#The Restless Dreams of Youth

[artjipson]

Faves of 2023: Tamar Berk - Tiny Injuries

Tamar Berk has made songs with passionate and uncompromising melodic twist since the mid-90s in Chicago-based Starball. Her first solo record was released in 2021, the excellent “Restless Dreams of Youth.” Then a year later following the passing of her father she released the deeply personal and passionate “Start at the End.” This year she shared another impressive record, “Tiny Injuries” which…

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

My Missing Piece

616!Wanda x 199999!Fem!Reader

Summary: You've lost your wife Wanda. Leaving you alone with your twin boys to try and pick up the pieces. What happens when the Scarlet Witch comes looking for her boys?

Word Count: 10.4K

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, R calls W Mommy, W uses pet names, enchanted strap use, Dom!Wanda, sub!reader, overstimulation, magic restraints, depressive thoughts/episodes.

A/N: Made this forever ago and forgot about it until like two days ago lol. I really liked the idea of this so I hope you guys enjoy~ Also I decided that world 199999 (which was the original MCU world number before MoM turned it to 616) is just a parallel world where no one died :)

Every night after tucking my boys, Billy and Tommy in to bed, I have a bit of me time. Sometimes I watch TV, sometimes I'll scroll through social media on my phone, sometimes I'll write because I was told that was supposed to help with grief, it hasn't so far, what helps the most is when I talk to her before bed, "I miss you Wands...our boys miss you too...of course they love their Mama, but you're their Mommy. You carried them for nine months, you were in labor for just over a day." Tommy was born first 12 minutes ahead of his brother Billy. "You gave so much for our boys and our life here and I wish you had never said yes to that mission after all these years..." I break down, quiet sobs wrack me as I curl up on her side of the bed. It still smells like her.

I let sleep take me as I have the same dream I do every night. Wanda, but not Wanda...some twisted version of her with black fingers, and she just seems off, but she's searching, as if she can see me? She's looking for our boys. Every morning just as she finds me, us, I wake up. Dried tears on my cheeks and my eyes red. The bags under my eyes have never been darker, but I cover them up as I get out of bed to start yet another day without my wife.

The alarm blares through the quiet of the room, jolting me awake from my restless slumber. With a heavy sigh, I reach over to silence it, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. Another day begins, much like every other since she left us.

I stumble out of bed, the weight of grief still heavy on my shoulders as I move through the motions of the morning routine. It's a struggle to keep it together, but I have to be strong for Billy and Tommy. They need me, even though every fiber of my being aches for her presence.

As I make my way downstairs, the memories flood back, hitting me like a tidal wave. Wanda was always the light in our lives, her laughter echoing through the halls, her warmth enveloping us like a comforting embrace. But now, there's only emptiness.

I try to push the thoughts aside as I prepare breakfast for the boys, forcing a smile as they bound into the kitchen, their youthful energy a stark contrast to my own weariness. They chatter excitedly about school and friends, oblivious to the pain that lingers beneath the surface.

After they've eaten and headed off to catch the bus, I sink into the solitude of the empty house once more. It's in these quiet moments that the ache is most palpable, the absence of her presence a constant reminder of all that we've lost.

I find myself drawn to her belongings, unable to resist the pull of her memory. Running my fingers over the familiar objects, I'm transported back to happier times, when our love felt invincible, untouchable by the darkness that now threatens to consume me.

But amidst the despair, there's a flicker of something else. A determination, a resolve to keep going, if not for myself then for her. She wouldn't want me to wallow in sorrow, to let the grief consume me. She'd want me to live, to cherish the memories we shared and find solace in the love that still remains.

With a deep breath, I push myself to my feet, wiping away the tears that threaten to fall. Today may be another struggle, another battle against the pain, but I refuse to let it defeat me. For Wanda, for our boys, I'll find the strength to carry on, one day at a time.

The day went by quickly and soon enough the boys were home filling up our home with noise once more,

"Boys homework first or no ice cream!" I call from the kitchen when I hear them start to fight over player one controller.

"Awww but Mama!" They whined.

"So you boys don't want ice cream tomorrow night either I see." I hear them grumble and then the TV go off, the sound of the dining room chairs scraping as I look over my shoulder to see they're working. "There are my good boys." I turn back smiling as I carry on with prepping dinner. Suddenly something feels off. A pit in my stomach starts forming and I feel eyes on me, not the boys though these feel predatory.

I look up and through the window I don't see my own reflection, I see Wanda, the same one I see in my dreams.

My heart leaps into my throat as I freeze, the knife in my hand forgotten as I stare wide-eyed at the impossible sight before me. It's her, but it's not. The twisted version from my nightmares, black fingers reaching out like tendrils of darkness, eyes filled with a hunger I can't comprehend.

I feel a chill run down my spine as her gaze locks onto mine, a shiver of fear coursing through my veins. Instinctively, I reach for the pendant hanging around my neck, fingers brushing against the smooth surface of the purple power stone embedded within. It's a comforting weight, a reminder of the power that pulses through me, but even it feels insignificant in the face of this apparition.

"What do you want?" I manage to choke out, my voice barely above a whisper. But she doesn't answer, only continues to stare, her presence suffocating in its intensity.

Desperation claws at the edges of my mind as I struggle to make sense of the situation. Is this some kind of illusion, a trick of the mind brought on by grief and exhaustion? Or is she truly here, some twisted echo of the woman I loved?

Before I can gather my thoughts, a sudden crash from the dining room snaps me back to reality. The boys, my precious boys, oblivious to the danger that lurks just beyond our walls. With a surge of adrenaline, I lunge forward, grabbing the nearest weapon within reach.

But as I turn back to face the window, she's gone, vanished into thin air like a wisp of smoke. The only evidence of her presence is the lingering sense of unease that hangs heavy in the air.

I rush to the dining room, relief flooding through me as I find the boys unharmed, their laughter filling the room once more. But even as I hold them close, a sense of dread lingers, a silent reminder that darkness still lurks just beyond the edges of our reality.

"Mama is everything okay?" Billy asks as I hold them, kissing the top of their heads.

"I just thought one of you got hurt. I'm happy you boys aren't." I lie to them as to not worry them, but Billy looks at me trying to search my thoughts. "Hey no mind reading little man." I ruffle his hair. "Everything is fine. If you boys are finished you can play one game, dinner will be ready in 15 minutes." The minutes tick by slowly as I finish preparing dinner, the aroma of comfort food filling the air. I glance at the clock, realizing that my boys are engrossed in their game, blissfully unaware of the turmoil swirling within me.

With a heavy sigh, I take a moment to compose myself before calling them to the table. As we gather for the meal, laughter and chatter resuming, I try to push the unsettling encounter out of my mind. But deep down, I know it's not over.

As we eat, the boys share stories from their day, their infectious joy momentarily easing the ache in my heart. I force a smile, savoring these small moments of normalcy in our fractured world.

After dinner, as the boys retreat to their rooms for the night, I find myself once again standing by the window, staring into the darkness beyond. The pit in my stomach returns, the unease settling in as I feel a presence lingering just out of sight.

The room is silent, save for the hum of the refrigerator and the distant sounds of the night. I close my eyes, summoning the courage to speak the words that linger on the tip of my tongue.

"Wanda, if you're out there, if you can hear me, please... don't hide. I don't know what's happening, but I can't face it alone. I need you, now more than ever." My voice trembles with a mix of desperation and longing.

The air remains still, the response elusive. I wait in silence, hoping for some sign, some reassurance that I'm not losing my mind. But the universe remains silent, withholding its secrets.

"Gods I feel like I'm going crazy Wands...how am I supposed to do this without you?" I feel the hot tears in my eyes, streak down my cheeks then suddenly a loud bang from the living room, the sound of a portal. "Stephan? Is that you?" It wasn't uncommon for Stephan Strange to pop in and check on me and the boys. Stephan had lost his love many years ago. Before I reach the living room, I hear the familiar sound of heels clicking on my hard wood flooring. Suddenly I'm standing face to face with the Wanda I've seen in my dreams...."W-Wands?" I questioned,

"A version. I've lost something precious to me and I've come to get it back." I look her over. It's Wanda, but not mine. As I get closer, Her hair is a different shade, her eyes are a little less of an emerald green and more of a sea green, this Wanda has a scar on her forehead, just above her left eyebrow.

"Oh...what has your universe done to you Detka?" I ask softly reaching out and she grabs my wrist with a force.

"It took everything from me." She seethed. "I want my boys back. I'm taking them." She tosses me aside like I'm nothing. Luckily with the power stone embedded in my chest. I push back, barreling back into her. Tackling her to the ground until I'm on top of her and it's then that she notices my stone, "You have the power stone...how? That's impossible. I've seen it kill people that touch it.

"I'm tough that's why my Wanda loved me." I had her pinned and used my own magic to subdue her. "I've been called the Violet Witch here for years. It became my code name."

"That can't be..." I give her a questioning look. "I'm the Scarlet Witch." She tells me, the scarlet witch? Wanda never said anything...? I stumble back off of her, reeling, "The Scarlet Witch." I let out a dry chuckle, "It makes sense, but I can't let you take my boys. If I loose them then That means I've lost my Wanda and them. I might as well die." I tell her,

"Wait so your Wanda is gone?" She asks. I nod,

"She was needed for a mission. I begged her not to go, we had retired from being Avengers 10 years ago when we found out she was pregnant. She told me everything would be fine. She promised me...and then suddenly I have Strange and Parker on my doorstep with Bucky and Sam behind them carry the casket." I feel my eyes blur as I walk over to the scarlet witch, "If you are another her then," I take her hands putting them up to my temples and ease my forehead onto her, letting my memories over the past ten years flood through her mind.

As our minds intertwine, I feel a rush of memories flooding into her consciousness. The love, the loss, the moments of joy and heartache that have shaped my existence since Wanda's departure. It's a whirlwind of emotions, a bittersweet symphony of love and grief that binds us together in ways I never thought possible.

For a moment, there's a flicker of recognition in her eyes, a glimmer of understanding amidst the chaos of her own turmoil. She sees the depth of my pain, the desperation to hold onto the fragments of a life that's slipping through my fingers.

But as quickly as it came, the moment passes, and she pulls away, her expression hardening once more. "I'm sorry for your loss," she says, her voice tinged with a hint of sympathy. "But my pain is just as real. I've lost everything too, and I'll do whatever it takes to reclaim what's mine."

I feel a pang of empathy for her, a shared sense of anguish that transcends the boundaries of our separate worlds. But beneath it all, there's a primal instinct, a fierce determination to protect my boys at all costs.

"I understand your pain," I reply, my voice steady despite the turmoil raging within. "But my boys are not yours to take. They belong here, with me, with their family."

She narrows her eyes, her resolve unwavering. "Then we're at an impasse," she says, her tone final. "I won't leave without them."

I take a step forward, meeting her gaze with steely determination. "Then I guess we'll just have to see who's stronger," I say, my voice echoing with a newfound resolve.

With that, the battle lines are drawn, two versions of Wanda Maximoff facing off against each other in a clash of wills and power. But amidst the chaos and uncertainty, one thing remains clear: no matter the outcome, I'll do whatever it takes to protect my boys and honor the memory of the woman I loved.

Her eyes meet mine, a mixture of pain and longing mirrored in their depths. The tear I wiped away lingers on her cheek, a testament to the shared sorrow we both carry. The silence stretches between us, heavy with unspoken emotions, and for a moment, time seems to hang suspended.

"I... I don't know if I can stay," she whispers, her voice choked with emotion. "But the offer, it means more than you can imagine. In my world, everything has crumbled, and I'm left with nothing but ashes and echoes of what once was."

I can feel the weight of her words, the burden of her grief, and I tighten my grip on her cheek, desperate to convey the sincerity of my plea. "Wanda, you don't have to face this alone. You're not just a version of her; you're your own person, with your own pain. But here, in this universe, you have a chance to rebuild, to find a new kind of family."

She opens her eyes, the sea-green gaze locking onto mine. There's a vulnerability in her expression, a crack in the stoic facade she wears. "I'm so tired," she admits, a raw honesty in her voice. "Tired of loss, tired of fighting. Maybe... maybe it's time for a different path."

A tentative smile plays on her lips, and my heart skips a beat. I wipe away another tear, this time a tear of relief. "You don't have to decide now," I say softly. "Take the time you need. But know that here, you have people who care, people who understand loss and are willing to help you carry the burden."

The room seems to brighten, as if the weight of the universe has lifted, if only for a moment. And in that moment, I see a glimmer of hope, a possibility for healing and connection that transcends the boundaries of our fractured worlds.

"I need to know one thing." She speaks, "Is Vision alive?" my brows furrow together.

"Vision? Who is that?" I ask genuinely confused.

"Wait...how did we meet here?" She asks.

"Oh well we met in Sokovia. We were protesting Stark together at a rally. Your brother flirted with me first and I never let him live that down especially when I married you and he was my best man." I smile at the memory. "Anyways, we were approached by Hydra and experimented on. They had the mind stone and the power stone. You and Pietro were exposed to the mind stone and I was too, but nothing happened unlike you two so they put me in a room with the power stone. It decided my chest was it's forever home. I ended up breaking us out from the Hydra base with the help of the Avengers who had caught word of the base. The three of us joined the Avengers and the rest is history." I tell her.

"So no Ultron? Sokovia didn't fly in the air? What about the Sokovia accords?" She throws question after question.

"No idea what you're talking about love. We carried on doing small missions, taking down hydra and radicals, but the three of us spent a long time training before they let us out doing field work." I tell her.

"Three? Is...is Pietro..?" Her voice breaks.

"Alive? Yeah of course." She falls to her knees and starts sobbing.

"Mommy?" Billy is at the middle of the stairs and the look in Wanda's eyes.

"Yeah baby it's Mommy." Wanda opened her arms and the little speedster found his way into her arms." Her eyes spilling over tears.

"Mama said you weren't coming back." Billy whispered.

"Mama didn't think I was, but Mommy always finds a way back to her boys." Wanda pulls back and looks up at me. "I'm staying...how could I say no when this is just about the most perfect version I could ask for?" I smile and start crying again as Tommy joins us before I can even blink. "Our little quick silver." Wanda smiles hugging the boys, her boys.

Tears of relief blur my vision as I watch Wanda embrace our boys, her boys, with a tenderness that speaks volumes. Billy and Tommy cling to her, their small arms wrapping around her tightly as if afraid she'll disappear again if they let go. And in that moment, I realize that this is where she belongs, with us, her family.

I join them on the floor, wrapping my arms around them all, unable to contain the overwhelming flood of emotions that threatens to consume me. "Welcome home, Wanda," I whisper, my voice choked with tears.

She looks up at me, her eyes shining with gratitude and love. "Thank you," she says softly, her voice trembling with emotion. "For everything."

Together, we sit in the warmth of our embrace, a makeshift family forged from the ashes of our shared past. And as the night stretches on, I can't help but feel a glimmer of hope amidst the darkness, a belief that no matter what trials may come, as long as we have each other, we can weather any storm.

========================

The days blurred together in a haze of longing and uncertainty, each moment tinged with the ache of what could have been. Wanda's presence in our home was both a blessing and a curse, a constant reminder of the love I had lost and the impossibility of reclaiming what was once mine.

I watched her interact with the boys, her smile forced but genuine, her laughter a melody that echoed through the halls. And yet, beneath the surface, I could sense the weight of her own grief, the burden of a past that refused to let her go.

I tried to be strong, to be there for her and the boys, but every smile felt like a lie, every laugh a hollow echo of the joy we once shared. And in the darkness of the night, when sleep eluded me and the silence pressed in like a vice, I found myself haunted by memories of another Wanda, a version of her that existed only in my dreams.

She was so close, yet so far away, a phantom presence that taunted me with what could have been. I longed to reach out to her, to hold her close and whisper words of love and comfort. But she was gone, lost to me in a reality that no longer existed.

And so I forced myself out of bed each morning, steeling myself against the pain that threatened to consume me. I buried myself in the routines of daily life, seeking solace in the mundane tasks that kept me tethered to reality.

But no matter how hard I tried to push her memory away, she lingered in the shadows of my mind, a ghostly specter that refused to be forgotten. And as the days turned into weeks, I began to wonder if I would ever find peace, if I would ever be able to let go of the love that still bound me to her, even across the vast expanse of the multiverse.

My Wanda and I had always had a policy of no mind reading since we could both do it, but this Wanda pokes at my thoughts constantly. Reminds me to smile through telepathy. One morning after a really good dream with another Wanda I can't get myself out of bed. Everything is too much. I know I had told her I'd be fine, but I'm not.

"Come on Y/N. Time to get up." I turn away from her, curling up into a ball further. "Y/N? What's wrong?" She asks.

"Nothing just tired. Just tell the boys I don't feel good. I need a Mama's day. So they can have a Mommy day. Take them out, get them ice cream. Do whatever you want." I grumble.

"Okay..." I close my eyes, letting myself drift back off just needed to see her again.

I don't know how much time has past when I'm being woken up, "Detka...come on wake up." My eyes blink into focus as I look at Wanda sitting above me and smile, forgetting my reality for a moment before my smile drops.

"What?" I ask.

"I dropped the boys off with their uncle for the weekend." I sit up straight,

"You did what!?" I screech.

"I left them with Pietro for the weekend. He was more than happy to have a boys weekend. Something about taking them to the lake?" Wanda mentions.

"He takes them every summer, usually it's a family thing and we all go." I tell Wanda.

"Well I figured you needed a Mommy and me weekend. I want to take you out. I want to get to know you. I already know my boys, but you. You're different, new, you aren't like Vision. You're human." She cups my cheek, smiling and I know it's a genuine smile. "I'm sure you've been feeling neglected and I wanted to try and do this sooner, but the boys were too excited to have me back." She says as I lean into her touch, Gods how I missed her touch. Though her fingers were no longer black her nails seemed to permanently stay black which made me laugh as I compared it to her emo phase which apparently this Wanda had one too.

"Thank you," I whisper, my voice catching in my throat. "For understanding."

She smiles, a warmth in her eyes that belies the weight of her own pain. "We're in this together. You don't have to carry the burden alone."

With her words echoing in my mind, I find the strength to push myself out of bed, to face the day with renewed determination. Wanda's offer of a Mommy and me weekend is a lifeline, a chance to rediscover myself amidst the chaos of grief and longing.

As we spend the day together, exploring the city and sharing stories of our pasts, I feel a sense of peace settle over me, a reassurance that maybe, just maybe, there's still hope for a future filled with love and laughter.

And as the sun sets on our day together, I realize that while Wanda may not be my Wanda, she's still a beacon of light in the darkness, a reminder that even in our darkest moments, there's always someone willing to stand by our side, to offer a hand to hold and a shoulder to lean on.

With her by my side, I know that no matter what the future may hold, I'll never have to face it alone. And as we head home, the weight of grief feels a little lighter, the shadows a little less daunting, as we embrace the possibility of a new beginning, together.

When we got back home, I pulled her to the couch, "Time to watch sitcoms." I tell her and her face lights up.

"Dick Van Dyke?" She asks.

"No Detka. I want to show you my favorite this time. It's a more modern one. It's an animated sitcom though is that okay?" I ask, realizing this Wanda maybe never experienced animated and only enjoyed live action ones.

"Of course dorogoya." Her accent popping out sent a wave through me that landed between my legs.

"O-okay good." I say and get 'Bob's Burgers' playing. As the show starts I settle in with a slight distance between us, but she pulls me in against her side.

"Is this okay dorogoya?" She asks looking down at me.

"Y-yeah...of course." I move slight, readjusting to get comfortable as we fit together like two missing puzzle pieces and I let out a sigh of relief, that feels like so much weight is taken off my shoulders.

As the episodes of "Bob's Burgers" played on, I found myself relaxing into Wanda's embrace, the tension that had been coiled tight within me slowly unraveling with each passing moment. Her warmth seeped into my bones, a comforting presence that chased away the lingering shadows of doubt and fear.

With her by my side, the laughter that bubbled up from the screen felt genuine, a reflection of the newfound camaraderie we shared. And as I stole glances at her profile, illuminated by the soft glow of the television, I couldn't help but marvel at the beauty of the moment, the simplicity of just being together.

Her laughter mingled with mine, the sound music to my ears, a symphony of joy that filled the room with warmth and light. And as the credits rolled on the final episode, I turned to her, a smile playing at the corners of my lips.

"Thank you," I said softly, my voice barely above a whisper. "For today. For everything."

She returned my smile, her eyes shimmering with affection. "Anytime. I'm here for you, always."

I sat there staring at her, getting lost in her eyes so much that I don't even realize that she's leaning in until she's inches from my lips, she stops and I can feel her breath on me, my own hitching,

"Is this okay dorogoya?" She whispers in a husk against my lips.

"Y-yes." I manage out as she kisses me softly at first, testing the waters, but soon enough she's kissing hungrily, like she's starving for my taste now that's she's had a nibble. My fingers find their way into her hair, getting tangled in her auburn locks. One of her hands is on the back of my neck and the other is on my hip, gripping tightly, I can feel her nails digging in.

The world falls away as our lips meet in a fiery embrace, a collision of passion and longing that ignites every nerve ending in my body. Her kiss is intoxicating, a whirlwind of desire and need that sweeps me away in a tide of sensation.

I lose myself in the taste of her, the feel of her lips moving against mine with a hunger that mirrors my own. Our breath mingles in the space between us, hot and heavy with unspoken desire, as the intensity of our embrace grows with each passing moment.

Her hands are everywhere at once, trailing fire along my skin as she pulls me closer, her touch igniting a wildfire of sensation within me. I cling to her desperately, losing myself in the dizzying whirl of pleasure that consumes us both.

Time loses all meaning as we surrender to the passion that binds us together, lost in a world of our own making where nothing else matters but the fiery connection that burns between us.

And as we finally break apart, breathless and trembling, I find myself drowning in the depths of her gaze, a silent promise of more to come lingering in the air between us.

In that moment, I know that this is just the beginning of our journey together, a journey filled with love, passion, and endless possibility. And as we cling to each other in the aftermath of our shared passion, I can't help but feel a sense of gratitude for the unexpected twist of fate that brought us together.

"Bed. Now." Her eyes lit up red for a moment. My Wanda had never been dominate, but this Wanda before me exuded dominance. I didn't waste any time getting up the stairs with her hot on my tail as we crashed into the bedroom, stumbling to the bed in a heat of kisses as she took the leading role.

The air crackled with electricity as we stumbled into the bedroom, our lips locked in a frenzy of passion and desire. Wanda's presence was intoxicating, her aura radiating power and dominance in a way I had never experienced before. And as she took the lead, pushing me onto the bed with a hunger that sent shivers down my spine, I felt myself surrendering to the raw intensity of the moment.

Her kisses were demanding, igniting a fire within me that burned hotter with each passing second. I moaned against her lips, my fingers tangling in her hair as I lost myself in the heat of the moment. Her touch was electric, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through my body as she explored every inch of my skin with a hunger that left me breathless.

With each caress, each whispered word of desire, I felt myself falling deeper under her spell, my body responding eagerly to her every touch. And as she claimed me as her own, I surrendered to the overwhelming tide of sensation, losing myself in the ecstasy of our shared passion.

In that moment, there was only her, only us, lost in a world of pleasure and desire where nothing else mattered but the intoxicating connection that bound us together. And as we moved as one, bodies entwined in a symphony of passion, I knew that this was just the beginning of our journey together, a journey filled with love, lust, and endless possibility.

The sensation of relinquishing control, of surrendering completely to someone else's will, was both exhilarating and liberating. As I basked in the warmth of Wanda's dominance, I found myself embracing a side of myself that I had long suppressed, a side that craved the thrill of submission and surrender.

With each touch, each whispered command, I felt myself sinking deeper into the abyss of pleasure, my mind consumed by a haze of ecstasy that left me breathless and yearning for more. And as Wanda took the lead, guiding me with a firm yet gentle hand, I found myself surrendering to the overwhelming tide of sensation, losing myself in the intoxicating dance of pleasure and desire.

In her arms, I felt safe, cherished, and utterly alive, my body responding eagerly to her every touch and caress. And as we moved together in a symphony of passion and desire, I embraced the freedom that came with letting go, allowing myself to be swept away by the currents of our shared passion.

For in that moment, there was only her, only us, lost in a world of blissful surrender where nothing else mattered but the exquisite pleasure of our connection. And as we surrendered to the ecstasy of our shared desire, I knew that this was just the beginning of our journey together, a journey filled with exploration, discovery, and boundless pleasure.

"Ah...Wands..." A smack hit my thigh making me jolt and yelp.

"That's not my name Detka." I feel my stomach flip. I call her this all the time. I have for years now, but never in this setting. Another smack and then her teeth find my skin, biting and sucking harshly, marking me.

"Mommy!" I can feel the smirk against my thigh.

"Good girl. Go on. Show me how needy you are baby girl." Her fingers find themselves between my folds as I move my hips against them.

The sensation of her touch sent shivers of pleasure coursing through me, igniting a fire that burned hotter with each passing moment. I arched my back, pressing against her fingers as they explored the depths of my desire, teasing and tantalizing with a skill that left me trembling with need.

"Please," I whimpered, the word spilling from my lips in a desperate plea for more. Her touch was electric, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through my body as she pushed me to the brink of ecstasy.

With each caress, each stroke, I felt myself teetering on the edge of oblivion, my senses overwhelmed by the intensity of our shared passion. And as she whispered words of encouragement, urging me to let go and surrender to the pleasure that awaited, I felt myself surrendering completely to the overwhelming tide of sensation.

