#and I'm too poor to afford a new one

[underthehedge]

Some stuff near the Menai Straits today.

A fungus of some sort on dead wood, possibly Stereum hirsutum. Gorgeous epiphytic fern, common polypody (Polypodium vulgare) on oak branches. Some sort of fancy red elf cup fungus.

[useless-catalanfacts]

Btw if you come on holidays and stay at an AirBnb instead of an actual registered hotel I hate you personally. Not "I hate the gentrification and touristic massification and the way we can't live in our homes and are forced to move away because of tourism" in an abstract way- No, not just that. I hate you.

[kyouka-supremacy]

Failed a social interaction 0 injured 1 killed (me)

[deplcythebattery]

i would do anything for the new bad omens merch (the gun hoodie????? are you kidding me 😭) but alas i am a european living in poverty i do not have 80$ to drop on a hoodie nor do i have money to pay for import fees

[buttercuparry]

So tumblr keeps on shadowbanning Siraj's accounts and he tries to remake of course, but right now, he is exhausted with  how targeted these bans have started to feel.  To be honest, Siraj is tired of a lot of things: the never ending atrocity, the hunger, the cold, and of course, he is tired of barely making any progress in the  campaign at all. He wanted to make a post today but since he doesn’t have the energy to travel all the way to Deir-al Balah for an Internet connection, I am writing this on behalf of him. Please read through this if possible; these are Siraj Abudayeh's own words:

A perception gained through hearing is merely a poor reflection of the actual, be it about events concerning Gaza, Ramallah, Paris or USA.

It can't ever be enough even if you diligently follow the news. Or if you read every single article or watch every video that maybe available online. For there are things present in the air of Gaza- rotten and burnt smell, metallic smoke that sticks to the mouth and coats the nostrils, poison that is inhaled with every breathe and chemicals taken into the lungs- that no video can capture.

So of course there is a difference! It is a difference between reading the phrase, “I waited seven hours for a bottle of water,” and actually being parched and having to wait hours for some semi-polluted water. There is a difference between reading about Gazan children losing their childhoods, and actually having to see your son despairingly cry out “BREAD!” There is a difference between hearing about a torn tent, and actually having to live in it, that too if you were lucky to afford one.

There is always a difference between reading/hearing it and LIVING it. For all this, I want to say that the one who is only hearing about it does not have the right to draw up conclusions about the needs of the person living the nightmare. They have no right to either question his relentless pursuit for his cause, nor expect that he can be steadfast and not feel exhaustion. There is a difference between what we know and what others have the privilege of not knowing: there is a difference, there is a DIFFERENCE. The meaning is simple, there is always a difference.

In the last 2 days, we have seen some disturbing comments being made about the genocide going on in Gaza. I don't actually have anything to say regarding such banal behavior but I do request you to read what Gazans have to say. Ultimately Palestine will be free, with or without us, but I hope that when we chanted "Free Palestine", there was some truth to it.

( $10 CAD= $7.19 USD)

Vetting #219

[yueebby]

Dying thinking about gojo literally pinning and hardcore simping for reader, literally showering reader in praise, flattery and gifts because he no longer gives a damn about hiding his feelings, almost proposing to reader whenever he can and reader's just... completely clueless about it💀 and she thinks it's just gojo being friendly. Poor man would be absolutely devastated when he goes one day "[name] i'm in love with you" and she just goes "me too, i love all my friends!" 💀

she loves me, she loves me not! — gojo satoru x fem!reader

contents. fluff, lovesick!gojo (what’s new), highschool!gojo, he’s pathetic but in love your honor, oblivious!reader, ooc gojo i got carried away soz

notes. anon, when i first read your ask i literally started giggling and kicking my feet. that. is. so. gojo coded.

“please reject gojo and put him out of his misery,” utahime implored, taking hold of both of your hands. you think she’s asking, no, begging you to. beside her, shoko nods vigorously. 

“but why?” you furrow your eyebrows, perplexed by their sudden request. “i can’t reject someone who doesn’t like me.”

shoko giggles at your comment. her laughter only wanes when she notices the dead serious look on your face. “... you seriously have no idea what we’re talking about?”

“not really,” you shrug, criss-crossing your legs to find some comfort on the hard wooden floor in shoko’s small dorm. it was late, past midnight, and the three of you had a shared mission tomorrow, but for some reason your two friends managed to rope you into their drinking circle.

utahime and shoko exchanged a significant glance, their unspoken communication raising your curiosity. utahime takes a long sip of her beer. 

“hopeless. they’re both hopeless,” your short haired brunette friend lamented, pinching her nose bridge. it leaves a faint pink mark.

intrigued, you lean in closer towards the two, “care to elaborate?”

“you’ve never once questioned satoru’s borderline inappropriate behavior?” shoko asks you earnestly. you ponder for a moment, trying to recall any moments in the two years you’ve known the snow-haired boy.

“satoru is satoru…” you mumble, shaking your head in denial. 

utahime’s eyes bug comically. she slams her can of beer harshly on the ground. you wince at the loud noise of the metallic can hitting the floor.

“you’re kidding. even i can see through that jerk!” utahime’s black pigtails sway wildly. 

“[name], how about what happened in shinjuku last week on our day off?” shoko quietly reminds you of last weekend when the two of you along with satoru and suguru decided to empty your pockets in one of tokyo’s largest entertainment wards. 

utahime’s head whips back and forth from her best friend to you, “eh? what happened?!”

from behind the dressing room curtain, you voiced your concerns, “shoko, i don't think we can afford designer clothes on our student budget.” the cream-colored silk dress you wore clung to your body, its price tag undoubtedly surpassing a year's worth of your student earnings.

“don’t worry your pretty little head about it,” shoko’s voice carried a knowing smile. “just come out and show me the dress!” you think satoru’s carefree attitude is rubbing off on her.

with a nervous sigh, you emerged from the dressing room. the dress fit like a glove, accentuating your body in just the right places.

bright flashes from shoko's phone startled you, and she chuckled deviously while rapidly typing. she tossed her phone onto a luxurious cushion, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of exposure.

“you look so sexy. even better than the model.” she gives you two thumbs up, eyes roaming your figure. you feel flushed at her praise.

“as flattered as i am, there’s no way i can afford this,” you look down at the dress, lips downturned. “i’d be in debt for life.”

“no need to worry,” shoko winked, leaving you confused. given that her income was similar to yours, it didn't make sense for her to be able to even dream of shopping designer.

a soft thud interrupted your conversation. you turn around to see a blue lollipop rolling on the expensive carpeting of the store.

“suguru, are my eyes deceiving me or is that an angel?”  satoru's mouth is wide open as he shamelessly checks you out. he takes one of his hands and places it over his heart, gripping the fabric of his white shirt. the windbreaker he is wearing rustles at his dramatic movement.

“i think… i’m experiencing a heart attack! shoko help!” he kneels in the middle of the store dramatically. shoko shares an unamused look with suguru. the pair nod before simultaneously kicking satoru.

during all of the commotion, you stand awkwardly in the million yen dress. 

“satoru, are you okay?” you watch him take the two blows from your friends, concern evident in your voice. he grunts softly before gently taking ahold of your hand.

“no,” he croaks with a playful glint in his eye. “i’m wounded and there’s only one way to fix it.”

you look at him, your gaze heavy with concern.

“i’m afraid you’ll have to kiss me for the pain to go away.” he added, blinking at you expectantly with his blue eyes.

 you lightly shove him away from you. “you’re an idiot.” satoru laughs loudly.

“that’s what love does to a man.”

“yeah, yeah. i’m going to change out of this dress, don’t get into any more trouble while i’m gone.” 

 satoru’s grip on your hand strengthens, halting your actions.

“how much?”

“excuse me?”

“the dress. how much for it?” he stands up to his full height, reminding you of the obvious height difference between the two of you. 

you're at loss for words. gojo was crazy, but definitely not crazy enough to spend a million yen on a silly dress.

shoko happily chimes into the conversation. “one million yen. it’ll be two million yen with the rest of my purchases though!” 

suguru’s calm demeanor is replaced with shock. the black haired male’s jaw drops, “two million– satoru, you’re seriously not thinking about–”

“hah? who said i’m paying for your stuff?” gojo makes an ugly face at shoko.

she raises her hands innocently, “it’s not my fault the dresses come in a set. if you want to see your beloved [name] in that dress you’ll have to pay for mine as well.”

you watch shoko and satoru engage into a silent argument. the tension in the fitting room section is so thick, you think it’ll take a special grade weapon to slice through it.

trying to alleviate the mood you tell gojo, “satoru, you really don’t have to–”

“i’m buying you that dress.” 

“o-okay.” 

half an hour later, satoru happily strolls out of the store with an arm around your shoulder like he’d just won the lottery.

perhaps gojo is just naturally flirty, you had tried to reason to shoko and utahime.

it’s been a week since the eye-opening conversation with the two and you’ve found yourself on cleaning duty with said snow-haired boy. it was a miracle that satoru even showed up. he had a tendency to skip his turns, often resulting in a long lecture from yaga.

as the two of you worked silently in the empty classroom, you couldn't help but admire the setting sun. its golden rays painted the sky with hues of pink and orange, casting a warm glow over everything. unknowingly, while you gazed at the sky, gojo's gaze was firmly fixed on you.

breaking the silence, he asked, "have you ever thought about getting married?"

his question caught you off guard, causing you to momentarily pause from wiping the windows.

“not really,” you replied, biting your lip gently. “unless my family decides to arrange a marriage. you know how unforgiving the world of jujutsu sorcery is.”

gojo's grip on the broom tightened, his eyes locking onto yours with a newfound intensity.

"we should get married y'know," he blurted out.

the piece of cloth you were using slipped from your hand in shock. surely, he couldn't mean what he was saying. after all, the two of you were only second years.

“what?”

“i’m saying i think i’m in love with you.”

“oh.” 

silence engulfs the room once more before a soft giggle escapes your lips.

satoru can only watch, entranced.

“that’s good to hear! i love you too– and suguru and shoko! perhaps the four of us should all just get married.” you chuckle into your hand.

satoru can't help but stare at your hand in envy. perhaps if he were the palm of your hand, he’d be able to feel the touch of your lips.

but he couldn’t. he was cursed as a man with an overpowered innate technique, and despite it all he couldn’t even gain the one thing he desired. gojo satoru watched you, eyes filled with a mixture of longing and defeat.

his devastation does not go unnoticed by you.

you were under the impression that he was grumpy because yaga had forced him into cleaning with you.

"cheer up, satoru! if we finish early enough," you continue, your tone highspirited, "we can go to the new crepe shop that opened last week. my treat!" you winked, and that immediately caught his attention.

“like a date?” his eyes sparkled with hope.

you shrug, a smile on your face. “i suppose if you look at it from a certain perspective…”

“great, it’s a date!” 

good things come to those who wait, satoru thinks, humming happily as he starts to sweep the room at an inhumane pace.

maybe in ten years time the two of you will be happily married with eight kids, he smiles to himself.

[youryanderedaddy]

Summary: You run into your snobby ex boyfriend after a drunken party. Things go south from there. tw: female reader, hinted murder, possessive behavior, condescension, financial(?) abuse, classism

You know this is a stupid, stupid idea. Going home at God knows what time in the pitch black is never a good idea, you think drowsily, head still spinning from the last beer, but even more so when you're tired, pissed off and tipsy. You're freezing, naked shoulders wet from the chilly midnight rain - but instead of soft damp linden, you smell molden concrete and metal. You fucking hate this city. You hate the stupid, flashy, obnoxious parties for rich people, and this shitty university in the middle of nowhere, and even the scholarship that forced you into close proximity with the freakish upper class of east New Hemptison.

"Baby!" A familiar voice sinks into the muddy darkness and you have to physically restrain yourself from emptying your stomach right there on the street - and knowing your neighbours, you'd have to clean it after too. His steps fasten and soon you feel his hand gripping your shoulder to turn you around. Standing before you, glistening just like some prince from a fairy tale, is everything you despise about this town. The fact that he's perfectly prim and proper despite the pounding rain, that his teeth seem almost pearly white in the dark, that his hair is crisp and slicked away tastefully, that even now he's wearing a fucking Armani shirt with the cheesiest pair of jeans (ones you could never afford) - it makes you want to crawl back to the cave you came from, two continents away, and never look back.

"Baby, where have you been?" He sounds terribly concerned as he pulls your shivering body in for a tight bear hug, running his hands through your absolutely soaked hair - murmuring something incomprehensible to your drunken mind. "I was worried sick, missy." His voice drops slightly, but it's all for show. He's playing the part of the good boyfriend, like always - and you fell for it once, you did, but you know better now. "I called you, like, sixty eight times. And nothing." He swallows, big hands trembling around you. "Just radio silence. I thought something bad happened to y-"

"Oh, f-uucking beat it." Your patience finally snaps and you push him off swiftly, barely contained anger starting to resurface again. Today was supposed to be about you, about healing, about feeling better, but just your luck - the very problem had found you, just like always. No matter where you go, your troubles follow. "You know what you did, asshole. Don't you d-aare play innocent with m-me." You hiss drunkenly, stumbling all over your words before hitting the wall all on your own. Mathew, of course, doesn't waste the oppurtunity to get closer to you - just so he can help you regain your balance, of course. The golden boy of Saint Hemptison would never take advantage of an intoxicated girl - much less his ex girlfriend who he's still hopelessly in love with, supposedly. Right.

