laughed, as smooth and sweet as honey. Oh, he wished he could smile, laugh along with her as if he wasn’t living his worst nightmare.

 “You should go back to bed,” he told her gruffly. 

“You say that as if I have been sleeping at all,” (Y/n) replied, standing her own like a force of nature. Wildfire, Bucky thought, she’s made of pure gold. “Buck, what you did, wasn’t you.” 

“It was still my hands.” 

“Being controlled by the demon those bastards made you into,” she said, voice raising in volume. Bucky’s voice caught in his throat. “Seventy years, Buck,” she continued, voice cracking in bits and pieces. “Seventy years of torment, brainwashing you to the brink of madness itself. Seventy years of doing the dirty work of high men who couldn’t afford to get their hands bloodied, so they hung the price and guilt over your head.” (Y/n) paused, choking down a sob, wiping the evidence off of her face with her sleeve. “You weren’t yourself all those years. You were thrown into the pit of hell and dragged yourself out of it. That was you, Bucky, not that weapon they made you think you were.”

“Is that what you think?” He asked, barely louder than a whisper. “Yes,” she answered. “It wasn’t the Bucky that I know and love.”

He could barely comprehend the fact that (Y/n) (Y/L/n) just admitted that she loved him before she was scrambling forward, boosting herself on the edge of the building next to him. In her charcoal covered hands was a spiraled notebook. Gingerly, she held it out to him, in such a manner that seemed as if she was giving over her own heart. Bucky obliged, the leather of the notebook feeling heavy in his hands. “I don’t know if my words can convince you, Buck, but maybe these will.”

Bucky opened it. The first drawing he saw was a black and white oil pastel. The image so detailed it could be mistaken for a photograph. It was from her point of view, laying on a cold hospital bed (though one could barely consider it a bed), left forearm stretched out, fist clenched, almost painfully tight. The only color on the page was the bright blue liquid that dripped from her IV, flowing into her bloodstream. Hydra’s mixture. Deep breaths, Bucky...

The next page he flipped to was obviously a self portrait done by (Y/n). The image rattled Bucky to his core. It was of her, stuck in the corner of a room, knees to her chest. Zip ties held her hands and feet together, tears streamed out of fearful eyes. She was screaming, but the duck tape against her lips prevented any noise from coming out. But scrawled onto the tape in bright red pen were the words Ready To Comply. Bucky shuddered, a sudden chill washing over him.

He skipped the next few pages until his eyes landed on one that was unmistakably him. His body, tangled in white blankets, only his bare back exposed. His arms used as a pillow for his head, shaggy black hair a mess around him. A image of him during a nightmare, no doubt. Above him, numerous hands reached out to him ominously, blood trickling off of some of the fingers. It was watercolor, brush strokes capturing the beautifully terrifying moment.

There were dozens more. Of him, of her. The last one captured his attention the most. Yet again, its him - pale skin contrasted by long brownish-black locks of hair, limps parted in a whimper. Hands made of smoke cover his eyes and a good portion of his face, the seal of Hydra burnt into the skin in red. He’s trapped, blind, and so vulnerable. Above him, the same red spells out Hail Hydra. The sight made Bucky want to throw up.

A warm flesh hand grasped Bucky’s metal plated one. “That man that I drew, he is not you. You are James Buchanan Barnes, not the Winter Soldier. Not the monster the media thinks you are, or the monster you think you are, or the monster Hydra tried to make you. I love you, regardless of what you think you are and what others have made you out to be.”

Throughout her entire speech, (Y/n) had been moving closer to him, snuggling herself into Bucky’s side for comfort, and when the man turned his head, there noses were nearly brushing. Her features were barley visible in the early morning light, but the warm glow of the lights by the door caught the mountains of her cheek bones, the slope of her nose, and the curves of her lips. Her lips - pink, full, and glossy. The pair’s heavy breathing mixed.

“Bucky,” she whispered, her hand grasping onto the fabric of his shirt. His flesh hand cupped her cheek, admiring the handiwork of God himself, and closed the gap.

Bucky’s mind fell into the abyss that was (Y/n). His mind went blank. She tasted like lavender and honey, with the faintest hint of mint. She smelled like vanilla Her embrace felt like home. It was over a second later, (Y/n) being the one to pull away, shaking like a willow. A tear slipped from her closed lids and Bucky was quick to kiss it away, the salt staining his tongue. “It’s happy tears,” she assured, (y/e/c) revealing themselves from under hoods, meeting steel gray. “I love you,” he admitted weakly, “ever since I saw you in that dress at Stark’s party.”

Her laugh echoed through the night, melodious. “About damn time, Barnes.” They chuckled together in harmony. 

“I have a question,” said he.

“I have an answer.”

“How long have you loved me?”

Sighing, (Y/n) leaned against the solid, unmoving man, her head pillowed in the slope of his shoulder. “I was so blind,” she said, barely audible, as if she was afraid to answer. “I didn’t realize I loved you until when you visited me in the hospital, how upset I got when you didn’t kiss me. That’s when I finally began to admit it. But my soul loved yours long before that, maybe even before we met.