In that moment, there was only her, only us, lost in a world of blissful abandon where nothing else mattered but the exquisite pleasure of our connection. And as I succumbed to the ecstasy of our shared desire, I knew that this was just the beginning of our journey together, a journey filled with passion, intensity, and boundless pleasure.

The sensation of Wanda's magic enveloping my wrists sent a thrill of anticipation coursing through me, a tangible reminder of her power and dominance. I tested the restraints, feeling the firm hold of her magic as it kept me securely in place, my heart pounding with a mixture of excitement and arousal.

"Safe word. Green, yellow, red. Green is keep going, yellow slow down, red is stop." Wanda husked.

"Green, yellow, red," I echoed, committing the safe words to memory as a reassurance of our mutual trust and consent. With each breath, each whispered command, I felt myself sinking deeper into the heady haze of pleasure, surrendering completely to the overwhelming tide of sensation.

As Wanda continued to explore my body with a skillful touch that left me trembling with need, I surrendered myself to the ecstasy of our shared desire, knowing that in her arms, I was safe, cherished, and utterly alive.

And as the intensity of our passion grew with each passing moment, I found myself teetering on the edge of oblivion, my senses overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of our connection. In that moment, there was only her, only us, lost in a world of blissful abandon where nothing else mattered but the exquisite pleasure of our shared desire.

I don't think there is a place she hasn't marked on me in some way and after hours of edging until I couldn't form sentences she finally let me release. A string of moans ripping through me as the most intense waves roll over me as I drown in them, covered in sweat and her marks.

As the waves of pleasure washed over me, leaving me trembling and spent, I basked in the afterglow of our shared passion, my body still tingling with the echoes of our ecstasy. But just when I thought the intensity had peaked, I felt something pressing against my entrance, a sensation that sent a jolt of anticipation coursing through me.

I gasped, my body instinctively tensing as Wanda's touch ignited a new wave of desire within me. Her fingers teased and tantalized, exploring the depths of my desire with a skill that left me breathless and eager for more.

With each gentle thrust, I felt myself opening up to her, surrendering completely to the overwhelming tide of sensation. The pleasure was exquisite, a symphony of ecstasy that echoed through every fiber of my being as I lost myself in the blissful abandon of our shared desire.

And as Wanda continued to guide me with a firm yet gentle hand, I surrendered myself to the pleasure of our connection, knowing that in her arms, I was safe, cherished, and utterly alive. In that moment, there was only her, only us, lost in a world of blissful abandon where nothing else mattered but the exquisite pleasure of our shared desire.

Wanda soon enough needed more and so did I, "Faster...ha-ah...harder..." My breath hot against her, panting like a dog and that gave her the perfect opportunity to place her fingers in my mouth, gaging me with them, but I loved every second as I sucked on them, moaning against them as I tasted myself on them from earlier.

The sensation of Wanda's fingers in my mouth sent a thrill of arousal coursing through me, a heady mixture of pleasure and desire that left me panting and eager for more. With each thrust, each gasp of pleasure, I eagerly sucked on her fingers, tasting myself on them from earlier.

The taste was intoxicating, a symphony of desire that heightened the intensity of our connection as we moved together in perfect harmony. And as Wanda responded to my pleas with a fervor that mirrored my own, I surrendered myself to the pleasure of our shared desire, knowing that in her arms, I was safe, cherished, and utterly alive.

With each thrust, I felt myself teetering on the edge of oblivion, my senses overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of our passion. And as we reached the peak of ecstasy together, I knew that this was just the beginning of our journey, a journey filled with passion, intensity, and boundless pleasure.

In that moment, there was only her, only us, lost in a world of blissful abandon where nothing else mattered but the exquisite pleasure of our shared desire. And as we surrendered ourselves to the ecstasy of our connection, I knew that this was just the beginning of our journey together, a journey filled with love, lust, and endless possibility.

As I slowly regained my senses, the cool towel on the back of my neck and Wanda's comforting presence helped anchor me in reality. Her magic gently caressed my mind, offering reassurance and care as I took in the aftermath of our intense encounter.

"Easy, Detka. You're okay," she murmured, and I found solace in the warmth of her embrace. I took the offered water bottle, sipping slowly as she continued to tend to my well-being. The realization that I had passed out from pleasure left me both surprised and amused.

"Thats never happened before," I admitted with a chuckle. "The other Wanda was more of a sub, so I was usually the one in control. Not that I didn't enjoy it, but being on the receiving end is a whole different experience."

Wanda's magic fetched a baggy shirt, and as I recognized it, a wave of nostalgia washed over me. It was a shirt from a concert we attended when we were sixteen, a tangible link to our shared past.

"It's good to know not everything is different," I remarked, smiling as she kissed my temple.

In the warmth of our makeshift cocoon, surrounded by blankets and pillows, Wanda's magic weaving a protective barrier around us, we continued to watch 'Bob's Burgers.' However, my focus was no longer on the show; instead, I found myself captivated by the woman holding me close.

A sudden wave of fear and doubt crashed over me as I wondered if this intimate encounter was just a one-time gesture to alleviate my grief. The fear of being tossed aside after a momentary respite haunted my thoughts, threatening to overshadow the joy we had just shared.

Wanda, sensing my internal struggle, gently addressed my concerns. "Hey, woah, Detka. Those thoughts of yours are the farthest thing from the truth. Do not listen to them. I would never do that to my soulmate," she reassured me, her forehead finding mine in a tender gesture of connection.

"I love you, Y/N," she confessed, her words washing away my fears and opening the floodgates to a cascade of happy tears. "I love you, Wands! I didn't think I'd ever get to hear you say those words to me again," I admitted, clinging to her shirt as I sobbed into her.

Wanda's promises echoed in my heart, a vow to cherish and reaffirm our love every day. She kissed away my tears, each tender touch a testament to the depth of her commitment. "I promise I'm going to say it every chance I get. I'm never going to stop. I'm going to remind you every day how beautiful you are and how much I love you, and I promise I'm never going to leave. No missions. Nothing like that. I'll always be by your side," she declared, her own tears mingling with mine.

In that moment, as we drowned in each other's love, I knew that this second chance at happiness was a gift we would both cherish. And as Wanda whispered, "I love you," over and over, I felt the weight of my grief lifting, replaced by the warmth of a love that transcended time and space.

========

In the midst of my peaceful dream, I found myself enveloped in a sense of tranquility unlike any I had experienced in well over a year. Waking up with a smile on my face I turn my head, looking over I gazed upon the sleeping form of Wanda, her features softened by the gentle embrace of slumber, I felt a rush of overwhelming love and affection welling up within me.

With a playful smile tugging at the corners of my lips, I leaned in closer, pressing gentle kisses along the curve of her neck. Each tender touch elicited a soft moan from her lips, a melody of pleasure that echoed through the stillness of the night.

Lost in the intoxicating embrace of our shared intimacy, I continued to shower her with affection, reveling in the warmth of her presence and the depth of our connection. And as I whispered her name, a soft murmur of adoration, I knew that this moment, this fleeting glimpse of happiness, was a treasure to be cherished for all eternity.

As Wanda began to stir awake, her voice still heavy with sleep, I couldn't help but feel a surge of affection for her. Her words, though tinged with a hint of warning, only served to deepen the bond between us.

"You're playing a dangerous game, kotenok," she murmured, her voice laced with sleepiness.

"Shchenok," I corrected gently, a small smile playing on my lips.

Her eyes snapped open at the correction, surprise evident in her expression. "When did you learn that?" she asked, her curiosity piqued.

I shrugged, the memories of our shared past flooding back to me. "I was with her for like 20 years of our lives. I learned most Russian. Also Natasha, she..." My voice trailed off as Wanda's expression shifted, a wave of sadness washing over her.

"Oh my god, I forgot about Natasha. Is... is she alive here?" she asked, tears welling up in her eyes.

I nodded solemnly, feeling a pang of empathy for the pain she must be feeling. Crawling into her lap, I wrapped my arms around her, offering what comfort I could. "You really lost a lot there, dorogoya," I whispered, my voice soft with compassion. "But don't worry, everyone here is safe. We've apparently had it relatively easy here, it seems."

I pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, my heart overflowing with love and gratitude for this woman who had endured so much. "Now you have your loved ones back. You aren't alone anymore, and you won't ever be again. I promise."

==============

As the weekend unfolded, Wanda and I remained entwined in each other's arms, our connection deepening with each passing moment. When the boys returned home with their uncle Pietro, the atmosphere was filled with warmth and affection, a tangible sense of family that enveloped us all.

Pietro's hug was tight, filled with an unspoken understanding that transcended words. In his whispered question, "Did you guys finally connect?" I detected a mixture of curiosity and genuine concern.

With a small nod and a soft "Mmhmm," I confirmed what he already knew. This Wanda wasn't his real sister, just as she wasn't the Wanda I had known and loved for decades. But she was here, she was special, and in her embrace, I found a sense of solace and belonging that I had thought lost forever.

==============

As the following Friday arrived, Wanda and I made the decision to gather our friends and family together to share the details of our new lives. It was a momentous occasion, filled with a mix of anticipation and apprehension as we prepared to unveil the truth about our extraordinary circumstances.

Gathering our loved ones in a familiar setting, we began to recount the events that had led us to this moment, explaining the complexities of our intertwined destinies and the newfound connections we had forged. With each word, we sought to convey the depth of our emotions, the challenges we had overcome, and the hope that now burned bright within our hearts.

As our gathering unfolded, the emotions in the room were palpable, each hug and embrace a testament to the depth of our shared experiences and the bonds that bound us together.

Wanda's first instinct was to embrace Natasha tightly, their bodies trembling with sobs as they clung to each other. For both of them, it was a moment of overwhelming relief and joy, the realization that they had been given a second chance to be reunited with someone they had feared lost forever.

Next was Clint, the stalwart friend and ally who had saved Wanda countless times in her timeline, offering comfort and support when she needed it most. As they embraced, the weight of their shared history hung heavy in the air, a reminder of the trials they had faced and the strength they had found in each other's presence.

In that moment, surrounded by friends and family who had become like kin, Wanda and I felt a profound sense of gratitude for the bonds that had been forged through adversity. And as we shared stories and memories, laughter mingling with tears, we knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, we would face them together, drawing strength from the love and support that surrounded us.

As our friends and family listened intently, their expressions shifting from surprise to understanding, we felt a sense of relief wash over us. To have our loved ones by our side, supporting us through this journey, was a gift beyond measure.

And as we concluded our explanation, surrounded by the warmth and love of those closest to us, we knew that no matter what the future held, we would face it together, united in our shared bond and unwavering commitment to one another.

As the night wore on and the festivities continued, Stephen pulled me aside, his expression grave with concern. "You know what she's done in her universe, right?" he asked, his voice tinged with urgency.

I bristled at his question, feeling a surge of defensiveness rise within me. "Do not start this, Strange," I warned, jabbing a finger in his direction. "If I had gone through what she had, this universe wouldn't even exist. What she did, in my eyes, is child's play compared to the horrors she endured."

My words carried a weight of conviction, a steadfast belief in Wanda's resilience and the sacrifices she had made to protect those she loved. And as I met Stephen's gaze, I saw a flicker of understanding in his eyes, a silent acknowledgment of the depth of Wanda's strength and the magnitude of her courage.

"She threw a tantrum essentially. Took over a town for a bit and then went on a killing spree to get here. I saw it through her eyes. I know if it had been me, you'd be lucky if America had still been standing," I asserted, a hint of steel in my voice as I tapped the power stone embedded in my chest.

The reminder of the immense power at my disposal served as both a warning and a declaration. Wanda's actions in her universe were a testament to the depths of her grief and the consequences of unchecked power. In contrast, I recognized the responsibility that came with wielding such force, a responsibility I vowed to use wisely to protect those I loved.

As the weight of our conversation lingered, Stephen nodded in acknowledgment, a silent understanding passing between us. The night continued, but the specter of the past and the potential for the future hung in the air, a reminder that even in moments of celebration, the shadows of our pasts were never truly far behind.

"I don't think you understand, my strength isn't superhuman, it's otherworldly. The precision it requires to ensure I don't break everything around me at any given moment is a delicate balance. With one punch, I wouldn't just put a crater in the earth, I'd break it in half," I emphasized, underscoring the magnitude of the power I possessed.

The distinction between superhuman strength and the cosmic force I wielded was crucial to grasp. While others might possess extraordinary abilities, mine was on a different scale altogether, capable of reshaping the very fabric of reality itself. It was a responsibility that weighed heavily on me, requiring a level of control and restraint beyond what most could comprehend.

As I spoke, I could sense the gravity of my words sinking in, the realization dawning on Stephen of the immense power at my command. It was a sobering reminder of the delicate balance between strength and responsibility, a balance that I vowed to uphold no matter the cost.

"I'm sorry, Y/N, I just wanted to remind you-" Stephen began, but I swiftly cut him off, my tone firm yet understanding. "Don't, Stephen. I know you're just trying to help. I don't need the reminder though," I assured him, acknowledging his concern while asserting my own understanding of the situation.

With a nod of acceptance, Stephen backed off, respecting my boundaries and allowing me to return to the comforting embrace of Wanda, who had been engaged in conversation with Natasha and Clint. As I settled back into her arms, the warmth of her presence enveloped me, a reassuring reminder of the love and support that surrounded me.

In that moment, surrounded by friends and family, I felt a sense of peace wash over me, a quiet reassurance that no matter the challenges we faced, we would face them together, united in our shared bonds and unwavering commitment to one another.

As Wanda continued her conversation with Natasha and Clint, her fingers traced delicate patterns on my hip, their touch a gentle caress that spoke volumes of the journey she had undertaken. Once stained with blood, those same hands now exuded a tenderness and compassion that belied the darkness of the past.

Feeling the soothing rhythm of her touch, I couldn't help but marvel at the transformation Wanda had undergone, the evolution from a place of pain and turmoil to one of healing and redemption. It was a testament to her resilience and strength, a reminder that even in the face of adversity, it was possible to find light amidst the shadows.

In that moment, as her touch danced across my skin, I felt a profound sense of gratitude for the woman before me, for the love and forgiveness she had extended, and for the hope that now blossomed within our hearts. And as our conversation continued, I knew that no matter what trials lay ahead, we would face them together, bound by the unbreakable bond of love and understanding that had brought us to this moment.

As the room suddenly filled with the energetic presence of our children, along with Clint's youngest and Kate close behind, my boys bounded into mine and Wanda's arms with cries for help. "Moms! Save us from the monster!" they pleaded, their laughter filling the air.

I chuckled as I gathered them close, feeling their warmth and energy envelop me in a comforting embrace. Glancing over, I caught sight of Kate playfully tickling Nathaniel, the mischievous grin on her face confirming my suspicions.

With a smile, I joined Wanda in rescuing our boys from the clutches of the imaginary monster, enveloping them in hugs and laughter as we reveled in the joy of family and friendship. In that moment, surrounded by the ones we loved most, I couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude for the blessings that filled our lives, each smile and laugh a reminder of the happiness that awaited us in the days to come.

As the boys began to drift off to sleep in my arms, I couldn't help but smile at the sight. "I think it's time to go, my love," I murmured to Wanda, gesturing towards our sleeping sons. Despite their ten years, I scooped them up effortlessly, their weight feeling light in my arms.

A momentary look of surprise flickered across Wanda's face, her gaze lingering on me as she seemed to momentarily forget about my strength. At just 4'11, I was indeed petite for someone with such power, a fact that often caught others off guard.

With a soft chuckle, I gently adjusted the boys in my arms, their peaceful expressions a testament to the love and security they felt in our embrace. As we prepared to leave, I felt a surge of gratitude for the family we had become, bound together by love and the unbreakable bond of kinship. With Wanda by my side, I knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, we would face them together, united in our shared love and determination to protect those we held dear.

As I glanced over at Wanda, watching the tender expression on her face as she looked upon our sleeping sons, my heart swelled with love and gratitude. The depth of emotion reflected in her eyes filled me with a sense of warmth and contentment, knowing that our family was complete and our bond unbreakable.

In that moment, as we stood together, surrounded by the quiet stillness of the night, I felt a profound sense of peace wash over me. The love that radiated between us and enveloped our children was a testament to the strength of our connection, a bond forged in the fires of adversity and tempered by the trials we had faced together.

As we prepared to depart, I reached out to take Wanda's hand, intertwining our fingers in a silent gesture of unity and love. With a shared smile, we turned and made our way home, our hearts full and our spirits lifted by the knowledge that no matter what challenges lay ahead, we would face them together, as a family.

===========

Wanda and I are on the couch when she asks, "Do you have photo albums of the boys?" I look at her, peeling my eyes from the TV as I pause it.

"Of course." I get up grabbing several albums of almost everything of their lives. "After we left the Avengers I took solace in capturing moments so we have a lot." I tell her as she starts through her pregnancy photos one of every month. Then the hospital photos of her giving birth. The look of pure happiness and bliss on both our faces as we held the boys. Both of us having skin to skin contact with them. As Wanda goes through the albums she starts crying.

"I missed out on so much because of my magic..." she whispered solemnly. "They went from babies, to 5, to 10 all because of words I said...Y/N...I missed everything." Knowing that Wanda had used her magic to create our boys in her universe and not anything like how we had here made her incredibly sad. I hate seeing her like this.

"How about I show you. Their first words, their first steps, everything." With a gentle touch, I leaned in closer to her, resting my forehead against hers as I offered her a silent gesture of comfort and solidarity. Feeling her fingers against my temples, I closed my eyes and allowed the memories to flow, every precious moment from the joyous announcement of her pregnancy to the bittersweet final days we shared together playing out before her.

As the memories unfolded like a vivid tapestry, I watched as Wanda's tears began to subside, replaced by a sense of wonder and awe. Through the magic of our shared recollections, she was able to witness the milestones she had missed, the laughter and love that had filled our home in her absence.

In that moment, as we shared in the memories of our past, I felt a renewed sense of hope blossom within me. Though Wanda may have missed out on so much, I was determined to make every moment from this point forward count, to cherish the time we had together and to create new memories that would fill the void left by the past.

With a gentle smile, I wrapped my arms around her, holding her close as we basked in the warmth of our shared love. And as the echoes of our memories faded into the night, I knew that no matter what trials lay ahead, we would face them together, united in our unwavering commitment to one another and to our family.

As I looked into Wanda's eyes, feeling the weight of her sadness and longing, I knew that I had to do everything in my power to ease her pain and make up for the lost time. With a gentle touch, I cupped her cheek in my hand, my thumb brushing away the tears that lingered there.

"Everything with them feels too quick and also a lifetime," I whispered softly, my heart swelling with love and determination. "But now that you're here with us, you'll get to experience it all with me. Together."

In that moment, as we shared in our shared resolve to embrace the present and forge ahead as a family, I felt a sense of peace wash over me. No matter what challenges lay ahead, we would face them together, united in our love and commitment to one another.

With a tender smile, I leaned in to press a gentle kiss against Wanda's forehead, silently promising to cherish every moment we shared and to make up for the lost time in any way I could. Together, we would build a future filled with love, laughter, and endless memories, united in our bond as a family.

Once we put the albums away, shut the TV off for the night we headed upstairs. Stopping to look in at the boys sleeping peacefully before heading to our own room, getting ourselves ready for bed. As I climb in, stretching out, Wanda climbs on top of me. I bite my bottom lip, looking up at her. I can see the look she has. I wrap my arms around her neck, gently trying to pull her down. She doesn't budge.

"Did you want something, shchenok?" Between the look in her eyes, the sound of her voice, and her in just a tank top of sleep shorts I'm weak to her completely under her not just physically.

"Want you. Need you." I tell her trying again to pull and when she still doesn't budge. I pout and whine. "Wands...please.."

As Wanda's hands worked their magic, binding mine above my head with a delicate yet firm touch, I felt a rush of excitement and anticipation coursing through me. With each tug of her magic, I was rendered powerless, completely at her mercy as she explored my body with a hunger that ignited a fire within me.

"Behave and we'll see where it goes," she husked, her words sending shivers down my spine as she pushed up my shirt, her lips finding purchase on my chest with an intensity that left me breathless. The sensation of her teeth grazing my skin, her tongue tracing patterns across my flesh, sent waves of pleasure radiating through me, making me squirm and writhe beneath her touch.

As I felt myself slipping deeper into subspace, surrendering to the heady mix of pleasure and vulnerability, I couldn't help but lose myself in the moment, giving in completely to the sensations that engulfed me. With each kiss, each caress, I felt myself unraveling, consumed by the overwhelming desire that burned between us.

In that moment, as I surrendered myself to Wanda's tender ministrations, I felt a profound sense of connection and intimacy that transcended the physical realm. With her by my side, I knew that I was safe, cherished, and loved beyond measure, and as I surrendered to the ecstasy of the moment, I knew that our bond would only grow stronger with each passing day.

Wanda plays with me and teases me for hours and I can't even remember how many times she's pushed me over the edge of ecstasy. As she brought me to another one as she slammed into me with a magic strap-on she'd conjured up, my mind already drowning in subspace, barely able to form words, but one slips out and then a few more,

"Mommy...gonna...ah-ha...ah..." After my words she sped up leaning down to whisper in my ear,

"That's right cum for Mommy like a good girl. Mommy's gonna cum with you. Gonna fill you up and breed you baby girl." As she whispered those final words in my ear, her voice a husky growl of lust and desire, I felt myself shattering into a million pieces, my entire being consumed by the ecstasy of release. With a cry of pure ecstasy, I let myself fall over the edge, my body trembling with the force of my climax as I surrendered myself entirely to the pleasure that engulfed me. Feeling her fill me up completely made my eyes roll back and the only word I could comprehend was, “Mommy.”

In that moment, as I basked in the afterglow of our shared ecstasy, I knew that I was exactly where I belonged, wrapped in the arms of the woman I loved more than anything in the world.

Taglist: @dorabledewdroop

[gwens-love]

A Touch of Fate

Summary: In a quiet village, you’ve always felt the phantom touches of a soulmate a bond that usually belongs only to witches. One autumn evening, a chance encounter with a mysterious figure changes everything.

Warnings: Emotional Themes

Word count: 1.1k

A/N: a bit shorter but oh well.

~Agatha Harkness x fem!reader~

Please don’t copy/steal or translate this work thanks.

~<~>~<~>~<~>~<~>~<~>~<~>~<~>~<~>~<~>~<~>~

~<~>~<~>~<~>~<~>~<~>~<~>~<~>~<~>~<~>~<~>~

Growing up in a quiet village, you often heard tales about soulmates, an unbreakable bond that connected two people in ways mere mortals could only dream of. Only witches had such connections, though. To everyone else, they were just old fables passed around for entertainment. You were ordinary, with no magic or power. Yet, ever since you were young, you’d felt soft, phantom touches on your skin a brush along your cheek, a warmth on your hand. The sensations were fleeting but left a strange longing in their wake.

As you grew older, you chalked it up to imagination, but those touches never stopped. They became a part of you, leaving you with an inexplicable feeling that somewhere out there, someone was reaching out to you. Still, you’d accepted you might never understand why.

~<~>~<~>~<~>~

One crisp autumn evening, restlessness pulled you to the edge of the village, where a little river wound its way through the landscape. The air was cool, and the gentle sound of the water flowing over stones accompanied you as you wandered along the riverbank, following a quiet feeling that fluttered in your chest.

You knelt beside the water, running your fingers through the cool current, when suddenly that familiar warmth enveloped your arm, sending a shiver down your spine. You looked down, startled, as the sensation grew more pronounced, as if someone were brushing their fingers against your skin.

Then, out of the shadows, she appeared.

Dressed in layers of dark purple, flowing fabric that moved like shadows among the trees, a figure stepped forward, her brown hair cascading around her shoulders, shimmering in the fading light. Her presence was magnetic; there was an undeniable allure about her that pulled you in. She held herself with an elegance that spoke of wisdom and experience, but her eyes deep and playful were filled with a youthful spark.

“Well, well,” she said, a playful smile spreading across her face. “What do we have here? A lost soul wandering these woods?” Her voice was rich and melodic, laced with both humor and a hint of something deeper, something inviting.

You felt your heart race as you met her gaze. “I didn’t expect to see anyone else out here,” you replied, trying to mask your surprise at how drawn you felt towards her.

“Neither did I, darling,” she said, stepping closer. “The names Agatha Harkness dear, lovely to meet you.” Her voice softened, carrying a warmth that soothed the chill in the air. “Something told me I’d find someone special tonight, and I feel like I did.”

As you stood there, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this woman was different almost otherworldly. The way she moved, the elegance of her presence, sparked a mix of curiosity and intrigue within you.

“There’s something about you,” you said, glancing up at her. “You feel… ancient, like you belong to a different time.”

A soft smile played on her lips. “Ah, darling, there’s a reason for that. I’m a witch.”

The revelation hit you like a jolt of electricity. “A witch? But I thought those were just stories.”

“Most people think so,” she replied, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “But magic is real, and so are soulmates.” She said with a little smirk

“Wait, soulmates?” You felt your heart race, the words igniting a spark of hope and disbelief. “Why are you telling me this? Are you saying that we are soulmates?”

Agatha’s gaze softened, filled with warmth. “Yes, my dear. The moment I saw you, I felt it a connection. The universe chose us.”

You struggled to process her words, a mix of emotions swirling within you. “But I’m not a witch. How could I have a soulmate?”

The woman’s smile widened, her expression playful yet sincere. “Oh, sweetheart, magic often defies the rules we set for it,” she said, her tone rich with affection. “Sometimes it chooses those who need it most, even when they don’t fit the mold.”

“But I’m just a regular person,” you protested, shaking your head. “I’ve always thought that soulmates were for witches. It can’t be true.”