"Baby, please, you're drunk - you're not making any sense." The man whispers softly, placing his hand at your hip. "Let's go to the penthouse. We can talk about this in the morning when you are more aware of your thoughts."

When you're more aware of your thoughts? You almost laugh. It's quite bittersweet when it hits you that he doesn't respect you even now - maybe he never has in the duration of your miserable relationshop, that in his eyes you'll always be the poor girl in need of a white knight. Just a little trophy to show off, if a bit broken in certain spots.

"I am not going anywhere with you." You mumble, trying to calm down - to appear cold and collected, the complete opposite of what he wants you to be. "Look, I know that you're mad at me, babygirl, but I'm sure your little temper tantrum can wait until tomorrow. You know I don't like this neighbourhood. Let me take you to a safe place for the night, okay?" He reaches for your hand again, but this time you swat it away in fury.

"Who are you to act so worried about me, huh?" You can hear your voice breaking as the tears prick at your eyes - hot and shameful. Crying in front of him is the last thing you want to do, but god, it's so hard not to when this whole night has been a disaster after a disaster. You're truly at your wits' end. "After what you did? You are truly shameless." You squeal, and admittedly, it feels fucking great to finally say it.

Your former lover's face twists into an unrecognizable grimace as he watches you tear into his heart with ease - and as you turn to leave, he grabs your wrist painfully. This time something is different about his eyes - they're not longer smiling. Now they're two bottomless gray pits devoid of kindness, the same eyes you saw the night of the accident as he caressed your cold cheek with bloody knuckles.

"And what did I do, love? Hm?" He tilts your chin up by squeezing your throat, forcing you to meet his eerie gaze. Suddenly all your tipsy bravado evaporates into thin air. "Please, refresh my memory. I really can't recall the events of the past two weeks - since you've been avoiding me and all..." His fingers dig into your skin and you wince just like a kicked puppy - but he doesn't bulge an inch. Suddenly everything comes flooding back - the touches you convinced yourself were sensual, not possesive, the glances you once thought of as romantic, the constant interrogations, the strange emails, the cryptic calls, the dead roses at your door. "I couldn't sleep - or eat for that matter. I am half a man without you. I lose myself completely."

It all makes sense now. You feel like crying, because it's so crystal clear... and you've been a willing fool. You had closed your eyes, because it was easier to lie than to accept the truth bubbling just under his surface - under the dimples and the smiles, and the hundred jewelry boxes still lying unopened under your bed.

"You - you killed him! You monster!" You gasp, unable to stop your lips from uttering the lethal. You thrash around to no avail, you're stuck. "How could you? Jack was your friend!" You hide your face in the crook of his neck to stop the sobs, too scared to look at the crazed man holding you. He simply rolls his eyes, letting you soak his shirt with your pretty tears. "Don't be so dramatic - it's just some broken bones. He'll be fine... as long as he stays away from my things."

You raise your head shakily - you're drowning between hatred, fear and misery. The adrenaline is making you even more disoriented than the liquor percentage in your bloodstream.

"I am not a fucking thing for you to-" You hiccup, growing woozy as you hit weakly against his chest. The corners of his lips curl up slightly as he chuckles at the pitiful display. "For you to just own!" You keep going, cheeks purple from pent up fury - there's something tearing at your insides like you want to scream, you need it to come out, but you find yourself unable to push it off your flesh like it's been ingrained with glue and a shovel.

"You're wrong, baby. I do own you." Mathew says with the sweetest, softest voice you've heard in your life, sugary and bitter like poisonous honey. "Let's say you want to break up-"

"We already broke u-"

His eyes pierce you mid-sentence. You quickly close your mouth.

"Let's say," He repeats through gritted teeth, holding you so tightly you might just merge into one being. "That you want to break up with me." He inhales deeply, nostrils flaring. "Hypothetically. Then what? You have no place to live. I know you're staying at that shithole of a hotel down the street right now - it's filthier than a brothel, no?"

You want to say something - to argue, to scream. To tell him that he's being a rich, condescending asshole again, that you like the hotel - despite the mold and the cockroaches and the way there never seems to be hot water. Despite having to lock your door four times so you don't get assaulted in your sleep.

You say nothing.

"You don't have to confirm it. My agent tracked you down a week ago. Whatever - you'll run out of money in, approximately, 9 days." He smirks maliciously, with unhidden spite - just like a little devil. "Then what? You don't even have an address. And you know the city hall will take their sweet fucking time to help you register - if they don't make you pay a fine first." He strokes your chin cruelly. "We both know just how much they care about clueless little foreigners with less than a penny to their name." He whispers, twisting the dagger in. "Hell, they may even cut your scholarship. And. then. what." Your ex pronounces each word slowly - making sure you can understand it, feel it - fear it.

You imagine your family back at home. You can hear their voices over the phone, your mom smiling as you tell her about your day, your father asking you what you plan to do after college - whether you will still remember them, whether you'd take care of them once they have nothing left, since you took everything with you. The money, the hopes, the happiness...

"F-fuck you..." You whimper faintly, falling against him. You feel defeated, and the sharp words are all you have left. "Why are you doing this to me?" You mumble to yourself, suddenly feeling drained to the very bone. The man begins stroking your hair as he rocks you gently to the side. "Because I love you." He slowly kisses down your neck. "Because I'm the only one in this city who gives a fuck about you, and-" You can feel his smile against your burning cheek. "Because you're mine."

[hexhomos]

Hello fellow Jayce defender.

First off, virtual kisses on both your cheeks for your Arcane analysis. They're refreshing to read, and insightful as well.

Something that's always bothered me about the way fans interact with Jayce is assuming that he's always the one making the mistakes in any of his relationships. It's almost funny in a way how they strip other characters of their autonomy and arcs just so they can point out how Jayce is failing his partners.

With Mel and Viktor especially, there's this narrative that Jayce simultaneously ignores both of their needs while also prioritising one over the other. Either he neglects Viktor to go and swoon over Mel, or he abandons his relationship with Mel to go play science with Viktor, or he neglects both to go do his own things while they suffer through their own plots.

And it's fascinating how incredibly mistaken these people are, and also how they reduce his character to only being important when he's in a relationship.

I'm here like, "hey, do you wanna discuss the reason for how Jayce seemingly knows how to navigate the ways of high class society very easily is probably because he's had to rely on sponsorships and donations for most of his youth to find his research because his house is too poor to be able afford it?"

Or "It's canonical that Jayce only ever had one friend in his youth before Viktor, and that was the daughter of his main sponsor, do you think it's interesting that this indicates he probably had difficulty making or maintaining friendships and that this is possibly a symptom of the Academy mainly housing elite and rich students so they couldn't relate to his struggles and he couldn't relate to theirs?"

But no, people just want to hate on him for not being the picture perfect boytoy in a relationship.

And I mean, it's not like it's just reduced to Jayce either. So many other characters have had similar treatments where they're reduced to either their most basic qualities or mischaracterised entirely. And I'm really not trying to be the fandom police or whatever - everyone interprets differently - I just find it frustrating is all.

Anyways, you're cool.

YES I never have time to talk about this bc people don't give a fuck but in Jayce's journals we even see him stewing with envy and petty rage at this star-rising student on the academy that he sees as the example of a perfect prodigy (in opposition to how much Jayce fucks things up...)

It also strongly suggests he's on a scholarship, which ties into his suicide attempt.

Jayce is keeping his experiments a secret from everyone to avoid the blowback and isolating himself further and further when they don't work. Jayce is flawed! He's proud of his dream pitch to the point of hilarity. Jayce doesn't like socializing, he does it out of obligation! Even when he's being raised to a councilor position in s1 he's PANICKING. He doesn't want the fucking job, he doesn't like the parties nor the people, his truest honest self is that moment in season 2 where he declares the lab was always his home, and so was Viktor.

But even then he subsumes his own wants spends most of s1 trying to attend to the needs of other people. He routinely asks Viktor if he's alright, if he wants to come up to do the presentation, if he's sure those experiments are safe, etc. He tries to make Heimerdinger proud despite his constant rejections of their projects, and only turns on him when he threatens viktor's wellbeing. The reason why he doesn't announce anything on progress day is that he Was listening to Heimers so-called wisdom and it only bit him in the ass. Jayce gets himself in trouble with the council by being too naive and assuming his new post will allow him to crackdown on Piltovan corruption aided by the Hexgates. Majority of the complaints wrt relationships I see people making of him are just wildly exaggerated. "He was neglecting viktor" bro he talks about viktor in nearly every scene he has with mel 😭 viktor is the one who isolates himself and randomly disappears at times bc he's a grown man with his own boundaries.

Jayce's entire life is defined by the transactional nature of his existence, his work, the patronage receives - all depending on how much he can play the showpony role without fucking it up. It's not a comfortable position. Jayce is stressing out the whole damn show because if one person isn't pissed at him, someone else will be, and it always comes down to revokable money, investments, social standing. if he really was as uncaring and well-off as some claim he wouldn't give a shit. He could just coast along life, but that's not what he's doing ever. He only 'frees' himself in season 2 by abandoning his life's dream and the rotten reality that existed around it. Which is kind of bleak, but at least its over.

[navybrat817]

Any thoughts for WETnesday with Bucky?🤭🤭

Okay, Syd. I wrote this after work for Wetnesday and promptly fell asleep. So, I'm posting this on Thirsty Thursday! And that has to be Mr. Barnes before you two are married.

Dinner Plans

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky doesn't want to be late for dinner, but you don't seem to be in a rush to go.

Word Count: Over 2.8k

Warnings: Established relationship, quick unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, lovelies), possessive behavior, a bit of humor and fluff, feels, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: I love this couple, okay? @targaryenvampireslayer and @starlightcrystalline, I hope you enjoy! ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

It was still early in the evening as Bucky got ready for dinner. Checking his watch once he put it on, he sighed. If he was late, Steve would give him a hard time. And if Steve gave him a hard time, Sam would only give him the gasoline to fuel the fire. Just the thought of it had his face shift to his grumpy stare you loved.

His gaze softened when you went to the vanity. Would the guys give him a hard time if he said he was in love and wanted as much alone time with you as possible? How being with you was like floating on a cloud and being pulled back down to earth all at once? He didn’t care if they’d call him out for being sappy. He sure as hell suffered enough in his life that he could afford to be appreciative of you and maybe a little selfish when it came to you.

But checking the time, he grumbled. “We were supposed to leave five minutes ago,” he said.

He would’ve rather gone to a hole in the wall kind of place or a diner to have dinner, but it wasn't his turn to pick the dinner out with some of the gang. Plus it was nice getting to dress up with you since you liked how he looked in suits. To be fair, you said he looked good in anything and he felt the same way about you. How you always managed to look like a goddess, he’d never know.

You hummed. “We still have a few minutes to spare,” you said, which he wasn’t sure how you knew since you hadn’t looked at the time. “And you are not dressed yet, so it’s not like we can head out the door.”

He paused to stare at you. “Neither are you,” he pointed out, licking his lips as you leaned forward a bit more as you applied your makeup. He shook his head after a moment, trying to snap himself out of the spell you always managed to put him under. “I’m bringing you one of my cardigans to put over your shoulders in case you get cold.”

Because the weather was nice for the evening, you picked out a sleeveless dress. He didn’t know if the restaurant would be cold though, and he didn’t want you shivering through the meal. You likely had something to match your dress, but putting one of his cardigans over you was like that extra touch of belonging to him in case anyone got any ideas.

“You just want one of your shirts draped over me like a big neon sign that says I’m yours and you don't want guys checking me out on my dress,” you said like you knew exactly what he was thinking. There was no reason to deny your words since it was the truth. “But I appreciate the thoughtfulness.”

“I do like my clothes draped over you,” he smirked. He liked having his smell on you, too. “But you know what I don’t like? Steve and Sam bitching if we’re late. It’ll spoil my appetite.”

“Aww, my poor super soldier,” you teased, smiling at him in your reflection and making his heart skip a beat. “If we’re late, you can just blame me. I won’t let them give you a hard time, okay?”

Bucky couldn’t blame you though. Not entirely. You were late getting in the shower thanks to him insisting on the two of you staying in bed. Serum stamina or whatever you wanted to call it, but he felt bad some days for his almost constant need. You didn’t seem to mind though.

“They won’t believe me,” he said, staring again when the strap of your bra slipped from your shoulder. “And baby, you know I adore you, but you need to quit distracting me so I can finish getting dressed.”

Ever since you moved in, you’d been a distraction in a wonderful way. He often found that he’d pause to look at photos or little touches you incorporated into the place, giving him a chance to reflect on memories you made together and even learn more about who you were before you met. Hearing your laughter or voice call to him from another room also made him drop whatever he was doing, too. Sharing a space with someone could be daunting, but it was easy with you, like you had lived together for years. It made him look forward to more.

“Me? Distracting you?” You turned your head toward him and gave him an innocent glance. You were anything but innocent. “I'm not doing anything.”