“When I first met you,” she continued, “my heart lunged out of my chest. My soul knew yours, no doubt. I kept my distance though.”

“Because you were afraid of me,” Bucky concluded.

“No, because I was afraid to fall in love with you the first day.”

Bucky let go of his metallic grip on her hand, stretching it out. “So...this thing doesn’t bother you?”

She smiled, teeth flashing and light reaching her eyes. “Not in the slightest.” As gentle as a June breeze, she enveloped the hand in her own. “Do you know how it works?”

The childlike curiosity made him chuckle. “If I’m being completely honest, I’ve got no clue.”

She playfully swatted him. “I feel like if it’s attached to you, you should know how it works!”

“All I know is that it’s somehow connected to my nervous system!”

The vibranium plates clicked and whirled underneath (Y/n)’s fingertips. “So, like, can you feel things with it?”

“In the hand, yes,” he explained. “In the arm I just feel pressure.”

(Y/n) lifted his hand to her mouth, pressing a gentle kiss to the palm, then to the pads of his fingers, the coolness enveloping warm lips like a balm. Goosebumps pricked up on Bucky’s flesh as (Y/n) began to leave a trail of kisses, trailing up his arm to his left cheek. The center of his forearm, the crook of his metal elbow, a single tender kiss were scared tissue met bolts and nails, and finally, a soft kiss to the slope of his cheekbone.

“I don’t know how many more times I’ll end up saying this tonight, or how much more in days to come, but oh my god, I love you,” she said with a breathy laugh. 

“You can say it as often as you like, only if you do me the honor of being my girl.”

She smiled, pressing a quick peck to his lips. “Of course,” she murmured before leaning in for another. 

“(Y/n)…tell me this isn’t a dream.” His whisper was pained, frightened. “I don’t want to wake up from it.”

She offered him another kiss, and he quickly complied. Once pulled apart, she said, “I don’t think my heart would be beating this madly if it was.”

FINAL NOTE

Holy crap. It’s finished. I hope you all love this story as much as I do. Special thanks to @acf2510 for unending love and support on this series. Feel free to message me or comment if you would like to be on my EVERYTHING taglist. I love you all. Peace out, ima go cry now.

SIX TIMES TAGLIST

@acf2510 @sweetcarolinestudies @clarinette07 @amyy-moonlightt @mood-pancakes @buckybarnesprotectionsquads @iamquinn @liesllane @destinydameme @the-wayward-robot @booktease21 @wickedapollo @metoo-desu @authorpocketcow

[bee-kathony]

The Oath | Ch. 5 “Aislingean: Dreams”

a/n: thank you to my people who read this before anyone and told me it was good and not s***, I am so grateful <3 @julesbeauchamp​ @claryclark​ @sassenachwriter​ @lburks226​

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4

January 22nd, 2019

12:09am

Geillis had given Claire a “you better tell me exactly what you’ve been doing” look as she came down the stairs. Claire hoped that she didn’t look like someone who had just had sex in the library of some stranger’s home. She thanked God that her hair was a mess ninety percent of the time, but still tried to assemble it into a bun on top of her head.

Once they found Angus and Rupert, the four of them climbed back into Geillis’ car and headed back to the city. Before Geillis could ask her any questions, Claire turned the radio on and it was a Beyonce song, making both Rupert and Angus break out into an off key singing battle.

Claire sat there in the front seat of Geillis’ car, a smile never leaving her lips as she thought about the evening. She had never been a woman to have a one night stand, especially not with a man in his house full of guests. Only feeling a little bit scandalous, Claire sighed happily which only made Geillis glare at her.

Not even two seconds after the car door shut as they dropped off Angus and Rupert, did her friend turn on her.

“Tell me what ye did, Claire! I can see it all over yer face…”

“What? I didn’t do anything,” Claire lied, but couldn’t help the grin that her lips formed.

“You met someone, didn’t ye?” Geillis questioned her, trying to study her friend.

“Perhaps I did,” Claire nodded. “But he doesn’t even know my name and I will probably never see him again. Just a one time thing.”

“Just what was a one time thing, Claire?” Geillis’ eyebrows rose to her hairline in surprise. “Did ye kiss a strange man, lass?”

“Ohhh, we did more than kiss alright,” Claire suddenly laughed and covered her mouth with her hand. She had lost count of how many drinks she had over the course of the evening and its seems her tongue was extremely loose.

Geillis gasped and smiling she clutched Claire’s arm. “Oh please, Claire. Ye canna leave it there, ye have to tell me. How far did ye go? Hand job?”

Claire didn’t answer, instead she only pretended to zip her lips and throw away the key.

“If ye dinna answer me Claire Beauchamp, I’ll assume ye went all the way wi’ a stranger at a party,” Geillis said firmly and when Claire started giggling again, her mouth dropped. “Well, well, look who’s the slut now.”

“I am not a slut!” Claire hit her friend on the arm. “I am tired though so if you will please drive home.”

“I bet yer tired lass, ye disappeared around 8 and I didna see ye for the next four hours,” she winked and moved the gear shift into drive. “Ye look like a lass who has had her corn grinded well.”

“Oh my God,” Claire laughed. “You were the one who told me to have some fun, so that’s what I did. I didn’t even think about Frank the entire night.”