The woman’s gaze softened, a flicker of understanding passing between you. “You may not wield magic in the traditional sense, but there’s a power in your heart that is undeniable,” she said gently. “Feelings are magic too, my dear. Your ability to love and to connect is a strength that many overlook.”

The air between you felt electric, the world around you fading as you stood before her. She took another step closer, her voice lowering to a whisper. “Let me show you that your heart is just as powerful as any spell.”

As you opened your mouth to respond, a sudden rustling in the bushes nearby startled both of you. The momentary tension shifted your focus. “What was that?” you asked, glancing toward the sound.

Her demeanor changed slightly; the playful sparkle in her eyes transformed into something more serious. “Stay close to me,” she instructed, her voice firm. You felt the warmth of her presence, grounding you even as a sense of unease crept in.

The rustling grew louder, and you exchanged anxious glances. Then, emerging from the thicket, a creature scurried into the moonlight an ordinary rabbit, its nose twitching in curiosity. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, and she chuckled softly, the tension dissipating as quickly as it had come.

“See? Just a harmless little thing,” she said, her laughter soothing your frayed nerves. “But it does remind me that the world can be unpredictable.”

You nodded, feeling the warmth return to the air around you as she stepped closer again. “What were we talking about?” she asked, tilting her head, her curiosity piqued once more.

“About how I’m not a witch and how it isn’t possible for me to have a soulmate,” you replied, the weight of your earlier denial still hanging between you.

Her head tilted slightly, her expression thoughtful. “The universe has a funny way of bringing people together,” she said. “You may not see it yet, but this bond is a gift, and it exists for a reason. Perhaps it’s to show you that magic is not limited to spells and potions but is found in connection and love.”

Her words resonated deeply within you, stirring something long dormant. “I want to believe that,” you said, looking into her eyes, where warmth and understanding glimmered. “But it feels too good to be true.”

“Ah, darling, sometimes the most beautiful things do feel that way,” she replied, her voice low and reassuring. “But that doesn’t mean they aren’t real. Sometimes we have to allow ourselves to embrace the extraordinary.”

~<~>~<~>~<~>~

The moon hung high in the sky, casting a soft glow over the forest clearing. The air was thick with tension as you and Agatha stood facing each other, the world around you fading into a hushed silence.

“I still can’t believe this is real,” you said, your voice trembling slightly. “That you’re my soulmate.”

Agatha smiled, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Sometimes the universe has a funny way of surprising us, doesn’t it?”

“It feels like a dream,” you admitted, taking a small step closer. “A beautiful dream I never want to wake up from.”

She held your gaze, her expression shifting to something deeper. “Then let’s make it a reality.”

Your heart raced as the space between you narrowed. “Agatha, I”

“Shh,” she interrupted, her finger brushing gently against your lips. “No more words. Just feelings.”

You nodded, breathless. The intensity of her gaze held you captive, and you could feel the warmth radiating between you, drawing you closer.

“Can I?” she whispered, her voice low and inviting.

“Yes,” you breathed, every part of you yearning for the connection.

With that, she leaned in, capturing your lips with hers. The kiss was soft at first, exploring, tasting then it deepened, a rush of warmth and energy enveloping you both. Her hands cradled your face, and you melted into her embrace, losing yourself in the moment.

Time seemed to suspend as the kiss lingered, filled with unspoken promises and the magic of newfound love. When you finally pulled away, breathless and dazed, Agatha’s eyes were filled with delight.

“Now that,” she said with a teasing smile, “is magic.”

~<~>~<~>~<~>~<~>~<~>~<~>~<~>~<~>~<~>~<~>~

Fin <3

[featherandferns]

5. “Ah Yes. Betrayl, I’m Familiar With That”

22. “You’re My Best Friend” Angst Pleaseee

🫂❤️‍🩹

21. "You're my best friend"

I've actually already done prompt 5 (read wasps here) and prompt 21 ("You're my best friend" is 21 not 22), so I just did an angsty prompt 21 instead of redoing both- I hope that's okay! <3

Season 4 spoilers kind of? Just episode 1 vibes.

Promise - prompt 21

JJ Maybank was designed for you to fall in love with him. It ran deeper than his looks; penetrated through the flesh. His personality was interwoven with his beauty the way his veins lined his muscles and skin. All the idiosyncrasies that made him up in flaws and faults, like his recklessness and his impulsiveness, were nothing but charms in your eyes. He caused trouble wherever he went the way a hurricane accidentally leaves a wake in its path. You chased that trouble like a storm chaser: compass and map and get-away car at hand, just for him. 

By the wonder of fate, you ended up by his side. It was as though the universe placed you there - as if you and JJ were born from the same star dust, destined to find one another in the next life. From childhood, you were in the picture. Offering him a place to stay when his dad was in one of his blind, drunk rages. Giggling through pier jumping adventures and screaming through cheesy horror flicks. Later, older, he was there after your first “heartbreak” and you were there to hear about his cunning escapades with a random girl on the island, his virginity no longer a mark on his name. And with this age came realisations and ramifications. With this age came thoughts and feelings that were new and alien to you. The kind that warps one’s perception. The kind that frames someone in new ways under new titles. JJ Maybank went from being your snotty, scheming long-lasting friend, into your crush. The more time you spent in his orbit, the closer you were drawn. And so, as designed, you fell in love with him. 

He was hard to read and harder to decipher. A flirt, no doubt, though less so as the Pogue-centred adventures grew. His carelessness diminished somewhat when the stakes grew. When the sight of blood and dead bodies became shy of the norm, even compared to his youth in his father’s shadow. John B and Sarah went and with that, JJ came. Closer to you than ever. Needing you more than before. Restless nights and lonely days which you were more than happy to fill, needing him just as much. Nothing beyond cuddles and shared beds. A kiss that never strayed more than a cheek or forehead. Then, reunited with the formerly missing Pogues, came his lightness once more. But that distance didn’t come: he was still just as close. Almost attainable. Poguelandia and El Dorado felt like fever dreams in this light. The one constant was JJ, no matter what, and you the same for him. 

Now, settled, JJ’s old Maybank home rebuilt and remade, the bait-and-surf shop up and running, the gang tethered together through trauma and triumph: you finally felt like everything was falling into place, the same way you had fallen for JJ. 

“I might just sleep out here tonight,” JJ tells you. He’s lying by your side on the newly fixed up boat. The two of you are staring up at the sky, slowly starting to fill with stars, slowly losing the colour of daylight. 

“You’ll be dinner for the skeeters,” you say. 

He shrugs. “Circle of life, I guess.”

Laughing quietly, you turn your head. His hair is short again - dirty blonde, sunkissed highlights. The small jut of his chin and the slope of his nose. The high press of his cheekbones from his small, lingering smile. At the feel of your gaze, he turns his head too. An air of amusement brushes over him; has him almost laughing, quirking a brow. 

“What?”

“Nothing,” you hum. Your own smile falters and your stomach churns. The words are brewing deep within you like a slow, roasting broth. They’d been there for years now, waiting to slip out, and you felt like you can’t hold it down much longer. JJ’s own smile fades into a look of worry, mirroring your own anxiety. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you repeat, lying. “I just…I’m just happy.”

His lips twitch upward again. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I’m happy you finally have a home, JJ,” you quietly say. 

Visibly moved by your sentiment, his hand reaches out for yours, lying limp on the cool plastic exterior of the boat. He squeezes your hand in his. Smiles at you. Holds your gaze. As if drawn in by some outside force, you lean over. Your eyes slip shut and your lips find his, and there, you plant a gentle, soft kiss. It’s no more than a peck. No more than a fleeting, almost phantom moment of weakness. Lingering, lips no more than a centimetre from his, you wait. Wait for some absolution that you hoped might come. 

JJ clears his throat. His hand slips from yours. Your heart cracks like the break of an ice surface as he sits up, sort of hurried. You sit up too. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask, knowing fully well what the answer is. 

JJ is reaching for his boots that he took off an hour or so ago. He meddles with the laces. Not looking at you, he mumbles, “why’d you have to do that?”

“What?”

“Everything was…God, why the fuck did you have to do that?” he repeats, frustrated, maybe even angry. 

Your eyes sting and your heart burns and it starts to feel as though you’re slipping away from yourself. “I don’t know. I just…I just figured–”

“--Well, you shouldn’t have,” JJ snaps, his head darting up. Your eyes meet his and there’s this panic there, deep and damning. You feel damned. 

“I’m sorry,” you say. Sorry for what? For kissing him? For thinking that he might feel the same? For hoping that he might? 

JJ shakes his head and looks back at his boots. His frantic movements stop, fingers mixed with his laces. “Why’d you have to do that, huh? Everything was finally how it should be and now…Now it’s all messed up.”

“Messed up? No, no, it doesn’t…We can just forget about it,” you hurriedly say. You grab at his forearm, wanting his attention, now for a whole new reason. “We can just pretend it never happened.”

“Why’d you do it?”

“I don’t know. I just thought that maybe, with everything that’s happened, maybe you might feel the same way,” you stammer. 

JJ’s eyes slip shut. It’s as though you gave him the diagnosis to a disease he always dreaded. “We can’t.”

You’re not sure what he’s alluding to with that. We can’t pretend it never happened? We can’t move forward? We can’t be friends? 

“You’re my best friend,” you whisper. “I don’t want to lose you.”

JJ gnaws at his lower lip. You sit and wait and hope and pray that you haven’t managed to tear apart years of friendship with one stupid moment of idiocy. Ironic how JJ lived his life in spur-of-the-moment choices but the second you make one, it might haunt you forever. Eventually, as if in slow motion, he looks at you. There’s a sadness in his eyes as though he knows what he says will pain you, and your heart takes pause as you wait. His lips move wordlessly at first and then, sighing, he finds the words. 

“I’m in love with Kiara.”

You feel like bleeding ink on a page. Like you have no mass or place of purchase. Like any meaning you ascribed to anything is now without, soulless and baseless; a work of fiction, like some Shakesperian tragedy. 

“Oh,” you breathe. 

He nods. “I…I’m sorry, I just…I don’t feel that way for you.”

“Okay,” you murmur. You think you might throw up. You shift in your spot as if preparing to. JJ reaches out a hand and it burns when he touches yours. 

“I don’t want to lose you though. I do love you, but the love I feel for her is different. I’m sorry, I don’t know why, I just–”

“--JJ, please,” you beg. You force yourself to look him in the eyes. He’s terrified of everything. Always has been, as long as you’ve known him. More than anything, terrified of love. And you know what that means, for him to care so deeply for someone. You know that he needs you. And you know that, despite everything, you need him. It hurts to be something but it’s worse to be nothing, after all. 

Somewhere deep inside of you, you find a smile. A forced, placid smile, like a lady-in-waiting might wear. Your other hand envelopes his and you will the tears away. 

“I’m your best friend,” you assure him. The words are sour like acid on your tongue. It feels like blasphemy. Nodding, as if trying to make yourself believe it too, you say, “we can forget the whole thing.”

A relieved smile comes to JJ’s face like a breath of air after free diving. He leans back, nods, happy, overjoyed, appeased. 

“Thank God. Cause I don’t know what I’d do without you. I really don’t,” he says, meaning every word. Maybe that’s what hurts the most. 

Nodding, agreeing, you say, “Kiara would be an idiot if she didn’t want you, too.”

Smiling to himself, his head dips, abashed, and you know then and there that he’d never be that way for you. He gets up and as his hand slips form your hold, it feels like you’re losing him forever. Once again, he’s reframed. Different again. No longer your crush, no longer your future, and no longer your best friend. He’s a mirage. He isn’t real. You no longer know what to call him or how to name your connection. Because as he walks away, bidding you goodnight, heading to the house where Kiara sleeps soundly, beautiful and brilliant, you begin to cry, knowing that you would never be able to forget it, and yet knowing that you had to. 

JJ Maybank was designed for you to fall in love with him, but he was never designed to love you back.

[lexsssu]

Beast (Dion Agriche)

TAGS: Dion/Dragoness!reader, pining, pervy thoughts, breeding, oneshot Ao3 ver. | Ko-fi | Commissions (OPEN)

This place felt…sad.

The towering manse was objectively magnificent and yet an air of gloom seemed to envelop the very air that passed through the exquisite halls. Though perhaps it could be attributed to the unmistakable metallic scent that hung heavily within almost every corner of the estate. 

Whether it was the main courtyard, the gardens, or from deeper within, the darkness that settled over the entire structure was like a shroud of death that beckoned victims to fall into the sweet embrace of oblivion. It’s only through luck however, that they can either meet a swift end or a drawn out and miserable one. 

Judging from the melancholic or downright pained expressions upon the ghostly specters that roamed the area, it’s safe to say that this was a place of great suffering and tragedy. None of the actual living occupants could see them, most especially that man whose soul harbored an impressive amount of corruption for a human. No matter how many angry spirits clung to him in hopes of dragging his soul straight out of his body in order to enact their just revenge, each death done or ordered by his hand only seemed to further the taint. 

It’s almost as if he drew power from the lives he’d stolen.

He wasn’t the only one who attracted the attention of the restless souls. The man’s children who tried to follow in his footsteps also had a trail of bodies before them even before they could be called adults. Even one of his wives, a seemingly spritely woman with doll-like features, took lives as easily as getting rid of unpleasant pests.

In conclusion, this family is as cursed as the land they had stained with rivers of blood over the years.  

Much to your surprise however, not every Agriche shared a penchant for senseless murder. One of the eldest living daughters (Roxana) only had a single ghost following her and even then, the ghostly image of the teen boy didn’t seem to want to tear her limb from limb like all the others. Rather, he followed after her much like a puppy who only wanted to keep up with her pace. Sadly, the blonde never seemed to take notice of the boy who bore remarkably similar features with her even as he tried to reach his hand out to touch her. 

For she lives within the plane of the living, while he now resided in between life and death, unable to move on due to regrets or some other unfinished business you didn’t know of.  

The question is…are you content with staying as a mere observer?

The blonde youth perks up the moment he realizes you can see him, sheer relief brimming from every pore within his spectral body when you speak your first words to him. He is rich with the secrets Lante Agriche fights tooth and nail to prevent from ever seeing the light of day. 

A lonely boy becomes lonely no more and a displaced dragoness finds that becoming lost wasn’t too bad when you have good company around you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dion doesn’t dream.

Considering the amount of blood that stained his rough hands, it is better that he only descends into nothingness whenever he rests his eyes, for one could only imagine what horrors lay in wait to torment him for all the atrocities he’d committed. He’s not afraid of the ghosts of his victims, but rather finds it useless to think of flames that had already been snuffed out when they could no longer influence the living in any way.

But then something changes.

He feels a soft, warm touch that gently traces the length of his nose, cups the sharp angles of his face, and even delves into his dark locks. Though his eyes remain closed, his own subconscious supplies him with the image of hands much smaller than his own large ones that poked and prodded at him without fear. 

While he would have caught the appendages and mayhaps stuck a knife into anyone who decided to lay their hands upon him, Dion knows that this could only be a dream because who would even dare to caress him so gingerly in the middle of night within the Agriche’s own manor? If anything, he finds his dreamself to commit to memory the feeling of such a gentle touch being bestowed upon him, because rationally he knows that he has no need for softness. In the confines of his own subconscious however, he supposes that he can allow himself this at the very least.

When he wakes up at the crack of dawn, it is to open windows with its blinds fluttering as the morning breeze makes its way to his room, bringing with it not just the familiar scent of iron that seemed to permanently surround the place he’d grown up in. 

Though he cares not for flowers specifically, he does have knowledge on their practical uses such as poisons and the like. He also prefers knowing the native flora and fauna of the hunting grounds he’d be thrown into in order to get a better grasp of the terrain.

Blooming honeysuckles make his brows furrowed in confusion despite his stone-cold exterior, confused as to how and why such a scent overpowered the ever present iron tang in the air. 

Curiouser and curiouser.

Dion remains oblivious to the shared laughter between a woman with ivory in her hair and a boy whose eyes reflected the deep, bright expanse of the open sky as they watched him stick his head out of his windows to locate the origin of the oddity.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“YOU...”

“...Me?”

Dion feels his body practically burning from the inside-out, his heart beating several miles per minute as he finally gets a good look of the poltergeist that haunts his nights. He remembers the tender touches you press against his skin, the warm caresses that leave him gasping for breath and his loins aching for sweet release by the time he’s released from your clutches once dawn has broken. 

He does not need your sweetness.

He has no use for your gentleness.

And yet he craves it.

He has never desired anything. 

He has never felt so strongly about anything other than the swish of his blade, the gurgling of his victims, and the blood splattered against the ground as another mark of his martial prowess.

And yet you drove him to become more of a feral beast than he ever was as he now wished for nothing else other than to possess your whole being just as you possessed him without even meaning to.

“...are MINE”

Your surprised squeak is music to his ears, the flush on your cheeks pleasing the beast that sought to have you pressed down on the ground and taken ruthlessly, flooding your fertile womb with his virile seed...

.

.

.

To be continued(?)

[kaiser1ns]

#. THE KISS OF THE SIREN

featuring 𝘂𝗺𝗲𝗺𝗶𝘆𝗮 𝗵𝗮𝗷𝗶𝗺𝗲 𝘅 𝗳𝗲𝗺!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

romance + angst. the captain of the seven seas, always wanted to see a siren, but never expected to fall in love with one.

wc :: 11,2k. thank you my lovely @kiurona for the amazing art of pirate ume! this is our mini collab, so go support her amazing art right now ♡

at such a young age, pirate captain!umemiya hajime became a threat to all on the seven seas, be it to other pirate crews, sea monsters or creatures, name it he fought it, causing fear and terror only by the mention of his name. he had faced countless dangers, still there was one mystery that had always kept him with so many questions in his mind—the legendary sirens.

legends spoke of their voices luring sailors to their doom, of the riches that could be gained from a single siren scale, and even of wishes being granted to those who managed to capture one. yet, despite all the tales, he had never once seen a siren himself. this kept him on his toes over the years, a curiosity that grew stronger with each passing sail with the ship.

the older pirates would laugh, with the memory of their own youthful days. "they’re everywhere, son," they would say, "but you’ll find them mostly where the sea is the most dangerous. deep waters, where the rocks cut through ships and the storms never seem to end. that’s where they make their homes, creating oases in the middle of nowhere, drawing in sailors with their voices." they spoke of siren scales as treasures more valuable than gold, rumored to grant wishes. but pirate captain!umemiya hajime didn’t care about wishes. all he wanted was to see one of these creatures with his own eyes since no one had seen one, and even if they did — they never came back.

the captain set sail towards the treacherous waters the old sailors had described. his crew watched as their captain steered them into the heart of danger. as the days passed, they began to grow tired and restless. one by one, they succumbed to deep slumber until only umemiya remained awake.

he heard it—a voice unlike any he’d ever known. gentle, melodic, and so enchanting. the sound stirred him from his half-slumber, pulling him from his quarters up to the deck. he stumbled, still caught between the real and dream world, searching for the source of the song.

and then he saw her beneath the moonlight, perched on a rock just beyond the reach of his ship, was the most beautiful creature he had ever laid eyes on. her skin shimmered like pearls, her e/c eyes reflected the night sky, and her voice—oh, her voice was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard. she opened her arms, beckoning him to join her in the water below, her song filling his head with thoughts of peace, of numerous illusions about him being the pirate king, the strongest and richest of them all.

he felt himself stepping closer, the rail of the ship pressing against his waist as he prepared to leap overboard. but something snapped him back to reality. he realized he was on the brink of being pulled under, of losing himself to the siren’s call. as he tore his gaze away and stumbled back, breathing heavily as he watched her continue to sing, he had never seen such beauty, it was dangerous, so unreal and magical and then she dived gracefully back into the ocean, disappearing, leaving him alone with the memory of her haunting melody.

the next day, the bofurin crew reached a port town, the older pirates immediately asked about his quest, and they were surprised to see him alive. "so captain, did you see one of them?" but they decided to be kind to him and to get him a drink. "i did, sir." the young man answered putting his hat down as he received his drink, "she was only one, but her voice was so powerful that it enchanted everyone on board, i almost died too." pirate captain!umemiya hajime recounted the encounter, leaving out no detail until the moment he stopped himself from jumping. the old man nodded, some laughing softly, others looking at him with respect. “you’ve seen one and lived to tell the tale. that’s more than most can say,” they remarked, patting him on the back.

but the memory of that song, that face, wouldn’t leave him. days passed, and though the crew indulged in the town’s distractions, pirate captain!umemiya hajime found himself wandering, with no direction in mind during one of these aimless strolls, in the bustling heart of the town, when he heard it—the same melody carried on the wind like a whisper from the sea.

he froze, his heart pounding as he followed the sound through the crowd. there, in the center of the square, surrounded by laughing children and townsfolk, was the girl from the ocean. no, not a girl—a siren, as beautiful and mesmerizing as the night he first saw her, but now she had legs and her skin wasn't as silver as the moon, she was like a human now, but her eyes and hair color were still the same.

"big sister y/n is so pretty! she is like a princess!" the little kids watched her in awe as they danced around her. she sang with the same divine voice, but this time there was no danger in her song, only joy and light. as she finished, she turned and locked eyes with him. recognition flashed across her face, and without hesitation, she bolted, leaving the crowd bewildered.

pirate captain!umemiya hajime didn’t think; he just ran, chasing her through winding alleys and down narrow streets, his heart racing faster than his legs could carry him. the town blurred around him as he pursued the fleeting figure of the siren. "y/n..." he memorized her name as she was always just out of reach, her laughter—soft and melodic—taunting him as she led him deeper into the outskirts.

finally, umemiya found himself at an old, abandoned dock, the wood creaking beneath his boots. it was foggy, the air was still, the silence oppressive as he looked around, panting, searching for any sign of her. but she was gone, vanished as suddenly as she’d appeared.

then he noticed something—caught on a jagged piece of wood at the dock’s edge was a hanging piece of fabric, torn, and his mind raced as everything clicked into place—the voice, the sudden disappearance, the water below. he walked to the edge of the dock, staring into the dark waters, knowing she was down there, watching him as he had watched her.

he crouched down reaching for the water, it was cold his fingers were starting to freeze slightly until he felt something else touch him, something scaly and with all its strength it pulled him up and he fell into the water. the young sailor was used to diving into the sea, but now he was fighting for his life when he opened his eyes—it was the siren, leading him deeper and he tried to pull himself up until she stopped and turned to face him.

pirate captain!umemiya hajime was no longer drowning in the water, but in the depth of her gaze. she reached out, her fingers brushing his face with a gentle touch that caught him off guard. he was about to lose consciousness when she pulled him closer, her lips pressing against his in a soft, unexpected kiss. but then something even more unexpected happened—he could breathe. it wasn’t just that he could breathe; it was like he’d been given a part of her world, the water no longer felt cold or suffocating; it was like air, filling his lungs. but even more, mesmerizing was the way her lips felt against his—soft, warm, and lingering.

when he finally surfaced, he lay there on the cool sand, chest heaving as he looked up at the sky. it wasn’t fully dark yet, but the sun was setting, the golden hue showing across the horizon, trying to make sense of what had just happened, he heard a soft, splashing sound.

pirate captain!umemiya hajime's instincts kicked in, and he turned his head towards the water. there, emerging from the ocean, was the siren. first, he saw her upper body—her wet hair clinging to her face, her eyes locked onto him, making his heart skip a beat. then, as she pulled herself further onto the shore, he saw her tail, shimmering in the fading light, its scales reflecting the colors of the setting sun. the sight of her struggling to move onto the sand, he pushed himself up from the ground, intending to help her. it wasn’t just a reflex—he felt and wanted to be near her, to protect her from whatever might come. but as he approached, she reacted suddenly, hissing at him with a sharp and defensive sound.

he knew that apart from looking somehow human, she was still a child of the ocean, a monster of the deep. instead, he crouched next to her while she looked the other way so she wouldn't see his face. "so you are ... y/n right?" he asked, tucking a lock of wet hair behind her ear, his hands were so gentle, and unlike other pirates or men, he wasn't looking down at her nakedness but straight into her eyes. "you are so beautiful..." it felt strange. everything was a bit weird right now. it didn’t make sense for a creature like her to suddenly drown him in water, kiss him, and let him live.

pirate captain!umemiya hajime didn’t know you had to do this, to kiss him, so he can have your scent because the captain of the seven seas was in great danger with sirens targeting him and your kiss, can protect him, for now, but not forever.

a siren's main drive is their need to be loved, and will seek it in any way; be it sexual, platonic, or familial, but now she did it because she had fallen in love with the sailor, and she would not let others have him or kill him. "don't think anything else, that night i showed up to save you... and now," her voice still so melodious, even if she wasn't singing he was still mesmerized. "when a siren kisses someone, they can breathe underwater right?" he asked his hand still on her face, caressing her cheek, "apparently those old bastards have told you a lot, it's not like they're looking for us and want to have our scales for selfish reasons." the siren raised her tail and she splashed the water, her hands in the sand until she decided to look at him, "why are you looking at me like that? i saved you but i can still kill you." he just smiled as he removed his hand and stood up, squeezing the water out of his clothes looking at the horizon "i've always dreamed of seeing a siren, with the endless legends about you i couldn't just sit still, and when you appeared."

he was telling the truth, and she knew it. no song of hers could deceive him, for she could not deceive herself anymore. she fell in love with a sailor, not to kill him, but to love him, and if any of her sisters found out about it, she and he would both be victims. "a captain of the seven seas has seen everything but sirens and mermaids, has he?" the devilish energy returned to her as she lay on her stomach and tossed her tail in the air, small waves crashing through her body "and your name is so famous both on water and land, isn't it captain umemiya?" the way she said his name, the very tone gentle yet playful, made him want to drown. what had she done to him? enchanted him for sure, but he didn't need magic to know that his heart beats faster than the waves when there's a storm. he looked down at her, the sun's rays coloring the grays and pearls of her skin, smirking "ah, you're very famous on land too, aren't you y/n?" he shrugged, his white shirt slightly unbuttoned clinging to his toned muscles. “this is the second time i've seen you, but it's like i’ve known you all my life, isn't it strange?”

she played with her hair, twirled a lock on her finger and giggled "if i'm so famous why haven't i seen you in the audience when i sing? the children will be very happy, don't you think, to see their hero who can tell them so many stories.”

pirate captain!umemiya hajime really wondered why he had never attended such entertainment in the center of the town, perhaps because he was constantly sitting in the pub and gaining experience and knowledge from the old pirates, but even if he had the time, he filled it with buying food and weapons for the next voyage. “i'll come next time, i promise you that. i have heard your song before, and can't wait to hear it again until you make me fall entirely for you.” she didn't expect this, he was serious and it showed, she knew he was true to his word as her gray face began to acquire a slight red tint, but that didn't stop her from answering. “then i will wait for you tomorrow at the same time, alright captain? make sure to show and give me flowers, make me feel like a normal human.” and with that she slowly went into the water as she dipped, making herself disappear.

his eyes widened as he walked towards the water, up to his knees when she reappeared his hat and jacket in her hands. “we don't want you to lose anything valuable do we? so you're welcome, captain.” good thing the water was up to his knees, or he didn't know if he would have been alive by her honeyed voice. he took the clothes and put them on himself and she just smiled at him and would dive in again, until he stopped her, “wait…come closer.” she looked at him, confused but came closer to him and he crouched down again looking at her so lovingly and then kissed her gently on the lips. “i promise you everything, my little seashell.” she was left without words, without a voice, and without further ado she swam to the depths, leaving him alone in the salty water, “i will wait for you.”

pirate captain!umemiya hajime was still looking in that direction she swam away with a gentle smile on his face until someone called out “umemiya, you idiot! what are you doing in the water all soaked?” it was the quartermaster, hiragi toma as he stood at the wooden deck just a little higher from the sand on the shore. “get up at once and change your clothes, the captain must not get sick.” but the captain didn't look at his first mate but smiled at the setting sun, wondering if you liked lily and beach roses. just how and why he fell for a siren? he doesn't know, but he knew he loved you.

the next day pirate captain!umemiya hajime was making his way to the center with a bouquet of flowers and a warm smile on his face, his step more hurried than usual, because he couldn't wait to see her, to hear her. and he finally noticed the siren in her human form, eyes were closed and her voice was so pleasant, but what impressed him was the red cloth that was tied around her waist … it was his. wait a minute, when did she manage to get it? well, it didn't matter, she looked good with something that was his. the thunderous applause woke him from his trance and she bowed to the audience, as he approached her, she wanted him to appear with a bouquet, and here he was keeping his promise. “captain, you showed up, huh?” she jumped off the small stage, face to face with the whitehead as he handed her the flowers, “i will always keep my promise”. she took the bouquet and smelled it. so beautiful with so many colorful petals, she didn't expect that he would do something like that, especially with everyone's eyes on them.