Bucky almost snarled. Like hell you weren't doing anything. Swaying your hips and prancing around in your lingerie before you sat to get ready, lingerie which barely covered your gorgeous tits and sweet cunt. He wanted to rip it to shreds or tear it off with his teeth. You wouldn’t mind, right? He could always get you more to destroy.

“Not doing anything? Look at you,” he said incredulously as you turned back to the mirror and pushed your bra up. He should’ve been holding your breasts. “Why aren't you wearing a robe?”

You tilted your head. “Well, you said before I got in the shower that we were in a slight rush, so I figured putting on the robe was a waste of time. At least I have my underwear on, though I know you’d rather I be naked.”

If Bucky had his way, you’d be naked all the time. At least, when you two were at home. Logically he knew he couldn’t have that at work, functions, or anything of that nature, but the image in his head was nice. “For such a rush you seem to be taking your time.”

“I'm not taking my time. I'm finishing my makeup,” you argued, carefully applying your lipstick. “Like it?” you asked, blowing him an air kiss. It was a pretty shade. It would look even prettier smeared around his cock.

He closed his eyes with a groan. Some days he felt like a caveman with the thoughts that consumed him. “You look beautiful,” he said once he opened his eyes. Like always. “Now get your dress on so I can show you off before I put the cardigan on you.”

“Show me off?” You slowly stood from your chair and gave him a generous view of your backside. His cock twitched in his pants, and there was no reason to hide the pure lust in his eyes when you turned to face him. “You flatter me, Mr. Barnes.”

He chuckled. It always did something to him when you called him Mr. Barnes. It was something affectionate, sweet. “I think you’re the one flattering me, Mrs.-” he exhaled before he could finish, and he heard the hitch in your breath across the room.

“What was that?” you asked breathily.

He adjusted the watch on his wrist and avoided your gaze. You were his girl, yeah, and the love you had for each other spoke volumes, but you weren’t his wife. Not yet. God, how he wanted you to be- for you to take his last name, wear his ring on your finger, be his partner in all aspects of life. He wanted it to be more than just a dream.

“I didn’t say…��� He cleared his throat and put on a blank face, only because he didn’t know how you’d react. “Anything.”

Your eyes raked over him before you beckoned him forward with a finger. He swore no one would ever control him again after HYDRA brainwashed him, but you could’ve commanded him to do anything. It didn’t frighten him because you would never harm him, never take advantage of him. Taking him into your care and maintaining his trust was one of the ways you showed you loved him.

Once he stood in front of you, barely an inch away, you whispered, “Were you about to call me Mrs. Barnes?”

He swallowed hard, his heart racing. It was one thing to say you loved each other, to want a future together, but what if you weren’t ready when he popped the question? “I was,” he whispered back.

You smiled, not looking the least bit put off or afraid. He should've known it wouldn't bother you, especially with you being the one to say “I love you” first. “I think that has a really nice ring to it,” you said, your hands moving to unbuckle his belt.

“You think so?” he asked, forgetting for a moment that he was capable of breathing. “You like the idea of being my wife?”

Bucky would no doubt be the kind of husband who’d brag about you. He’d find ways to insert “my wife” in conversations just to let others know that you picked him out of everyone else on the planet. Not just that, he wanted people to know how proud he was to be your man and that he’d find reasons every day to be proud of you.

“I love it,” you confirmed, sighing when he ran his fingertips along your arms. “Makes my heart race,” you admitted. He could hear it. “Makes me wet.”

Bucky arched his hips and pressed up against you. “Baby, you’re gonna kill me,” he whispered, not stopping you as you unbuttoned his pants. He was thinking of just cancelling dinner so he could throw you on the bed and stay inside you for the rest of the night. “We need to-”

“Oh. Now might be a good time to tell you that Steve pushed the reservation back by a half hour,” you cut in, mouthing over his racing pulse. “He figured he’d message me since I’m better about checking my phone, and-”

Bucky picked you up with ease and tossed you onto the bed. Your wide-eyed expression as you bounced nearly had him busting out of his pants, and he didn’t hesitate to crawl over you and pin you down. Relishing in the moan you let out when he lightly bit your neck, he did it again a little harder. “No wonder you took your time and teased me,” he smirked when you squirmed beneath him. “My future wife.”

“My future husband,” you moaned, bucking your hips up. “Need you in me. We can be quick.”

You got a hand in his hair and forced his head up to yours, your tongue impatiently pushing into his mouth. He groaned in understanding, feeling just as desperate as you. Knowing how turned on you were at the thought of being his wife turned him on, and he could barely form a coherent thought as he took his cock out and gave it a couple of quick pumps.

“Say it again,” he demanded, shoving your panties aside and rubbing the head of his cock along your slit. He took his time earlier today stretching you, and he wanted nothing more than to feel you around him again.

And the way you reached between your bodies and gripped the base of his cock, he knew you wanted the same when you said, “Fuck me, my future husband.”

He eased in gently, making you whine. He thought he’d whine, too, for a second because of how good he felt. God, how good it would feel to hold your hand one day and feel his ring against your skin. “You okay?” he asked, dragging his thumb along your lower lip once he was fully inside you. You were tight still, so wet, and oh, he was going to fuck you and make it quick, but he wasn’t going to hurt you.

“I’m okay,” you whispered, starting deep into his eyes as you clenched around him with purpose and brushed his hair back. He tried to be still, tried not to thrust like a wild animal. “Are you?”

“I’m okay,” he promised, easing his hips back. “Just hold on while I fuck you.”

Your back arched when he slammed himself back in nice and deep, your cry bouncing off the walls. Here in the comfort of your home you didn’t have to smother any noises, didn’t have to keep quiet. He wanted to tell you how much he loved you, how you were the queen of his world.

Being inside you all he got out was, “You feel so fucking good.”

And because you could read him like no one else could, you tenderly smiled. “I love you, too.”

He threw his head back as you clutched his arms, determined to make you feel good, determined to show you how much he loved you even as he fucked you. “Gonna put you on your hands and knees after dinner. Make you watch in the mirror while I fuck you,” he groaned. “Can imagine it's part of our honeymoon.”

“Please!’ you moaned, trying to meet his thrusts.

Bucky grabbed your thighs to lift you higher, uncaring if he ruined his pants for the evening. Watching you tremble beneath his, a vision of ecstasy, he was happy to stay there forever. Wrapped up in you was where he always wanted to be.

“Gonna come,” you moaned, reaching up to pull his hair again, your body quaking. “Bucky, please.”

Bucky groaned. He hadn’t rubbed your clit how he wanted to. Didn’t get to tear your bra off and tease your nipples. He did promise to fuck you later though, and he’d do all those things and more. “Then come for me,” he smirked, leaning down to say against your lips, “Future. Mrs.. Barnes.”

You got impossibly tight and the flood of wetness that gushed around him triggered his own orgasm, a rush of heat filling him as he filled you. His mouth fell open as you clung to him, and he heard you moan his name as your eyes went glossy. He wanted the image of you getting off to taking his last name etched in his brain for all time. He wanted his name to fall from your lips again and again on your wedding night.

The cloud in his mind began to lift. You, his future wife, were beneath him, still shaking, still holding him like a lifeline. He didn’t want to let you go either. “Holy… shit…” you panted.

He braced himself above you, trying not to crush you as the euphoria slowly faded. It never really went away though. Not with you. “Holy shit,” he agreed. He stayed inside you, your sweet mewl making him smile as he kissed you. “Is this a new kink?” he asked, pressing his forehead to yours.

“Yeah,” you exhaled, touching his cheek. “New kink unlocked.”

Touching your lips with his once more, he chuckled. “You ruined my pants,” he teased. It wouldn’t have been the first time. The first time you rode his thigh and got your release all over it, he nearly came, too. “Good thing I have a few minutes to change.”

He cradled you close when he shifted to the side, making you moan again. “Yeah, well, you ruined my panties. Fair is fair.”

“I did,” he smirked, running his fingers along your spine. “Hey.”

“Hey what?”

“I love you,” he whispered, wanting to say it as often as he could. They weren’t just words, but a declaration, a promise.

“I love you, too,” you whispered back, tracing one of the buttons on his wrinkled shirt.

His lips brushed your forehead. He’d never get tired of hearing you say that. “If I asked you to marry me right now, would you say yes?”

He wouldn’t propose right this second. You deserved something more romantic. But in his heart, he just wanted to hear you say that you’d say yes.

You giggled, your eyes full of love. “I would say yes in a heartbeat,” you replied, kissing him gently. Your answer relieved him. “And I’d marry you anytime, anywhere.”

He raised an eyebrow. “But?” he asked, sensing a “but” in there.

“But don’t ask me right now, okay?” you smiled, in sync with his thoughts. “I mean, I’d like to think my pussy would make you propose now-”

“And it would,” he smirked.

You giggled again. “But ask me when I’m not expecting it… Whenever it feels right to you.”

“I will,” he promised.

“Looking forward to it.” You snuggled closer and missed his look of adoration. “Hold me for one more minute before we get ready to go?”

As if he could ever deny you. “I’ll hold you as long as you want,” he whispered.

He no longer cared if Steve or Sam gave him shit should they show up late. If you wanted him to skip dinner just to hold you, he’d do it. If you wanted him to surprise you when he proposed, he would. And no matter when Bucky asked you to be his wife, he’d make sure it was perfect as it could possibly be.

AHH! I love them so much. How do you lovelies think he proposed? ❤️ Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[kyokutsu-sama]

Headcanons

A/n: So, I'm going o invest more content on my favorite captains of bc because they're hot , badass and deserve all world's attention. Here's some sfw/nsfw headcanons for them✨️

Tw: Nsfw content

_____________________________

Yami :

Sfw

He's super protective of you and that's something he doesn't hide. If any man messes with you (even if you are strong), that guy is officially dead.

You are the only person he allows to pick up his sword and use it on a battle. He trusts you so take good care of his katana because this man is broke and can't afford a new one.

He also likes to go out with you and take you out drinking or playing cards. If you win a bet against him, be prepared because he won't give up until he wins... or until he falls asleep from drinking. He's a terrible gambler but he refuses to accept that.

You usually train together and he likes to see you push your limits. He also likes it when you go on a mission with him so he can see this. He's proud of you and your power.

If he's having another one of his daily battles in the bathroom, you'll be the only one who can come in and give him the toilet paper he's missing because Asta forgot to change it.

(Asta run for your life)

Nsfw

I don't need to tell you that this man is rough and will surpass his limits in the sheets. Good luck to you and goodbye legs.

He loves being between your legs, devouring you and tasting everything you have to give him, probably even getting "drunk" on your juices.

He likes to see you squirm beneath him, the marks he left on you covering your skin (Yes, he really leaves a lot of marks on you), your eyes rolling and your voice calling him so well. Poor bed and poor other members who will listen to you all night

His hands will be all over your body, a lot of physical contact during the act. He loves it when you run your hands over his body too. You can even scratch his skin and bite, he doesn't feel pain. Only pleasure.

There's a lot of dirty talk.

And don't try to tease him, you don't know the risk you're running. Listen, he has no problem with that thing called public places. He puts you against a wall and does whatever he wants.

Regarding the fact that you can't walk properly, don't worry, he carries you everywhere in his strong arms.

He's just my type fr🤭

William :

Sfw

Super cute and kind to you. He is super careful with you, always giving you those sweet smiles that makes your heart melt.

He always likes to check on you to make sure there's nothing wrong or if you're 100% fine.

He's shy and whenever you hold his hand in public or kiss his cheek, his face will heat up from blushing. You just laugh at his cuteness.

He really likes hugs after a long day of work, he feels like you calm his heart and give him good energy.

He's fallen for you since the day you traced his scar with your fingers softly and told him how beautiful he still was. No one had ever done this and he was moved by this affection.

You were proud of him for who he was and not for his appearance and that made him shed little tears.

Nsfw

Do not proceed without your full consent. He wants you to feel good and comfortable.

The touch is soft and delicate, lots of tender kisses on your skin. He doesn't like to leave many marks like Yami, HOWEVER... if you leave some on him, it will cause "things" in him. (It turns him on but he's ashamed to admit it)

I see him being a sub and will let you take over things a lot of the time because he just loves it when you do.

Touch his body, kiss him, take him deep and slow as he likes. This man will have to fight with himself not to come when you ride him and look into his eyes. He goes crazy.

Very gentle with you after the act, always cleaning you and offering you everything you need.

(William, the door to my house is open... you know?🥹👉👈)

Fuegoleon :

Sfw

He is very serious in his role and always wants to have you by his side.

He loves your presence even though he is working hard, and if you help him he will thank you.

He might be a bit like William in the sense that he may be a little shy when you hold his hand or kiss him in public, although he doesn't blush like him.

He always tries to keep you protected and advises you not to talk to Mereoleona too much, he's afraid she'll make fun of him in front of you or drag you to the volcano where she trains.

This woman is dangerous, but having her as a sister-in-law is a gift tbh. She'll beat the shit out of everyone if anyone touches her brother's beautiful girlfriend.

Leo will probably love you because you love and care for his older brother. You two will be great friends.

He likes it when you run your hands gently through his hair when he is resting. This is comfortable and relaxing.