“That’s great!” Geillis smiled. “Are ye goin’ to tell me who this strange man was or do I have to guess?”

“He was the owner,” Claire said freely — one way or another Geillis would have found out anyways.

The car swerved on the road as Geillis looked over at Claire, “James Fraser? Ye slept wi’ the owner of Fraser & Co. tonight?”

“I wouldn’t say we slept together per say since there was no bed involved, but there was a bookshelf and—“

“A bookshelf?! Claire!” Geillis laughed. “I didn’t think ye had it in ye to be honest.”

“Well I did and I don’t regret it for a moment,” she said crossing her arms over her chest.

“No lass, dinna every regret having sex wi’ that fine piece of man.”

Claire rolled her eyes, “Just drive, Geillis. I’m sure in a week I’ll have forgotten all about my wild night. We have to change some policies at the hospital so I’ll be really busy the next few months.”

“Ye just had amazing sex with a bookshelf involved and yer still talkin’ about work,” Geillis clicked her tongue. “Ye never cease to amaze me, Beauchamp.”

“He was a better shag than Frank,” she admitted. “With Frank, I often found my mind wandering to work… but not with Jamie.”

“Oh Jamie is it? Ye dinna call him James like everyone else?” Geillis smirked.

“Well we are intimately acquainted,” Claire joked.

“I’m glad ye had a good night, Claire. Are ye happy ye went?”

Smiling to herself once again, she nodded. “Yes, very happy actually. It turned out to be way better than I was expecting.”

“Oh yes…” Geillis smiled. “Ye had enough fun for the entire party.”

++++++

The next morning, Claire woke up with possibly the worst hangover she’d ever had. Not only was her head throbbing, but she had a delightful ache in between her legs and heat crept up her chest as she remembered the previous evening.

It’d been so long since Claire had felt this light and carefree. The last year of her relationship with Frank had been heading downhill and she only just realized it. He treated her as an accessory. Showing off his perfect girlfriend to all his colleagues at work, but never once caring for her opinion on anything he was discussing. She was a prop, not a lover — only to speak when asked, otherwise she must sit in her pretty little corner.

It was toxic. Claire furrowed her brow and ran her fingers through her curls. More than heartbreak, she felt like a complete fool. But there was nothing she could do to change the past save to go back in time, but that was impossible. So the only thing Claire could do was to move forward with her life and to put the past behind her.

It had only been two days since her horrible break up and yet Claire had learned so much about herself. She found out that she was able to not fall apart as easily as she once might have. She had been bold last night with Jamie and hoped that boldness would continue to grow in all other areas of her life.

She still had the next two days off, however, and planned to spend the next 48 hours sitting on Geillis’ couch watching reruns of Grey’s Anatomy.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” Geillis smiled from the couch, a cup of coffee in her hands as Claire walked out from her room.

“Good morning,” she mumbled on her way to the kitchen. Claire was far from being a morning person and add alcohol into the equation and she was a right nightmare.

“Did ye have any sex dreams about yer man?” Geillis asked once Claire returned with coffee in hand.

She nearly spit her first sip back into her cup as she sat down next to her friend. “No, I did not have any sex dreams. For your information, I didn’t dream at all.” This wasn’t entirely true. The truth was that Claire had dreamt about Jamie, but they weren’t sexual in nature. Her dream consisted of the two of them, sprawled out on a picnic blanket, limbs intertwined as two children ran around the garden. But Geillis didn’t need to know this. No one did.

“Fine then, lie to me.” Geillis settled back into the couch, propping her feet up on the coffee table.

“Are you working tonight?” Claire asked.

“Aye, from 4pm to midnight. Ye’ll have to fend for yourself for dinner.”

“I think I can manage ordering in,” she smiled and started to plan her pizza option for the night.

“Great, now hush… ’Tis my favorite episode, the one wi’ the bomb.” Geillis grinned and turned up the volume.

“Don’t you think it’s ridiculous that we watch this show? Being doctors and all?” Claire laughed as she pulled up a blanket around her feet.

“Nah,” Geillis smirked. “We both know we dinna watch it for the surgeries, but for McDreamy and McSteamy,” Her friend nudged her leg with her foot.

“Oh God, now we just sound like horny women.”

“I know I am, ye…” Geillis glanced at her, raising her brow, “Ye are horny for only one man wi’ flaming red locks, Beauchamp and ye know it.”

“Shut it,” Claire blushed, throwing a pillow at her friend who just laughed, knowing she was right.

They spent the rest of the morning and early afternoon watching tv and talking. Claire had never spent this much time with Geillis and found she quite liked the companionship. Frank had been so demanding of her time that she had spent very little of it with anyone else but him.

At 3:30pm, Geillis left Claire on her own as she headed in for work so Claire decided the best thing to do was to draw herself a bath.

Filled with bubbles and Eucalyptus oil, Claire climbed into the warm water, letting out a sigh as her muscles relaxed. With nothing in particular to think about, Claire let her mind drift and soon she found she was thinking about Jamie.

Even though she was submerged in hot water, her skin prickled with goosebumps whenever she thought about how his lips had felt against her skin. How his hands had touched her, leaving their imprint.