“big sister y/n and captain umemiya, are you two together?” the little kids surrounded them and giggled looking at them with curious eyes, and an idea came to pirate captain!umemiya hajime. he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer to his body and her eyes widened and she blushed. “y/n and hajime, sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g!” she looked at him slightly shocked at what the kids were saying but he was smiling even more at them "it's not what it see–”

“first comes love, then comes marriage, then comes a baby, in a baby carriage!” here she already turned red from the crabs and lobsters in the sea. she didn't know where and how to hide and just put her head on his chest raising the bouquet to cover her face completely. “all right kiddos, leave big sister y/n to rest, hmm? next time i stop by, i will tell you stories about the giant kraken i fought with hiragi!”

“really, captain? will it be possible to tell us when you went to the secret city of gold?” with his free hand he ruffled the boy's hair laughing "of course! i'll even show you the golden sword i found.” with that the kids were happy and left you alone with him looking at her still hiding. “y/n, they are gone now.” he was still hugging her and she lifted her head and exhaled and looked around, "thank you, captain! you really can be counted on from this to the rest of the six seas.” and then she looked into his blue eyes, they were as beautiful as the sea, calm but full of secrets and she could feel her face coming closer to his, their lips inches away until she stopped and removed herself from his grip. “eh, you didn't have a problem kissing me yesterday?” he asked, slightly mocking but not malicious, as they still maintained eye contact. "it's okay, my precious pearl."

pirate captain!umemiya hajime who was watching her and trying to read her body language, she looked slightly worried but relaxed at the same time. was the idea of ​​her being with him embarrassing her? but that wasn't going to stop him from showing his love, no matter what. he cleared his throat, putting one hand behind his back and holding out the other to her "my lady, would you like to go out with me tonight?" she hesitated, but she had nothing to lose, it wasn't every day she was around people as a human, and she had more to learn to be more like one. the siren took his hand and he kissed her knuckles "then it is settled." they let go of their hands and he put his hat on her head, the feather still sticking out, but it looked so good on her. "but i have no other clothes than these." he simply smiled at her so sweetly that the salt on her body could turn to sugar "don't worry about that, everyone likes you already." yes, everyone likes her because she is human. if they find out it's a siren from the sea, they'll probably kill her and put the head on the market too, use the magic of the scales and... she’ll just become their next prize. "i'll trust you for what you say now." it was slightly threatening, this statement of hers, but the captain smiled widely that his tea teeth were visible. "take it easy, stay with me until it's time for dinner."

and so he took her around the city, she saw streets and shops she had never seen before. the citizens smiled, rejoiced in her presence, or rather rejoiced in the captain who walked behind her as she ran and shop-windowed. until she stopped in front of one and he became curious as to what she was staring at that caused her eyes to sparkle. there was a long white dress displayed, the color of the sea foam. "do you want it?"

pirate captain!umemiya hajime was so kind and generous as he walked into the store without thinking about the price "wait, no… i was just looking." she lowered her head, but that didn't stop him from entering the shop and she quickly followed him. "captain, long time no see? how is it, have you finally found a bride?" he chuckled slightly at the nice old lady "not yet but i'm working on it." he looked around the shop where there were so many dresses but really the one in the window was the most beautiful. "how much will this dr–?" before he could finish the door bell rang and she walked into the boutique "hajime, i told you i don't want you…" the voice trailed off as she looked at the old woman "...to buy me anything." it only took one look at the woman to know who she was and what her relationship was with the young sailor. "how can you lie to old people? you've found the perfect bride!” she immediately came to the young girl and began to measure her. then he took her cheeks with both hands and looked at her "beautiful eyes, never seen such a color. and that lovely face!" she immediately went to the window and removed the dress from the mannequin "i give it to you for free, young lady, or should I say mrs. umemiya~” they both blushed at her comment as the young miss played with her hair and the captain placed a hand behind his neck. "thank you very much!" he said as he took the bag of the dress and she didn't even try it on but the old lady had been in the business enough years to know what would look good on who.

he took her hand and as they hurried out of the store they went into some building, it was a large one and she had heard that these were hotels where people slept for one or more nights. "will we...sleep together?" she asked hurriedly, she had never been so close to a pirate before, "only if you want. i'm bringing you here so you can change in peace, there will be a lot more people on the ship." a ship was equal to being in the water, which meant that the moment her skin touched the water, she would turn into a siren. she knew that he either knew too or was just looking out for her. without realizing it they were already outside the room, and he unlocked it. it was nothing much to him, just a place where he could sleep, but to her, it was something completely new, she knew about how humans lived but she had never been taken to such a place, especially with a man, a man who loved her. “i won't look so please change!” he turned his back on her, as she took the dress from the bag with her. it was really a very nice model and she put it on right away, his hat still on top of her head. did it fit her well, she asked herself. on land, she always wore the same clothes without thinking about it much. “how do i look?”

pirate captain!umemiya hajime swears he has never seen anything more graceful and elegant. he was just looking at her so lovingly, so tenderly, and smiling, she really looked like a bride. and if he could he would have married her on the spot. "beautiful as the day i saw you.” he approached her and took both of her hands, caressing them with his thumb "i don't even need to think, it's a fact. you are the most beautiful on this land, and on this sea.” she blushed terribly, even more than before but quickly masked it with confidence, "you look good too, captain.”

without even saying a word, they were already leaving the room and were the center of attention. everyone looked at them, both young and old, and everyone was happy as they kept hearing 'for the newlyweds!' whatever that was supposed to mean, she didn't know but she didn't care, not when his hand was in hers and she could feel the warmth. ”are you nervous, princess?” it was new, too new. a princess, huh? her heart began to beat faster and she didn't know if she had cast a spell on him or herself. but she just smiled no matter what others were saying. "i'm not. thanks for looking after me.” he squeezed her hand tighter and they were already in front of the restaurant, not long before they were ordering food. this time the captain decided not only to spoil himself, but also her.

“so what will the lovebirds want to eat? may i offer you some of our new fresh fish dishes?” the waitress was so kind and his eyes lit up when he heard the word fish, “i will have your two best main fish dishes!” and then he looked over at her and she was literally discriminating against his food choices right in front of her. “oh! never mind that, give me your best pork dish, as for the lady–”

she quickly cut him off, "salad, please.” she wasn't used to human food yet, but the salads were enough to fill her up. smiling at him and the waitress, and she took the menus out. “coming right away!” and she left you alone and you quickly crossed your arms "did you seriously want to eat fish in front of such?” 

as they waited for their meal, he couldn’t help but laugh at his order. "i didn’t think that through, did i?” she shook her head, a smile tugging at her lips. "no, you didn’t." he reached across the table, taking her hand in his. "i’ll get it right next time, i promise."

after their dinner, the night air greeted them outside once more. they strolled down quiet streets, it was during this walk that pirate captain!umemiya hajime finally mustered the courage to ask her, "will you go back to the sea tonight? or would you stay... with me?"

her heart raced at the question. the dress felt too precious to cast aside just yet. "just for tonight," she whispered, wanting to say more but she couldn't do that yet. and so, they returned to his room, where the space now felt too little and suffocating.

it was quiet, the world outside forgotten as they lay side by side on the bed. they had only reunited the day before, yet the bond between them felt like they knew each other forever. he couldn't sleep; neither could she. 

"can i kiss you?" he asked, his voice tentative, as he recalled how she had avoided his kiss earlier. the siren responded only with a soft hum, a sound so delicate it was almost lost in the stillness. he turned to face her, his heart pounding as he leaned closer, his breath mingling with hers before he finally pressed his lips to hers.

the kiss seemed to hold those unspoken thoughts and feelings, a tender love. he pulled back, his breath ragged as he whispered, "please, be mine from now on. i swear to protect you, i vow to love you until my last breath."

her chest tightened at his words. how could this human make her—a creature born of the sea—feel so fragile, so exposed? but she didn't care. “the night is still young, my beautiful siren. let me hear your song once more.” at that moment, she yearned to be human, to experience the love he offered. and so, she let herself be vulnerable, let him show her how humans express their love, their devotion. 

hours passed, though neither noticed the time. they were lost in each other, learning and experiencing newfound heights of affection. the man who had never loved someone so much, and the siren who cried at the fact that she felt like a human, and completely forgot that she was a creature with a tail and magic. when the sun began to paint the sky in soft hues of pink and gold, they were still wrapped in each other's arms, unwilling to let go of the night they had shared. because that night was like a honeymoon, so sweet and full of passion.

pirate captain!umemiya hajime woke up slowly opening his eyes expecting to see her sleeping body next to him but there was no sign of her. he immediately got up and moaned slightly from the stinging feeling on his neck. he walked over to the mirror and saw red-purple teeth marks, apparently he wasn't the only one marking. he looked again at the bed and saw something shiny, it was as small as a coin, he came closer and ... it was a scale. “eh, so that's why my little pearl left?” but his eyes were fixated on the chair, her dress was hanging there, and his shirt was gone, but his jacket and hat were there. he looked at it some more before getting dressed and putting it in his pants pocket. who knew, he might need to wish for something someday.

almost the whole day passed and she was still gone. there was no one to sing on stage, no one to entertain the children, no one to warm his hand. it was sad honestly, he felt somehow empty, but the young adventurer won't let anyone see this side of him. leaned against some wall, tossing a coin, heads that he would see her again and tails if he didn't. “captain idiot, where were you the whole night? were you with that girl that the whole town talks about?” it was hiragi toma again, the coin landed in the crease between his palm and index finger but he looked away to see his best friend "hiragi! is everything okay with the others? sakura didn't throw up did he?" he rubbed his temple, irritated by the crew captain's behavior and disappearance. although they had stopped here for a little rest, it was not a break from the duties of the ship. "umemiya, i know you're young, we all are. but you have to understand that you shouldn't disappear like this for some girl from the city."

umemiya’s blue eyes narrowed at hiragi's words. the usual cheerful and carefree attitude that marked his demeanor was absent, replaced by a sharp glare that made the other man take a step back. “don’t tell me what to do, hiragi,” the captain said, his voice low and steely. he wasn’t joking, wasn’t teasing. there was no trace of the charming captain who could usually talk his way out of anything. instead, he was all business, his tone leaving no room for argument.

hiragi's brow furrowed in concern, but he didn't back down. “i’m just looking out for you. for all of us. we can’t afford to have you distracted—” the whitehead cut him off, his tone growing colder. “i can perfectly balance the crew and her,” he said, his gaze locking onto his with a seriousness that made his first mate flinch. he tossed the coin into the air again, catching it without looking. hiragi had never seen his captain like this, and for the first time, he wasn’t sure if he could read umemiya at all. it was like looking at a stranger.

as he finally glanced down at the coin in his palm, hiragi noticed something—something that made his blood run cold. there, around umemiya’s neck, were red marks, deep and fresh, as if someone—or something—had claimed him. hiragi’s eyes widened in shock. “did you—?” the captain’s expression didn’t change. if anything, it hardened. he slipped the coin into his pocket and turned his back on him as if dismissing the question entirely. “i told you, i can handle it,” he said, the tone he spoke in making it clear the discussion was over.

but the first mate wasn’t convinced. the red marks and the captain's uncharacteristic mood—they all pointed to something far beyond the usual meet-and-greets with monsters. “this isn’t like you,” hiragi said softly, hoping to reach the friend buried under the captain's mask. “i don’t know what happened last night, but it’s messing with your head.”

he froze at those words, his shoulders stiffening. but then he straightened, with an unbelievable amount of pride, “she’s none of your concern, neither am i. focus on the crew. that’s an order.” hiragi was worried as this was more than just a fling, more than just another adventure. whatever had happened between him and that girl had changed him, and not for the better.

as the captain walked away, hiragi could only watch, his mind racing. he had a sinking feeling that whatever this was, it was far from over—and it was only a matter of time before it would come back to haunt them all.

it had been several days since pirate captain!umemiya hajime had last seen her, and now he hanging around on the deck, leaning against the bars and looking up at the night sky reflected in the sea. it was nice to feel the gentle breeze of the wind and the sound of the waves, but it would be even more peaceful if she was here with him. he was humming something to himself, almost singing “y/n and hajime, sitting in a tree k-i-s-s-i-n-g…” he sighed looking up at the moon which was the same color as her skin color. when would he see her again? last week's coin showed heads, and a pirate's coin never lies. then he remembered that he had her scale, and the white dress sitting in his cabin. for some strange reason, it was shining very brightly, more than the full moon in the sky and then he saw the same light in the water, it was moving fast and the scale seemed to react by getting brighter and brighter. and then something appeared a head, he narrowed his eyes and couldn't believe it, it was her. she showed herself more, the light reflecting off her face made his heart skip a beat. it was as if the moon itself had descended from the sky and taken on the form of the woman he loved.

“you—” she just swam away to the direction he knew all to well. the old docks. without a second thought, he ran as fast as he could. as he neared their secret place he could see her more clearly. she was already there, waiting for him, her tails splashing playfully in the water as she stared up at the moon. but as he drew closer, she was crying. her tears sparkled like diamonds, falling silently into the sea as she wept. umemiya’s heart twisted in his chest, and he scrambled onto the dock, not caring that he was soaked to the bone. 

“y/n!” he called out, his voice filled with worry. he reached out to her, his hand trembling as it hovered just above her shoulder. “what’s wrong, my pearl? why are you crying?” she didn’t turn to face him, but he could see the pain in her expression as she continued to gaze up at the moon. “i made a mistake, hajime,” she whispered, her voice quieter over the gentle waves. “the biggest mistake of my life…” his heart pounded in his chest. “what are you talking about? what mistake?” she closed her eyes, another tear slipping down her cheek. “i let a human mark me as his. i let you mark me as yours. i let myself fall in love.”

he felt his breath catch in his throat. “but…isn’t that what we wanted? to be together, for you to feel like a human?”

“yes,” she said, her voice breaking. “but i didn’t realize what it would mean. i ran away from my sisters, and swam so far just to find you first. now you’re in even greater danger because of me.” the siren finally turned to look at him, her eyes filled with fear and regret. “you’re still under the magic of my song, hajime. i don’t know how much of your feelings are real, and how much is just…an enchantment. if my sisters find out…i don’t know what they’ll do to you.” he shook his head, stepping closer until he was right in front of her, their faces inches apart. “y/n, listen to me. i don’t care about any of that. i don’t care if it’s magic or fate or whatever it is. all i know is that i love you. i love you more than anything in this world, and nothing is going to keep us apart.”

her lower lip trembled as she looked up at him, searching his eyes for any hint of doubt, of lies. but all she saw was the honesty that had drawn her to him in the first place. “i swore to protect you,” pulling her into his arms, holding her close as the moon watched over them, the waves lapping gently against the old dock. the night was quiet, save for the sound of their breathing and the distant call of the ocean. they were the ones who could love each other until it hurt and even if they were in danger, dead or alive they would be together.

several months have passed since then, and the siren was inseparable from the pirate. they were together, they were a couple hiding their secrets, during the day they were both human and at night she turned back into the tailed creature. pirate captain!umemiya hajime has been so doting and loving, his cheerful self was back and never leaving, unless he had to travel, but he knew that he would come back right into her arms. "my love, i'm back!” he didn't even wait for them to release the ladder for everyone to go down but jumped to the ground next to her, and she laughed "i bring you so many gifts, almost spent all the money on you." she hugged him and he put his jacket on her shoulders. "welcome home, hajime!”

they stood like that for a while until voices began to be heard behind them. "lady y/n always waits for our captain, isn't that cute sakura?" that's what suo hayato said, the eye-patched boy who didn't want to say why he was wearing it, but everyone has their secrets anyway, "i think sakura is just sick again." akihiko nirei said the small blonde boy as they looked at sakura haruka who was all red, umemiya had mentioned to her that he blushes easily when someone shows affection in front of him. nevertheless, all of his crew liked her, and were glad that their captain was so happy and full of energy...except for one person, and that was hiragi toma. he knew there was more to her than she let on, something more behind that smile and he would do his best to find out who she really was, and why she made his best friend fall madly in love with her. and she behaved nicely with everyone, she behaved like a human being. she sensed that he didn't like her for some reason, and desperately hoped he didn't know she wasn't human. but apparently, people are like that, there are types like umemiya, and hiragi. but she didn't blame him, maybe if she had been born with limbs and lungs she would have reacted the same way and hated sirens. humans too must understand that every living organism survives differently, because they may have done a lot for the world, but the world will do nothing for them, not when monsters from the deep are hot on their heels. "my pearl, are you hungry?"

she broke eye contact with hiragi when her lover asked her the question, and she snuggled into him even more, feeling the warmth his jacket gave off, but also his strong shoulders covered in scars...scars and wounds. "umemiya hajime why didn't you tell me first that you have wounds?" there was no time for food, not when he was so badly wounded, and she was always worried when he sailed away, the question was not whether he would bring her gifts, but whether he would make it home alive. they quickly settled into the little house he bought, not just for her but for him as well. this was their place, and it was close to the bay in case the magic that kept her human wore off. it was all taken care of, but now she was thinking about how to take care of him. "couldn't you be more careful? what if it was the sirens, there's no getting away from them." he sat at the end of the bed and she between his legs applying bandages and plasters. and again that gentle smile appeared, though his hair was down and slightly obscured his eyes, he could see it perfectly "only your song can enchant me, darling." how he could say such things when he wanted to, she didn't know, but she liked it. "i'm glad to know that, but please take care. you're my one and only love."

pirate captain!umemiya hajime watched as she carefully treated his wounds, her fingers trembling slightly when he suddenly hugged her waist, pulling her closer until she lost her balance and fell on top of him on the bed. his strong arms wrapped around her as he began to plant kisses all over her face "my pretty girl, i have missed you so much," he murmured between kisses, his lips finding hers once, twice, and then again as if he couldn’t get enough. she smiled into the kiss, feeling the depth of his love. "i missed you too," she whispered back, her heart beating fast.

but their tender moment was interrupted by a knock on the door. she sighed and gently pushed herself up. "rest for now, i’ll go see who it is," she said softly, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead before slipping out of the bed.

when she opened the door, she was greeted by hiragi toma and kaji ren. hiragi’s expression changed the moment he saw her, his smile fading into a frown. "tell umemiya dinner is in two hours," he muttered, his tone distant and cold. he didn’t wait for a response before turning on his heel and walking away, leaving kaji to give her a small nod while nibbling on a sweet treat. she closed the door slowly, the hurt evident in her eyes.

as she turned, umemiya was already behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her close. "mmm, we have two hours," he whispered, his voice teasing as he nuzzled her neck. "sounds nice, yeah?" but she wasn’t in the mood, the sting of hiragi’s behavior still fresh, "why doesn’t your first mate like me? does he kno—" her voice faltered as her lover gently turned her around to face him.

"no one knows besides me, and no one will know, okay? I will keep you safe," he assured her as she exhaled heavily. "i just want to be held forever in your arms, hajime. i don't want to lose you.” she hugged him and wouldn't let him go, and he stroked her hair gently, reassuring her that he would never let anything separate them. “it's okay, cry it out. i’m here.” it was also hard sometimes, seeing someone dislike her or the way they treated her. hiragi toma clearly showed this when the captain was not around them. she calmed down, no more tears, and looked up at umemiya, her beaming smile once again making its way onto her pretty face. and to him, it didn't matter if she was a siren or a human — her heart was the same in both forms.

“there, love. you are more beautiful with a smile on.” he wiped away her tears with his thumbs, kissing her forehead "and now we have two hours, let's rest.”

pirate captain!umemiya hajime felt her move and got out of bed, apparently two hours had passed and it was time for dinner. he put his hand over his eyes and rubbed them before opening them to see her in the same white dress. no matter how many clothes he had bought for her, it was obvious that this one was her favorite, and just for that, there was a little gift for her, something that would go together perfectly. he also got up and started rummaging through his luggage until he found a small box, he wished there was an engagement ring inside but for now, the pearl necklace would do.

she was looking at herself in the mirror fixing her hair and he was behind her with his hands behind his back hiding the little red box. they made eye contact through their reflections in the glass and she put down the brush and turned around. “do you want me to comb your hair too?” he didn't say anything at all, he just put his hands out from behind and she saw the box. "what is this?”

“it's for you, one of the few things you deserve." and she was worth more than anything, and one day, perhaps very soon, he would truly make her his bride. she was a little confused. still, she took the box and opened it, and in it was a necklace with sparkling white pearls, her eyes just widened, and then she looked at her lover. he noticed her pupils dilating. “hajime, you shouldn't have, i don't know what to say,” the pearls were in her hands. she was touching them and looking at them, they were real and she knew it must have cost him a lot, for such quality. "my little pearl, you don't have to say anything, just let me love you.” he picked up a necklace and motioned with his eyes for her to turn her back on him again, taking her hair so he could put the necklace on. she heard the sound of the clasp. she let go of her hair, and his hands squeezed her waist. 

“it matches your dress and i’m sure it will match your tail too!” he put his head on top of hers but as much as he wanted to stay here with her, he had to eat or he would pass out "now let's go eat, i'm starving.” leaving the house hand in hand, they went to join the others.

the restaurant was full but that didn't stop the pirates from getting special service, after all, they were the heroes of the town and probably many others. pirate captain!umemiya hajime had put one arm around her, and her head was resting on his shoulder, and with his other hand, he held a glass of liquor. how can you not love to eat in such fine company? they were all talking and laughing among themselves, but one man was not amused at all, his gaze fixed on her. it was strange to him how she didn't eat at all, and if she did it would be very little. she did not touch meat, especially fish. he remembered when umemiya said she just didn't like eating in front of people. another time is when everyone was in the water but her. the captain said that she was scared and had a phobia. it all sounded ridiculous to hiragi. just what and who is she? he swirled his glass, the ice melting rapidly into the yellow-brown drink. ice. dissolving in water. he stopped his hand and the ice melted completely as he looked at her. so that was her secret, huh? it all made sense now, the dots were connecting — she was a mermaid, or a siren. and there was one way for him to find that out.

but he would not act at once, he would wait a little longer, and watch some more. "sir, are you okay?" kaji asked sitting next to him and the older one quickly shifted his gaze to the boy. "don't worry, everything is under control." two, three, maybe more hours passed and nothing interesting happened. she never left umemiya's side, nor did she get up from her seat. and just because of that, hiragi will make her stand. everything was planned to perfection. one of the good parts of being a pirate, or a sailor in general. they act the second there is a threat.

and then the chance came, almost too easily. she shifted in her seat, a movement that drew his attention. hiragi rose from his chair, he moved until he was just next to her. the glass of water in his hand felt cool, its contents sloshing as he pretended to stumble, ‘accidentally’ spilling the liquid, splashing across her clothes and skin. the shock of it caused her to gasp, her body jerking upright. she looked up at him, her eyes wide with surprise, and then over at umemiya, whose expression had shifted from having fun to being in panic.

