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ja-stuff · 2 years ago

Text

For the last 10 years

Character: Zhongli

Warnings: (Reader was never on the receiving end.) Reader has the Countdown Disease (?), light swearing, slight redundancy of words, light mentions of bleeding

Genre: Angst, only angst (no comfort at all).

Note: Another work that might have punctuation, sentence, and typographical errors as this is not yet 'again' proofread, but I just wanna post something to update you i'm still alive and writing lol. Please enjoy! ♥

09:00

[How alone must you feel every single day.]

You tossed to your left and stretched your arms out to the side where you know your partner is supposed to be sleeping early this morning. The coldness of the empty space sends disappointment in your system, slowly accept the fact that he will never stay like how he had always been in the last 10 years of your relationship.

You never knew that you would fall in love, you despised it from when you were little. So when you grew up and were of the right age, the thing you once knew you didn’t know existed in your system, overwhelming you with different kinds of emotions which drowned you to the core and you were not even expecting that it will be from an Archon Morax, Rex Lapis himself, or Zhongli as what you… everyone has been calling him in the last 10 years.

[A home that was supposed to make you closer]

Trying to dismiss the waves of memories from the events which happened last night, you tried to force a smile and patted your shoulder lightly to encourage yourself a little to get through the day. You got up and unsteadily made your way to the bathroom to wash, knocking over a few things from the hallway of your cold home located at one of the mountains surrounding Liyue harbor. Grunting, you safely entered the bathroom and filled the sink with water, but the familiar rush of a headache coming to you followed by a nosebleed that painted the water a pale red made you think of the only flower you first and last received from Zhongli. You were reminded of the silk flower and the way how Zhongli gave it to you under a rainbow from where your house was standing in the last 10 years came rushing to mind as if it was just yesterday when he went and stirred up your world.

Then again, thinking about Zhongli made you relive the disagreements he made before leaving. The images of him being slightly irritated with how persistent you were from last night’s argument, how you pushed yourself into his bubble as your only wish for his acceptance, voicing out and trying to make him understand your feelings and what you have been through, from how you raised your voice at him for the very first time to put yourself in authority to make him listen and stay. But last night was too messy and none of the words you spat you could recall. Hence the memory of how you looked at his back turned to silhouette as it disappeared in one of Liyue’s coldest-darkest hours is so vivid as if it is his sign to silently dismiss the fight without even trying to speak his mind about the matter, leaving your growing anxiety worse.

But just as the house was stirred last night full of hurt emotions and words, it is now too quiet enough to question yourself whether you have been living mute, deaf, and hidden in the last 10 years.

[A clock that ticks to remind you it’s enough]

Looking at your reflection in the mirror you read the clock that only you– you alone can see…

(Years:Months:Days:Hours:Minutes: Seconds)

00:00:00:08:02:55

Eight hours… Even with just the remaining hours you have, there is no Zhongli around to make you feel less lonely as you near your time to permanently leave him… To leave Liyue… To leave the world… You swallow the lump in your throat that was threatening to melt together with your tears and a heavy heart.

“What the h–hell did I do?” you voiced out… “Was it so wrong to l-love?”

“Was I not cut for this?” tears started to flow like a stream, “Was it so hard to receive o-one, when all I did was t-to g-ive?” trying to think of more questions, one thought got you.

“W–was I w–wrong to love an a–archon?”

You trembled as you looked at your reflection in the mirror. Disheveled hair, a thin face, and deep and tired-looking eyes were all you have seen in front of you. In the last 10 years, this is the first time you see yourself so broken, that you do not have any idea how to keep a neat appearance in front of the Archon you loved in your final moments.

“No– what was I–I think? He– he is the person I always love… How can I say that… I–’m sorry..”

You kneeled on the ground carefully touching it as you closed your eyes and silently whispered, “Zhongli, my love, I wish you would come home early today...” knowing well that your archon lover will probably pick up the waves of your voice just by the vibrations of the ground.

13:30

(Years:Months:Days:Hours:Minutes: Seconds)

00:00:00:03:30:07

[How Baizhu and the others see you]

It reads, three hours… You slumped on the chair across from Baizhu’s seat in his office, you waited for him to finish passing on some instructions to Qiqi who was at the counter of the Bubu Pharmacy.

“What brought you here Y/n?”

“I– uh… How do I look first?” you asked, putting on your best smile in front of the man who you had been close to ever since you became Ningguang’s maiden years ago.