Nsfw

He's the middle ground between going fast when he's feeling excited (after you teased him all day) and going slow and sensual when he comes into the bedroom tired and just wants you to put your arms around him.

He dominates, he likes to be on top, seeing you beneath him arching when his fingers caress you or when he grabs your thighs and thrust you. He lives to see you squirming on the mattress.

He likes to praise you, whispering in your ear how beautiful you are, which gives you goosebumps.

Please run your hands down his back, he loves it and it makes him go deeper.

He hugs and kisses you a lot after he finishes. He is much more relaxed between four walls than in a public place where he hesitates a little with the PDA.

Nozel :

Sfw

Dear, be patient with him. He may be cold to the core but his eyes... they never lie. His look at you is something that many royal ladies who notice him would like to get from him.

He doesn't make long vows of love but look, he's the best with actions and no one will come close to you because he defends you a lot.

Although he and Yami don't get along, they are both overprotective lovers.

Even if you're not from a royal family or something, he won't let anyone discriminate against you for that. That person will disappear without a trace and it's all the work of Nozel fucking Silva.

Serious, but until you give him that little smile that makes him look away in embarrassment. You can see the tips of his ears turning red and you tease him for that.

He ends up smiling for a second and you feel like the luckiest person in the world to witness this event.

Nsfw

Don't underestimate this man, he is a dom and will always show you who is in control. Although I think he has a certain look that he would like you to take control.

Don't fight back, obey. He doesn't accept a no and if you're a brat to him, he'll punish you for it.

If he's having a bad day, he'll probably come to the bedroom to have you in his sheets and relieve himself. Goodbye legs once again...

He will also mark you, he is the only one who can have you and the marks made for him only turns him on.

Not only in the bedroom does he like to see you squirming and calling for him, but also on the office table while he takes a break from work. I don't see him being shy if someone came in but he would probably threaten anyone if they even thought about telling what they saw.

He makes sure you're okay afterwards and will put you in his arms, kissing the top of your head.

[postcardsfromheapside]

This game has been out since Halloween.

In that time, there have been numerous Veilguard positive posts in which patient, loving, wonderful, insightful and intelligent individuals attempt to impart lore onto a fanbase which doesn't deserve their time and attention.

I can't believe I'm running across posts made within the past five days which express disgust and frustration towards the devs over things which have been explained in great detail multiple times on this site, BUT IN THE DAMN GAME.

AND Y'ALL KEEP COMPLAINING THE GAME TELLS BUT DOESN'T SHOW. AND YOU DON'T EVEN LISTEN OR WATCH.

"the crows are presented as wholesome" - they are not. this site has a crow fanbase which has run off and lionized Viago as Daddy, conveniently ignored all the in-game details which either hint or baldly state things Definitely Aren't Cool, and generally fetishized what it means to be a Crow because of Zevran and Lucanis. Then the same people, or others who weren't paying proper attention, whined when the headcanon crowded out the actual in-game material, and they said "Antiva is whitewashed." There have been multiple posts about this.

"slaves are meant to be everywhere in Tevinter and we don't see that" - we aren't everywhere, we're specifically in Docktown which is poor and people generally can't afford slaves there, but we do see evidence of slavery, and we run around with abolitionists and help save people from fascist slavers and free people who will either be slaves or victims of blood magic so IDK what to tell you, there have been multiple posts explaining this too, maybe leave your slave or savior fetish somewhere else.

"Racism is supposed to be rampant" - fuck off. I actually will not be explaining this because for once it was nice not to be called a slur. If you need this to feel "immersed" or to feel there are actual problems, I need you to check yourself fucking hard. If you want to masquerade what it feels like to experience bigotry, go play one of the prior games. This has also been discussed in multiple posts.

"Handling pure lyrium is fine now" no handling the dagger is fine Solas cleansed it, the dagger woke something up in Harding specifically she talks about how some dwarves are connected to the stone, she previously had not been one of them and maybe the dagger woke something up in her, or did you need a pop up explaining this? Were you paying attention during cut scenes and dialogue?

"Adult Dalish without vallaslin" - in the 10 years since Inquisition/Trespasser, doubtless some dalish have come to adulthood and found out what assholes their gods were and made the decision not to go through that specific cultural rites. Or maybe city elves joined the Dalish. Who knows who made up the elf population at that ritual site. Elves are not a monolith. We've made multiple, multiple posts about elves not being monoliths.

"Solas' opinion on blood magic went from neutral to negative" SOLAS FUCKING LIES. We've made multiple posts about Solas lying, if you need this explained further I suggest you play the game all over again, he lies to you throughout the entire game.

"Re-write of the after credits scene in Inquisition to recontextualise the Flemeth and Solas interaction" it's recontextualized because now we know who and what they were to each other. Learning new information does that. This is literally what happens all the time in science and history. You recontextualize what you thought you knew with new information. You're supposed to change your position, not whine about how the new information makes everything different.

These are just some of the things I pulled from a list on a post in which someone was really just upset about everything. Everything. Varric, Morrigan, Solas, everything. But I can't take their criticisms seriously, because they're upset that "too much was told" and "not enough shown" and yet didn't even pay attention to DA lore or in-game dialogue or context clues around the world of Northern Thedas to answer their own questions.

Everything in this game makes complete sense if you use lore from prior games and a single iota of imagination to see how it fits. We've had many delightful posts discussing this, seeing how things could be explained, when approaching the game from a place of curiosity rather than being upset because personal headcanons weren't satisfied or long-held expectations weren't met.

[ceilidho]

Hello~ new lurker here. I've been daydreaming about Price wanting a family, but not having the time to court someone, and two other possible scenarios came to kind.

Reader, not part of his team but works at the same base, who was just served divorce papers. She wanted kids, the soon to be ex-husband didn't and he found someone else. She doesn't *know* how to be a girlfriend anymore. She only knows how to be a wife.

Or

It's family day on base. Price is wistfully watching families show up for their soldiers. And overhears someone who is in the same boat as him.

"don't be getting babyfever."

"Too late. Want a baby. I want something worth retiring for."

you're hitting all my buttons with this :\\ I'm realllyyyyyy going heart eyes at the first idea though.

Poor reader who maybe got married knowing that her husband wasn't interested in having kids but hoping that she could change his mind. Then maybe accepting a childless marriage after years of being together, but always felt like she was giving up something immeasurably valuable to her, like giving away the future she'd always envisioned for herself.

Only to get hit with divorce papers after giving up so much of herself for her husband. She signs them in a daze because he's already moved in with his new girlfriend and she couldn't bear the humiliation of trying to beg for him to come back when he's already so clearly moved on.

Maybe Price has always been interested in her, but respected the ring on her finger and figured that he was just too late. A damn shame, but over the years that they've worked together, he's come to treasure her companionship. He treats himself to daydreams, to quick wanks in the shower before work so that he doesn't spend the day looking for her or hovering over her shoulder when he finds her. So he can pretend at being normal.

And his brain short circuits when she stops by his office one day and he glances down to her hands out of habit only to find them bare. No ring. Glances up again and really looks at her this time, the troughs under her eyes, dark circles from poor sleep, from crying, cheeks losing a bit of their plumpness from not eating right. Price doesn't even listen to the words coming out of her mouth, some request from her superior that she'd been tasked with bringing to him. It all falls to the wayside because her ring is gone.

He lets her confide in him, gives her his shoulder to cry on. Locks the door to his office and pulls her into his lap even though it's not appropriate, he's not her direct superior but he is a superior. He shouldn't be brushing his thumb under her eyes to wipe away her tears and speaking to her in a low, hushed voice, exhorting her to tell him everything weighing on her. He shouldn't be pitting her against her ex, telling her that he'll help her sell the house (she can't afford to buy her husband's half since it's in both of their names) and she can stay with him in the meantime.

He shouldn't feed into her anguish by telling her that he understands her pain. How much he's longed for a baby as well, just never found the right person, the right partner. The big, empty hole in his life that he's never been able to fill with work or friends or extended family. He shouldn't indulge himself in the way crying makes her pretty lips swell and her eyes go big and watery. He shouldn't nudge her into agreeing to move in with him when she's this vulnerable, still beaten up and hurt from signing the papers not even a few days ago.

He does anyway though :\\

[lorelune]

regency au jing yuan how you are haunting me.

(continued here!)

a retired general who at the ripe age of thirty five has never taken a wife. never showed any interest in procuring a spouse nor does he entertain any attempts by the mamas of the ton to throw their eligible children at him. he is a polite scoundrel, kind-hearted in a way that makes those with half a mind question how someone with his demeanor could ever be the famed general who's strategies downed Shuhu during the Abundance Upheaval. he doesn't seem to care for his legacy, as much as he has cultivated one. he doesn't mind gossip, but doesn't entertain it much either.

you only meet him due to fortunate circumstances.

lord Luocha, a successful travelling merchant, pledged patronage to you sometime ago. he keeps you in a little cottage on the grounds of his manor where you're allowed to mostly do as you please as long as there's a new painting hung on the lord's wall every few months or so. the lord likes when you play too. he brings back new instruments for you to try, though he never expects mastery. he has an air of mystery to him that, despite all of the time you spend near him, keeps you from understanding him fully. you aren't one to pry about it either.

lord luocha invites jing yuan over to partake in fancy spirits from a country and city you can't ever hope to visit, let alone find on a map. you bring lord luocha your newest work-- (a meticulously completed oil painting. something more abstract, suited to the odd lonely and isolation you feel in your little, cozy cottage, despite all of the comforts you are afforded)-- and happen upon the pair.

lord luocha examines your newest work with pride, and shortly after introduces you. 'his patron' he calls you, but offers jing yuan no title. you--

(do not have one. it was stripped from you a long time ago. you think being an artist suits you better, anyways.)

jing yuan offers you his name, though you already know it. you recognize him based on the prattling of the girls and boys at the market. they swoon over his stature, fawn over his good deeds, and make note of his identifiable red hair ribbon. he has the same soft, sun-colored eyes that you had heard the eligible young of the ton giggle about.

you bow to him politely.

you have no reason to linger, but luocha calls you to anyways. perhaps he is lonely. perhaps you want him to be lonely, so it gives you a reason to stick closer to his side in the rare moments he is home for more than a day or two. the proximity is shared with jing yuan, who regards you with keen eyes and a lazy smile. the attention upon you feels weighted, important, like you're something special.

you savor it, however fleeting.

perhaps, however, you misunderstood jing yuan. or lord luocha's intentions.

because as jing yuan rises to take his leave and you bow once more, he catches your hand, brings it to his lips, and presses a kiss into the soft skin. you're sure you smell of linseed and yarrow oil. he lingers there for a moment before meeting your gaze. there's a light of mischief in them that sends your heart fluttering. your breath catches.

when jing yuan is out of the manor, lord luocha pats your shoulder gently, "quite the man, isn't he?"

"i suppose... he is."

"you may speak freely."

"i am," you mince, and shake your head. you must be careful, entertaining such fanciful thoughts. "he is... kind."

"and handsome."

"lord luocha," you barely keep yourself from whining. "please, do not tease me. or the poor man. from what i hear, he has enough to deal with."

"the mamas do chase after him like foxes to a hen," lord luocha chuckles and studies your painting once more with a curious tilt of his head. "he'll ask to see you again, i'm certain."

"and why do you say that?"

"general jing yuan has never taken the hand of a potential suitor."

your heart feels heavy and warm in your chest, burning. "my lord, you cannot possibly think that this single action indicates that the general will... call upon me? that is highly unorthodox and i don't believe that's... quite allowed."

"jing yuan has never cared for the dances of decorum." lord luocha guides you into your gardens. the peonies are in bloom, full and lush in the humidity of late spring. "and, for the record, i don't believe he'll simply call upon you. court, properly, certainly."

"you're bluffing."

"what reason do i have to lie?"

"to tease me, as you so enjoy doing," you huff.

lord luocha simply hums and pauses near a bush of lilacs. they're fragrant, at the peak of their season. the scent rolls over you.

"if i truly intended to tease you, i simply would abstain from telling you of jing yuan's interest and allow you to be terribly surprised when he arrives and formally asks for you and your time. consider this a warning. i'll walk you to the modiste tomorrow, hm?"

you want to squawk at him. your linen dresses and tunics are fine (albeit smeared and stained with paints and oils over the years. you rarely bother replacing them.)

you want to protest and pry more, but lord luocha strikes you silent when he breaks off a cluster of lilac and tucks it behind your ear. he leaves you with your thoughts, however tortuous. and, perhaps horribly, you find yourself believing him. perhaps the warm-eyed general really was charmed. perhaps, your dresses needed replacing and you should contact your perfumer friend for a fresh vial or two.

perhaps perhaps perhaps, you can still feel where his lips lingered on your skin, like a brand. you never thought you could ache for burning, but in the gardens, you find yourself clutching your hand to your chest, craving the lick of the his sun's heat once more.

[luveline]

lovely jade if you were ever in the mood to write something for remus/reader where maybe they’re out with their friends and reader can tell that remus’ pain is flaring up but he doesn’t want to draw attention to it so she nudges him to lean on her i would be forever indebted to you

Remus has a strange laugh. It doesn't quite match his voice, which is unusual too. Sometimes he chuckles but mostly he giggles, this stringing, sweet sound as he grasps your hand or your arm or your elbow. And you love hearing it, laughing yourself at Sirius’ dirty joke, but you almost wince at the amount of weight he leans into you. It's over as soon as it began, he's moving away, his smile fading with his laugh. 