"y/n?" her lover asked, his voice laced with worry, but she didn’t answer. she was already standing, her breath coming in shallow, panicked gasps. hiragi watched her closely, smirking, his heart pounding in his chest, as she began to tremble. this was it. the moment of truth. without a word, she turned and bolted from the table, her feet carrying her out of the restaurant and toward the docks, as she must have run faster than she swam. the others exchanged glances, unsure of what had just happened, but the captain knew, and so did his first mate now. umemiya followed her, his eyes narrowing as he noticed the faint shimmer of something on her skin—scales. the transformation was beginning.

as she reached the docks, her breath came in like whimpers and panting, her ears sharpening to point a set of fins on each side, and those shimmering scales began to spread across her body. panic surged through her as she realized what was happening. her lungs tightened, her chest heaving as if the very air around her was turning toxic. there was only one escape, one place where she could breathe—beneath the waves.

throwing herself into the water, as she tore the dress away, the cool embrace of the ocean swallowing her whole. for a moment, there was only silence, the ripples on the surface of the water the only evidence of her presence. but then she heard it—the voices of those she loved, calling out to her, urging her to come back. and then, cutting through the others, hiragi's voice.

"why are you all confused?" he said, his tone sharp, carrying across the water. "don’t you know by now? she is a monster." umemiya’s reaction was horrifying, his fear and worry turned to anger as he stepped forward, glaring at him. "hiragi, you don't know what you're talking about!"

the younger pirates, suo, sakura, akihiko, and kaji, watched the two men in silence, their eyes darting between their captain and quartermaster.

"she put a spell on you, umemiya," hiragi continued, his voice growing more insistent. "that's why your behavior is different. she’s been controlling you, manipulating you."

“enough!” umemiya's voice was a low growl, but there was venom in his words. turning toward the water, he called out, "you don't know anything about her, she has done absolutely nothing to me. i am the one who fell in love with her." for a moment there was nothing. but then, slowly, she emerged from the water, her head breaking the surface. her eyes were wide with fear as she looked at the dock, now crowded with both the pirates and townsfolk who had been drawn by the commotion.

“lady y/n is—” suo started to say, but the first mate cut him off, “a siren.” his voice was cold and sure.

everyone was shocked except umemiya and hiragi. the citizens were disgusted by the girl whose voice they found to be art, something perfectly exquisite like herself, and she had lied to them all along. was this what they deserved after all they had given her? the old sailors and men stood behind the women and children until a small girl went to see what was going on in the water "big sister y/n is a princess! i knew she had magic-" but her mother quickly pulled her by the arm "she's no princess! don't you dare look at her, cover your ears right away!” the siren's heart was breaking as she watched the humans turn hostile towards her, and she looked at the captain. "hajime, please i-" if her heart was broken, she didn't want to know what was this doing to him. the secret they so closely guarded was revealed, and if she could drown herself, she would. "are you blind? crazy? how can you let yourself be with such a thing?” a liar, monster, freak — a killer. that was her for hiragi, that was her for everyone now. and the captain whom they all admired fell in their sight. but they preferred to have mercy on him, because he was the bewitched.

pirate captain!umemiya hajime looked at her, and she saw the emotions in his eyes. he was not enchanted by her song, maybe in small percentages, but he really loved her. but they did not know this. they didn't know the way she loved him, she treated him, and she cared. she felt like a human. alas, they didn't know that she meant them no harm. the moon was full again, and her tail began to glow, as did the scale he kept, now tucked in the inside pocket of his jacket. "swim," he turned and called to her "swim away, from this sea to the last, where only i can find you." she didn't have a minute to waste, she'd rather be killed by her sisters or some other monster than by a human. "you look like you're out of your mind, captain," shouted the men's voices "do you want to kill us too?" to some extent he wanted to because they were threatening someone precious to him, more precious than himself.

hiragi raised his hand to signal, and before the siren could get far a fishing net caught her and she became entangled in it. umemiya's anger could only grow, he was furious, but he held back as much as possible. "let her go, now." his gaze was fierce now, his blue eyes deeper than the depths of the ocean, his teeth were grinding, his heart was beating too fast, but before he could attack the hiragi, two muscular men stopped him. "will you let a murderer like her go free? her race has killed many of us and you ... want a life with her?" two pumped-up guys couldn't stop him umemiya hajime he's not the legend of the seven seas for nothing. with all his might he pushed them away and went to hiragi and grabbed him by the collar "just one hair, one scale has fallen from her. i will kill you." hiragi couldn't believe what he was saying, such a sensible and wise captain, turned into a little selfish boy. "and killing me won't change reality. pull yourself together." then he hit the captain, very hard on the cheek, knocking the pirate captain off balance.

the blow sent umemiya stumbling, but his rage only grew. he straightened himself, wiping the blood from his mouth, his eyes burning. "you don’t understand anything. she’s not what you think."

"she’s a killer!" hiragi roared back, pushing himself to his feet and charging at umemiya. the two men collided again, their bodies crashing together as the captain’s gists flew, each strike to protect her. but the first mate wasn’t the one to also back down, landing blows of his own, and soon both men were covered in blood—umemiya’s, hiragi’s, and some that wasn’t even theirs. as the fight raged on, his mind flashed back to her—her smile, the way she looked at him, the tenderness in her touch. she wasn’t like the stories. she was more human than anyone he had ever met.

the sound of her scream pierced through the air, and his body went rigid as the sound echoed in his ears. it was a scream of agony, of unbearable pain. his eyes snapped to the water, where she was still tangled in the net, but now something far worse was happening.

hiragi’s men had her pinned, and they were ripping her scales from her body. her shimmering, glowing scales, the reason for her power, were being torn away, piece by piece. each one that was removed sent a fresh wave of blood into the water, staining it a deep red. her cries grew more desperate, more heart-wrenching with every passing second. umemiya's breath caught in his throat. "no…" he couldn’t bear it. he couldn’t watch as they tortured her, as they stripped her of her very life force.

"stop it!" he shouted, his voice cracking as he shoved hiragi away. the men around him were no match for his fury, as he rushed toward the dock where she was held, his heart racing, every instinct in him screaming to get to her. but hiragi wasn’t done. he grabbed umemiya by the collar, dragging him back. "you’re a fool!" he bellowed. "she’s a siren! they’ve killed us, killed your family…and you—"

umemiya spun, his fist connecting with the other pirate’s jaw. "you are the monster, all of you are!" he roared, "she’s not what you think. she cares about me, about all of us! you don’t see her for who she really is." but hiragi wasn’t finished. "you’ll regret this, umemiya," he hissed, wiping the blood from his split lip. "you’re throwing your life away for a monster."

"one more scale," pirate captain!umemiya hajime growled, grabbing hiragi again, and pulling him close, he didn't care that a whole decade ago the boat that his parents got on crashed in the siren's territory ."one more drop of her blood falls, it's over for you."

and hiragi stared at him, stunned. this wasn’t the rational, level-headed captain he had known. this was someone driven by insanity. but before either of them could act further, another scream tore through the night, and this time it was louder. it was her voice, filled with unbearable pain. umemiya’s heart shattered at the sound, and without another word, he released hiragi, letting him collapse to the ground.

he turned and ran to the dock, his bloodied hands trembling as he reached the edge where she was held. the moonlight illuminated the water, and there she was—her glowing scales now dim, her body trembling as the men ripped more from her. blood seeped from the wounds, her tears mixing with the saltwater as she cried out. the siren wanted to sing, but a cloth was placed over her mouth to silence her.

 “y/n…no.” in his most powerful rage he knocked out the pirates who caused it. she was shaking all over, physically and mentally injured, and he sat down next to her and removed the towel and she could breathe again, somewhat. he hugged her and didn't care that his white clothes were turning scarlet. "my love, i'm here… it's me." she had no voice, lost it, and everything about her was torn out. it was crueler than her drowning a sailor, mankind was crueler than any sea creature. but only one person showed her what it was like to be one. “ha-” in her attempts to speak, blood came out of her mouth and he put his hand over to wipe it. "my lovely siren. don't speak, don't sing, i’ve heard enough.” the beauty she possessed until a little while ago was gone. it neither sparkled nor glowed, the life in her dying out, but not before she heard footsteps and voices, and she and the captain turned away. it was hiragi and the young sailors, "sir, this is too-"

"don't interfere." hiragi spoke but umemiya didn't want to see him, he didn't want to beat his fellow brother, and he did the best he could — to jump into danger. he got up and quickly grabbed her carrying her like a real bride and jumped into the water which shocked everyone again. there was only one place he could go while swimming underwater with her, luckily the water breathing effect was still working but he could feel its weakening. she was growing weak. a little more, a little more and they are there. she had to hold on a little longer. they floated to the surface, and he swam to the sand. where he saw her for the second time, where he fell in love. he let her body lie, he couldn't look at her like that, but she was still his siren. and she was looking at the night sky with tears in her eyes, stretching her hands to it. the moon, that beautiful moon that was supposed to keep their secret, revealed them to everyone. "the sky is…" the voice still had that honeyed ring to it, but she forced herself to speak "it's beautiful, isn't it hajime?" he took her hand and but she still did not look at him. 

"please y/n…stay with me. please i can't lose you i don't want to." he was crying too, tears mixing with his blood, he tasted the iron but he didn't care. gripping her hand, feeling how the strength was leaving her. "no, no, my love. i'm here please don't…" then something lit up hellishly on his chest, so bright and alive. he realized ... the scale, the last shining scale.

and she looked up at him, smiling through the pain, clutching his hand with her last strength. "make a wish and i will grant it." it was too quiet what she said but as much as she could "come on, captain. don't keep a lady waiting." that made him smile, and he was still holding her hand. "i'll never keep you waiting. i promised you I'd keep you safe, i failed. i promised you i'd love you, i always will." she closed her eyes, and the scale in his hand glowed brighter. she was currently pouring all of her remaining energy, life, and magic into fulfilling his wish. but what was he to wish for? a happy life with her, for him to give a part of his life to her, to become a male mermaid, to make her forever...human. yes, that's exactly what it was. human, she would become human and nothing more would happen. they will run away, and live happily ever after, maybe with two children? it depends on her. and he will cook delicious feasts for her, without fish meat of course, but when she is human will she still mind that? he would think about that another time. he looked at the scale, then at her, and without hesitation, said his wish.

“make her a human for the rest of her life, make everyone forget about her siren life until they die.”

pirate captain!umemiya hajime said these words, but nothing happened. maybe the wish couldn't come true because she didn't have as much strength as before. but then the magic happened, the sea was pulling her in and he didn't want to let go of her hand, but the waves were stronger, even in the shallows. her body was starting to glow from deep within, and he just watched. he was scared, he didn't know exactly what such a wish could do. the water was rough, just like the two of them and their feelings, their lives. he got up from the sand and ran into the brightness, and then she, his beautiful siren, had not a scar, not a drop of blood, no tail and scales, and the gills had disappeared. instead, she had legs, most likely normal human organs as well. she was finally a real human. she looked around, clenching and unclenching her fists, splashing the water with her feet, breathing with her lungs. she finally saw with human eyes, the man who made her change, the man she owed and gave her life, only for him to give her a new one.

she ran to him in all her naked beauty and jumped in his arms. "hajime!" she was crying with joy, she couldn't believe what was happening. she looked into his eyes before kissing him. their lips met softly, her tears mingling with the kiss, a silent promise for keeping this love forever. he hugged her so tightly, he responded so lovingly, and it was as if time stopped. it did stop, she couldn't feel the warmth of his lips nor his strong grip. the world became black and white, the movement of the water, the rays of the moonlight stopped. "what-" she was very confused and worried "what's going on? hajime, love, can you hear me?" but he couldn't hear her, he was frozen in time, in that frame. was this what the wish was capable of? she didn't know, it was the first time she was doing something like this. and then everything sped up, and she hugged him again, and the world took on color again. "it doesn't matter as long as you're with me."

"excuse me, young lady...but who are you?" her heart stopped. why is he asking such a ridiculous question after all this. "stop joking, hajime." he tilted his head looking at her curiously "i'm flattered you know my name." his hands still held her, firmly but not so affectionately. "but that doesn't explain why a beauty like you is naked in my arms?" she laughed, giggled, missing him joking too, "hajime, you're not funny at all, stop it!" but he didn't answer, just kept looking at her and smiled slightly. he did not know how or why she was in the water, and why she was completely naked and embracing him. but somehow it felt familiar yet so far away. he looked at her some more, she had beautiful eyes, nice and distinctive features, soft hair, but her smile quickly turned down. "have we met before?"

pirate captain!umemiya hajime was now feeling dizzy as if something very important had been taken away from him. what he was doing in the water, and why was some unknown girl crying in his arms. "miss?" this made her cry even more, hugging him tighter. as she felt the pearl necklace slip from her neck, one by one the white gems began to fall from the string. he promised to love her forever, but not when her true self disappeared and would never come back. the siren he fell in love with would never come back. his memories will forever be lost in time because that was the price of being kissed by a siren, such were the consequences of using one's scale.

please leave a like and reblog, when you reach this! much appreciated!

taglist :: @maruflix @heartkaji @stunie @17020 @nyxypoo @slerixx @meidiary @mydream-synopsis @httpshujii @yueliie @kazuhaiku

©2024 kaiser1ns do not copy, repost or modify my work

[kookslastbutton]

Too Late to Dream ༓ jjk (m) II ch. II

✑ Summary: You did it. You married your college professor. You even bought a house together. Against all odds, everything had fallen into place. But after two years of marriage, you begin feeling something was missing. You want a baby but your husband can’t say the same.

Pairing: economics professor!jungkook x fem!artist!reader

AU/Genre: angst, smut, fluff, marriage au, age gap, series

Rating: M, 18+

Word Count: 5,044

Warnings: 8-year age gap, flashbacks of professor-student relationship (oc was a Masters student), fighting, pent-up issues/desires, jk has daddy issues, mentions of therapy, kookie trying to be a good husband, cute coupley stuff that idk anyone will like but 🥺 👉👈, jk says cawk , idk why this is a warning

Now Playing: Make It Right, Tryna Be, Infinity, It Will Rain, Heaven+

A/N: Hi guys! I'm back! I thought I'd start off with a little flashback and then diving back into the story. Also, big thing–I decided not to make jk a complete butt. I don't want this story to be about "jk finally coming around after treating oc like garbage for wanting a kid". It's more of a we'll figure-it-out-together kinda thing though there will be bumps in the road. Anyway, enjoy 🥰

<< ch.I ༓ ch. III >> | series masterlist

To say falling in love with Jungkook was an effortless, butterflies-in-your-tummy, love-at-first-sight, you-know-it-when-you-see-it sort of affair is far from the truth. In actuality, you and Jungkook met on a very normal basis and had very normal rapport…well, somewhat normal.

Jungkook was your economics professor in grad school and you were merely one out of eighty of his students during the first semester. Surely you'd be walking out with no more than a barely scrimmaged 'A' and remnants of stupid economics jokes he and his colleagues found slapstick funny.

Jungkook always had an interesting sense of humor.

Bottom line? Your life wasn't a drama and you certainly didn't plan on living like it was–especially when your parents were on your tail, making sure their hard-earned money was well spent.

As if being bonked on the head by something called fate, however, Jungkook sent you away with far more than odd jokes and good grades.

Hey, hindsight is 20/20.

four years ago

“Oh, good morning.” A soft, yet hoarse voice strides past you. You view the man, estimating that he be in his early 30s though could easily pass for 25 by his youthful appearance. His hair is black, a bit shaggy but well-kept nonetheless. Silver piercings dangle from his ears and a pair of rectangular glasses rest on his perfectly symmetrical face. This is your professor?

Undoubtedly, what mesmerizes you the most is the striking arm tattoo partially displayed under the rolled-up sleeves of his dress shirt. You remember temporarily considering tattoo artistry in high school but studio arts appealed to you more.

Not like you got to do either though, seeing as you’ve been stuck in econ for the fifth year in a row. You’re parents insisted you get your master’s immediately after undergrad…how wonderful for you.

But back to the man at the front of the room. You weren’t expecting someone so hip and attractive–very, very attractive.

Your stomach churns but you brush the feeling away.

He's your professor for god sake.

The man, coincidentally your professor, quirks a small smile your way and sets his bag on the podium at the front. “Didn’t expect anyone to be here for another twenty minutes.”

“I just got out of another class a couple of rooms down so I’m here early.” You straighten in your seat and return a smile of your own. “It’s nice to meet you Dr. Jeon. I’m Y/N.” You start bouncing your leg up and down, clicking the pen in your hand. Please be right, please be right, you chant silently, hoping you remembered the name correctly.

Jungkook notices your slightly restless state but he doesn’t say anything about it.

“Just to be sure, you are here for ECON 602 right? Macroeconomic Theory?” He unzips his bag and sets his laptop on the podium. Making brief eye contact, he catches sight of the piece of paper directly below your nose. “That’s a beautiful sketch.”

You glance down, moving the paper to the side as if embarrassed. Not many people see your work beyond close friends, and even then you like to keep it to yourself. “Yes, absolutely,” you reply. “ECON 602, 12:15 pm. And thanks, I draw as a hobby.”

Your professor hums, nodding as he connects the HDMI cable to his laptop and lowers the presentation board.“ Dr. Kim is going to be quite jealous when he hears such artistic talent is in my economics class.” He lets out a slight chuckle. “You don’t mind if I tell him, do you? A little competition we have going on.”

You snort at the comment.

Dr. Kim Taehyung was the art department’s most talked about professor. Everyone knew him for his extremely unique perspective, classy personality, as well as his breathtaking artwork. You’ve passed him in the hallways a number of times, wishing you could study under him and dare you say, in more ways than one.

“I don’t mind.” You shake your head. “Are you and Dr. Kim close?” Maybe you shouldn’t be this curious but it was now fifteen minutes until the start of class and no one else had shown. What else were you going to fill time with? Awkward silence while you watch your professor fumble and tap on his keyboard?

“We were colleagues if you can believe that.” He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Only two years ahead of me in undergrad. When I first started teaching here I had no idea he was here too. But you know what they say __, it’s a small world.”

“Smaller,” you retort. “I feel like everywhere I go I run into someone I’ve known or seen at some point in my life. You just never really know I guess.” When you first entered university, you were counting your lucky stars that most of your high school peers were attending college nearby your hometown. You on the other hand were a good five to six hours from home. Last you checked, however, half of those peers were now getting married or on their second kid. Crazy how some people’s lives change on a dime.

You watch as your professor shuffles a few sheets of paper in his hands, scanning them briefly. “I can relate to that,” he mutters. “Pretty sure we haven’t met before though. Could be a bigger world than we think. Now where’s everyone else? Didn’t all drop last minute did they?” The man lifts his head, flashing a big gorgeous grin. His eyes are playful and dance with mirth.“Not that I would mind if it were just you and I this whole semester.“

“uh–“ is embarrassingly, all you say. He isn’t implying anything by that right? Oh god __, don’t be stupid. As you've established, this isn’t a romance novel and you’re most definitely not the main character.

“You seem attentive is what I mean,” the man says, breaking you out of your daze. “And beyond punctual. Two qualities that I hold in high esteem.” You’d say he had a tiny smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth but it was likely an illusion. Your professor has bigger fish to fry than worry about any possible scenarios you’ve concocted in your silly head.

Still, in a moment of sheer thoughtlessness, you say something you regret being unable to retract. “Thank you, I like you too.” As soon as the words fly out you feel the need to run out and bang your head against the wall. Thinking on your feet wasn’t your specialty.

Little to your knowledge, Jungkook finds your mannerisms cute and stifles the temptation to tease. You’re his student, after all, a little professionally please, he repeats to himself.

“So are you from here?” Jungkook asks, choosing to switch the topic before both of you get swallowed into a messy situation.

You shake your head in denial. “I live here temporarily but I grew up about five hours north of here. My parents are still there.”

“Ah, well that’s a bit away. I imagine you miss them?”

You ponder the question for a second, eyes rolling up in contemplation. “From time to time.” Jungkook gives a knowing look. He’s had his share of familial drama and the need for space.

“I understand,” he says. “I grew up ten hours south myself.”

“Wow, that’s…far.” You’re surprised by the distance and can’t imagine it’s an easy commute. You wonder how long he’s been here and more so, if he’s here alone.

“Yeah.” He rests his palms on the edge of the podium, leaning on them gently. The protruding veins in his forearms catch your attention but you pry yourself from lingering. After what you said earlier, the last thing you want is for Dr. Jeon to think you're coming on to him. “Gets a little quiet sometimes but I’ve learned to live with it.”

As if immune to learning from your mistakes you blurt exactly what’s in your head.“So you’re not–“

“Married? Dating? Seeing someone?” Jungkook finishes your sentence like it’s nothing he hasn’t done tenfold times before. “No. I’m not.”

You give a small “Ah,” nodding in understanding before another classmate walks in, putting an abrupt end to the conversation. Jungkook is quick to greet the young man who’s joined but he’s certain he won’t be forgetting your name anytime soon.

present

You tilt your head back, allowing beads of hot water to run down your bare skin. The sound of steady pattering combined with heavy steam relaxes your muscles.

You can't believe you actually told him.

Blurting out to Jungkook that you wanted a baby in the middle of a fight is not how you intended to open up to your husband. But everything escalated so fast that it just came out.

You think back to last night’s events.

Once the movie's credit scenes appear Jungkook feels your eyes burn through him from your lounged position. "You're making that face again," he says.

"There's no face."

"Look," Jungkook cuts shortly. "Will you just tell me so we can deal with it?!"

"Just deal with it? Like it's some kind of nuisance of an issue that needs treatment?" You jump up from the couch and head to your bedroom in a fury, your husband hot on your trail.

"I don't mean to be pissing you off, sweetheart but I know something's up." He follows you into the bathroom, watching you reach for your toothbrush. "Can you please slow down and talk to me?" He grabs the toothpaste before you can, forcing you to stop in your tracks.

"I–I want…I want to be a mom. I want a baby."

"A baby? What do you mean you want a baby?" You see the panic settling in his eyes. Jungkook takes you into his arms, his thumb wipes off some of your tears. "Honey, I'm sorry I didn't know. When you came home from the park I didn't realize that little boy meant so much to you."

You try blinking back your tears but they keep running down your face. He's being gentle with you and you appreciate that but his choice of words tells you his answer is no. It's quiet, subtle, and cuts like a knife.

You break away from him to splash cold water on your face. The coolness calms your nerves. “He didn’t. Never–never mind what I said, sorry. I’m tired and I’m probably not thinking straight.”

It was a blatant lie but just look at your situation. Married for two years, still on birth control, and had no plans to change that. Suddenly one party diverts from the plan fully aware that the other is perfectly comfortable with the current plan.

Yes, you hoped he'd have a slightly better reaction but you don't blame him for his stunned look.

Plus, did you even have enough time to realize what you were saying? Feeling? It could easily be written off that you were simply impulsive, emotionally vulnerable, and so on with the track record you had regarding kids and parenting.

You sigh, bitter aftertaste in your mouth.

Not much else happened after the fight. Jungkook apologized again with his arms wrapped around your waist. He snuggled his nose in the crook of your neck and kissed your cheek too.

It was the usual, it felt familiar and warm but the pang in your head put a roadblock to that. No marriage is perfect. You know that. But you have a feeling you and Jungkook are headed for a steep valley, both on opposing sides.

"Hi.” You’re taken out of your thoughts when you hear the shower door pop open. Your husband steps in, with messy hair and half-open lids. Evidently, still sleepy.

You spare him a glance and quickly reach for your body wash on the shelf. “Hi,” you reply back, voice monotone.

Jungkook moves closer behind you and curves an arm around you. He grabs the bottle out of your hand and squirts some of the soap into his palm. “How did you sleep?”

A small shiver runs up your spine when his cool hand rubs circles against your upper back and shoulder. It still feels nice, you admit. You see some of the soap drip down and hit the shower floor.

“I slept okay. You?”

“I’m about the same.” Jungkook moves his hand a little lower, making sure to cover your whole backside. “I’m really sorry about how I handled things last night. What I said and how I said it was inexcusable.”

“Please, Jungkook you don’t have to keep apologizing about it. I know…and I’m sorry I spurred it on you so suddenly. It’s not how I wanted you to find out.” if at all, you add to yourself.

“Is it still true?” he asks, stopping his movements. “Do you really want to start a family?”

You feel queasy all over again. His tone is serious and if you turn around you’ll likely see the fire in his eyes. So you remain in your position, facing towards the shower head.

“I don’t know…” you finally say after thirty seconds of eerie silence. “But I think I do, I really do. Seeing our friends and other people our age have kids makes me wonder if we’d ever have that. I can’t explain why right now. I know it’s unexpected after we’ve been living a sort of way for so long.” After another pause you continue. “But I know it’s not a mutual thing and that’s…okay.”

“Sweetheart, even if we were to have kids…where would we find the time? The school year’s starting soon and I’m gonna be running ragged at the university next week. You know my schedule. I teach Monday through Friday, leaving at 7:15 am and returning around 4 p.m. You leave for work a little later in the morning but get back at 5 p.m. All our week consists of will be eating a quick dinner together, then I have to squirrel away to my office for the night to review class notes and grade stacks of assignments.”

Though you’re aware of how crazy busy Jungkook gets during the school year, you’re not foolish enough to believe that is the root of his argument.