“Uh… well you look the same? Come on, tell me what’s the matter?” Baizhu gets to the point directly. Your bright smile could not fool him, and you just looked at his standing figure that is currently examining the new medicinal herbs brought to the pharmacy this morning. You got up and sneakily hugged his back, which startled Baizhu but regained his composure.

“If you only need to hug someone, go ask your archon for a hug! I’m busy!”

“Why are you so cold?” you chuckled

“‘Am not! So what happened? Take a seat.” With how persistent you were, Baizhu decided to stop what he was doing and listened to you.

“First off, here! Take this.” you gave him three sealed boxes wherein a time spell was cast. “Yours is the green one, Ningguang’s got the gold, and– Zhongli gets–”

“Wait?! You’re telling me to give this to your partner?! Hell no, why should I? You live in the same house.”

“But you know he’s not always home…”

Upon hearing your words, Baizhu’s stubbornness subsided, and watched your shoulders droop. Somehow the action you did make him feel like he is missing something that you were not telling him.

“Are you leaving Liyue harbor?” you did not answer his question and remained still in your seat as you tried to steady your breaths. “Are you finally leaving him?”

When Baizhu asked the latter, the emotions you have been trying to hide since making your way to Bubu pharmacy started to show. Hands trembling, and tears falling, you looked at Baizhu with complete sadness in your eyes, which took Baizhu seconds to a minute before he tried to search for answers in his box forcing it open but the item won’t budge.

“Silly… Stop struggling! You won’t be able to open it until 18:00. Ah, right! Zhongli… his– his is this white with gold lining box…” you let out a chuckle before you wiped your tears.

“I’ll miss you, Baizhu…” You took a step closer to him and opened your arms in front of him. Baizhu did not move from his seat, he was not sure whether to take it too as your very actions slightly gave him a sense of anxiety that he never knew you’d ever make him feel… Not from you, a friend he knew that shone the brightest as long as he could remember.

“You know… Y/n, this is scary… you’re scaring me. Why? You can talk to me and Ningguang… Y’know?” slowly indulging himself with the warmth of your embrace, he could feel your heartbeat. A beating he has never heard before…

“Hey you– are you okay?!” he stood up leaving you standing still, he racked his desk drawers to look for some equipment to try and hear your heart…

“Thank you, Baizhu…” you whispered as you left the pharmacy and ran as far away as you could from Bubu pharmacy.

“By the way, your archon went here last night and he–” Successfully grabbing the item he was looking for, Baizhu turned around but was only met by the scent of your shadows crowding the whole office.

“Y/n?”

14:45

(Years:Months:Days:Hours:Minutes: Seconds)

(00:00:00:02:15:02)

Two hours… and he still hasn’t gone home. You thought it was late and you did not bother to cook yourself a meal for lunch, nor prepared a meal for Morax to eat… You sat on the newly bought gazebo outside your house to breathe Liyue’s fresh air for the last time. Smiling as you take in nature's welcome on your slowly weakening body, the warm rays of the sun touching your face as it also made your hair shine a different hue from your original hair color, the breeze of nature tickling each of your active senses, the breathtaking views of the mountains, and Liyue harbor overwhelming the extent of what your eyes can see… It’s more than that.

Yes, Liyue is more than that… As you were filled with a short amount of Joy in your alone time, you remembered the lantern rite. You slowly went inside the house and looked for the lantern you had prepared beforehand, lighting it up as you softly whispered and called “Xiao” a name that you know will come to you right away, making you meet the person you knew was close to the archon you love come with just one command.

“Y/n, you called?” the familiar voice and appearance of a boy a little taller than you appeared, his eyes fixed on the lighted lantern you were holding.

“Hey, Xiao…” you flashed a grin, hiding the fact to him that you’re starting to grow a little weaker as your time ticks down. “Mind if I light it first?” you asked, voice as sweet as ever, melting Xiao’s cold soul. Reminding him how the last 10 years of being there to protect you on behalf of Morax’s command, this is the first time you initiated to light a lantern first, instead of being the last, and the sun is still up at that.

“I don’t but won’t it make sense? The sun is still running around Liyue, why light it this early?” Xiao questioned, “I just wanna be the first one to light it up for you this year… (When I see them, I’ll tell them you said Hi…)” you said but whispered the last sentence making Xiao squint his eyes trying to decipher words that were showing in your mouth.