Her head fell back against the rim of the bath and her eyes shut, heavy with desire. Claire recalled the way his fingertips pressed roughly into her flesh as he held her against the bookshelf. With parted lips, she trailed her hand over her chest, lightly ghosting over her nipples, making them stand to attention.

But as she slid her hand over her stomach, she froze and her eyes snapped open.

“Claire Beauchamp, you will not have a sex fantasy about Jamie Fraser!”

She shook her head to rid any images of his strong lean arms holding her up and splashed water over her face. Then she settled back against the bath, closing her eyes and thought of sutures and broken limbs — anything to keep her mind off of Jamie.

After going over in her mind a very complicated procedure to remove a spleen, Claire found her mind drifting back to Jamie. She wondered if his company had any social media and so she innocently picked up her cell phone and went to Instagram.

“Fraser & Co.,” she muttered as she typed in his company and it popped up immediately. Her heart raced as she clicked on their profile and started scrolling through the pictures.

Considering they were a fairly new company, there weren’t many pictures. One of Jamie and a man that looked a lot like him, but with jet black hair; they were holding their first bottle of whisky. A few of the different types of whisky they sold, one of the distillery and then the most recent were from the grand opening last night.

In one picture, Jamie was on stage giving the welcoming speech that she had missed. Her lips curved into a smile as she zoomed in closer on his face and took a screenshot. She felt silly, but wanted to be able to pull up his face whenever she wanted. Another picture was of the crowd, people mingling and drinking at the party, but when Claire zoomed in to try and find herself she saw something in the top right corner.

They were barely visible and she probably only knew who it was making their way up the stairs, hand in hand because it was her and Jamie. If people cared to zoom in or brighten the picture, they would see Jamie talking Claire up the stairs! Heat fanned over her cheeks as she blushed, realizing that this was their first picture together and so she took another screenshot.

“You are not some high school girl, Beauchamp,” she rolled her eyes and locked her phone, setting it down beside the bath.

Later she would end up deleting the screenshots and she didn’t dare follow the account. Claire wanted to see Jamie again, but she knew that the only thing she would bring to any kind of relationship was baggage. And the last thing she wanted was to make another relationship complicated from the start.

Drying off from the bath, Claire re-twisted her hair into a high bun and slid into her favorite silk robe. It was only 5pm, way too early to go to sleep. Instead she ended up ordering pizza with extra cheese and turning on a Christmas movie called A Princess for Christmas. It wasn’t very good, but the guy playing the prince was kind of charming and so she watched until the end.

Her eyes were heavy with sleep, and she must have dozed off near the end of the film and only woke from the sound of the door opening. Claire lifted her head from the couch to see Geillis putting her bag down near the entrance.

“Hi there stranger,” Geillis smiled.

“Is it midnight already?” Claire yawned, reaching for her phone to check the time. In fact it was nearly 1am, she had slept for at least a few hours.

“Have ye been sleepin’ the whole time I’ve been gone lass?” Her friend chuckled and came to sit beside her on the couch.

“Not the whole time,” She sat up, stretching her arms above her head. “Only a few hours and I feel like I could fall right back into bed.”

Geillis yawned, covering her mouth with her hand. “Yer makin’ me tired too. Ye still have off tomorrow right? I do too. How about we go into town and do a wee bit of shopping?”

“Oooh yes please,” Claire smiled. “I could use a new sweater or two.”

“Och, ye have plenty of sweaters, Claire,” Geillis shoved her foot as she stood up. “Find somethin’ a little less modest aye?”

“It’s the middle of winter,” Claire rolled her eyes. “I’ll do no such thing.”

“Whether ye like it or no, I’ll find ye somethin’ sexy tomorrow, Beauchamp,” Geillis winked and then said goodnight, heading off to her own room.

Yawning again, Claire rose slowly from the couch and after brushing her teeth, climbed into bed with a sigh. She never usually had this many days off in a row, but was thankful considering the week from hell she’d had.

Except it all hadn’t been bad. Meeting Jamie for one had brightened her week considerably.

Sleep claimed her again, laying heavy on her chest and soon she found herself dreaming of a tall red headed scotsman.

His fingers touched her cheek, softly, caressing. Lips pressed just under her ear, sucking the skin lightly. Claire whispered his name and he pulled her closer to him, once again making her forget everything, but him.

Clutching at the sheets, she cried out as he parted her thighs and thrust home.

“Oh, Sassenach,” She heard him say before Claire sat up in bed, her heart pounding.

Taking a deep breath, Claire lay back down. She had dreamt of him — Jamie. Of course she had, he was all she had thought of since she met him. It was only normal, she told herself.

Feeling out of sorts, Claire closed her eyes and then imagined that he was there with her once again. Slowly she let her fingers drift down her body, over her breasts, nipples hard and standing to attention. Her lips parted as she found the relief she was aching for. It was Jamie’s fingers she imagined as she worked herself to completion — it didn’t take long.

“Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ,” she sighed, hoping that sleep would take her away again… away to Jamie.