“Maybe you’re right that we don’t have much time now but Jungkook, we can figure it out. You only teach 9 months out of the year and I can–I can stay at home or we can hire a nanny. And we don’t have to do it right away but–“

“__.” Jungkook turns you around so you’re looking eye to eye. He hesitates to say his next words, fearing a replay of yesterday. But he can’t bring himself to pretend with you. Not on something this serious. “I understand and I want more than anything to tell you I want the same, but I can't lie to you. Being a father, and having a kid, I think it’s wonderful but I just never saw that for myself. I’m so sorry I–”

Your heart concaves into your chest. You absolutely want him to be honest but it pains you to hear. Where do you go from here?

Slowly, you wrap your arms around his neck. Jungkook jolts a bit, surprised by your sudden gesture but welcomes the embrace.

“It’s okay Jungkook.” You settle your head into his shoulder, simply wanting to be close. One tear spills out, then another. “It’s okay.”

“No, look at me __. You didn’t let me finish.” You lift your head from his shoulder. Jungkook strokes your back soothingly before continuing. “If this is what you want, then I’m not going to stand here and be the asshole husband that just dismisses it. But this is a big step.”

You shake your head in disbelief. “Don’t say what I think you are. Jungkook you don’t have to do anything.”

“I’m not saying I change my mind.” Of course, that would be unrealistic, you talk yourself through, preparing for his next words. “However, I am–I am willing to seriously consider this whole thing, babies, diapers, strollers, all of it. But I need you to be sure that this is what you want. And the only way I think that can happen is if we start this slow. Sounds like I’m making some sappy speech huh?”

Jungkook cracks a faint smile.

You look like you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop or for him to yell psyche and flick your forehead or something.

But none of that happens.

Instead, Jungkook unwraps one of your arms from around your neck, places a light kiss on your knuckles, and stares deep into your eyes as if making a promise. “I know this isn’t exactly heaven to your ears but I’m just trying to say, let’s not rush to a decision yet, okay? All of this did just get revealed yesterday and I think it’d be unfair to both of us if we scurry past it without thinking.”

Shocked. You’re utterly shocked. You were expecting him to give you a flat-out no or attempt to cover up the issue somehow. While, this isn’t your ideal outcome, if Jungkook is willing to take this seriously, no bullshit necessary, then so are you.

“Thank you, Jungkook.” You smile at him, feeling a tad lighter than you did before. Your heart beats again, slow and steady. “I love you.”

“I love you more than anything __. I married you and I intend to keep it that way.” Jungkook sneaks a wink and you press a kiss to his lips.

“Hey,” you pipe up. “It’s Sunday isn’t it?”

Jungkook nods in confusion. “It is..?”

“You have somewhere to be this morning don’t you?” You wait a moment before an oh-shit expression forms on Jungkook’s face.

As you remember your husband was supposed to be at some fancy gold club today. Like Jimin, a certain Kim Taehyung had his weekly “thing” too. Being close friends, Jungkook was supposed to be there, along with Hoseok.

“‘You're so right. 'M sorry honey I gotta go. They’re gonna kill me." Jungkook gives you one last kiss before slipping out of the shower. "I’ll be back for dinner.”

“Jungkook! Where the fuck have you been? We tried calling you!” Taehyung is the first to speak as soon as he catches sight of the younger man. He has his usual blush pink polo shirt on paired with well-pressed beige shorts.

He looks a little too handsome for golf.

Jungkook’s secretly glad his wife stayed home this time, as he’s fully aware of her mini crush on Taehyung in school. When she first found out they were colleagues he could tell she had borderline stars in her eyes.

“Sorry sorry,” Jungkook says. “I was doing stuff and time escaped me. Plus, I didn’t have my phone near me for a bit. But I’m here now, so let’s get going!” Jungkook walks in front of the two men, heading for the first stage of the golf course. “You guys coming?” He turns around and lifts both arms up.

Taehyung and Hoseok exchange looks before following his lead. It’s unlike Jungkook to be this eager for golf. In fact, he hates golf. And his explanation is a bit…questionable.

As much as Hoseok is a friend, he is also just as much of a psychologist who can't stop himself from practicing his craft when given the chance. “You doing alright?” Hoseok waits for Jungkook to answer, one hand clings around the top of his golf club while the other settles around his hip. "Haven't seen you since Jimin's last dinner.”

"Yeah, I'm good," Jungkook barely replies, watching Taehyung practice and few swings before taking the shot. Like a prodigy, it sinks right in. "Hole in one again man? I thought you painted."

Taehyung glances over his shoulder with a smug expression, cocky smirk, and sunglasses behind his head. "Don't be too jealous of hyung, Jungkookie."

"Fuck off Tae," Jungkook quips back. "I'm not 22 anymore. I have a good job, nice house, and a gorgeous wife waiting for me at home. What do you have? A bunch of golf balls in your pants.”

Hmm, a little more defensive than usual, Hoseok notes. And guarded too, something’s up.

"About that wife of yours Kook," Hoseok drawls. "How she doing?" Jungkook turns towards the man, slight distaste on his face.

“Uh, she’s fine. Thanks for asking. Also, I know what you’re doing and I’m not in the mood.”

"Ah Jungkook, you act like I'm being so malicious.” Smiling, Hoseok continues. “Can't I care about my friend of ten years without such accusations?"

Jungkook sighs and kicks the grass. Hoseok has been one of his closest friends for a long time so if there's anyone worth talking to about his current situation and who'd understand, I'd be him. "Well, I’m not saying much right now but.....__ recently told me she wants a baby. I’m still–I'm having trouble processing it. But I’m trying.”

Hoseok throws a hand behind the younger's shoulder. “That’s big news Jungkook and it’s completely fine that you’re still working through it. Don’t feel like you have to speed up the process either. I’ve known you both long enough to know that parenting hasn’t really been in the cards until now so I’m surprised myself.”

“I think she’s still a little unsure, but something happened the other day and it struck a cord inside her. She wants a family and,” Jungkook steps to the side, and Hoseok's hand slips from his shoulder. “I wish I could tell her I want it too. But I can't lie to her like that. I also don’t want her to bury that desire for my sake, so I told her we could consider it. I don’t know man, I feel like I’m trying to do the right thing but I don’t know if I can do this. Will I ever change my mind? I want to, for her.”

Hoseok looks at his friend with soft eyes, compassion in them. “Unfortunately, this is not something you can foresee nor force. At least not this early. But you’re definitely doing the right thing by not brushing her off. As real as your feelings are about not wanting a child right now, so are __'s feelings. It’s best you listen to both sides.”

Jungkook tousles his hair around. “I just–fuck.”

Hoseok doesn’t need further explanation to understand Jungkook’s predicament. He’s frustrated, blames himself, and is struggling to come to terms with reality. The unknown scares him and he doesn’t want to lose control of what little he has. “I’m sorry, Kook…it’s a heavy load. Why don't you come in for a session sometime? I think this might be something worth talking through."

“You mean therapy? I don't know, I’m about to have a pretty tight with school starting.”

"One hour, forty minutes at least," Hoseok insists. "Why not try it once and if you don't like it, you don't have to do it again. I love you both and as a friend, I want to be here for you. Beats standing around and watching Taehyung kick our ass at golf. Just think about it and let me know. As I said, I'm always here for you bro."

Jungkook nods and reaches a hand out to gently squeeze Hoseok's shoulder. "I'll think about it. Thanks."

"Hey!" Taehyung waves from afar. "What you guys doing still up there? I’ve been waiting for twenty minutes! Don’t forget that last place buys lunch.”

“He’s referring to you Kook.” Hoseok chuckles, slaps Jungkook on the back, and walks down the golf course toward Taehyung. “You suck at golf.”

Jungkook grunts, following close behind. If this were a benching competition he’d be taking home the whole damn meal.

With Jungkook still gone doing who knows what with his buddies you decide to blast your very wide array of music. It’s a good thing you and Jungkook live in your own house or else your poor neighbors would be knocking down the door with the landlord by now. Yes, that may or may not have happened once with you were in college.

Along with the music you stick true to your character and spread your art supplies on your drawing table. You had your own mini studio, thanks to your wonderful relator who helped find you the house. You reach for a pencil, spinning it between your fingers. Maybe you should finish the drawing of the park’s pond.

Mm, you don’t really feel like packing all your supplies and driving over right now.

Deciding to save it for another day, you ponder ideas of what to do instead. Should you try out your new watercolors? You bought them last week and while you weren’t exactly in low supply, if your husband can have a hundred scented candles you can have your paints.

bling–

You snatch your phone hearing the notification bell.

Jungkook: the rest of your morning going well? [sent at 11:03 a.m]

You smile faintly and type out a reply. Sweet to check in you suppose.

__: Fine. How are the guys? [sent at 11:04 a.m]

Jungkook: Whooping my ass but it’s alright. [sent at 11:07 a.m]

Good, you smirk. Jungkook is awful at golf. And he can stand to lose at something like the rest of you.

__: When are you coming home? [sent at 11:10 a.m]

Jungkook: Looking to wrap things up around 4 pm. I think we’re having a late lunch. Miss you. [sent at 11:13 a.m]

__: Okay, sounds good because I was thinking maybe we could go for ice cream when you get back. After dinner? miss you too [sent at 11:14 a.m]

You stare at the screen, waiting for a reply.

One minute goes by…

Two minutes…

Three…

Jungkook: Okay, sounds amazing. But why not before dinner? The place we like closes early on Sundays. I love you! [sent at 11:17 a.m]

Oh shoot, that’s right. You and Junkook have gone to the same ice cream shake since you first started dating. The couple who run it are super sweet, only a decade older. How could you forget?

__: I’m a dummy, yes we’ll go before dinner. I love you too [sent at 11:18 a.m]

Jungkook: Noo, you’re not a dummy! But okay, I’ll see you soon! [sent at 11:19 a.m]

Rejuvenated, you turn off your phone, jump off your art stool and crank the current song up–Runaway by Bon Jovi. Let’s see, you think, tearing a piece of watercolor paper from your drawing pad, what to do.

When the idea strikes you prepare water, paintbrushes, your palette, and anything else you may need for the next five hours give or take. You snatch your phone again and scroll through your photo gallery, hoping to get a good reference photo.

Your best friend’s birthday was two weeks away and she’s been subtly hinting for a painting of her, her fiancee’, and her dog Bear. As her closest friend and well-practiced artist, you think it is best to appease her request.

Jungkook comes home at 4 pm on the dot. Not a minute later. He looks happy, you conclude. Genuinely happy. It looks good on him.

“__!” Jungkook runs through the front door and lifts you up in his arms. He spins you around and you place your hands on his shoulders. This is so unexpected but nice.

“Jungkook,” you struggle to catch your breath. “What’s going on?”

“I just love coming home to you.” He places you back down and grabs your wrist. “Come on, I wanna stuff you full with ice cream.”

“That sounds so weird,” you laugh.

“Why?” Jungkook opens the front door, ushering you to go ahead of him.

“Because…it sounds like you want to stuff me. Like in a weird way.”

“Woman, that cleared nothing up for me.” You hop into the car with stupid grins on your face. You don’t even know what you mean let alone having to explain to your husband. What can you say, Jungkook makes you a little braindead.

“I just mean that you wanting to stuff me with ice cream sounds like the witch from Hanzel and Gretel. You wanna fatten me up to eat me. Or taxidermy,….or Build a Bear.”

“What the fuck honey,” Jungkook curses, backing out of your drive. “Did you get into something funky while I was gone?”

“No what–ugh never mind.” You stare out the window, arms crossed and biting back the need to giggle uncontrollably. Why were you so giddy right now?

Jungkook glances over with amusement. He knows you’re inches away from balling over with laughter. “You know what honey?”

“Hmm?”

“I think instead of stuffing you full of ice cream, I’m gonna stuff you full with something just as good.”

“Don’t say it Kook, don’t. I’m going to bust a gut.” You beg fully aware he’s not about to back down.

“My fucking cawk,” he says, making sure to exaggerate the last part.

You throw a hand over your mouth, tears well up in your eyes and this time, they’re not sad ones.

You pull up at the small, but charming ice cream stand at around 4:20 pm. It’s a decent crowd tonight.

You and Jungkook get out of the car with laced hands. You’ve managed to calm down now, thankfully. As you make your way to the line a small voice catches both your attention.

“Appa!” A little girl with blue ribbons in her hair runs past you. She looks between eight to ten years old. You and Jungkook follow her movement as she leaps up into her father’s arms.

You smile at the interaction. Her father kisses her cheek and chuckles as she shows him her ribbons. She looks like she’s telling a very eventful story.

Beside you, Jungkook stiffens. His eyes set on the pair but you’re unsure what he’s thinking. “Kook?” you say, but he doesn’t respond. You shake his hand, the one laced in yours, but still no response. It’s when you step in front of his view that you get him back.

“Hey,” you say. “Are you okay?”

Jungkook blinks at you and shakes his head a bit. “I’m good, sorry. Not sure what happened there. Must be a bit out of it today. Let’s go get some ice cream.”

A/N: I like this series vv much...thank you to anyone reading :) Lmk your thoughts and if you wanna be tagged comment or send me an ask!

Taglist:

@frieschan @oldermenluverrr @tatamicc @kookswifesblog @llallaaa @sunnybyeol @namtaeh @exactlygreatcoffee @whipwhoops @yoongisducky @ktnj91 @junecat18 @thvlover7 @yoongiworshiper

Masterlist

no reposting, copying, or translating my work– © kookslastbutton

[damneddamsy]

renegade | aemond targaryen x oc (part ix)

a/n: Silverwing being ride-or-die is my new favourite trope

Princess Aemma Velaryon's death reached Dragonstone only after her forlorn brother, Prince Lucerys, feverishly searched the seas and skies alike for any sign of her or Silverwing. All he came upon of her was the shredded length of her velvet cloak by the shores of Shipbreaker's Bay, his sister's sweet lavender perfume lost to the salt of the sea. He had clung to it like it was his lifeline, and that's how they found him in the Sea Dragon tower, within Aemma's chambers—crying his eyes out and calling out to her.

Luke sobbed deeply, pulling at his hair. "It should've been me."

Queen Rhaenyra and Prince Daemon walked in on Luke, eager to see her children again, and eventually registering his undone suffering. Once the mother noticed the familiar article of clothing—formerly her own—she went insensate. Her shoulders shook, composure gone to ashes, and sank to her knees. Daemon was stoic to the scene, save for his hand that went to direly fist at his sword.

The older prince spoke first, relieving the tension. Despite his grave face, his tone was forbidding, intending to burn. "Who the fuck did this?"

Luke's upper lip curled, his hands clenching at his sister's cape. "Him."

Nothing else needed to be said. The reality of who was capable of executing such treason was well understood, though uttering his name was like spitting venom.

Rhaenyra roared out with the visceral fury of a dragon, and once that drained, she was but an empty vessel. She heaved a solemn breath, palming at her abdomen. The misery that wracked her labours was far less cruel than whatever this was, the anguish overwhelming, her chest aching with the burden of mourning two daughters, their deaths igniting the flames of war.

When she tearily looked to her side, Daemon had disappeared.

Prince Daemon had been conditioned to barbarity and grief, so much they were welcome drinking companions of his. Aemma was no different to this addition. In her, he saw echoes of his own turbulent youth—the same steely determination, the same unpredictability, the restless drive to remain an enigma to those around her. Perhaps it was this reflection of his own wild spirit that spurred him to seek out grisly revenge.

Daemon's warpath toward Caraxes suddenly stopped as he saw him standing before the painted table. The hollow swordsman. The one-eyed kinslayer. A mirror of Daemon's worst motivations. Here stood the rider of the beast that had slain his daughter.

Daemon unsheathed Dark Sister without hesitation, the Valyrian blade slicing through the air with a menacing swish.

"Poetic justice or self-destruction?" he muttered, masking his fury.

Aemond bore a black smile, barely lifting his lips. "Depends on which of us you ask, uncle."

X

Rumours had begun to spread that Aemond Targaryen had defected to the Blacks. Some even called it a surrender. Perhaps it was the stabs of a prickling conscience, the blood stains of love in his hands, or the affliction of sorrow that had overtaken him, making him ready to face the wrath of a grieving mother—and his own death. Bereft of his truest calling, shattered by dreams he had destroyed with his hands, the one-eyed prince swiftly concluded that life held no meaning without his princess. He intended to follow her footsteps soon enough, to fulfil the conclusive detail of their promise: never to part from Aemma henceforth.

Without Aemond and Vhagar, King’s Landing had become perilously vulnerable. The soaring pall of the largest and most terrifying dragon no longer loomed over the capital, and it was clear to all that their strongest defence was now absent. The Greens' was evidently morale staggered. With Vhagar’s absence, Rhaenyra’s forces could bring the fire with seven dragons and fewer consequences, and rumours of dissent spread throughout the city. The Greens were losing their grip, outmatched in numbers and firepower, leaving the smallfolk exposed and the city teetering on the edge of defeat.

Terrible fables spoke of King Aegon and Aemond One-Eye’s grandiose schemes to slay the false queen under the guise of begging for mercy. But these tales were discredited when it was revealed that Aemond had been imprisoned in the chambers of the late princess—a ruthless move orchestrated by Queen Rhaenyra. It was, in every sense, a final sentence.

“If that savage snake truly loved her,” Rhaenyra had said vengefully to her husband, “then that place will drive him mad. Let his evil haunt him. I want to see the fear in his eyes when I burn him.”

Yet fear was not something Aemond would entertain. He would sooner fall on his sword than show terror before his wretched half-sister.

Over time, however, he did fall—deeper into madness consumed by the unfamiliarity of being locked in the space that had once been Aemma’s. The burden of memory became the iron bars and chains of this prison. Numb to everything else, he wandered her chambers aimlessly, haunted by her absence. She was everywhere and nowhere at once—in the vanity, where strands of her hair clung to her hairbrush; in the bureau, where her meticulously folded maps and lists remained undisturbed; and in the faint perfume that lingered in the air, forever scenting her dresser.

A full moon's cycle passed before Aemond began hearing her voice. A breathy echo, a laughing whisper, a figment of his broken mind. With each crash of the waves against the jagged rocks beneath her balcony, he would catch that soft, familiar sound: My friend.

The echo eased him in ways nothing else could, drawing a smile to his face. If this was madness, it was madness he welcomed. My love, he thought, and in that moment, he would’ve gladly surrendered to it.

Jace was the one who finally confronted Aemond, his vengeance boiling over upon his return from the Vale. Sword in hand, he cornered the one-eyed prince in his sister's chambers. What was surprising was how the captive did not baulk at the sight of the angry prince. He simply tilted his head, offering his neck and awaiting the onslaught.

"Fucking murderous cunt," Jace spat, barely above a whisper, trembling with restrained fury.

Aemond was inured now. It resounded in his mind with every breath, a constant reminder of what he'd become. His gaze remained distant, vacant as he met Jace's stare.

"Mount your dragon," Jace ordered, dripping with disdain. "I only spare you this avail because of how dearly Aemma loved you."

Aemond didn’t even blink. It took more effort than expected to form words after days of silence.

"I will not fight you," he muttered, voice gravelly from disuse. "So, get it over with. Finish me."

But Jace wasn't about to grant him that release.

"You're coming with me," he growled, eyes blazing with wrath. "I won't believe my sister is gone until I see it with my eyes. Find me Silverwing, and only then will you get what you so desperately crave."

Aemond turned away, blinking back a rare sting of emotion clouding his vision. He had been so benumbed, that the sensation sliced him raw. His jaw clenched, forcing his voice through the anguish tightening his throat.

"Silverwing sank beneath the waves."

"Then she should've washed ashore by now," Jace snapped, his tone sharpening. "Or been spotted near Storm's End, or found by sailors off Driftmark. Someone would've seen her. I will not grieve with my family until I know for certain. Until I’ve seen damning proof."

Aemond’s teeth ground together in frustration. "My hope ended with her."

"Hope?" Jace sneered, the word wresting bitterly in his mouth. "Know this, uncle—gods forbid I find what I seek, you won’t just be dead to the realm, you’ll be nothing more than a relic of a prince no one will remember."

X

We cannot know the ancient minds of dragons. They were not merely instruments of war—they were beasts of chaos, as unreliable as the gales they rode. A bitter reminder of how little command Targaryens truly held, even over their own beasts. Yet, the Good Queen's Silverwing had always been distinct from the others—gentler, some would say, with a serenity that belied the strength coiled within her shimmering, pale-scaled body.

Her loyalty to her peaceful rider ran deeper than bloodshed or battle, for it was not assumed upon command or duty but of a friendship that transcended power. It was instinctual, a mutual loneliness that they shared. Silverwing had intuited Aemma’s presence since her first touch upon her scales, the soft whispers of affection, the implicit trust.

Following Aemma's descent from her dragon's saddle, the waters hit her hard, churning her into the abyss. Just as the waves threatened to pull her deeper, Silverwing cut through them, her talons outstretched, and in a swift, precise motion, she plucked Aemma from the depths before the sea could claim her entirely. Silverwing’s grip was painstaking, cradling her rider’s limp form between her sharp talons, ensuring she was protected. With a great struggle, Silverwing battered her wings against the storm, fighting the ocean’s pull, lifting them both back into the air, finding cover above the storm clouds.

And now, in the quiet of this remote sanctuary, camouflaged against rocks, their bond held firm, even as Aemma lay unconscious amidst the mud and grass, suspended between life and death.

The old dragon sensed more than the warmth of her rider's skin when she nudged her snout against her constantly, letting out a low, concerned rumble. She felt the pulse of her heart, flimsy but steady, the rhythm of her breath, shallow but resilient. Every beat, every rise and fall of Aemma’s chest was a call to Silverwing, one that she refused to neglect.

Silverwing would shift her body closer at night, nestling Aemma to the earth, her massive wing folded protectively over the young princess' limp body like a shroud of safety from the bitter storms and the chilliness of dusk. Her fiery breaths ghosted over Aemma, keeping her warm.

Days turned into nights, and nights into days, but Silverwing never left, only venturing far enough to find sustenance, returning quickly, her eyes scanning the skies for any threats that might approach. But none came. The world remained unaware of the little hidden firth by the hills and the fragile life it cradled.

Silverwing’s troth was not just an animal instinct—it was a devotion to the one person who had never treated her as a mere beast. For nigh on a week, Aemma had doted on her, spoken to her in the tongue of Old Valyria, just as Alysanne did, with the same reverence and care, and Silverwing, in turn, had taken her into the skies, free from the burdens of the mortal realm.

In this isolated place, far from the throes of war, Silverwing held the last vestige of hope for her rider’s survival. It wasn't until a dark-haired sailor had stumbled upon their refuge that the mighty she-dragon let out her first roar in a while.

Addam of Hull hadn't expected much that day. He had set out on his small boat with nothing but the hope of catching enough fish to feed Driftmark's shores. The oceans had been restless ever since the bloodshed over Shipbreaker's Bay, and his mind had drifted as the waves lapped at the sides of his skiff. He cast his net, whistling a well-known sea shanty, letting the salt air fill his lungs, when something unusual caught his eye, beyond a small inlet of water rambling away from the beach.

A flash of silver. A rustle in the trees.

As his little skiff crept closer and into the currents of the slight strait, Addam’s heart surged. There, nestled within the protective embrace of the rocks, lay a great silvery-blue dragon that was the name on everyone's fuller lips—Silverwing. Her glittering hide was unmistakable, though it bore the wear of days spent at the mercy of the weather. She lay low to the ground, her immense wings tucked tightly around something as if guarding a prized jewel.

Addam wasted no time. He rowed forth, with all the strength he could muster, his mind racing. Could it be? Could Princess Aemma have survived the hand of fate, the cruel sea, her murderous husband, and the relentless storm? Could it be that Rhaeynra's heir was very much still alive?

As he drew nigher, disembarking his boat and clambering up the rocks, Silverwing raised her head, her auburn eyes locking onto him with a vicious intensity. She cautioned him with a low rumble, ready to spew out her ire.

For a moment, Addam feared she truly might lash out, mistaking him for a foe, but she did not move. Instead, she took a prudent sniff and juddered her head, softening almost.

Eventually, she unfurled her wings narrowly, revealing the motionless form of Princess Aemma cradled beneath her. She was drenched, emaciated, tattered, bruised, and her silver hair matted to her gaunt face, but her chest rose and fell.

There was yet life in her. Barely. All alone. No one else. Just Silverwing standing vigil over her as if she’d been guarding the princess all these days. Ten days.

"Gods be good," Addam murmured.

Silverwing shifted away, stooping into the rocky niche, as if to offer her rider to him, but kept her weather eye on him. Addam made quick work of it, lifting her carefully into his arms off the wet ground. She was light, too light, but she stirred faintly at his touch.

"Princess?" He was unsure if she could hear him.

As he carried her back toward the boat, shrouded her in the coils of his nets, her fiery guardian observed the sailor, her vigilant eyes never leaving Aemma’s form.

She pierced a startling trill at her rider's saviour.

Addam jerked in shock, nearly dropping his docking ropes.

Silverwing rose off the ground, and shook herself off, wings beginning to unfurl as if preparing to take flight.

"You—er, stay," Addam stammered, desperately gesturing with his palms, trying to convey some form of command to the dragon.

He knew full well he was speaking to a creature that answered to no man but her rider, and she was not going to let just anyone snatch the princess away unless she was certain they meant no harm.

Carefully, Addam took a step closer, heart thudding in his chest as he bowed his head to the dragon.

"I'm not here to harm her," he said softly as if Silverwing could understand his plea. "I want to save her."

For a long moment, the dragon stayed unmoving, watching him closely, casting her own unfamiliar judgement. Then, with a slow and deliberate movement, she backed away scarcely.