You shouldn't be standing up, but the pub hadn't had a table and no one wanted to go home yet. You're waiting for an opening, a pitcher of Blue Lagoon between you all and a couple of bags of pork scratchings to ignore. Remus isn't made to stand this long, but it's not like him to mention it. 

His jeans are starched under your fingers as you put a hand on his hip. He raises his eyebrows at you, semi-suggestive. 

“She asked me who I was,” Sirius says, to Lily's disgust, and James’ poorly hidden amusement, “and I didn't have the heart to tell her. Remus ended up telling her we'd met before at a party–” 

“Is this true?” you ask, standing closer to him than you need to. 

He stares at you for a little while. Not long enough to be awkward, but longer than most people would pause. “I did feel a bit sorry for her, but she was lucky, really. Who'd want to remember a night with Pads?” 

“Don't say it like that! I didn't touch the poor girl beyond helping her put a new shirt on. Such an unfortunate tattoo, that… It'd look nice on you, though,” Sirius says, grinning at James encouragingly. 

“Think so?” James asks. 

Lily protests this idea very loudly. James would not suit that kind of tattoo, and Remus should probably put a stop to it; Sirius’ power of persuasion multiplied by the danger of friendship (i.e. egging each other on relentlessly) could genuinely result in James getting a tramp stamp of the Welsh dragon before the night ends. 

He's distracted, is all. Shifting from foot to foot, pulling his arms behind his back to prompt a click he won't get. You nudge him gently, and when he meets your eyes, you lean toward him deliberately with your shoulder clear for the grabbing. At the same time, you press your arm behind his back. 

Miraculously, he accepts the offer of support. Remus wraps an arm around your shoulder and lets the majority of his weight rest on your centre of gravity, exhaling through his nose. 

“Am I too much?” he asks, turning his head from his friends, his breath warming the shell of your ear. 

“No. Lean on me as much as you want to.” Want, you say, rather than need. 

Remus will appreciate the difference. He sighs as the pain in his back starts to ease off. If anyone were to look at you both, they wouldn't see you supporting him, just a lovers hug. You kiss his cheek a couple of times all squished together —one kiss or multiple?— before you lean away to brush soft strands of his hair behind his ear. “You okay?” you ask. 

“I'm okay,” he says with a nod, a real grin on his lips as he does as you'd done, kissing your cheek. “I'm too tired for this. Do you think James can afford laser tattoo removal?” 

[neptuneiris]

Cruel Summer (02/10)

Paradise Beach

pairing: modern!aemond × fem!reader

summary: after a bad day at work, you head to the beach of your dreams, where an unexpected encounter occurs with a person who is too well known in the city and very rich.

words: 7.7k

previous part • next chapter • series masterlist

omg i can't believe how much you guys liked the first part! i really thought the story wouldn't get so much support (especially since i haven't finished CYPTBIL👀) but you guys again surprised me🤗 i'm very inspired with this story so i'm very happy for all the support, so enjoy this new chapter and look forward to the others!🙌🏻

thank you for reading!

warnings: none in this chapter.

You hate to see the beach dirty.

You've always had a problem with people who leave all their trash on the beach without any remorse and in full view of everyone. Many people will be embarrassed to confront them and create a fuss, but you... you defend the beach.

The first community program you see that brings people together to clean up the beach to better help the ecosystem, you're the first to sign up.

And that's the bad thing about living in Black Waves.

The beaches are not the best kept. There is dirt everywhere, the smell is horrible and really very few people make an effort to keep the beaches on this side clean.

The complete opposite on the beaches of Crown's.

This is mainly why you want to make a difference, to have clean and beautiful beaches despite the 'status' that the rich label you in the worst way.

You've seen their beaches and they are very well kept, that's true. It was clear to you when you went to that party last night and saw the white sand.

Obviously the rich people pay people for maintenance, whether they are poor people or whatever, but your people can't afford that, so they either clean it themselves or they just don't do it.

Pretty much the same goes for restaurants and venues of any kind.

Certainly the restaurant you work for is on a beachfront terrace in a luxurious and exclusive part of Crown's, the same goes for most of the restaurants in this area.

But in Black Waves the restaurants are less sophisticated, the food is fast, some are wood-framed, and there are no more than four people working there.

The places to buy clothes or basic necessities are the same, even a grocery store is inside the same house of the owners, while the rich have a huge shopping mall with brand name clothing stores, accessories, libraries, coffee shops and more refined restaurants.

They also have on their side of town large supermarkets where every fruit, vegetable or meat is triple the price of what they sell it on your side of town.

The prices are also different, clearly.

In Black Waves the dishes sold in the restaurants are affordable, while here a seafood dish costs fifty dollars.

And today especially your boss is in a bad mood, like every day, but today more so.

"Hey."

Alysanne whispers to you from the other side of the bar as you finish cleaning one of the tables and watch her almost instantly, where she takes care that your boss doesn't see you both talking.

"Daniel has texted me, he says Cregan is taking us to another one of his parties tonight," she lets you know with the clear excitement all over her contained face, "They say it's going to be great and maybe Cregan can take us up on his parents' yacht."

You let out a sigh and like her, you check to make sure Mr. Frey doesn't catch you talking in mid-shift.

"Tonight?"

"Yes," she says without removing her excitement.

"We're working double shifts today, Anne," you tell her without encouragement.

"Oh come on. We can't miss the opportunity to spend the party on a fucking yacht," she whispers excitedly to you.

"My feet are already hurting and it's not even four in the afternoon," you point out to her.

She gives you a bad look.

"Y/N," she tells you reproachfully.

"Depends on how the day goes."

"Are you serious? We must—

"You two!"

Mr. Frey's voice immediately catches your attention and Alysanne's, where you notice him already watching you both with a scowl on his face and clearly furious.

"Did I pay you to chat or to work!?"

The two of you exchange a glance and immediately turn away from each other, each returning to their respective tasks. But of course, it not only draws the attention of the two of you, but also that of some customers, and the two of you endure the humiliation of being scolded in public.

"You'd better move and I'd better not see you two chatting again or I'll pay you exactly what you deserve or send you back to your side of town."

You almost want to laugh in his face, but like any educated woman and again out of necessity, you keep quiet, as does Alysanne, but the looks you both exchange say it all.

You would like to tell him that because of the mistreatment and this kind of humiliation in public, the two of you and the other workers should be paid more, especially because you have to deal with a boss like him, but neither you nor anyone else says anything and continue working.

And precisely because you were talking to Alysanne for only a brief moment, Mr. Frey takes advantage and overloads you both with too much work for the remainder of the shift.

And that's why you definitely decide not to go to any party.

Your feet hurt, you are urged to take a bath, eat and lie in your bed, however, you are surprised to see how Alysanne has way too much energy for the hell you both had to go through and as she talk to the guys by text, the more excited she gets about going to Cregan's party.

"Are you sure you don't want to come?"

Alysanne asks you as she finishes getting ready, looking at you through the full-length mirror.

"Honestly I'd rather go to the beach to relax instead of being surrounded with music, the smell of beer, weed and teenagers getting drunk."

She gives you an amused look.

"And why don't you do that?"

"I don't have a ride and it's too late to walk."

"Cregan is coming to pick me up in his car along with the others, I'm sure he can give you a ride if you ask him."

You give her a curious and unsure look.

"Do you think he'll accept?"

"We're going to the same side of town, he'll be passing through," she nods with a nonchalant gesture.

At least you don't have to get too dressed up and you won't get tired, so you trust Alysanne and start getting ready too. Not too much like her but to look presentable.

As time goes by Cregan finally arrives with the boys making a huge fuss, excited about the party tonight. Alysanne tells them to shut up and they are lucky that your uncle and aunt haven't complained about them yet.

You give Cregan directions after asking him to please give you a ride and pretty soon everyone is inside of Crown's.

"Wait, you're not coming with us?" Sam asks you confused.

You shake your head.

"Why not?"

"I'm too tired for a party."

Chase gives you a knowing look.

"I can't believe in all this time you haven't been caught."

"It's not like I'm doing anything wrong either," you shrug.

"But the rich hate us and I bet you they'll make a huge fuss if they catch you."

"Yeah, who knows, maybe a trespass sue," Daniel agrees.

"Even knowing you don't have the money to pay for it," Chase tells you.

"Trespassing?" you repeat between amused and incredulous, "Going to sit on the edge of the beach is trespassing? Do you even know what trespassing is?"

"In any case, the rich won't like it if you get caught," Sam says making a nonchalant gesture.

You decide not to take it any further and finally arrive at your destination point, where you get out and walk over to the side of the pilot's window to see Cregan.

"Thanks for the ride."

"No problem," he smiles at you, "But the guys are right. If the owners find out about you, you can get in big trouble."

"I've been doing this for almost a year," you let him know, "I'm very sneaky."

He shakes his head with an amused smile.

"Just be careful. We'll come get you when you tell us."

"Okay," you nod, "Thanks, Cregan."

"Take care," Alysanne says to you from the passenger seat.

"Sure."

"And if the rich see you, get in the ocean and swim to the party, we'll help you there," Daniel tells you too.

You give him a look and and a not entirely convinced smile.

"Yeah, sure, very helpful."

You finally start to walk away from them as they continue to yell at you to take care of yourself, to call them in case of anything and so on, until Cregan starts up and his car begins to disappear into the distance.

And then you take action.

You look around, quickly assessing the area, making sure there are no people nearby to see you, but surprisingly this whole luxurious area of Crown's is quiet.

The only movement you notice is several cars passing by, but other than that, there are no monkeys on the shore.

There is a wall in front of you that marks the line between this private neighborhood and the houses in the same neighborhood that are even more private, since they have a huge front yard and a huge part of the beach exclusively for them.

The wall is not high, fortunately, you think it should be, but this is compensated by security guards who patrol this area and the beach from time to time.

So stealthily and in a calculated manner, once you make sure that there are no people nearby, you hide among the bushes and trees that are planted in the corner of the sidewalk to put your foot on a specific crack that you know of the wall and push yourself upward taking the edge of the wall with both hands to be able to observe the other side.

You quickly scan the entire area, making sure there are no guards patrolling nearby nor any of the people who live in the houses before jumping.

The meters of distance are considerable between the huge houses or rather mansions. There is pavement between the divisions and those divisions are exactly the way to the beach.

You put on the cap of the sweatshirt you are wearing to cover your hair and your face, since you know that all the houses must have security cameras outside, so this way you protect yourself in case of anything.

And once you make sure that there is no one outside or nearby, you gain impulse again with more strength and as fast as your feet allow you but still being careful, you place your hands on the rough edge of the wall and start to climb.

You adjust your grip more firmly on the edge and in one agile motion, you propel yourself upwards, where you feel the effort as you pull your own weight and more as you try to be fast.

Luckily you've done this many times before and when you reach the top, wasting no time and making sure no one is watching you, you quickly slide down the other side and you fall on your feet with a dry sound.

You don't take the time to rest and looking around, with adrenaline running through your veins and your heart beating too fast, you quickly advance towards the beach.

And once you are far enough away from where you managed to cross and indeed you confirm that no one saw you and everything is fine, again, you can relax.

You remove the cap from your head and let your hair free again, slowly feeling how the breeze and the wind with the salty air envelop you completely as you approach the seashore.

Easily anyone who lives here if they see you could tell that you live here too, besides the night also helps you because without so much light they can't recognize you right away.

And it is as if you are also a rich person, daughter of rich parents, being inside a private section of the beach in Crown's most exclusive area.

And as you go along, this is precisely why you take the risk of coming to this place when it is forbidden to you; the place and the view.

The sand here is perfect, clean as if no one had ever walked on it, the air is salty with no smell of anything unpleasant in specific, there are no people that could be dangerous around you and the surroundings are absolutely beautiful and clean.

Also this section has a cliff a bit secluded from all the houses, where its huge rocky wall looks absolutely beautiful and ethereal when illuminated by the night light.

You have come here many, many times and you always head to the same place, that specific pier.

The pier stretches out in front of you like a polished wooden path, leading into the deep waters of the night ocean.

Discreetly placed lights along the pier illuminate it with a soft golden glow, creating a contrast to the darkness surrounding the horizon.

The reflection of the small lamps trembles on the surface of the water, giving the place a magical and mysterious air.

The structure is impeccable, made of dark, sturdy wood, maintained with a care that only the rich can afford. There is not a single splinter out of place, not even an ill-fitting clove.

Every detail is taken care of, right down to the polished wooden benches at the end of the pier, ideal for sitting and admiring the sea in silence.

As you approach, the wooden planks creak softly under your feet, but the sound mixes with the gentle murmur of the waves, making it almost imperceptible.

And when you reach the end, you can see a large yacht moored at the side of the dock, with it's deluxe cover and it's name painted in gold and silver lettering.

You have no idea which rich family it might belong to, but you know this is just one of many they must have. It wasn't here the last time you came here and fortunately it doesn't obstruct the view.

You take a seat on the wooden bench and letting out a big breath, you watch as the full moon reflects off the ocean, it's silvery sparkles dancing on the water in hypnotic movements.