“Here…” You walked past his figure and went to higher ground near the cliff at the back of your house. You closed your eyes and said your little prayers, as you slowly knelt and touched the ground once more to call for Zhongli, hoping that this time he’d come to you once you asked. As you let go of the lantern in broad daylight, your last words to give to Zhongli came out.

“My Morax, come home. I’m tired.” Once the silent words were delivered you felt a hot air surrounding you, and the ground shaking a little. “Get up, Y/n. I was being called by others again.” Xiao helped you up, and you just took his hand and touched his forehead.

“Oh, I see! I hope I did not take too much of your time. Also, I wish for you to accept this, Xiao. I just wanted to thank you.”

“It is my duty. Part of my responsibility. It is my honor to be called by you, Y/n.” the words Xiao let out made you feel sad but you forced a laugh so he won’t suspect that something was going on with you at the moment.

“I think you should get going now. Thank you, Xiao.” He bowed to you and kept the small box you gave him, similar to the one you gave Baizhu.

“I wish to see him cry over me before I leave.”

16:50

(Years:Months:Days:Hours:Minutes: Seconds)

(00:00:00:00:15:00)

Minutes… it says fifteen minutes… You only have fifteen minutes left to stay awake and see him, to thank him, to give him your last smile, to have your last talk with him, to ask him your last question, to receive the last assurance you ever wished, your last minutes to hear the words you wanted to hear more from him, last minutes to wait for him before you puff the last air you could ever breathe out, to give him your last I love you,

… and your last kiss to give him the last goodbye. Yet there’s still no Zhongli appearing in front of you. He hadn’t come to any of your pleads. He is not with you… He was never with you in the last 10 years of your relationship.

(00:00:00:0:07:00)

You sighed as you made your way back to the gazebo and sat on the ground where it stands and listened to the distant sound that the joyous people of Liyue harbor were making as they pulled their last-minute preparations for the festival. Every second felt like torture to you, thinking to yourself about how the man you loved the most did not give you the love that you deserved and was not able to give you the assurance you needed all the years you have been together.

Now, you’re drowning in your memories of the past welcoming the pain you’re feeling, with your senses deteriorating little by little, and your eyes falling its last tears along with your vision getting blurry enveloping you to unwelcomed darkness in each passing second that not even the bright lights coming from Liyue’s Lantern Rite Festival can make bring back your sight, ‘It was nice seeing the region you made brighter than ever, Morax...’

“ Morax, I–.” were your last words before you breathed your last sweet breath, your head slowly dropping on the bench, as the sound of LIyue’s people started to move near the mountain

17:00

(Years:Months:Days:Hours:Minutes: Seconds)

(00:00:00:00:00:10)

Your time is up. Your lungs are burning as it tries to take in more air. You know that it won’t make any difference even if you ask to have your time extended to properly end things with Zhongli, but fate was never once on your side after you met him. All you ever experienced in the last 10 years was anything but not love and assurance. You believed that his heart was never with you after 1 year of being together, yet you never failed to lose hope that maybe one day, he’ll be able to see you and care for you like how you were with him. But wishing is a luxury to you when you are already with an archon who can give you that, ‘won’t it be too much to ask for a little more’ Yes, you believed it is true, but if only you were a little selfish, maybe this rare disease did not come looking for you.

Accepting the harsh reality, you thought to yourself that even at this moment, you could never bring yourself to hate Zhongli, not even once in the last 10 years have you thought of hating him even if it is too painful to love him but only one selfish thought came to you, touching the ground for the last time, you whispered in your mind. “I do not wish to meet you in my next life, Morax…”

With your body losing its warmth, the last tear taking its last drop, and your pupils slowly dilating, comes the sound of the fireworks from Liyue harbor shooting at the skies reflecting the colorful sparkles dancing in your lifeless eyes…

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

Aaaaaaaaah! How was it? I was tearing the whole time writing this one! Btw. Might make a Zhongli POV one. Unsure when to post as work has been keeping me lately. But I really hope you liked this one. Thank you so much for reaching up to this point, I appreciate it! Stay safe, hydrated, and take care sunshine!

Oh, and here's part 2!