"Thank you," he whispered, though he wasn’t entirely sure if he was thanking the dragon, the gods, or fate itself.

X

Returning Princess Aemma in such a state to her kin on Dragonstone would have them questioning Addam's heartening intentions toward her. Rather than have them cast their vile aspersions on him and taint his shoddy name further, the brothers knew it was only proper to nurse the princess to health before anything else. The secret of Aemma's survival would remain closely guarded for a while longer.

"She thinks I'm her father," Addam quietly shared with his brother, Alyn, upon the fifth evening of secretively nursing Princess Aemma in their meagre home. It had been a total of sixteen days since she was believed deceased.

Alyn raised an eyebrow, glancing over at the small, makeshift room where their heir to the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms lay in a thrifty cot, wrapped in linen blankets and tended to with great care. Her condition had steadily improved, but she remained barely conscious and frail.

"What do you mean, ‘she thinks I’m her father’? Is she delirious?" He asked.

Addam leaned against the doorframe, picking off the herbs from his thumb. "Perhaps she seeks comfort. And she finds it in the late Laenor."

As they spoke, a soft groan emanated from the cot, interrupting them. Aemma stirred, her dark eyes fluttering open briefly before closing again. Her lips moved silently, murmuring incoherent words. Addam and Alyn exchanged a glance, their choices harshening.

Alyn's brow furrowed. "How is she then?"

"Better than expected," Addam replied, shaking his head. "Her fever broke, I've stopped feeding her milk of the poppy. She recalls her mother often. The poor thing had nearly cracked every rib in her chest, the healers had to brace her spine with wood until yesterday. The blood of Old Valyria heals quick, I suppose."

Alyn nodded, absorbing the solemnity of his brother’s words. "And the dragon?"

"Stays close, hovers around the Driftmark groves. I've been feeding her, too," Addam said, shaking his head with a small, wry smile.

Alyn clapped his brother on his back, grateful for him. "How are you faring?"

Addam shrugged casually. "I’m doing what I can."

"Good. Keep watch," Alyn instructed, nodding at him. "On the morrow, I’ll prepare a fresh supply of herbs and check on the guards. There's only so long that we can keep her out of prying eyes."

Addam sat by the firelight in the hearth, his eyes constantly drifting to the young girl as she lay nestled beneath the heavy blankets, adjusting them around her again, his movements careful, almost tender. Every now and then, Aemma would stir, her brow twitching in her sleep, speaking illegibly. The flicker of the flames stained her face in hues of gold and shadow, silvery hair glinting, making her seem almost unearthly, untouchable. She could not have been older than fifteen, an age no child should have to raise battlements in a war.

“She’s strong,” Addam murmured, more to himself than to anyone in particular. “Stronger than I imagined.”

"A future queen," Alyn said. "There's hope for her yet."

X

The second sons of the Blacks and Greens, Prince Jacaerys Velaryon and Aemond Targaryen, were unlikely allies as they scoured the realm despite their bitterness, united on a front to find a whiff of Aemma or Silverwing, searching high and low, from the misty mountains of the Vale to the shadowed peaks of Harrenhal and the foggy forests of the Riverlands. Every whisper of a silver-blue dragon sighting raised their hopes, only to be dashed moments later.

The weight of Aemma's absence dangled over them like a blade. Jace was fierce, relentless in finding that damned dragon himself, dead or alive. Maybe they were on a wild goose chase, led astray to not confront the reality that awaited them. Every dead end with clueless lords and fishermen was a new wound, yet he never yielded.

Their unwavering trepidation whenever the folk and lords saw Aemond cut deeper than a lash of a thousand scorpions. Each glance was a reminder, a searing echo of his own words to Aemma that fateful night: "Better to be feared than scorned." But now, as their suspicions pressed down on him, the question gnawed at his memory—was it really? The cold satisfaction he once sought had curdled into something far more bitter, and he found himself wondering whether 'fear' had ever truly been the answer, or if it had only left him more isolated, more empty.

Aemond, however, wore a stoic mask over his understanding of the truth, though beneath it, the torment tore at his soul. If Aemma's room had been perfect chaos, this was his purgatory. His nights grew sleepless, plagued by the recollections of his mistakes, the sight of her empty saddle still burned behind his eyes. He carried the guilt like a second skin, abrading when it got too thin. A little part of him was driven to heed Jace, an insignificant confidence, not by burden but by desperation—a need for redemption, to see her alive, to prove to himself that she had somehow survived.

Now, close to five nights, it had become custom for Jace, drunk on grief and rage, to drag his feet outside Aemond's pitched tent, embracing his shining sword, fighting his morals. Fighting the inevitable. Jace never spoke to Aemond directly, but his accusations found a way into his earshot.

"Aemma was good. Peaceful," he would hear Jace lament. "She had dreams. She was our sunshine. Now she’s out there somewhere, alone in death. Or worse. And you, of all people, claim to be the one who loved her? You never did. You fucking murderer. Selfish cunt."

This night, a familiar darkness flickered alight in Aemond. Unfailing despair powered him to react. He walked out of his tent, stepping forward in a threat until Jace's raging face was inches apart, his sword slipping from his grasp. His single eye narrowed.

"Say it again," Aemond dared, his voice low and cold. "Say that I do not love her. Say it, bastard."

Jace shoved him by his chest, his rage boiling over. "You threw her away like she was nothing! For your treacherous family! You never gave a fuck about her, and that is the truth!"

Aemond stumbled back but didn’t fight back. How could he, he had nothing left to withstand. His mouth twisted in pain, but his voice remained hard.

"Hate me all you want. Blame me. Strike me down. Your words hold facts. But don’t think for one second that your fury burns hotter than mine. Or that your love for her transcends mine own."

"Fuck you!"

Jace shoved him again, shouting out his rage, this time harder, the power of his wrath pushing Aemond back a step. And again and again, until Aemond fell back into the mud. Back again to ten years ago, when a spiteful Aegon had towered over him, Sunfyre peering over his shoulder mockingly.

Jace met his gaze, the two facing eye to eye, the consequence of years of rivalry and betrayal still fresh between them. But beneath it, there was something else now—shared desperation, grief that only they could understand. The closest brother of Aemma and her husband.

Aemond's breath hitched, bearing himself with his palms, the words barely escaping through his gritted teeth. He looked Jace in the eye, his jaw tight.

"I have nothing left. Seize your sword and end it all."

Jace leaned down, seething, his voice trembling with scorn. "Look at where your absolution got you. Begging your foes for death. Pathetic."

Aemond’s hand twitched toward his dagger on instinct, his face a storm of rage and remorse. He had been so accustomed to being on his back, bearing through the punches thrown, facing defeat, now when he was made to encounter this yet again.

"Yes. That is all you see," Aemond agreed, his expression darkening. "All you ever see. Aegon, Rhaenyra, you. A pathetic boy too sightless for power. I've belonged nowhere but with Aemma all my life"—his voice cracked—"and now she's gone, too. And I am left trapped in this resenting world."

Jace stayed quiet, breathing deeply.

"I could not save her," he whispered, the words hollow as they left him. "No atonement will ever free me from this, even while I chase forgiveness from a ghost. I will never know peace again until my last breath."

His trembling fingers unsheathed his dagger and threw it to Jace's feet. "Make your shot count, nephew. Plunge it into my other eye, and take what is due. I do not care anymore."

Jace’s mouth opened, but no words came out. He took a step back, torn between fury and pity, his expression unreadable. He looked away, blinking back tears as if the significance of Aemond’s words was too much to bear. He couldn’t bring himself to speak—there was nothing left to say.

"You don't deserve peace, not even in death," Jace eventually whispered before walking away.

X

The air was dense with the scent of salt and damp wood as Aemma lay in a bed draped with soft linens, the faint sounds of the lapping waves against the rocky shores of Driftmark echoing in her ears. Her body felt heavy, as though weighed down by an invisible force. Pain coursed through her like a vicious tide, abrupt and relentless, yet there was a warmth surrounding her that whispered of safety.

Fingers of consciousness began to weave their way through the fog enveloping her mind. Flashes of memory flickered like distant constellations—Silverwing’s fierce wings, the chaos of the storm, and Addam’s urgent voice calling her name. She struggled against the haze, her heart pounding with the remnants of fear and desperation.

"Aemma." The voice broke through her reverie, softer now, tinged with concern.

She fought to open her eyes, the effort feeling monumental. Slowly, her eyelids fluttered, and the dim light of the stuffy room began to emerge. A figure stood at the foot of the bed, cloaked and hooded, shrouded in shadow.

A wave of shock washed over her, and before she could fully grasp the situation, he lunged forward, pressing a warm hand to her lips to silence her gasp. Heart racing, Aemma’s gaze narrowed, the edges of her memory sharpening.

"Ssh, my love," he shushed her.

She recognized the intensity in his gaze, even from beneath the hood. He hovered close, his presence both alarming and strangely familiar. His silver hair rolled off his neck and shoulders, catching the light and casting shadows that accentuated the depth of his expression. One striking violet eye shone through the darkness, piercing and filled with emotion, while the other was shrouded in shadow.

“Aemond,” she murmured, her voice barely a whisper, like the faintest breeze. It felt like a lifetime since she had last spoken, her throat dry and cracked.

He flinched at the sound of her voice as if she had struck a nerve. Slowly, he lifted his head, an indigo eye swirling with a charged storm—pain, regret, and something darker lurking beneath the surface.

His voice was as firm as steel, yet equally gentle. "We've done our parts here. You’re coming with me, and this time, forever."

X

[grapejuicebluesrry]

28th september fic rec!

merry happy september 28th!!

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄

[series] let me see how wild it get (17K) by alwaysxlarrie | @alwaysxlarrie

Harry's success rate with being able to orgasm from masturbation was abysmally low, but she was determined to get there. She tried to actively avoid thinking about the fact that her best friend, Louis, had offered to help her if need be. Key words: tried to.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄

[series] Lovers in the Night (46K) by Kiwiwatermelongrapejuice | @kiwiwatermelongrapejuice

Louis mates take him to a strip club and pay for a private lap dance for him as a bit of a laugh between all the lads. What no one anticipated was the fact that Baby was going to be exactly Louis' type. Even more coincidental is that it seems the feeling is mutual.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄

I'll be ready - never you fear (112K) by 2Bsodefenceless, scribbleink

Spending his summer by the sea in Lavender Cove, after a fateful accident at work, was nothing Harry had really planned. He also didn’t plan to meet the lifeguard with the captivating blue eyes and the curious, curly dog.

He came to find peace but ended up finding happiness instead.

Or, if happiness comes in form of Louis Tomlinson, welcome it with open arms.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄

give you my fever (10K) by beautlouis

And he’s wanted it even more since he met Louis, it's driven him insane, he spends 90% of his life turned on because of Louis and he’s had no relief at all. He’ll wake up at night too hot and itchy, with Louis warm and sweet smelling next to him, and unable to do anything but wank unsuccessfully, with no release.

 

“I can try,” Louis says, close enough that Harry’s eyes cross a little trying to look at him. “I want to, I’ve never been with anybody, like, I’ve snogged people, lots of people, but I’ve never—touched anyone.” He clears his throat. “I’d touch you, Hazza.”

Harry’s breathing picks up. “Yes.” He doesn’t think there was a question but he’s a little overwhelmed. “Yes,” he repeats, dizzy.

 

*x-factor era. harry's never had an orgasm before, louis gives him his first

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄

Wake Up All Wet (like we're dripping in gold) (9K) by larry_hiatus | @larry-hiatus

Harry tends to wet the bed sometimes. His boyfriend Louis secretly finds it hot and likes to get off with Harry’s pants while Harry is in the shower. After Harry accidentally gets Louis wet too one night, Louis’ secret alone time doesn’t go quite as planned.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄

Louis’ Collarbones Religion (4K) by MartiniBianco

Oh sweet Louis. He's right that the interviewers were ruthless. But that's not what's making Harry restless.

No, it's that damn maroon t-shirt he's wearing. Every little movement he makes, the scoopneck moves and he shows off his collarbones and that damn tattoo. It is what it is. He should have talked Louis that damn tattoo out of his head while he still had the chance – before it taunted him at every possible occasion.

He's shaken out of his daydream by Louis hugging him. “Almost there mate, you can take a warm shower and relax, forget all about those bastard journalists.”

Well, Harry is planning on taking a hot shower. But maybe not exactly like Louis imagines.

---

aka Harry figures out he might not be super straight after obsessing over Louis' collarbones.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄

Big Yellow Taxi (171K) by louisismycat (tiflamomet) | @liminalkittyfics / @liminalkitty369

Harry returns to his allotment to find the field next to it has been overrun by a youth football club.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄

Sweetest Devotion (61K) by brightgolden | @brightgolden

After his divorce, all Harry wants in life is to provide a stable, loving environment for his three-year-old daughter, Evie.

Never in his wildest dreams has he ever considered that life might come with the presence of his teenage crush — Gemma’s friend from secondary school, Louis Tomlinson.

Luckily, Harry isn’t still pining over him.

Or so he thought.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄

baby, you're my only reason (6K) by zouisclimax | @zouisclimax

Harry's famous and Louis' a big fan.

or, "you're a celebrity and you just broke up and i tweeted you a selfie and said "date me" and you thought i was serious?" au

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄

stop the world ('cause i wanna get off with you) (12K)by devilinmybrain (venomedveins) | @thedevilinmybrain

Five times Louis and Harry get walked in on at the worst time, and one time Louis makes sure they don't.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄

as always, your reward for making it this far 🍿

stat time!

616,829 (69% less than August)

15 fics read (76% less than August)

14 authors (72% less than August)

see you next month :):)

[kiame-sama]

Part 3 of headcanons for the Monster Men I have drawn.

Pt 1:

Pt 2:

More below cut:

- Ortho was attacked by a Feral Overblotted Shinigami as a very young child and as a result lost his right leg, right arm, both wings, and damaged his lungs. Idia was quick to begin making cybernetic limbs for his brother and has been the primary mechanic for Ortho's limbs. Idia couldn't attend NRC without company and Ortho could not survive without Idia living nearby to help fix and adjust Ortho's limbs.

- Ortho has grown up hearing about Humans from his ancestor Hades and is very close with the elder Shinigami as a result. Many of the remaining Shrouds still live on the Isle of Woe but Ortho is the baby of the family and all the Shinigami adore the young boy. Hades tells Ortho stories of Humans and a lot of the technology Idia used to create Ortho's limbs were inspired by Human designs. Ortho's dream is to meet and befriend a Human.

- Ortho is thrilled to meet this new Human that lives on campus, having grown up with his family cooking Human meals most his life, he would love to have a real Human cook a meal for him. He can be without his Oxygen mask while eating so long as he takes breaks, and he thinks trying food made by the kind Human is worth it. he wants to know everything and will curiously ask questions any time they occur to him.

- Ruggie is a spotted Hyena Gnoll and though he stands fairly tall at 5'7" (171cm) he is considered small for a Gnoll and is the runt of his family. As a Gnoll, he is almost always seeking out food and will never turn down food excepting for when it is rotten. So long as it is not rotting and Ruggie can eat it, he will.

- Ruggie's fur is more coarse around his ridge and along his spine to his tail, but is much softer and finer around his neck and stomach. Ruggie has a heart-shaped spot on his tummy and when it is scratched he will start kicking his feet. He isn't keen to fight with others if he can escape a situation but his teeth and claws are not just for show and he can be dangerous when backed into a corner.

- Ruggie is loyal to his stomach first, so feeding him is one of the quickest ways to earn his favor and he will be willing to do errands and tasks for those who feed him. Leona has been one of the few to consistently feed Ruggie and look after him despite the more gruff way he treats the Gnoll. Ruggie considers Leona a friend. Once the Human starts feeding Ruggie, he is going to be willing to do anything the Human asks of him provided a meal is the payment.

- Lilia is one of the older beings on campus but it is very easy to forget this fact given the way he behaves and jokes around with others. Despite his playful behavior and youthful appearance he is dangerous and is not above reminding others of this fact.

- Lilia is part of Malleus' Hoard and acts as both the shepherd and guide of the Hoard, often the one to give information or facts in a situation provided he has knowledge on the subject. Malleus values Lilia's opinions and insight immensely, making Lilia effectively the second in command of the Hoard. Lilia is often the one to ensure the Hoard sleeps and will gather the Hoard up when Malleus becomes restless as only his complete Hoard around him can soothe him. He will be gathering up the Human as well for these moments Malleus requires them all in his nest.

- Humans are a soft spot of his and he has been fascinated with every Human he has had the pleasure of meeting. Human food is very important to him but he is not a good cook and cannot make a decent meal to save his life. When the Human first cooked for him, he was almost giddy as he invited the rest of the Hoard to enjoy the cooking as well.

[twilightnesss]

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ love and basketball

pairing: kate martin x nyl!female oc

summary: simone camon & kate martin are “rivals” per say. they both are captains on their individual basketball teams and always went against each other in every way. one week, a few teams had to stay at a hotel for a basketball retreat, helping the youth. unfortunately kate and simone had accidentally got their rooms conjoined. what will happen this week? love? lust? friendship? or hatred?

warnings: none.

simone camon and kate martin, two fierce competitors, found themselves in an unexpected situation. as basketball captains, their passion and determination were well known, especially when they faced each other on the court. the idea of them sharing a hotel room during a basketball retreat seemed like a recipe for disaster.

kate was the first to enter the room, and she immediately claimed the larger bed, throwing her bag onto the soft mattress. simone, who followed closely behind, rolled her eyes at this obvious power move. "guess i'll take the sofa bed then," she said with a hint of sarcasm. kate didn't seem to care, already unpacking her things and making herself at home.

the room was indeed spacious, with two queen-size beds separated by a thin wall and a large window that offered a breathtaking view of the mountain range. the rest of the team would be staying in the rooms down the hall, leaving simone and kate to this unexpected slumber party.

simone's competitive nature took over as she viewed this week as an opportunity to outshine kate in yet another arena. she efficiently changed into her pajamas, determined to be comfortable for the night. kate, on the other hand, took her time, even taking a bubble bath before getting into bed. the casual act annoyed simone, who saw it as a further attempt to assert dominance.

as the evening progressed, the hotel's peaceful atmosphere settled over the room. kate, who was casually scrolling through her instagram feed, noticed simone's restless tossing and turning on the uncomfortable sofa bed. simone, seething with frustration, decided to exact her revenge by turning on the television, the sound piercing the quiet space. kate snapped out of her trance and glared at simone, who simply shrugged in response.

the next morning, both captains woke up early, each with their own agenda. simone, determined to be the better sport, offered an olive branch. "good morning, kate. ready for today's practices?" she asked, already lacing up her sneakers. kate, still groggy from her interrupted sleep, grunted in response, but the tension between them softened a little.

as the days passed, a strange companionship began to develop between them. they realized that, beyond their competitive natures, they had quite a lot in common. both were dedicated to the sport, driven by their passion for basketball and the desire to mentor the younger players. their conversations, initially tense and competitive, evolved into casual discussions about strategy and leadership.

one evening, after a particularly intense practice session, simone and kate found themselves alone in the hotel's lobby, everyone else having gone out for dinner. kate suggested they order room service and eat in their pajamas, a proposition that simone, to her surprise, found quite appealing.

as they tucked into their meal, the atmosphere felt strangely intimate, like a pair of old friends catching up. they spoke about their lives, their dreams, and even shared a few humorous stories about their teammates. simone admitted that she admired Kate's determination, while kate confessed that she respected simone's skill and leadership.

it was during this strange and unexpected friendship that kate and simone found themselves leaning towards each other, drawn by an unspoken understanding and a shared love of the sport. they spent the week bonding in their little hotel room, and on the last night, they even shared a heartfelt hug, thanking each other for the unexpected friendship.

when the camp concluded and it was time to leave, both women felt a strange sense of loss. they had gone from rivals to close friends over the course of just a few days. they said their goodbyes with a promise to stay in touch, each knowing that their competitive spirits would reignite the next time they faced each other on the court.

as they parted ways, both simone and kate knew that their relationship would never be the same, and they looked forward to their next encounter, a court clash that would surely ignite their newly kindled friendship.

a/n: i tried a new method of writing with almost no dialogue.. lmk what you think about it!! i have about 3 other short stories like this in my drafts so stay tuned! love , lana

[velieditss]

Forbidden Desires

Pairing: Davos Blackwood x Bracken!reader

CW: Just Brackens being the Blackwoods' number 1 haters

Summary: It wasn’t your fault that your brothers' feud with the Blackwoods escalated into a deadly duel, nor that it cost lives, but now, it is your responsibility to make him hate you... or love you.

An: 🤭

"You're mad!"

You shouted, pulling away from the fireplace. Your anger was mounting despite the day having just begun, and you shoved the poker back into its stand with a rough motion. Outside, a mischievous wind lashed the leaded windows with heavy raindrops and stinging sleet, its wild abandon mocking the oppression weighing down your spirit. The disordered tumult of dark clouds looming over the Bracken house mirrored your mood, accompanied by the fiery violet glare in your eyes as you stared furiously into the flames.

"You're all mad!" you shouted indignantly.

The word echoed in your mind. *Marriage.* What had once been a childhood dream had turned into a synonym for absurdity. It wasn’t that you were against marriage. Not at all! The education your mother had given you had prepared you to be a good wife. The problem was that, because of your brothers and their ridiculous duels with the Blackwoods, the situation had reached the ears of King Viserys.

And no, it wasn’t the first time the king had asked you to set aside your differences and maintain peace, but this time, their stupid fight had resulted in deaths, fires, and significant losses.

As a result, Viserys had ordered that, as a proof of goodwill to prevent it from happening again, the two families should unite in marriage.

"Why me?" you demanded, pointing at your entire family.

"Barbara is older; she should marry that ridiculous, dissolute Blackwood," you spat out the best insult you could muster in your moment of fury.

"I'm engaged, you fool," Barbara replied with a dismissive tone.

"For three years now. Be realistic and admit that Lord Banefort will never marry you!"

"Enough!" Lord Amos barked, silencing his two daughters.

You had never seen Davos Blackwood, nor had you cared to, but now you wished you had. In your mind, you pictured eyes too close together, a thin, hooked nose, lank hair sticking out and thin lips curled in a lascivious smile revealing small, yellow teeth. You completed your creation with a wart on the tip of a nearly nonexistent chin. The final image came into full splendor when you placed it on a scrawny, bony body.

Forced to bury the fantasies of youth, the prospect of married life held no pleasant promises. It was not at all strange for a young woman to reject the suitor her parents imposed upon her; what was strange was that they accepted the rejection and heeded the opinion of the affected party.

Lord Bracken brought one hand to his forehead, as if his head throbbed, and collapsed onto the sofa. He looked at his two sons, who had remained silent since the king’s representative had left.

"The king could overlook one duel, two duels caused surprise, and you were warned—and even those could have been overlooked because no one had died—but three, with deaths and fires..." your father sighed, exasperated.

"You could have refused," you accused.

"And be branded a coward? Of course, I couldn't refuse," Raylon replied. "At least this time, I nearly killed Davos; maybe the bastard will still die from his wounds, and we can put an end to this nonsense."

Restless, you walked to the window and, through the diamond-shaped panes, stared pensively at the cobbled path. The trees surrounding the village were skeletal, dark silhouettes behind the dense curtain of rain.

"Send her immediately," Olyver interrupted. "The Blackwood won’t accept her, and he'll be the one to lose a great deal of his fortune by paying a breach of contract."

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

You expected nothing else from him, who harbored not a shred of interest in you. Standing at six feet tall, nearly the same height as your father and just as handsome and robust as Amos had once been, Olyver had his flaws, but that didn’t make him any less attractive.

All the Brackens resembled each other, with the same black hair and light green eyes, the only variation being in height. Barbara and you had both surpassed your mother in height by a few inches, but Olyver and Raylon were as hedonistic as Prince Daemon. Or so they claimed; however, what was true was that, at their young age, they had already amassed a few mistresses. And yet, they had the audacity to seek the hands of Princesses Baela and Rhaena, before it was announced they would marry their cousins, of course.

"You two shouldn’t speak; you have no right after causing an atrocity that now forces us to mix our blood with those filthy Blackwoods," Lord Amos pointed at them.

"Those duels were insignificant, trivial. They were the first to draw their swords, Father," Raylon tried to justify.

Your father sighed and looked at you in silence, observing as you turned your back on them and simply listened.

"My daughter, I know you don’t like it—no one does—but these are the king's orders."

You averted your gaze to the path, feeling a dull pain, like a mild betrayal: you were just beginning to live, and already you were to become the wife of your worst enemy.

You had no desire to offer a kind smile to another, much less to one of those foolish dolts, and you sincerely hoped, even prayed, that some bridge, damaged by the rain, would collapse under the weight of the carriage transporting you, and both would be lost forever beneath the waters... you wouldn’t regret it too much. You were certain that the seven hells would be a more comfortable destination than the lands of the Blackwoods.

"So, when do I leave?" you asked resignedly, turning to face your family.

There was only a brief silence, a small one.

"You will depart at dawn tomorrow, with an escort and a lady-in-waiting."

They were sending you alone to the slaughterhouse. How amusing.

𖣂︎

"Make him love you, my dear. Make him fall deeply in love with you, and you’ll enjoy a good life by his side," your mother whispered before you boarded the carriage.

As beautiful as that sounded, it was more likely the Blackwood would tie you to a stone and throw you into the sea to drown once you set foot in his castle.

The carriage, bearing the family crest, had stopped at the main gate. You supposed that family pride required your arrival at the enemy’s door to be grand. In addition to the coachman, you were escorted by two footmen; the servants accompanying you had received instructions: they were to return home with you immediately if you were not received. Otherwise, the servants (except for your personal maid) were to return to Stone Hedge in the carriage. Your last hope was to trust that they wouldn’t let you in and that Lord Samwell Blackwood didn’t care about losing a large sum of his fortune.