Chapter 6: C. Beauchamp 

[thatguywhoreviews]

Baywatch

 It’s 1AM where I am right now. I should really be sleeping, but I’m not. I need to talk about what in the name of hell I’ve just sat through. It was two hours long. I could talk about the issues with each scene in-depth. I’ve just watched Dwayne ‘The Rock’ Johnson swim through LITERAL FIRE.

 It.

Is.

The.

Worst.

Film.

 I.

Have.

Seen.

All.

Year.

  “And not a single fuck was given”

This quote was my reaction to every single joke that they attempted to even hint at in this entire movie. I didn’t laugh properly once. I cringed more than I laughed. The acting is awful, the character development is awful, the plot is worse than a fever dream that you dreamt up whilst you were drunk at a bar. And the CGI. Oh god, the CGI. The CGI is worse than that time you thought you were a genius and decided to dabble in the art of Scratch. Oh, you don’t believe me? Look at this.

That fire was an actual special effect used in the actual film that was actually released in 2017. I’ve watched three different films this year that at one point of another I’ve classed as the worst film I’ve ever seen. I’ve watched The Room (expect a review on that at some point) which I’ve recently came to love as a cheesy little independent film that grew well outside of its bubble and became a cult phenomenon. I’ve watched The Emoji Movie (Only expect me to review this if I run out of films that I want to review or find to review because I don’t normally put myself through filmic torture) which I’ve not came to love quite as much as The Room, but I have come to hate even more through the exposure it had in the media and the fact that it literally only exists to milk yet more money from the people who choose to see the film. Also, they got Sir Patrick Stewart to voice the Poo Emoji. SIR PATRICK STEWART. If that’s not a waste of the talent that you’ve got, then I don’t know what is.

Baywatch is the final film that I’ve watched this year that I’d class as the worst film I’ve seen all year and this time, I mean it completely. I sat watching this film with a look of utter contempt and hatred on my face that I don’t think I’ve ever had whilst watching any other film. I didn’t even laugh at the CGI, I felt like erupting into tears at every possible avenue. Everything in this film is made by people who don’t understand how films work and the worst thing is the actors that they got are actually pretty good in other things. The Rock has done so many films that by this point he’s almost a classic actor and he’s so much better than whatever this film is trying to be. Even Zac Efron and Alexandra Daddario can do SO much better than this. The characters all fit into heteronormative character stereotypes that I could literally write in my sleep (and yes, I think I could also write them better in my sleep thereby proving the fact that the writers were all high when they wrote this film).

You’ve got the geeky character (Played here awfully by Ronnie Greenbaum) who has fell in love with one of the lifeguards and wants to become a lifeguard just to impress her. He literally doesn’t even care about the massive responsibility and job that he has put on his own shoulders, he just wants to get this girl into bed and that’s literally his characters only motivation to do anything in this entire film, he’s given no character beyond that point.  You’ve got an Olympic Gold Medallist (Played here by probably the second strongest performer in this entire film, and the only one with any real charm, Zac Efron) who has been assigned to this beach for mysterious reasons and falls in love with yet another of the potential lifeguard candidates, Summer Quinn (Played by Alexandra Daddario), who has literally no character development in the film because, like both other female leads (Victoria Leeds (Played here by a seemingly bored Priyanka Chopra) and Stephanie Holden (Played by Ilfenesh Hadera, the less said about her performance here, the better), she was never given a character that could be developed. Every female character in this film is simply eye candy for the males and the film never even shies away from this fact, instead openly accepting it to a weird extent. Even the ‘nerdy’ character at the very least gets a modicum of character development, represented as a weird outcast who could never fit in and who, may I just add briefly, gets his penis stuck in a deckchair during the first half hour of the film and that joke can simply never be forgotten because the implications of it are simply horrifying. Like, what happened next? Did it get ripped off? Is it still there to this day? Is it in a museum collecting pieces of memorabilia that document accurately quite how this travesty of a film actually got the chance to ever be made and somehow made it to a cinema screen rather than a television screen, which incidentally would have actually made it better because I feel like I could deal with this time in small bite sized chunks (or at the very least, it would have meant I didn’t have the misfortune of seeing this movie). I’d also just like to point out that as much as Efrons character seemingly messed up, the treatment he’s given throughout the film really doesn’t represent this well in the slightest and there was no point in making him an Olympic Gold Medallist. In fact, I feel like the only reason they even made him a gold medallist is so that he had a reason to have a body that looks like it was ripped straight out of God’s Favourite Bodies and a reason to have a ‘complex’ plot based around the fact that, oh yeah, he was a gold medallist.

“Fire?! What does that mean?!”

Oh. Ohhhhhhhhhhhh. You want me to talk about the CGI used in the film. Fine. But don’t expect this section to be short or even fun. Wait a second. That’s exactly how I’d describe the atrocious CGI that’s used in this film!

 This film literally has some of the worst special effects I’ve seen all year. This year has actually been one of my favourite years in cinema (due to the fact that so many good films have come out this year and I love them all) and I’ve adored some of the effects I’ve seen this year, yet this film couldn’t even be bothered to render something approaching realistic fire. Like, seriously I’ve already shown you this stuff and if you reacted in anything even approaching a similar way to how I reacted to the CGI, you almost died with laughter and then slowly stopped laughing as you realised that this was a still that was actually taken from the film. You know what, it’s easier to show you a comparison of this film and another film that was realised this year. It’s important here that we ignore budget because if you stretch your money enough you can do anything with even the smallest amount of money. You ready? Look at this.