Love,

Ja ♥

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the-froschamethyst4 · 26 days ago

Text

Rosary

𖤐Pairing: Priest! Soap x Nun! Reader

𖤐Pronouns: She/Her

𖤐Warnings: smut, language, a deep secret, nudity, sex in a Church, cam-girl, male and female masturbation, P in V, eating out, age gap (25-33), Sinners, more use of Johnny, breast play,

𖤐Summary: Two people have a deep secret one likes to be in front of the camera, while the other likes to be behind the computer screen and watch

————

10:20PM

No one was up or at least no one should be up. Father Johnny was up, lights had gone out around 10:00, he opens up his laptop that was stashed in the drawer in his nightstand next to his bed.

He plops on his bed, and laptop of course on his lap and he opens it turning on to a cam girl site, he scrolls down and finds the cam girl like likes to watch the most, to where he knows her schedule, the time she starts, and when the time she ends.

She usually starts at 10:00 or even early like 9, and ends within an hour or so. He sees her stream had started and joined in, she never shows her face just her chest down, and if she does happen to come on camera then she has a black face mask on only showing her eyes, but you could always imagine what faces she does make under the mask.

She starts off by whining, her seated with her legs behind her and sitting on her knees, hands messing with her thighs, she moves a toy under her briefly showing off her wet clit.

Johnny moans just a bit and fishing his cock out of his sweatpants just barely stroking his cock.

She slowly starts to grind her hips on it, moaning and moving her finger tips against her cold skin, sending shivers down her spine and hardening her nipples.

Johnny know what he is doing is wrong against God, but he can't help it, seeing this woman's body on full display for him, her hands groping her breasts and playing with her nipples with a few moans coming from her mouth and playing with her nipples some more.

Johnny grabs his dick and gives himself a few pumps, bucking his hips up into his hand, his finger going over the tip of his cock.

"Oh fuck," she mumbles. Her breathing was fast and her hips moving back and forth were also moving fast.

"Forgive me my Lord," Johnny says, looking up and kept jerking himself off and cursing under his breath. "Fuck, fuck," he moans.

The cam girl then moves off the toy she was grinding on, putting it aside and in the back Johnny could see something, a rosary hanging on the back of the room.

Then Johnny realize his favorite cam girl was a catholic.

-----------------

Next Morning 8:00AM

"Good morning everyone." Father Johnny says standing at the alter. "Today I want to go over...something that is considered a human desire. Sex or masturbation...it's a sin, I will never shame anyone who does do it, but...confessions are always open near my office...if you would like to talk about it please go to confessions to confess your sins. Other than that...let's pray and do our chores," Johnny says.

The nuns all bowed their head to pray, Johnny then looks at the new nun, she had arrived to his Church close to 3 months now. She's been quiet, hasn't gone to confessions, and she very much keeps to herself. Father Johnny has even asked for her to come visit him a few times, but never does.

Johnny looks down at her hand he sees a rosary, one that was very familiar to him, but it was such a common style of rosary, maybe it's not who he's thinking.

He clears his throat and walks to her, she stops and turns to face him.

"Yes, Father Johnny?" She bows her head and looks up at him.

"Please, Sister Y/n...come with me for a moment, I would like to speak with you," he says.

"My chores, sir?"

"I'll have Sister Olivia take over for you, please, follow me," he was gentle with her. Y/n never spoke out of term, got on anyone's bad side, and she was peaceful.

"Father Johnny, is there something you want to say?" She asks, looking up at him as they walked in the courtyard together.

"Yes...I...I was wondering, that rosary, it's passed down?"

"Yes, I found out my grandmother was a Nun, and I was given it to help me along this...journey." She says, rubbing the beads with her thumb and ran her thumb over the cross.

"Why are you here, Sister Y/n?"

"What do you mean, Father?"

"Excuse my words, I mean. Why are you here in the Church? Why did you want to become a Nun all of a sudden? You have no bad record, your family isn't part of the Church, you are...a sweet girl already but yet...you are here? Why?"

"I...I'm not sure," she says, looking down. "It felt like I needed to be here, but then...I...don't really want to be here at the same time."

"I don't think I understand, do you have...another passion?" Johnny was getting to the point now, what was the point, he doesn't know. He doesn't want to push her and it's not her, it's not the woman he sees on his laptop screen.

"No, no, I don't, I don't have another passion," she was quick with the answer and seemed nervous.

"I wasn't trying to push you into...any sort of confession, why so quick with a response?"

"Because I feel like I'm being interrogated like I did something bad," her face was red with frustration.