This is why you love coming here, even in this way, because the fresh, salty night air fills your lungs with every inhalation.

And just for an instant, you feel freer than ever in this space that is not supposed to belong to you.

Besides you not only enjoy seeing the moon, but also the stars, shining brightly and adorning the entire night sky. And you can rest easy, because there is no danger on this side of town.

You've been enduring a lot at work lately, taking a lot of strain on your shoulders from double shifts and stressing over the slightest thing, but coming here and being here gives you that much needed quiet time.

And only this place can offer you that; peace and tranquility.

You don't know exactly how much time passes but you find yourself in the same position, not getting bored and enjoying the view, wishing time would freeze so you could continue to enjoy this without worries.

You think that Alysanne and the guys must be having fun too, but for tonight this is all the fun you need.

Suddenly your phone vibrates next to you and the screen lights up as a new notification comes in. You casually pick it up and see a new message, and it's from Alysanne.

It's a selfie of her with the guys, all happy, laughing, smiling, beer bottles in hand and with the sea and yachts in the background completing the scene.

You let out a small laugh as you see Sam's euphoric face, Daniel and Chase's funny faces, and Cregan and Alysanne's smiling faces.

"Excuse me?"

Your whole body reacts and jumps instantly from shock and you look quickly and sharply behind you with all the panic on your face, definitely not expecting what you see.

Aemond Targaryen.

Shit.

It's the first thing that comes to your mind as you quickly jump to your feet, your heart beating too fast and your hands starting to shake.

That's when you know that the moment has finally come where you're caught and you're in big trouble.

Aemond watches you with a serious and attentive face, analyzing you completely. And you feel completely small when his eyes look at you with confusion and distrust, but challenging.

He clearly has no idea what are you doing here and maintains a defensive posture.

And you definitely feel like a thief who's just been caught in the act.

"What are you doing here?"

Oh God.

You think in terror.

How come you didn't hear him coming? The boards creak with the weight when someone walks and you couldn't hear anything?

You think that you should have been more attentive, that you shouldn't have let your guard down, because it's not possible that you really were so distracted and in your own world that you didn't hear him coming. 

But with him already here, watching you in a bad way, looking cold and suspicious, that you don't have time to scold yourself or think about it.

"I-I..." you stammer, in a shaky voice, not having the slightest idea what to say, very nervous and scared.

All you can feel is a lump in your throat, an irregular throbbing in your chest and the overwhelming weight of his gaze on you.

He doesn't look away and his serious face doesn't change, clearly waiting for an answer.

As you watch him examine you, you watch as he runs his gaze up and down you, trying to decipher who you are. And it doesn't take him long to come to an obvious conclusion, because he instantly knows that you are not like him.  

By your clothes and your old sandals, everything about you gives away that you don't belong here. Besides, he doesn't recognize you from among the other Crown's families to be able to say that you belong to one of them.

He knows you're not from around here.

"I asked you a question," he demands you in a bad way and with a harsher tone, walking towards you, "What are you doing here?"

You feel a shiver run down your back as you swallow hard, but the words just won't come out.

You're paralyzed, terrified, stuck, because you have no idea what to say and you're still processing that this is really happening. 

You know you don't have any good excuses and he's impatient, waiting for an answer that really won't be convincing to be the truth.

"I will call security for invasion of private property," he warns you firmly, clearly beginning to lose patience.

The danger in his words makes the fear hit you even harder and you finally react in panic.       

"No, no, please," you finally manage to say, worried and raising one of your hands to him in supplication, "I-I… I'm not doing anything wrong, I swear," you raise both hands in surrender, trembling.

He inspects you more closely with a piercing gaze, trying to find something, anything, to tell him what you are really doing here or what you are trying to do, watching between you and his family's yacht anchored to the dock.

His posture remains tense, ready to act if he finds anything out of place. 

He thinks that maybe you are doing something with the yacht, but he sees it in perfect condition, with nothing strange and nothing out of the ordinary, as the rope that ties it to the dock is without problems.

But he still continues to watch you seriously, defensively and suspiciously.

"Shit," you mutter under your breath, lowering your gaze, embarrassed and terrified, "This has never happened before," you say, reproaching yourself for the mess you've gotten yourself into.

But he hears you perfectly, and his frown deepens.

"Before?" he queries you.      

You close your eyes tightly, cursing yourself internally for having said that, to again look at him pleadingly and in desperation wanting to prove to him that you really aren't doing anything wrong.

"I swear I—

"Hello!?"

The unexpected voice makes you jump again from surprise and you watch with your eyes wide open behind Aemond as one of the security guards enters the dock, his flashlight illuminating the way.

Your heart beats with such force that it seems to thunder in your ears, as panic engulfs you completely. 

And without thinking too much, you move quickly, hiding behind a huge wooden box, taking advantage of the pole supporting the roof at the end of the pier and some scattered chairs. 

You crouch down, trying to make yourself as small as possible, but desperation gives you away with every move.

This definitely ends up completely confusing Aemond, not expecting that reaction and movement from you at all.      

And you watch him from your hiding place with all the pleading and forgiveness in your eyes, silently begging him not to say anything, not to give you away.

But he turns his gaze to the guard who ends up coming closer.

"Are you all right son?"

Your heart stops momentarily and you watch him in terrified silence, simply waiting for the worst. 

But even to have his whole look serious and not showing much reaction, you watch as hesitation appears for a moment and he falters in his words, as if he doesn't know exactly what to say, until he does.

"Yes," he finally says, "I'm all right."

The guard, seemingly satisfied with the answer, nods, but doesn't leave.     

"The Baratheon's reported a break-in in their backyard a few days ago," he says and you listen carefully, still waiting for the moment with fear and concern, "Nothing serious, apparently just clothes and some decorations. I'm just patrolling to make sure everything is in order."

Your breathing quickens as you listen to every word and Aemond continues to watch the guard, when suddenly he shoots you a quick glance, his eyes reflecting a mixture of seriousness and indecision. 

"Yes, so I hear," he says.

"Are you alone, son? I thought I saw someone else here."

Fuck.

Your stomach sinks and you close your eyes tightly, then watch in terror for the moment when Aemond will finally speak and give you away.

But you see the hesitation in his gaze again, you also watch intently as he opens and closes his mouth a few times, failing to say anything.    

When suddenly you see him let out a long breath and slyly give you a look with his serious face, then lick his lips and press them together in resignation.

"Yes, I'm alone."

As soon as Aemond utters those words, a wave of relief sweeps through your body. But almost instantly you stare at him in complete shock, unable to believe it. 

He really just covered you in front of the guard. He didn't really give you away even when he had every reason to do so.

Your hands are still shaking, but you slowly feel the adrenaline and anguish start to subside. 

"Well, we'll be around if you need anything. Good night, son." 

Aemond nods in his direction.

"Yes, thank you. Good night."  

You stand still for a few more moments, listening to his footsteps fade into the distance until finally there is no more noise. Just the sound of the water against the dock and the night wind on the waves.

You take a deep breath and slowly, you sit up, emerging from your hiding place with your hands still shaking. 

Your eyes meet those of Aemond, who is still standing, watching you with that penetrating gaze that seems to be able to read all your deepest thoughts. 

You don't know exactly what to say to him, you're still surprised and don't understand why he saved you, but the words come out on their own, grateful and fearful.

"Thank you," you murmur apologetically but with all the sincerity in your gaze, "Thank you for not saying anything."

He doesn't say anything to you, which confuses you even more, he just keeps standing there watching you, with his usual hard-to-read expression.     

“I-I..." you stammer, biting your lips and lowering your gaze for a moment, still feeling nervous, "I really wasn't doing anything wrong. I wasn't stealing or harming or anything like that, truly," you tell him honestly.

Again, he says nothing. He doesn't move either. He just stands there, with both hands tucked inside his front pockets of his shorts and still watching you with utmost attention that makes you feel incredibly nervous, even more so due to the circumstances.

You are also surprised that he is not kicking you out and threatening not to come back here. 

You honestly don't understand his behavior and the fact that he saved you from the guard, but for whatever reason, you thank him or you would have been in big trouble.

So cautiously, you take a step towards the entrance and exit of the pier.        

"And I'm sorry. You won't see me around here again. I really don't want to cause trouble," you add, watching him warily and wanting to make clear the promise in your words, "I'll leave now," you say quietly.

And having nothing more to say, you turn around, ready to run away if necessary, but you barely take two steps when surprisingly his voice stops you.

"What were you doing here?" he asks for the fifth time all night, his tone just as accusing but now with a curious tone. 

You stand still, not knowing exactly how to respond. 

But you know you have two choices: lie or tell the truth. And for some reason, you feel you can't lie to him; Aemond Targaryen.

Aside from belonging to the wealthiest, most prestigious and powerful family in Sunset's and the entire country, with his father being Viserys Targaryen himself and being one of the heirs to his entire fortune, he seems to be someone who seems to have the innate ability to detect falsehood.

That's why you don't understand why he saved you, a poor girl who doesn't belong to his world and probably never will, but still, you decide to be honest.       

Anyway, you're already stuck here and as crazy as it sounds, you owe Aemond Targaryen one.

"I was just... looking for some peace and quiet," you confess, turning your body to once again look at him, "I had a bad day and coming here..." you look around with a wistful look, "It helps me."

Aemond tilts his head, frowning slightly and biting the inside of his cheek, inspecting you. 

"And you can't do that on the beach on your side of town?" he asks you with a tone of disbelief.

You sigh, feeling a twinge of frustration as you think about the answer. It's a reasonable question, but the answer is not so simple. 

"Not really," you reply, lowering your gaze for a moment and biting your lips in nervousness, "Surely you know it's not the same at Black Waves."

He shakes his head slightly.

"I've never been there."

You almost look at him with an obvious look, almost, but you end up nodding, since of course he's never been to your side of town when he lives here.   

"The smell of the beach there is not so nice. They are not as clean as these, there is dirt and being there alone in the middle of the night is dangerous," you explain.

And everything you say is true, which is why you decide to come here.

And he looks at you, clearly digesting your words, saying nothing for a few moments, as is becoming usual between the two of you.

You think that maybe for him, someone who has lived surrounded by luxury all his life, it is somewhat difficult to imagine such a different reality. But it is also no secret how the people of Black Waves live.

So you don't understand his silence or even his behavior, but what you do see in him, surprisingly... is that he doesn't judge you.

You would have expected the face of disgust instantly like any spoiled child of rich parents and also that he would tell you to leave now with that posture and superficial look.

But nothing.       

Aemond Targaryen doesn't really reflect anything with his eyes. Unless he's judging you and giving you those looks of disgust in his mind.

But, strangely, he doesn't make you feel any less.

"And coming here... it's like my paradise, for the peace and quiet," you conclude in a low murmur.

Again... he doesn't say anything.

And that begins to frustrate you.

He just watches you, as if he's evaluating every word, every gesture and every detail in you. 

And you silently think to yourself that he probably doesn't say anything because he really wants you to leave, to leave him alone and never come back here.

So you try to leave again, because you've caused enough trouble and you can't risk staying.   

However, just as you prepare to say goodbye and apologize, again, he interrupts you.

"Since when do you come here?" he asks with a tone that reveals a mild interest you weren't expecting.

Inevitably your nerves run through you again and you swallow hard, having no idea whether this interrogation is good or bad, but you still decide to be honest to avoid as much trouble as you can.

"Last year," you confess apologetically.

He raises his eyebrows slightly.

"And no one had caught you until now?"

"It's just that I don't come here much, I promise," you say instantly, sincere, "Like I told you I only come when I really need to... when I want peace and quiet. And I don't do anything but sit around and watch the ocean, that's all."

He nods slowly, again processing your words. 

And you don't know it but to Aemond... there seems to be something about you, something about the way you talk or maybe that you're a Black Waves girl, that keeps him interested.

His blue eyes, cold but curious, fix on yours, as if he wants to see beyond the words, as if he's looking for some kind of hidden truth.    

The silence that follows feels interminable and finally, he with his relaxed but dominant posture, takes his hands out of his pockets and turns around, resting his arms on one of the railings of the pier. 

He stares off into the horizon with that serious look that tells you nothing and you just stand there, wondering if you should still leave or what you should do, since you don't understand anything.

"You can stay," he says suddenly, his voice low but firm.

You frown and stare at him completely confused, having no idea if you heard right or not.

"What?"

"You can stay," he repeats, not watching you.

You blink, watching him in shock, now being the one processing his words, not really understanding anything but feeling completely surprised by his offer.      

You didn't expect this. Not at all.

And at that moment comes the distrust in you, as it can't be too good to be real.

"Are you sure? I mean..." you watch him uncertainly, "Maybe you want to be alone," you shrug.

You watch as he sits up and starts pulling something out of his pockets, which ends up being a lighter and a pack of cigarettes.

And without looking at you, he shakes his head.

"I'm fine," he tells you carelessly, taking a cigarette and starting to light it.

You watch him curiously, not understanding why he's being this way with you... so strangely kind. And that without knowing where it comes from, you begin to like him.

"And you're really not going to give me away? This isn't... I don't know," you shrug, "Like some kind of trap?"    