 Did you take a good wide berth at it? That first still at the top is taken from Blade Runner 2049, an incredibly well made, well directed and brilliantly acted film that, like Baywatch (a name I can’t even think about anymore without wanted to walk outside, wait for somebody to walk past me, knock them out and then proceed to kill them and hide the body), was released in 2017. Yes, you read that right. It came out this year. That still at the bottom is taken from, you guessed it, Baywatch. Please, tell me if I’m wrong, but I don’t see special effects in the Baywatch still. I see somebody who has thrown paint at a landscape painting of a boat and said “Yeah, I think that’ll do it”. I just refuse to believe that this is what film studios have become these days, desperate money hungry husks of what they used to be.

There’s more examples like this in the film and they’re all as bad as the fire scene that you’ve just had the displeasure of looking at. God, I can’t even look at it without screaming internally in a manner that implies my eyes are melting and I’m losing the will to live. There’s a scene that is thankfully very late in the film (thankful in the sense that you don’t have too much of this abysmally made disgusting train wreck to watch after you’ve seen these scenes) that involves a large number of fireworks, a gun and the top of a large tower. Suffice to say, The Rock is shot for what seems like the ten millionth time at this point and it looks like the bad guy has won (more to be said on her later, but suffice to say I have more than a few little bones to pick with her and her scheme that is borderline insane to a level never seen in film before) and then the bad guy (who I’m going to admit right here, I don’t even know her name. I don’t even know if they said it in the film, if they did I can’t remember it, but it wouldn’t exactly surprise me if they didn’t even bother to properly characterise their villain and just kept them as a mysterious presence that isn’t even that mysterious) is distracted by pretty fireworks. Yes. You read that. That actually happened. The villain of the piece, the woman who shot THE ROCK for gods sake, the woman who is seemingly about to make millions of dollars from drug and property sales is distracted by a few pretty fireworks which makes it seemingly impossible for her helicopter to pick her up. And the firework CGI is also pretty poor by the standards that we’ve (very much rightly) came to expect from any film that has been released in 2017 (we got Thor: Ragnarok this year for Christ’s sake). There’s nothing redeeming about the CGI in this film, something that will likely not surprise you as I am a strong believer that this entire film literally has no good or even believably decent moments.

 “It’s not about the drugs for Leeds”

Leeds! That’s the name of the villain of the piece! I can’t believe I forgot her name! Oh wait, I can. Just like I can voluntarily forgot every single moment of this film and feel all the better for having do so.

She’s an awful mockery of what could have been really quite the fun character and yet just…. isn’t. At all. She’s not fun. She’s not funny. She doesn’t even have a half-decent plan which, as a, y’know, villain, is the only reason that she even exists in the film in the bloody first place.  Her plan is to sell drugs and make enough money to….do what exactly? It’s never even explained why she wants this money, just that she wants money so she can have money. It’s never actually explained what she’s going to spend that money on and we’ll never find out the reasons because by the end of the film she’s dead.

 “That’s not how this story ends, Mitch”

Actually, yes it is. This film is the complete antithesis to anything that a good film should be and I wouldn’t even wish this upon my worst enemy.

0/10- It’s really that bad. I wouldn’t even recommend watching this film as part of a marathon of bad films. If anybody ever gets you this film as a gift and thinks that by buying you this film that they’ve carried out a good deed, burn the DVD in front of their eyes and then slap the person who bought you the film, clearly they don’t care about you in the slightest and they just want to laugh as they watch you suffer in what will be something approaching silent and unparalleled horror at whatever you’ve just pressed play on.

[chibsandchill]

Stolen moments under silk sheets (SFW version)

Fandom: HOTD (House of the dragon)

Pairing: Aemond x AFAB!reader

Summary: Aemond is touch starved. That’s it. That’s the whole story. Kind of. 

Masterlist

My requests are open! 

NSFW version here!

Warnings: Including but not exclusively slivers of angst sprinkled here and there, fluff, obsessive behavior, obsessive thoughts, descriptions of metaphorical self-harm, very brief mentions of the dance and the events that happened (some canon divergence), Aemond is his own warning, canon typical themes, the beginning is a bit slow, grammatical and spelling errors (English is not my first language)

I am not responsible for your media consumption 

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The roses in your garden have begun to wilt. Summer is leaving, and winter claims all, but you remain untouched by the darkness that crept ever closer with each passing cycle. Your roses may have lost their vibrant colors but your face remained as bright and beautiful as ever. You thrive even in desolation – the harsh winds cannot steal the warmth from your cheeks or the spark from your eyes. 

“And you say you do not care for gardening, my love.” 

He’s almost startled by your presence, but since the war very little caught him off guard. But that look in your eyes? The overwhelming affection? That was something Aemond reckoned he would never get used to. And yet he could not get enough, you had awakened a beast inside him that fed and craved all things you. A smile did not satiate him like it used to, a night spent together felt like a fleeting moment spirited away by vengeful gods. 