"Hey now, it's okay-"

"No..." Her fist were balled and clenched onto her skirt. She admits a deep breath and un-balls her hands. "Excuse me father but I must go," she says, standing up and heading off.

Johnny was left on the bench confused but also...intrigued, he shouldn't pry but he feels like he needs to know more, more about Y/n.

------------------

10:00PM

Night had rolled around, Johnny was walking around making sure all the Nuns were heading to their quarters for the night, he sees Y/n at the end of the hall, she looks at him and scurries away. Maybe he did push her a little too far.

He walks down the hall only catching a glimpse before she shuts the door, her room...

*Slam*

"Fuck," he mumbles under his breath. Her room matches the woman's room. It was the same layout, same everything, but only if you put some purple LED lights on, but it was her...

Y/n takes off her habit, putting it in the dirty hamper and setting her new one for tomorrow, she walks around her bedroom only in her bra and panties, setting her rosary on the doorknob to her closet. Her laptop was shut but she opens it up.

Going to the website where she does her cams, logging in and turning on her camera, pointing it down only showing her chest down, she starts her live, but not before putting in a title to get clicks and people into her live.

Title: You come home from a rough day at work

Y/n sits on her knees, palms resting in her chest, smoothly running down her chest, pulling at her bra and her breasts fall out with a few small bounces. She let's out a soft moan and plays with her nipples to make them harden.

"I hope you had a good day," she softly saying into the mic almost ASMR style. She bites her bottom lip while reaching over behind her laptop on purpose putting her boobs in front of the camera to grab a dildo.

Johnny watches with his hands interlocked together over his mouth as he just watches...no masturbating tonight, he just watches on how this, innocent looking, quiet, gentle girl could be doing something like this when night happens.

Her legs were propped up giving you a good view of her wet clit and the dildo sliding in like it was nothing, she first starts out slow, letting out a few moans as her free hand gropes her breasts. Putting her head back and starts moving the toy a bit faster now.

Johnny wanted to go in there and just take her for himself, but he didn't want to embarrass her. So, he held back but he knew who she was now.

------------------

Watching her in the courtyard from his office window, he felt like he knew her dirty secret and he did.

Y/n could feel eyes on her, she looks up seeing Johnny in his office but quickly looked away from him. She starts packing her things up and heads back inside.

"Sister Y/n. Father Johnny would like to see you-"

"Oh no, I have to pray-"

"He said, you can pray afterwards, he wants to see you now," Mother Sarah says while leaving Y/n.

Standing outside his office door felt wrong, like she needed someone to be in there and witness something, she knocks on the door and here's a deep come in from Johnny. She comes in, announces herself and sits down on one of Johnny's leather chairs in front of his desk.

"Y-You wanted to see me?" She asked, looking at him as he was still near the window.

"I want to ask you...a few questions, Sister Y/n."

"O-Okay?" Johnny sits behind his desk and opens his laptop with something already pulled up, screenshots of Y/n.

"FATHER JOHN-"

"Is this you?" He ask.

"W-What is this? A-Are you going to k-kick me from the Church? How d-did you even get that?" She asked him questions. "That is highly inappropriate-"

"That's coming from someone who is on the internet showing off everything about her," he titles his head. "Sister Y/n, I'm not mad about it, nor will I kick you from the Church-"

"So, what you're going to blackmail me now, if I don't have sex with you because of this, you found my cam page, so what-"

"Oh how the attitude switches...no, Sister Y/n, I would never blackmail someone over something like this," he shuts his laptop.

"Okay, and?"

"And...I do want one thing-"

"Blackmail," she says.

"No, it's not going to be blackmail," he says, shaking his head. "I want to appear in one...one cam show-"

"ARE YOU CRAZY!!? You know what, no, I don't need you to kick me from the Church, I'll be leaving on my own terms."

"And go where, Sister Y/n? The next Church will even ask you why'd you leave this one, what will be your excuse? My Priest found my cam show and I've deiced to leave?"

"No, it was going to be, my Priest was a pervert and mocked me when I didn't have sex with him! I will be leaving!" She storms out of his office as Johnny was calm...why was he calm?

-------------------

Marching to her room, Y/n slams her door grabbing her pillow from her bed and screaming into it, her muffled scream soon died down as she throws the pillow now. She hates him, she fucking hates him.

"Dumb Priest, you are going to blackmail, I know it. That's how you men are!" She points to a random picture in her room and yells at it treating it as if it was Father Johnny. Grabbing that same pillow to scream in it again. "Dammit!" She yells tossing the pillow again.