You watch as he takes a drag and blows out the smoke, putting the lighter and the pack back in his pocket.

"No," he says serious and almost annoyed, so you decide not to question him anymore, as strange as this is, "If you want to stay that's fine, if not you can leave too. Just do what you want, if I wanted to give you away, I would have done it already."

You remain silent, processing his words. You frown and watch him as he takes another drag and then the smoke rising to dissipate in the cool night air.

There is something about his posture, the casual way he holds his cigarette, that disconcerts you and catches your attention.

He doesn't seem like the kind of person who would let someone like you just hang around, much less in a place that is clearly his, or at least his family's.

So you feel unsure how to interpret all of this.

So you continue to stand, still waiting for some sign that you should leave, but he gives you none. Instead, he just looks off into the horizon, where the water meets the dark sky, lit only by the moon and stars.

And the truth is, you don't know what to do.

The prospect of staying there, with him, someone you barely really know and who could give you away at any moment, still makes you nervous.

However, you are also intrigued by this strange friendliness he is showing.

So you decide to stay, so you again take a seat on the edge of the wood with carefree movements, your feet dipping into the shimmering water beyond.

You give him a brief glance, unsure if he'll sit down too or if he'll just leave. But to your surprise, he stands beside you, silently smoking and not watching you.

It's not warm or comforting company, but somehow, the stillness you both share is more soothing than uncomfortable.

And so the minutes pass and the sound of the water, soft and rhythmic, begins to soothe you again. The cool night air makes the anxiety in your chest slowly dissipate, as does the tension in your shoulders.

And with each passing of time, you realize that nothing bad will really happen by being here with him. And you also realize that Aemond Targaryen is maybe not arrogant and shallow like the others.

He hasn't even been mean to you and hasn't judged you, so that's why you decide to start a conversation.

"Why are you here?" you decide to ask, without looking him and simply moving the waters gently with your feet, focusing on that.

The question floats in the air between you, and for a moment, you think he won't answer you, since maybe he told you that you can stay but it doesn't mean you should talk to him.

But then you hear him move, his weight making a slight creak in the wood.

"Same as you," he finally replies, though his tone is less curt this time, "Looking for peace and quiet."

You're instantly taken aback by his honesty and also by his response, definitely not expecting that, so you frown and look at him confused.

"Really?"

He watches you and his gaze instantly paralyzes you, watching as he watches you just as confused but this time defensively at your reaction.

"Why is that so incredible to believe?"

You bite your lips and avert your gaze, thinking very hard about your next words, as you shrug and watch him again.

"Well... I'm just thinking why a person who has everything and certainly lacks nothing would come here... looking for peace and quiet," you explain with genuine curiosity.

He lets out a snort, with a bitter look on his face as he brings the cigarette back to his lips.

"Neither you nor anyone else knows everything about me and my family," he says with an unexpected harshness in his tone.

You remain silent, surprised by the frankness of his response and avert your gaze to the horizon.

You feel a slight discomfort that you didn't expect and it's not because of what he said, but how he said it, so serious and distant.

But maybe he's right.

All families at Crown's are characterized by more than just money, power and status, and that's appearance.

The rich probably think they know everything among themselves, but your people see a little more reality and you know that behind that perfect facade there are secrets, tensions and burdens.

And the Targaryen's are no exception. Even Cregan has hinted at it many times, with his wry, half-joking comments about the lives of wealthy families.

The moment between the two and the conversation seems on the verge of becoming awkward again.

And just when you think the talk is over, Aemond takes another drag and, surprising you, looks sideways at you with a cool but questioning expression.

"And what happened to you?" he asks you suddenly, changing the subject.

"Hm?" you observe him attentively and confused.

"Why did you have a bad day?" he repeats just as calmly, but this time, with a casual, carefree tone.

"Oh," you murmur, turning your eyes back to the horizon.

You didn't expect him to be interested in something so personal. But since he asked, you decide to be honest.

"Well, apparently my boss hates me and made me work double shifts today," you explain, letting out a sigh. "It's stressful enough to put up with his bad treatment and workload, but I also had to deal with a lot of rude customers."

His gaze remains fixed on you, as if processing what you just said. Then he goes back to staring at the horizon with a disinterested look and takes another drag on his cigarette.

"Sounds like shit," he finally says, his tone dry but without a hint of empathy.

"Yeah, it is," you reply, letting out a bitter little laugh, "But it is what it is."

He nods slightly and suddenly, the distance you felt between the two of you seems to diminish a bit.

Aemond isn't as unapproachable as you thought, and though you still don't quite understand why he's acting this way, you begin to see that maybe, just maybe, there's more to him than meets the eye.

You stare out at the water in silence, the sound of the waves lapping gently against the pier pilings filling the air.

And you are surprised by how normal this situation is.

You mean, who would have thought? You, a poor girl from Black Waves and him, the heir to one of the most powerful families in the region, sharing a night on the dock as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

You don't understand anything but... you like him.

"I've never seen you before," he murmurs after a while, his eyes focused on the horizon, "Nor do I know your name."

You stare at him incredulously and let out a small chuckle under your breath.

"I think we both know why," you say knowingly, "It's not like our paths cross very often. And my name is Y/N, Y/N Blackwood," you introduce yourself in a soft tone.

He falls silent, seemingly memorizing your name and within a few seconds, however, he doesn't seem convinced of the other.

"I don't know. I know everyone in town, even if not directly."

You frown slightly.

"That sounds... exhausting."

"It's part of the family, knowing everyone. Knowing who's around you, even if you don't deal with them," he explains, "But I had never seen you."

"Well... I've lived at Sunset's for a year now with my aunt, uncle and my cousin," you explain, relaxing a little more as you see the conversation flowing smoothly, "And before the summer started, I started working at Mr. Frey's restaurant to save up for college in a few more months."

He turns his whole body toward you, still standing and leaning against the pole holding up the roof at the end of the pier, glancing at you from time to time but keeping more of his focus on the horizon.

"Your aunt and uncle?" he asks, "Why don't you live with your parents?"

That question takes you by surprise, and for a moment you don't know what to say. It's obviously a personal question and you weren't expecting it at all.

Then you look at him, where his eyes are serious and inquisitive towards you, although you don't perceive any bad intentions, just a curiosity.

"I guess I don't know if I should tell you that," you say with a small smile and amused tone, trying to downplay it and not make the moment awkward, "You know... trusting one of your kind."

He lets out a slight chuckle, making you smile a little wider.

"My kind?"

You shrug.

"Yeah, you know... a rich one."

"And what makes you think you can't trust me? I didn't give you away a while ago, did I?"

"And why did you?" you ask, unable to contain your curiosity seizing on the comment, "Why didn't you give me away?"

He lets out a long breath and takes another drag before answering, his voice low but steady.

"I don't know, maybe because you were honest."

"But you're not like that, no one in your class is empathetic and forgiving."

"Do you really think you know everything about me and my family?" he questions you again.

You look at him obviously and incredulously.

"Please, everyone in this place knows everything about you and your family. Even the poor people. You're like the royalty of the city, after all."

You see the slight annoyance on his face, making it clear that he's in total disagreement with you, and you make up your mind to prove your point.

"I mean..." you sigh, "You are known as your father's son who has a perfect life just like your siblings, heirs to a wealthy and powerful family. The Targaryen's are known for that, work, money, power and status... or am I wrong?"

He doesn't respond right away, just watches you with an intensity that makes you feel a little vulnerable.

And just when you think he'll finally let his true self out and he's exactly like the other rich kids, he surprisingly lets out a sigh and looks down at the water, with an almost resigned look on his face.

"Yeah, but it's not all as simple and wonderful as it seems. It's not the whole truth either."

Those words leave you thinking. And they also leave you watching... him.

At the previous party, you couldn't see much of him from afar, let alone being on the second floor of a huge yacht. But he is... captivating.

You trace the shape of his nose and the structures of his cheeks with your gaze, watching as if it were a slow-motion movie as he lifts his cigarette to his lips and raises his gaze to the sky to expel the smoke, marking the bone in his neck.

His silver hair shimmers slightly in the moonlight and makes him look like some sort of ancient Greek God, where you silently admire the handsome features of his face.

You can't see his eyes in detail because of the light, but you know they are blue, characteristic of the Targaryen along with the platinum hair.

And then you wonder, what else is behind that facade his family has so meticulously constructed for him?

Who is Aemond Targaryen truly?

The night continues as the two of you stand there, sharing the space, the air, the silence. There is no need for more words for now, it's just enjoying the little shelter in this corner with him.

And after a while, you decide that maybe it's time to leave.

"Well... I guess I should be going," you mutter, starting to get up, then looking around the perimeter one last time, etching the image in your memory, "I'm going to miss this place."

He turns with slow, nonchalant movements toward you, dropping what little is left of the cigarette to crush it with the sole of his tennis shoe.

"What do you mean?" he asks, with that calmness that always seems to surround him.

You look at him in confusion, then shrug, letting out a small, resigned laugh.

"Obviously I can't come back here now that you've caught me," you tell him with a sad little smile, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear from the wind, turning around, "Oh and..." you look back at him, "Thanks for not give me away, truly."

You give him a look and a small grateful smile, as he keeps his expression hard to read, as usual, but totally focused on you.

Neither of you say anything else and assuming this is the final goodbye, you start walking towards the dock exit. But then you hear his voice behind you.

"Wait."

And that's what you do.

Confused, you turn to watch him again, watching as he takes a step forward.

"You can come back if you want," he says to you suddenly, in a tone of voice that is soft, but also mixes indifference and something else that you don't quite manage to identify, "Just... make sure no one else catches you."

That definitely takes you by surprise, since you weren't expecting it. And you watch him silently for a moment, trying to read his expression, but he remains as enigmatic as ever.

However, there is an unexpected sincerity in his words that makes you smile, this time with more warmth.

"Really?" you ask, unable to hide the disbelief and excitement in your voice.

He nods, folding his arms, saying nothing.

"Thank you," you reply, and this time you say it more firmly and with happiness in your eyes.

You lower your gaze and resist the urge to smile big, feeling a strange sensation in your stomach, to again watch him.

"Bye, Aemond."

You take a step back and turn around, when again he stops you as he speaks.

"You're going home alone?" he asks, this time with a little more interest in his voice.

You laugh softly, surprised that he cares, not really understanding anything but liking it.

"You know? We poor people have a good thing after all... survival style."

He doesn't say anything to you, just watches you with his piercing colored eyes as he licks his lips and then simply gives you a small nod.

You don't say anything else either and finally turn to leave, beginning to leave the tranquility of the dock and him behind, under the dim lights of the night.

And as you walk away, you feel the sea breeze on your face and wonder how a night that began with tension and fear ended with something as unexpected as a truce with Aemond Targaryen.

series taglist:

@zenka69 @strangersunghoon @deliaseastar @thefireblaze @kythefangirl25 @p45510n4f4shi0n @saturnssrings @bellaisasleep @primroseluna @tinykryptonitewerewolf @barnes70stark @tssf-imagines

[zorosangell]

zoro and his girl who are always bickering and fighting and breaking up and getting back together again. atp, the other straw hats are used to it now. I can also imagine zoro NEVER apologizes and his idea of getting back together with his girl again is just acting like buisness as usual (just going back to her and sitting with her, throwing his arm around her shoulder, kissin her cheek, acting like nothing ever happened, etc) and usually, she’s receptive to it. Because even though she’s as stubborn as zoro (maybe even more), she hates arguing (and loves him too much).

but imagine during one of their arguments, Nami drags her out to go shopping at a island they stopped by, and she sees all these happy couples holding hands and being affectionate and just being sweet and soft with each other. she realizes…zoro is never sweet and soft with her. and he NEVER says I’m sorry (I imagine maybe she sees an arguing couple in the market, but the guy comes with flowers and an apology and it makes her wonder). She makes up her mind, she won’t take him back until he says those words, no matter what. I know this isn’t so descriptive, but I’d love to see you take on this! ❤️

⛥ﾟ・。 pit

synopsis: time and time again zoro has forgotten about your outings, leaving you dressed up and alone on several occasions. but after nami witnesses it in person, she finally puts her foot down... and you finally confront your swordsman.

cw: angst, very little comfort, happy-ish ending (left up for interpretation), zoro's kind of an asshole, nami's a girl's girl, reader is better than me.

a/n: listen to promise by laufey or casual by chappell roan if you want the full experience. i've never written a trifling zoro before this was crazy

"Why don't you stop wasting my time and give me a real discount?" Nami asked, firmly slamming her fist on the counter.

"Please don't be angry! I'm doing my best!" the cashier apologized, "But, c'mon, I can't take fifty percent off no matter how much you buy. They're marked down enough already!"

The man looked to be on the brink of tears, and you couldn't help but snicker.

"Nami, leave the poor man alone..." you smiled, feeling a little bad for him, "He's just doing his job. And besides, it's not like you can't afford it."

"Nope," she denied, popping the p as she grabbed another humongous pile of clothes. "It's the principle of the matter, (y/n). If I have the option to pay for something half-off, why would I pay full price?"

"They're not half-off!"

"Besides..." her gaze drifted to your outfit, a small pout settling on her lips as she looked you up and down with saddened eyes. "I can see that you are clearly trying to out-glam me, so I gotta glam back!"