Aemond hums. “Your passions are my passions.” 

You wrap your arms around his waist, resting your face on his shoulder. He felt, in that moment, as if he was standing on jelly, his knees threatening to buckle and his spine like liquid. There was not enough of you pressed against him. He felt burning hot and freezing cold at the same time, his skin crawling with want and desire. 

“Clever.” You chuckle into the crook of his neck. Aemond shivers as your warm breath hits the sensitive skin there. 

“Did I wake you?”

His words are a whisper. Soft and with underlying guilt. You do not sleep well anymore, not without him. Too much has happened. The death of Jaehaerys proved that there is no sanctuary that cannot be breached, not a lock that cannot be broken, and not a part of you that will not suffer.  

You shake your head. 

“Liar.” 

“I was already awake. I like to…” 

“Hm? There is no judgment here.”

There was not an inch of you that he would part from – not a sliver of you he would not take, and not a piece of you he did not dream of devouring. The opposite was also true, for he craved to be taken, to be devoured and kept more than he ever dreamt of possessing. Aemond would have all of you, had woven that promise into the very fabrics of your marriage, embedded the words as if they were a spell into his vows, and oh, how sweetly you had smiled upon hearing them. He doubted you heard them for what they truly were. Are. 

“I watch you,” you confess, “when you sleep. You look so… so peaceful. The war has yet to poison that.” 

He blinks. Seconds tick by, but Aemond is too busy staving off the greedy blush from turning him red to respond. He is unable to respond, truly, even were he not practically glowing at your words. Words clump together on his tongue. 

“I should speak to the Housekeeper then,” Aemond clears his throat, “ if the room is so lacking you need to resort to staring at me. Though, perhaps I should thank her for her oversight that surely allows you to fall asleep quickly.” 

The corners of your lips fall, barely, but there is nothing about you he does not notice. There is nothing you can hide from his greedy eyes. 

“Twas a compliment, husband.”

“Perhaps a visit to the Maester is needed-”

You press a hand flat against his cheek and he falls silent. Your thumb brushes across his cheekbone to the apple of his cheek, to under his eye. There it rests, caressing him. He wants more. Your touch is only skin-deep, and it is not enough. If he could, he would press himself against your skin until all that remained of him was fading heat. Until he was but a faint whisper on the wind and his memory lived on only in you, for there was not a part of him he did not wish to give you. He would carve a place for him in you – in your heart, so that he would be close always. You would beat as one, breathe as one.  

“Yours is a beauty that the gods go to war for.”

“Perhaps once.” Aemond looks away. 

“Scars are stories of hardships overcome. They are marks of victory, do not think they make you less. They never will. Not to me.”

“Perhaps so, but I am not whole. There is a piece of me that was stolen and I can never get it back. The gods would not even glance at a man such as I for anything other than a feat of greatness.”

“And you have shown them many,” you press a short kiss against his neck. “You claimed the Queen of all Dragons,” another kiss, “you won many battles on dragonback,” another kiss, “you showed mercy to your enemies,” a series of kisses follow that claim, all inching up his neck. “You saved your brother and Sunfyre,” a kiss on his cheek, “you were crowned King by the smallfolk”, this kiss fell on the corner of his lips, “and you have been a most attentive husband.” 

A kiss straight on his lips. Aemond melts into it, pressing himself into you. You pull away too soon and he finds himself chasing after you, desperate for one more touch. 

“The gods give the toughest battles to their strongest soldiers.” You thumb the skin under his eye, “and you have won them all. Take pride in that. Gods know I do.”

“You do?” He asks. 

He did not think himself strong, or a champion of god given battles. His weaknesses tower over the oasis of strength, and so they are hidden to him. But he is not a vain man, that is not why he hates Luke for stealing his eye. 

You smile. “Of course. And I think all the beauty in the world fades compared to yours. Scars and all.”

Aemond is not sure he believes your words, but he believes you. It is a conflicting mess of jumbled thoughts mingling with the words of others. He was never the beauty of the family, his dragon was not the beauty of her kin. His life was one of hiding, of pride hidden beneath compliance, of hatred festering under blushing skin. 

“You flatter me, my love.” He says before his eyes wander back to your roses. “Yours is the only opinion worth hearing. The only one that matters.” 

You hum. “Come back to bed, Aemond.” 

“As my Queen commands.” 

The draping curtains flutter in the soft autumn wind, and from Aemond’s side of the bed he could see out across the Blackwater Bay. Sometimes when the wind is harsh and the rain plenty, Aemond is back in the skies above Storm’s End. He dreams of thousands of ways he could have saved Luke, though he does not wish he lived, not truly. In some dreams he thought of ways he could harm him further – truly punish him for what he took from Aemond that night. 

You can never have all of him. Not anymore. Though he dares not tell you that is why he cannot look at himself in mirrors. He would not show you the twisted being that hid under his skin. The one that would gouge out his other eye without hesitation were you to ask and smile as he did so. 

He could never, would never forgive Luke for what he stole from you. It is a hatred so woven into his very being that he would carry that with him even in all Seven Hells. 