Y/n starts grabbing a suitcase to stuff everything into, she grabs her clothes first stuffing them inside and sitting on her suitcase to make more room for her other things like bathroom stuff, shoes, then she'll come back with boxes to stuff the rest in.

"Fuck him, fuck that annoying...dumbass...handsome...blue eyed...man," she starts trailing now. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, no, no? Why the hell am I thinking about him? No, no, stop it, Y/n, stop it, you want to leave, you need to leave...but he'll be sad, won't he? Fuck me!" She tossed a pair of shoes at her door and fell on her back, annoyed and pissed off.

------------------

Johnny was still in his office writing emails and thinking about tomorrows sermon, as he typed there was a knock at his door.

"Come in," he says. The door opens, he looks up from his laptop. "Sister Y/n? W-What are you doing here?" He asks, closing his laptop.

She doesn't say anything, she grabs the her skirt and slowly lifts up.

"Sister-" before any other word was said, Johnny gets a good look at her, her bare smooth, probably soft pussy was on fully display for him. "Y/n?"

"I'm sorry?" She questions.

"You're sorry...for what?" He asks. She doesn't say anything, she drops her skirt and kicks the door closed, she walks to him, sitting on his desk and closing his laptop.

She lifts again and Johnny just looks down smirking, he grabs her thigh giving her pussy a good look some more.

"Is this...a gift?" He teased, looking up at her face, she was red to the face, and looked embarrassed. "What just happened to the girl that gave me attitude?" He asked, this time he moves her onto his desk and places her right in front of her.

Her skirt still lifted up. His hands gliding on her thighs, and his fingers gently spread her wet folds open, he sees where she was already messing with herself before coming to his office. Pre cum leaking from her and slowly landing on his desk.

He just smirks licking his lips, and moving down on her, his tongue licking between her folds, she let's out a soft moan, her hand going to his hair.

"Ah! F-Fuck," she moans.

"Such language in a Church," he smirks.

"I-I only curse when I-I feel g-good," she confesses.

"Your first confession."

"N-Not funny, just k-keep going," she moans, her thighs squeezing around his head when she felt good. He smirks and his tongue starts dancing around, licking her, pushing into her and making the wettest, sloppiest sounds ever made in the office.

Slipping her up and thrusting his tongue in and out of her, she puts her head back and moans before coming into his mouth, he smirks cleaning up all of her juices leaking from her.

He groans and then he stood up standing between her thighs, he starts unbuckling his pants and Y/n helps him, pulling out his dick and giving him a few pumps.

Y/n was pushed on her back and Johnny aligns himself up at her entrance, slowly pushing in. She falls on her back, Johnny bends down kissing her neck and then her lips.

He rocks his body a bit slow and then slowly starts picking up speed. His hands slam on the desk trapping her against him and the desk.

"Holy fuck," she says. It's been too long since Y/n has been properly fucked by a man and not a random dildo. Y/n has one that was considered "life size" but it didn't feel real since she's on Johnny's dick now.

Johnny pulls her to be on his lap now while he sits on his chair, his hands plant on her ass and starts slowly bouncing up and down on his dick.

"That's it fucking hell," Johnny says, putting his head back, while Y/n puts her hands on his shoulders and smiles down at him.

"I-I'm gonna c-cum again," she moans out, while Johnny smirks and starts making her bounce at an ungodly pace. Moans, skin slapping, groans and the sound of a hand colliding on her ass filled the room. Giving out one last moan, Y/n ended up coming.

Her forehead rested on his shoulder, she bites on his shoulder as he slowly raised her butt and his cock falls out and cum leaks from his tip.

"Ahh~ shit," he moans out.

---------------

Aftercare felt weird and impossible. Johnny wanted Y/n to have a bath but she said she'll do it when she gets to her room. She didn't want to be pampered by Johnny, she just wanted to go back to her room, do everything on her own like she always does.

"Y/n let me clean you up."

"No, I'm okay, I'll do everything," she was use to it, knowing what she likes to have happen to her after sex or even masturbating, she didn't want him to do anything.

"Y/n," she was then picked up off the ground and taken to his bathroom, she was set on his bathroom counter as he starts a hot shower. "I want you to take a bath and relax, when you're done let me know, and I'll get you back to your room unseen, okay?"

"Fine."