She turned to the cashier, placing down the new pile.

"You drive a hard bargain. I'll buy these, too. But I want ninety percent off."

The man nearly fainted and you laughed, surprised by Nami's playful rivalry.

"Nami, you've owned more clothes than I've ever worn. I think it's safe to say that between the two of us, you're the one that's out-glamming me," you assured, resting your cheek in your palm as you leaned on the counter.

"But look at you!" she playfully whined. "Your outfit is killer! And your hair is on point, too!"

Though, just as quick as she examined your outfit, she realized that it was really good.

Too good to be shopping in.

"Wait, (y/n), were you supposed to be going somewhere? Why are y—"

The moment your face fell, the glimmer in your eyes dimming at the memory, reality finally donned on the navigator, hitting her like a sea train at top speed.

He did it again.

Anger rushed through the woman's veins like wildfire, her face not even attempting to conceal her fury as it twisted into an expression of absolute rage.

You knew it all too well.

"Nami, ple—" "I'll KILL HIM!"

The clothes on the counter were suddenly a thing of the past as the red-haired woman drew her Clima-Takt and stormed toward the exit of the boutique, the dangerous aura she was emanating sending a shiver down even your spine.

Like magnets, everything began to click for the woman.

The beautiful outfit.

The done-up hair.

The glum look on your face.

'That bastard stood her up again!'

That's why you had been wandering around town aimlessly.

You were waiting for him.

This scenario had become commonplace over the past several months you and the green-haired swordsman had been dating, much to Nami's severe indignation.

It was always the same.

You and Zoro would plan a date.

Zoro would get caught up training, or get caught up drinking, or just plain, old fucking forget.

You would end up alone, having gone through all the trouble and embarrassment.

She would have to console you, and you would have to keep her from bashing his head in.

Then you'd have to face the jerk the next day, who, instead of apologizing, simply acted like nothing ever happened.

As if the entire ship see how utterly crushed you were.

And then the whole cycle would repeat the following week.

Nami was sick of it.

'This shit ends today.'

"Nami, please! It's not worth it!" you ran out the store and after her, grabbing onto her arm. "It's not gonna change anything!"

"The hell it isn't!" she barked, brows cinched tightly together. "(y/n), I won't stand for this anymore! This is what?! The twentieth time?!"

"Twenty-third... but I'm not counting..." you corrected, meekly.

"(Y/N)!"

"I know! I know!" you sighed, plopping yourself down on the curb, defeated. "I don't know what's wrong with me..."

"There's nothing wrong with you! There's something wrong with him not realizing just how much of a fucking catch you are!" she groaned, exasperatedly, as she threw her hands in the air. "Twenty-three times, that bastard... I oughta chip his swords twenty-three times."

"I guess... I just don't get why..." you mumbled, looking down at your lap with glassy eyes. "Is it me? Am I doing something wrong?"

Nami turned to you, heart aching at your saddened form.

"Don't think that for another second!" she denied, quickly moving to take a seat next to you, pulling you into a small side hug. "You've done absolutely nothing to deserve this. Zoro's just being a real jackass."

"But there has to be some reason," you attempted to rationalize, tone rising. "Does he not care? Am I just that insignificant that he can't even waste an hour or two to spend time with me? His girlfriend?"

"That's what I've been saying!" Nami agreed, loudly, calling the attention of some passersby. "(y/n), you've given him chance after chance after chance, and he still hasn't cleaned up his act."

She gave your shoulder a reassuring squeeze, flashing you a sincere smile.

"I'm not saying you have to break up with him, unless that's what you want to do, but I'm saying that you really need to realize just how amazing you are, and hold him accountable for his actions."

Shooting up from her seat, she stood before you, pointing a manicured finger at your chest.

"You're the prize, girl! You're strong, smart, kind, compassionate, and drop-dead gorgeous! What guy wouldn't want that!" she turned to a few of the men passing by, a smile on her face. "Right?"

"YES!" they cheered, eagerly.

Your face burned with embarrassment.

"Nami!"

"You get my point!" she laughed, resting her hand on her hip. "You deserve someone who will treat you like the princess you are. Whether that's Zoro or not is up to you, but know that his track record begs to differ..."

Taking a moment, you let her words sink in, your confidence rising slowly but surely.

Maybe you were that great...

Maybe you did deserve more...

Maybe it was time to start anew...

"Y'know what... you're right! It's time for a change!" you smiled, slowly standing up from the curb. "No more tears!"

"Nope!" Nami cheered, proudly.

"No more excuses!"

"None of 'em!"

"No more pretending!"

"Not around here!"

"From now on, I'm gonna start living life for me! And if that means going out clubbing tonight and getting drunk to forget my problems, then so be it!"

"Y'know what, I'll take it! Let's go!" Nami squealed, the two of you quickly charging back into the boutique.

You couldn't fight off your smile, your shoulders feeling like an insurmountable weight had been lifted off them.

For the first time in a while, things didn't seem so bleak.

"Ooo, I think I saw the perfect revenge dress for you, (y/n)! It's gorgeous!"

Walking out of the girls' quarters, you felt like a million bucks—and were probably wearing it too with the amount of money you and Nami spent in town.

But price be damned, the result was phenomenal.

The provocative dress.

The decadent perfume.

The glittering jewelry.

The leg-extending heels.

You were absolutely breath-taking.

Not to say that you weren't before, but just significantly more so.

The dress itself was just the right amount of short, and helped carve out your curves deliciously.

Your hair was done courtesy of the ship's archaeologist, its style elegant yet loose to fit the club scene you were going to.

And your skin was practically glowing thanks to the oils Nami had picked up in the market.

So, it was safe to say you were at least a quadruple threat.

Looking down at yourself, you smiled, feeling like the prettiest woman in the world.

No longer concerned with the feelings of others, or the wrong-doings of yourself, you felt freer than you'd ever had.

And you had Nami to thank for it all.

'For finally knocking some sense into me...'

Sensing someone's presence, you pulled yourself out of your thoughts, only to see your swordsman standing right before you.

His eyes dragged over your body, almost analytically, a grin rising to his lips.

It seemed he finished his training early...

"Where are you goin' all dressed up?" he smirked, his hand coming up to rest on your hip, pulling you closer. "You look good... an' smell good, too."

Quickly, you pushed yourself out of his grasp, your legs pressing forward to stride across the balcony, leaving the him to stand there, surprised.

You had never pushed him away before, much less ignored him.

'What the hell?'

"What's the matter with you?" Zoro's voice lowered an octave, brows furrowed in confusion as he followed after you.

You didn't answer, keeping your gaze trained ahead as you pressed on, heading toward the stairs that led off the Sunny.

"(y/n)," he tried again, voice slightly firmer, as he grabbed your arm, stopping you in your tracks. "(y/n), what the hell's your problem? Where are you going?"

Harshly, you flung his hand off, brows slowly beginning to crease at his audacity.

He was acting like nothing happened.

Again.

He knew exactly why you were fucking upset, but was making the choice to completely ignore it in favor of acting stupid and playing in your face.

Your jaw set tight, all your thoughts grinding to a screeching halt.

For the first time ever, anger and resentment began to claw at your chest, your hand itching to rise up and slap him right across the cheek.

Enough was enough.

"Don't fuckin' touch me," you spat, voice dripping with venom as you went back to walking. "I don't wanna see you right now."

"See me?" his brows furrowed as his finger pointed toward his chest, now even more confused. "The hell did I do?!"

Or maybe he was just fucking stupid...

Either way, you finally cracked.

"IT'S WHAT YOU DON'T DO, ZORO!" you roared, whipping back around to face him, the man flinching at your volume. "FOR GOD'S SAKE, IT'S ALWAYS BEEN WHAT YOU DON'T DO!"

The leak in the dam of your heart had finally turned into a full-on flood, and you were now outpouring months upon months upon months of pent up anger.

"You stand me up! You forget our dates! You make it abundantly clear that you would much rather spend the day nursing a sake bottle than with me!" you scoffed, throwing an exasperated hand in the air. "Do you even remember what we were supposed to do today?!"

The swordsman paused a moment, scouring his brain for recollection of the event.

"Hey, Zo'," you piped up from your spot in the corner, shutting the book Robin had loaned you. "I'm gettin' kinda hungry. You wanna grab lunch?"

He nodded, grinding out another squat as he lowered his knees to a ninety-degree angle, somehow perfectly controlling the two ton weight on his back.

"Yeah, you go on ahead," he grunted, holding the position. "I'll catch up. Gonna finish up this set."

"'Kay," you nodded, flashing him an eager smile. "I'll meet you at that sushi place we saw in town."

Zoro's eye shot wide, a sudden sense of dread sinking in his stomach as he finally remembered.

"Oh, shit..."

"Yeah... Oh, shit," you scoffed, turning to head off the ship. "I'm done with this..."

"Woah, woah, woah, wait a minute," he grabbed your arm once again, pulling you back. "(y/n), it was an accident... I didn't mean it."

"How the hell am I supposed to know that?! You never fucking apologize!" you yelled, jerking sharply away from his grasp. "At least that way it could seem like you're at least trying to pretend you care about me!"

"Of course, I care about you, (y/n)!"

"YOU CERTAINLY DON'T ACT LIKE IT!" your voice cracked.

He halted, expression falling and chest tugging with pain as a few stray tears fell down your cheeks.

You were hurting... bad.

And it was all his fault.

All of the times he left you hanging, all of the times he screwed up.

They were all coming back to haunt him, each one doubling the weight of the sinking pit in his stomach.

How could he have not seen?

You had been so patient with him—never raising your voice, never holding a grudge—and he supposed his mind had unconsciously took that as the green-light to proceed.

Granted, he never forgot anything or stood you up out of malice or actual lack of care.

It just... slipped his mind.

Though, in that, he could see where his thinking was flawed, and where you could find a problem.

"Am I... just that forgettable to you?" you asked, voice suddenly small.

Zoro snapped himself out of his thoughts, eye wide at your tone.

It sounded so distant.

"Of course, not, (y/n)," he quickly denied, lurching forward to hold you out of instinct. "I—"

But you stepped back, avoiding his grasp as your arms raised to hug yourself, hoping to keep everything together.

"Every time I look at you, I feel more alone," you continued, letting out a few sniffles. "I'm always, always reaching out to you, always down for whatever you want to do. But you just... never reach back... and you don't even bother to apologize..."

Glancing out at the sunset, you fought off the wobble of your lip, hugging yourself even tighter.

"Zoro... I can't be with someone that doesn't care about me..."

That's when everything suddenly came to a screeching halt.

Zoro felt like the words cut right through his chest, tearing through his heart and opening it up like force hell-bent on making him see.

He'd rarely felt this feeling, but he knew what it was instantly.

Fear.

"(y/n), don't do this," he started, panic slowly spiking in his veins. "I'm sorry for being such an idiot... but we can work this out. This doesn't have to be... it doesn't have to end like this..."

"But it does," you countered, quickly. "It isn't like this is your first time doing this, Zoro... or your third... or your tenth... or even your twentieth."

You scoffed, half-laughing at the situation.

"If I hadn't said anything, you probably would've made it to thirty."

Zoro's chest stung at the comment, the man almost letting out a wince.

It was harsh... but not without truth.

"I'm freeing myself of all of this, Zoro. I deserve better," you stated, firmly, slowly regaining your confidence as you turned away, heading for the stairs. "This conversation is over. And thanks to you, I'm late."

The swordsman looked just about ready to shit his pants, the finality of your words scaring him more than any enemy.

You were his girl.

His best friend.

His ray of sunshine.

Seeing you so upset, so jaded, because of his actions?

He felt like shit.

And, in that moment, he honestly wanted nothing more than to hold you.

To shower you with a thousand apologies.

To make it up to you in any and every way he could possible conceive.

But you were slipping through his fingers like smoke, blowing father and farther away.

"(y/n)... please..." he tried one final time, voice softer than you'd ever heard it before as he carefully grabbed your wrist.

And you nearly broke, the sound of his voice pulling a sharp string on your heart, nearly making you take everything back.

But Nami's words from earlier replayed in your mind, and you fought the feeling, pulling your arm away.

You had to stay strong, for both your sakes.

"We're done, Zoro," you finished, finally descending down the steps. "I'm moving on."

The swordsman watched as you disappeared in front of him, now suddenly feeling as if you were worlds away.

He'd finally done it.

He'd pushed you over the edge.

And rather than feeling angry or upset, or even sorry for himself, he felt empty.

Truly and utterly empty.

The rest of the crew watched from cracked doors and open windows as the man stood there, staring at the place you had once stood like he was in a trance.

Nobody wanted things to turn out this way.

It was clear as day that the both of you loved each other a great deal... but Zoro needed this.

He needed the wake up call.

And now that he was presented with all the necessary truth, he could finally work toward remedying the situation; and, by the will of the Gods, making up his dizzying amount of transgressions against you.

It would be hard work, and for the first time in his life, he would have to be completely vulnerable.

But the crew believed in him.

And the crew believed in you, too.

The both of you would come back from this stronger than ever.

And Zoro would come back to the crow's nest with a calendar hanging front and center on the door.

Courtesy of the ship's navigator.