“Come,” you beckon, kneeling on the bed. “If my words alone are not enough, I will prove it to you.” 

“Prove what?” 

His voice is low, filled with desires transcending earthly flesh. His is one of hunger for your very soul. 

“Come here and I will show you.” Your smile is coy, playful even. There are half-wilted petals from your roses on the bed behind you. They form no pattern, haphazardly thrown across the sheets.

He wonders when you put them there. 

Aemond comes to a stop in front of you, hands clasped behind his back, posture ramrod straight. He feels as though he is standing in front of the gods themselves, awaiting judgment. He hopes that he is enough, even if he cannot offer you all of him. There will always be a piece of him enduring the times alone. 

He does not feel worthy of you. No amount of petals carefully gathered off prickly stems will soften the harsh edges of his being. The love he grew up around was conditional, and though he was rarely struck, their words were as sharp as daggers, and left deep scars that will never heal. It left him jagged, bleeding, tearing at the seams with a beast untamed. In the image of you he tried to mend himself, with your love he patched the holes left by cruel words. He tore the flames from his breath so that his wrath could never burn you, the claws from his hands so that his touch would always be gentle. Not a piece of him was worth suffering in the absence of anything you. 

He was a dragon playing at being a lover. 

But he broke his wings for just a glimpse of you, then forced himself to fly when you desired to feel the wind against your face. You could not see the darkness oozing from the cracks of him, of your husband as you knew him. 

If it meant losing you, he would be a dragon no longer. 

He could simply be him. 

Aemond. 

But Aemond knew not who he was anymore. He knew who he was forced to become, and who war made him. But war was no longer, and yet the man rising from the ashes of his kin’s pyres remained. 

“Aemond?”

“Yes?”

“Where do you go when you get so lost in your head?” 

He does not wish to reveal to you how deep his longing for you goes. It is etched into the walls of his heart, it is a bottomless pit that calls only your name. He can never fill it. It aches and aches, and he longs and longs. His envy knows no bound, it is endless in its hunger for you. He would have all of you if he could, just as he wants you to have all of him. Every thought in your head, every feeling, every sensation. 

“Lost. I get… lost.” He confesses. The words are raw and a piece of his armor is cracked open to reveal mangled flesh of all Aemond’s that has been and will be. His recreation of himself in your image is as endless as his need to please. 

“Oh, my love,” you whisper. “Let me take care of you.”

You reach towards him, pressing your hands flat against his pecs. His heart beats like a drum against your touch, as if calling out for you. Your fingers massage, they scratch, they soothe and they burn his feverish skin. You palm at his chest, touching every divot and lean muscle on his chest. It is overwhelming. He almost feels like crying. Your touch sets him alight and Aemond thinks he sees stars. You are so very soft. He can feel your love through every pass of your fingers over his skin. Though half-lidded, jaw slack and chest heavy, he stares at you. Pleasure of the flesh is second to the connection he finds in your eyes. The reverence of a septon to the gods are nothing compared to that which he whispers your name. You are a goddess to him. 

You press against the lean muscle, caress the slopes and divots of his flesh. Though you have long since memorized each other’s bodies, you touch him as if it is your first. His mind is dizzy with you, he feels as if he’s falling and drowning at the same time. The pleasure fills his throat, his lungs, and yet it also sweeps him off his feet, knocks the breath out of his chest. He wants more. He wants you to press harder, to mark him. You could press through his skin, through his muscles and ribs, and grasp his very heart, and you would still be so far away he wanted to weep. 

Then, you pull away. You crawl up the bed until you fall down on the many pillows at the top of the bed. He follows without thought, kicking off his shoes and socks. His hair tie is next and his pale hair falls down his back. You are not prey, and he is not a predator, but he feels a thrill chasing after you into your marital bed. It sets his blood alight.

“Yours is the beauty gods would die for.”

His eyes rove over you. Not an inch of you is not perfect, not an inch he did not love. All of you on display for him; an offering for a vengeful man. You are not unmarred by the war, and there is not a scar he does not kiss. He feels your pain as if it was his, and each wound on your body is his failure. 

“We match,” you told him once. 

He did not have the heart to tell you that this was done in your honor, to take the pain from you and deliver it upon him. He cut himself open for all the gods to see, then demanded they scar him as they did you. 

Aemond runs his hands along your form with the same careful love as you did him. His hands caress the skin on your ribs, before laying flat over your heart. It pounds against your skin, calling out to him. His beats in turn. 

It trickles down the abyss of his desire, and in turn it grows. The hunger deepens, hollows out his chest. 

Aemond falls down next to you, pulling you into his arms. Your head rests in the crook of his neck. 

“I love you,” you whisper into his ear. 

“Not as much as I love you,” he says in return. 

You laugh. “‘Tis not a competition, husband.” 

“No.” He agrees, with an easy smile. It is the truth. 

Aemond had won the war, and he had proven himself. And so he would never part from you again, even were the gods to try and force him from your side. The threads of your destiny are weaved together into one singular past, present, future. 

His beauty may be what gods fought for, 

but Aemond? 

Aemond would fight all the Gods, both old and new, 

for just one more stolen moment under silk sheets.