The emissary had first gone to the Bracken house. From Stone Hedge, it took half a week by carriage to reach the Blackwood home at Raventree Hall. The representative was already on his way and was only a day ahead of you, which meant that the Blackwoods were still unaware of your imminent arrival. If the news enraged them when they received it ("and rightly so," you thought), it would be like leaving yourself in the hands of the stranger.

You wished you had more than a single day to regain your composure before your arrival.

It would have been logical to wait for the Blackwoods' reaction, but the Brackens were truly confident that you would be rejected.

You still remembered what Olyver had said to you:

"Marry him first, then poison him," was all he said. "If you do it right, we can claim half their lands, or all of them."

Of course, as if the rest of his family wouldn’t fight back and, in the process, make the stone-throwing scenario a reality.

"And what if I end up liking him?" you had replied.

You didn’t have much faith that it would happen, but it could...

"You won’t like him. You’ll be loyal to your family and hate him."

However, you said nothing, and masked your shock at the suggestion. You knew he was wicked and resentful, even cruel, but... *bloodthirsty*? And yet, he was so handsome, enjoyed so many advantages, and was even the eldest son of his father...

Even so, you took the vial of poison in your hands and hid it among your clothes.

"Can you remind me once more, why do we hate the Blackwoods?"

Olyver shrugged.

"They’re despicable, but other than that, I don’t know," he replied, snorting. "But don’t cross us on this matter, sister. We don’t want to be related to them through marriage. Not again, I hate seeing the Blackwood name in our records. His death will eliminate any other demands the king might make of us."

You gestured towards the door, and he gave you such a wicked look for dismissing him that you thought he might punch you to emphasize what he had just told you—it wouldn’t have been the first time he did so. But Olyver was still focused on his intrigue, and before leaving, he said:

"As a widow, you’ll enjoy freedom, more freedom than a family or a husband could ever provide. Don’t forget that, sister."

It was ridiculous that the only thing you knew about the Blackwoods was that they wanted to see your family extinct. You didn’t know if Davos was a cold or unstable man; he might even be engaged to another woman, in love with someone else...

If you thought about it, you couldn’t pity him more than you already did.

Poor man and poor family, but if he dared to marry you and take a lover, you would burn his lands to the ground, down to the very foundations.

Masterlist

Chapter 2

[ltash]

If LOVE were all.

If I pen down 'love,' may you feel it all.

I’ve spent my entire life perceiving love through Rumi’s eyes, a longing, endless yet futile. When you and I got married, people often asked, "Simon, why did you marry so soon?" It was an arranged marriage, although most think it was love. The past was bitter, and honestly, it was that bitterness that gave my pen its strength. Pursuing an advanced fellowship in transplant hepatology in a remote, deprived region like was the fulfillment of a promise I made to my brother, a realization of my own dream that completed me in ways I cannot describe. Yet, late at night, when the Express train thunders past the rail line buried in sand nearby, I remember the bitterness of my youth and how it found its completion in the form of you.

No matter how deeply one loses themselves in the world, God never lets one stray from His love, and it’s in this love that the feminine audacity also travels, those fragile threads, young promises on a fraying string walked in darkness. The moment you display such audacity, you are grounded, humbled, and then it’s up to the Divine’s mercy whether He keeps you on that ground or lifts you to the heavens. In the rhythmic clinking of anklets on muddied feet, dancing in the rain-soaked earth, at any moment, spirituality may sweep you off your feet; this is the journey of Divine presence.

Whenever I looked at you, a question often surfaced in my mind: Can one truly fall in love after marriage? For love, after all, is synonymous with unattainability. How can one love what one already possesses? When Orion was born, he replaced you. This was a new rain of emotions, yet, was this love? He was but a part of my own being. This was affection. A love so pure it rivaled even that elusive love. In the search for an answer to this question, my journey brought me to compassion.

I have yet to meet compassion, but I have fallen in love with its love. It provided me an answer to a question I could never find in Rumi’s books. A part of my restless soul remained in search of it: Can one truly fall in love after marriage? Yes, if that love becomes unattainable. Even love takes the form of passion if it transcends and becomes eternal.

If I pen down an ‘L’, you begin to feel me,

Then with ‘O’, your sleep escapes,

When ‘V’ flows, a soft shiver awakens,

If I complete ‘LOVE’, may you feel it all.

[storyscribeforthesentiment]

the detective & the dark knight | chapter 1

Summary: Detective Marie Manning, investigating a series of brutal murders in Gotham, crosses paths with the mysterious Batman. As they work together, their mutual respect turns into a deep, passionate bond. Amidst danger and corruption, their unlikely partnership evolves into a profound love, forever changing their lives in Gotham’s dark corners.

Pairing: Batman/Bruce Wayne x f! main character

Author’s note: Just a heads-up, the first chapter is all about getting to know Marie better. I know it can be a bit of a wait to see the fun stuff, but hang tight! I promise the upcoming chapters will be filled with lots of adorable Bruce moments, sweet romance, and plenty of action. Stay tuned for all the fluff and excitement!

Word count: 3.5k

Warnings/tags: mentions of gun violence, police bribes, fighting, murder

Chapter List

Marie Manning awoke to the harsh beep of her alarm clock, jolting her from a restless sleep. She slapped the snooze button, staring up at the ceiling for a few moments.

The pale morning light filtered through the blinds, a muted reminder of another sleepless night. Her mind was already racing, caught in a swirl of half-finished thoughts and fleeting memories of a dream she couldn’t quite recall.

With a groan, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed and shuffled through her well-practiced morning routine. Her one-bedroom apartment was modest but functional, every piece of furniture carefully chosen for utility rather than style. It wasn’t much, but it was home—at least for now.

Her cat, a gray tabby named Marbles, sat perched on the edge of the bed, watching her with an almost judgmental gaze. “Remind me to get my clothes ready the night before next time,” she muttered, glancing at the wrinkled shirt she was about to pull on.

By the time she stepped outside, the chill in the air was sharp enough to sting her cheeks. Her neighborhood wasn’t exactly picturesque.

The garbage-filled streets and graffiti-covered walls were constant reminders of Gotham’s decay.

She ignored the distant sounds of an argument spilling out of a bodega, keeping her gaze fixed ahead. Her precinct was only a fifteen-minute walk, but in this part of town, that was plenty of time to be reminded why people locked their doors at night.

Gotham had a way of making you forget your humanity, Marie thought as she walked through the grim streets, her boots scraping against the cracked sidewalk.

People here weren’t just hardened by crime—they were numb to it. Their faces were maps of survival, etched with the years of violence, poverty, and loss that Gotham served up daily. Their eyes—dull, lifeless—looked through you like you were just another shadow to avoid. Like the light inside them had flickered out long ago.

And yet, here she was, pushing forward into it. She couldn’t walk away. Not when every corner seemed to echo with the cries of the city’s lost souls. There was no escape from Gotham's grip. People tried, sure. Some left for a while—but they always came back.

Gotham’s darkness was as much a part of them as their blood, their bones. You couldn’t outrun it.

Marie tightened the collar of her coat as she crossed a litter-strewn intersection, her gaze flicking up to the flickering neon sign above a dingy diner. The “Open” sign buzzed faintly in the misty morning air, but inside, the scene was the same—tired eyes, the sullen clink of coffee cups, hushed conversations. Everyone was just going through the motions, waiting for something to change. But nothing ever did, did it?

She remembered when she first joined the Gotham City Police Department. Back then, the city seemed like it was something she could fix.

She had the ambition of youth, the idealism of someone who believed that sheer willpower could change the world. The job was supposed to be about justice—about protecting people. But as the years passed, the weight of it all started to sink in.

She’d seen too many cases where the criminals weren’t caught because someone higher up had buried the evidence. Too many families left to pick up the pieces of shattered lives, while the ones responsible for the pain walked away, their pockets full of blood money.

It was a cycle. A vicious, unrelenting cycle. You couldn’t fix Gotham. Not with one person. Not even with a hundred. And yet, she kept trying. Maybe because, deep down, Marie knew the truth: if she stopped trying, if she let Gotham swallow her whole like it had so many others, it would be over. There’d be nothing left.

As she approached the precinct, the usual chaos filtered out of the building’s grimy windows—shouted arguments, ringing phones, the constant hum of a machine that had long since lost its soul. She let out a breath, willing herself to swallow the dread that started to form in her chest. But she was here, and she’d do her job.

This was where she belonged.

Marie pushed through the doors, and the cacophony of the bullpen hit her instantly. The chatter, the hum of printers, the voices that never stopped. She moved through it like a ghost, not really seeing her colleagues, just focusing on the task ahead. But as she passed Bullock’s desk, his voice broke through her thoughts.

“Manning!” he called out, his gravelly voice laced with the kind of tiredness that made him sound like he had too much of this city in him. “Gordon wants you in his office. Now.”

“Great,” she muttered under her breath.

She didn’t need to be told twice. She grabbed her jacket off the back of her chair and headed for Gordon’s office, the clatter of typewriters and ringing phones fading behind her. It was quieter here—if you could call it that. Gordon’s office was always a chaotic mess of files, folders, and half-drunk coffee mugs.

Yet, in that chaos, there was always a certain order. A grim kind of order that came from years of dealing with Gotham’s most twisted cases.

She knocked once before stepping in, and Gordon didn’t even look up from his desk.

“Manning,” he said, his voice low and tired. “Sit.”

The chair creaked as she lowered herself into it. She met his eyes briefly—he looked worn, his graying hair mussed, glasses perched precariously on his nose. But there was a sharpness in his gaze that never wavered. Gordon had seen it all. The murders. The corruption. The city’s slow, inevitable decay. And still, he kept fighting.

As she sat across from him, she could see it now, more than ever. James Gordon wasn’t just a man who wore the badge. He was one of the few left who still cared about Gotham. A man who fought tirelessly against the same darkness that had consumed so many others. 

There were days when Marie wondered how he could keep going, how he could still wake up every morning and do the impossible. His eyes carried the weight of every injustice the city had thrown at him—every crooked politician, every dead child, every unsolved case. But he never gave up. Not once. Not ever.

He was tired, sure. His shoulders slumped more each day, the lines on his face deeper, but the fire inside him had never dimmed. His sense of justice was like an anchor in this sinking city, and even when everyone else gave up or turned away, Gordon was still there, standing between Gotham and complete destruction. He believed in the city—something she wasn’t sure most people could still say.

Gordon finished up whatever he was writing and turned his attention to her before announcing, “I’m assigning you to the Southside homicides,” as slid a thick file toward her.

Marie’s stomach tightened. The Southside homicides were all anyone at the precinct could talk about—bodies discovered with eerie regularity, each bearing the same distinctive red lotus tattoo. Her experience up to now had been limited to carjackings and robberies. This was a whole new level.

“Gordon, I—” She began, then stopped herself. Showing self-doubt in front of Gordon was a mistake she wouldn’t make.

Gordon set his glasses down and leaned back in his chair, scrutinizing her in that way he always did when he had something important to say. “Marie,” he said, his tone softening slightly. “You’ve been ready for this. You just don’t believe it yet.”

She stayed silent, her jaw tightening. Gordon had a way of reading her too well, and she wasn’t sure how to feel about it.

“I remember when you first walked into this precinct, five years ago,” he continued, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Fresh out of the academy, eager to prove yourself. You were all nerves and determination back then. Hell, you barely spoke above a whisper that first month.”

Marie couldn’t help but crack a small smile at that. She remembered those early days vividly—the overwhelming noise of the bullpen, the skeptical glances from seasoned detectives, the constant pressure to keep up.

“You took every case I threw at you,” Gordon said. “Didn’t matter how small or thankless. And you didn’t just do the work—you owned it. I noticed, even if you thought no one did.”

She looked down at the file in her hands, her cheeks warming slightly.

“I’ve always trusted you, Manning,” Gordon said firmly. “Not just because you’re good at what you do, but because you care. You actually give a damn about this city, and that’s rare in this line of work.”

His expression grew more serious as he turned to look out the window, his back to Marie. He let out a weary sigh before speaking. “You’re one of the few I can trust,” he said quietly. “Falcone’s bought out 70% of the cops in this precinct. Maroni’s probably got his hooks in several as well. I’d be naive to think my force is clean—untouchable. It’s far from it.”

Marie absorbed his words, feeling the weight of his trust and the burden of the responsibility he was placing on her shoulders. Gordon’s fatigue was evident, a reflection of the strain the case and the corruption in the city were putting on him.

“You’re one of the only detectives I can say with absolute certainty hasn’t been bought out. I know you’re good,” Gordon continued, leaning back in his chair.

Marie met his gaze, feeling the weight of his words settle in her chest. She wanted to believe him, to trust that she really was as capable as he said. But doubt was a stubborn thing.

“I need you on this case,” Gordon said, his expression growing serious again.

Marie nodded slowly, the gravity of his trust sinking in.

“You’ve earned this,” he added. “Don’t let anyone—especially yourself—tell you otherwise.”

For the next half hour, they sat in Gordon’s office, the dim overhead light casting long shadows across the cluttered desk as he meticulously walked her through the case. His gravelly voice outlined the gruesome details, his words laced with urgency.

Marie listened intently, jotting notes in her small leather notebook, but as the scope of the case unfolded—mutilated bodies, cryptic tattoos, and a citywide undercurrent of fear—she couldn’t shake the growing unease in her chest.

She nodded and asked the occasional question to mask the nagging doubt creeping into her mind. As much as she tried to focus, the weight of it all pressed against her, making her feel as though she were a rookie again, scrambling to find her footing in Gotham’s chaos.

—-------------------------------

That evening, after hours spent poring over gruesome crime scene photos and case details, Marie felt like her brain was swimming. The red lotus tattoos were the only clear connection, but the varying methods of execution—drowning, burning, gunshots—hinted at a calculated, sadistic plan.

The docks appeared repeatedly in the case notes, a known haven for criminal activity. It was a logical place to start.

By the time she arrived, the sky was a dark canvas, the stars obscured by Gotham’s ever-present haze. The air was crisp, carrying the faint aroma of salt and rotting fish. Shadows stretched long across the wooden planks, the dim streetlamps casting everything in an eerie glow.

She moved cautiously, her boots echoing softly against the dock’s worn surface. The distant hum of the city was muted here, replaced by the rhythmic lapping of water against the pier.

Then, a commotion broke the stillness—grunts and cries, the unmistakable sounds of a struggle.

Marie rounded the corner cautiously, her hand instinctively hovering near her sidearm.

The scene ahead was almost surreal. Under the dim orange glow of a flickering streetlamp, two figures moved in a violent, chaotic rhythm. One, cloaked in dark armor that seemed to meld with the shadows, was unmistakably Batman. The other—a wiry, masked attacker—was just as swift, lunging at the caped figure with a brutal desperation.

Marie froze, her breath catching in her throat. She’d heard the stories: the myth of Gotham’s dark knight, whispered among cops and criminals alike.

Some described him as a demon, others a man consumed by vengeance. But seeing him now, so tangible yet so otherworldly, was entirely different. He moved with precision and power, his strikes surgical.

The attacker swung wildly, a glint of metal catching Marie’s eye—a knife. Batman sidestepped, the blade barely missing its mark. In one fluid motion, he caught the man’s wrist, twisting it with a sickening crack that echoed across the alley.

The knife clattered to the ground, but the assailant didn’t yield. He kicked out, catching Batman in the ribs. The blow barely seemed to faze him.

Batman retaliated with a savage uppercut, sending the attacker stumbling back against a stack of rusted barrels. He followed up with a brutal combination: a sharp elbow to the jaw, a knee to the gut, and a final hammering punch to the chest. The assailant collapsed to the ground with a guttural groan, writhing in pain.

Marie’s heart pounded in her chest as she processed the scene. The ferocity of the fight, the raw power Batman displayed—it was both mesmerizing and terrifying.

She glanced at the ground nearby and saw a man bound and barely conscious, slumped against the curb. His shirt was torn, exposing a red lotus tattoo on his shoulder. The symbol immediately clicked with the case she was working on.

Gathering her courage, Marie stepped forward. Her boots scraped against the gravel, drawing Batman’s attention. He turned his head sharply, his white eyes narrowing beneath the shadow of his cowl.

She’d heard stories, of course—how he moved like a ghost, how he struck fear into the worst of Gotham.

But watching him now, seeing the controlled fury in every strike, made her question whether “human” even applied. He was something else entirely. And yet, as he looked at her, there was something startlingly familiar in his gaze. Something tired.

For a moment, she hesitated. This was the infamous vigilante, someone she had only known through hearsay and secondhand accounts. Yet here he was, flesh and blood, standing between the shadows and the chaos.

Marie raised her hands slowly, palms out, a gesture of peace. Her movements were deliberate, careful not to provoke the imposing figure in front of her. “I’m Detective Marie Manning,” she said, keeping her voice steady despite the adrenaline surging through her veins. 

“I’m the lead detective on this case. We need to get him to safety. I can help.” She nodded toward the unconscious victim, her gaze flicking between Batman’s stoic mask and the man on the ground.

Batman studied her in silence, his imposing figure completely still. His gaze was unreadable, but she felt the weight of his scrutiny, as if he were peeling back layers to determine her intentions.

Finally, he gave a curt nod. “The victim is critical,” he said, his gravelly voice low but commanding. “Get him to a hospital immediately.”

Marie didn’t waste time. She activated her radio, her voice sharp as she requested an ambulance, but as the dispatcher relayed the delayed ETA, she realized the situation was urgent. “Fuck, I’ll take him myself,” she muttered, more to herself than to Batman, frustration bubbling up as the weight of the situation settled in.

Batman nodded. Without another word, they worked together to lift the victim.

Batman’s strength was a force of nature, effortless as he maneuvered the limp body, while Marie struggled slightly with the weight. She managed to open the back door of her car, and together, they laid the man across the seat.

As they worked, Batman’s voice broke the silence, low and deliberate. “The guy who attacked him… I’ve seen him around Falcone’s men. Maroni’s crew too. But I couldn’t get a positive ID.” He gave a brief glance toward the victim, his expression unreadable beneath the cowl.

Marie’s brow furrowed, processing his words. “Falcone and Maroni…” she murmured, her mind racing with the implications. But she didn’t ask for more; she knew Batman wasn’t one for long explanations.

Marie slammed the car door shut, her heart still pounding from the chaos of the moment, and glanced over her shoulder one last time—only to find the alley behind her empty, the dark figure of Batman gone. The only trace of his departure was the faintest whisper of movement in the shadows, leaving Marie standing by her car, the weight of the night pressing down on her as she slid into the driver’s seat and sped off toward the hospital.

At the hospital, Marie stayed long enough to ensure the victim was stabilized. During his brief moments of lucidity, he mumbled about being taken but couldn’t recall details. The red lotus tattoo remained their only lead.

Back in her car, Marie sat in the driver’s seat, staring at the glowing numbers on her dashboard clock. Her fingers hovered over her phone before she finally dialed Commissioner Gordon.

“Manning,” his voice came through, weary but attentive.

“Gordon, it’s me. I just had an encounter with Batman at the docks,” she said, the words spilling out. “He subdued an attacker connected to our case. The victim had the red lotus tattoo.”

The line crackled with silence before Gordon spoke again, his voice heavier than before. “Manning, I’m glad you’re safe.” He let out a long, weary sigh, the kind that spoke of too many nights spent battling Gotham’s darkness. “Batman’s involvement... it doesn’t surprise me. I’ve been working with him—for a while now. Quietly. Off the record.”

Marie froze, her grip tightening on the phone. “You’ve been working with Batman?” Her words came out sharper than she intended, disbelief cutting through her tone.

“Yes,” Gordon admitted, his voice unyielding. “He’s someone I trust, and that’s not a phrase I use lightly in this city. You can trust him, too. He’s done more to protect Gotham than most of us combined. More than you know.”

Marie frowned, trying to reconcile the stories she’d heard with the vigilante she’d just seen. “Why didn’t I know about this?”

“Because Batman’s work is... complicated,” Gordon said. “And because trust in this city is a rare commodity. Batman’s not perfect, but he’s someone I know I can count on. Right now, I need you to do the same.”

Marie leaned back in her seat, a dry laugh escaping her lips as she rubbed her forehead. “That’s not exactly reassuring.”

Gordon chuckled softly, the sound almost bitter. “He’s not here to reassure anyone. He’s here to fight the battles we can’t. Keep him in mind, Manning. If he’s involved, it means this case is bigger than we realize.”

After the call ended, Marie sat in the quiet of her car, processing everything. Her mind raced with questions. The Batman she’d just met was nothing like the myth—he was a man, not a monster, but he carried himself with an intensity that felt almost otherworldly.

As the adrenaline faded, doubt slithered back in, heavy and unwelcome. The case was already a labyrinth, and now she had to reconcile Gotham’s shadowy protector with everything she thought she knew about this city. Marie exhaled sharply, fingers tightening around the steering wheel. Gordon trusted him.

For now, that would have to be enough.

[sexyandtalentedmen]

Sex symbols through the decades - 1950's:

James Dean (1931 - 1955)

James Byron Dean was an American actor who became one of the most influential figures in Hollywood in the 1950s, despite a career that lasted only five years. His impact on cinema and popular culture was profound. He is remembered for his rebellion, youthful defiance, and the restless spirit.

James Byron Dean was born on February 8th 1931 in Marion, Indiana. His mother died when he was nine, and he was subsequently raised on a farm by his aunt and uncle in Fairmount, Indiana. After grade school, he moved to New York to pursue his dream of acting.

He had a passion for motor racing but the hobby would turn out to be his downfall. His untimely death at the age of 24. His life was cut short in a car accident on Septmber 30th 1955.

[luvrodite]

the road not taken looks real good now [669]

gn!reader, exes to ?, hopeful ending, light angst, a tribute to the piece i wrote in 2022 inspired by tis the damn season and hometown loves

He doesn’t ask you to stay, no matter how badly you wish he would. And no matter how bad the words linger on the tip of your tongue, you don’t ask him to wait.

The thought of him like that, wrapped up and in love with someone that isn’t you, makes your stomach turn cruelly, but still you say nothing. Bit by bit, you pack up the life you’ve always known – how do you manage to fit years into a single suitcase, you wonder bitterly. It seems like a condemnation – a sign that you were always meant for something else, something not Gotham and her grey, or the tourmaline eyed man who watches over her.

Jason sees you off – puts you on the train like it’s one of those old war movies and stays on the platform until you can no longer see him, the carriage pulling suddenly into the dark tunnel that’s meant to carry you to your great destiny. It sits in your stomach, bitter and mournful. 

He doesn’t kiss you goodbye. You don’t ask. Neither of you say a thing, but the seconds count down, closer and closer to your departure. The station is busy, thrumming with a restless energy that isn’t entirely your own. You watch over his shoulder as a woman rushes, laden with bags and clutching a small child’s hand, into the open doors of the same train you need to get on. Another man shoulders past a group of teenagers, a phone clattering to the ground and a chorus of yells going up.

Somewhere in the chaos, his hand finds yours. It’s a pitiful replacement for all the words that go unsaid, and you can feel – not for the first time since you’d decided to leave – your heart cleave painfully, another fragment falling to the greying tiles at your feet and shattering. At this rate, you’re unsure how much of it will be left by the time you get to where you’re going. 

The seconds flip closer, closer. A squeeze, and then your hand is falling away. Come home. I love you. I miss you already. Don’t go. 

He says nothing, and you wish he would. 

Jason watches you go.

You stay away for a year. A year turns into two and somehow, despite it all, the years continue to pass. You’re twenty six the next time you set foot in Gotham, bundling into the back of your dad’s car when he picks you up outside the airport. 

It feels strange, driving down these roads. The cold bites, even through the rolled up windows and blanket that’s been in the backseat since you were five. You clutch it closer, eyes gazing out. You think if you stare hard enough, you’ll see the ghosts of your youth.

At street corners, under awnings and under lamp posts flickering to life – they’re everywhere. You don’t dare to breathe old names, but you’re suddenly eighteen once more, tired old heart beating once more for the one that haunts every memory. In dreams, in constellations and first kisses – there he remains.

And then, when you walk into that damn dive bar, address flashing on your phone and confirming that yes, this is where your friends had wanted to meet –

All roads inevitably lead back to him. This is a truth he must have known, you think, when you lock eyes with the ones that have haunted you for more than half a decade and they crease at the corners in pleasure.

Jason rounds the counter. 

“You’re back,” he says. You, dazed, dizzy, anguished and lovesick, can only nod. Blue-green threatens to swallow you whole – to keep you, forever. Fingers you’ve not touched in an age tangle with your own and warmth blooms through your fingertips.

“Will you stay,” he asks, adding, belatedly, “for a drink?”

You squeeze his hand. The ache in your chest mellows – real, it whispers. Real, and here, and – yours? 

“I’ll stay,” you murmur and his mouth curls into a shadowed smile, quietly pleased. 

it always leads to you in my hometown is one of those fics i think about a lot for no damn reason. i don't particularly consider it one of my best works but it's so dear to me and i think the reunification of love, the return home and the bitterness of parting is just so….it does my head in (in the best way)

i got to see the song that inspired this fic (and others that provided the soundtrack to SO MANY of my fics) live a few weeks ago and it was such an incredible experience. i don't know, folklore and evermore are just so precious and dear to my heart. i love the stories in those albums and it made me so inexplicably happy being able to see the songs that inspired these fics live and thinking about jason and the memories i've made writing these silly little fics.

anyway i hope you enjoyed this little piece, i hope you're doing well and eating well. i love you