------------------

Getting out of the shower Y/n had a towel around her body and changed from the towel to some extra clothes Johnny had laying around.

"Father Johnny," she says. "I'm ready to head back to my room," she says.

"Alright," Johnny was in his normal clothes t-shirt and sweatpants and they both headed to Y/n's bedroom.

Y/n opened her bedroom door and heads inside.

"Thanks, Father Johnny."

"For walking for back to your room?"

"For everything, really," she says.

"Everything?"

"You're not...a pervert, I don't know why I said that, I think I was angry with you, but like you said, I put myself out there might as well expect that to happen," she says. "Anyways...good night."

"Good night, Sister Y/n." She shuts the door quietly and gently. "Goddamn," he says, walking back to his office.

"Dammit," Y/n says, sliding down her door.

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thetravelingtyper · 6 months ago

Text

On the same page...(Simon 'Ghost' Riley x reader Bookshop! AU) pt 9

Late Friday morning sees book club, deliveries, and a surprising confession...

Chapter inspired by @glitterypirateduck 's Simon challenge!

Part 8, Part 10, Masterlist

Warnings! A little angst relating to a past relationship

AN As mentioned above this is inspired by the Simon 2024 writing challenge here! They mentioned it can be a part of a series and the prompts are just what I needed to do this chapter! Prompts used include: 2,8,20,27,80,95 (listed at the end to avoid spoilers lol they all go hand in hand)

Simon finally departs later Friday morning as the store opens later than normal due to the conversation. By the time you open the doors a few usuals are waiting with coffee from the close cafe. Simon presses a kiss to your temple before stepping out into the cold. You watch his form blend into the people on the street before turning your attention to the needs of your customers.

Kyle lingers, talking with Sofia in easy conversation while the store fills with eager people. There is a thrum of excitement as people gather around as Sam starts an older book club in the open area where the chairs and coffee bar are located. Sofia and Kyle find themselves soon handed copies and you chuckle from the counter as they are pulled in. Kyle, like Johnny seems to be well-read and contributes well to the conversation. It soon drowns into background noise as you work the counter.

The conclusion of the book club is signaled by a steady stream of people leaving. A few familiar groups wave to you with easy smiles, each carrying a copy of the book provided in the sign-up for the session. You hear laughing and Sam approaches with Sofia and Kyle. The guys seem to be debating elements of the plot and Sofia passes them shaking her head.

“Endless debates these two.”

“-I am just saying they could have extended the second act of the book a little more.”

“To what end There was enough development already, doing so would have cut the third short.”

Sam weights Kyle's response then nods with an,

“I guess you're right.”

Kyle grins as they make it to the counter.

“Glad you see it.”

He turns to you with a smaller smile,

“It was nice to finally put a face to the name.”

“Likewise Kyle!.”

He motions to set the book back on the counter but you mention for him to keep it.

“Consider it a gift.”

He nods in thanks and turns to leave before something catches his mind.

“Johnny invite you to the bar Saturday?”

You nod,

“I thought so, he was excited to introduce you to everyone. Anyways, have a good day!”

The three of you wave him out, a rush of cold air entering before the door is closed again. Sam has a residual smile on his face that makes you chuckle.

“He’s nice” Sofia comments as she gathers her things as well. You tilt your head,

“When will I see you again?”

She looks at her phone. With James coming there was a lot to prepare for the encounter, both mentally and physically. Mostly it was Sam’s family to prepare. When they had taken you under their wings they learned of the story, that alone souring their opinion of working with the American firm. But as you thought, and Sofia herself explained, this would be excellent publicity. Your books found success here but this would only expand that.

“Sunday morning or afternoon. I am sure I’ll be pulled into a meeting with James’s team before I can make it here. I’ll keep you updated this time I promise. Have a good day you two.”

With that, she makes her way out of the store and into the cold leaving you and Sam at the counter. You come around to lean against it next to Sam. He watches you knowingly before wrapping an arm around your middle and pulling you in for a side hug.

“It'll be ok somehow I know it.”

You think of Simon for a moment, the comfort of his presence and the others you’d met. You smile then,

“Yeah, I think in the end it'll be fine.”

The rest of the day passes into early evening. Customers come and go as the weather remains overcast and drowsy. You stifle a yawn as the clock turns to 4:50. You and Sam decide to just have dinner in the shop and remain open until late to counteract the late morning. You make the announcement to the pleasure of the readers in the sitting area. The group of usuals, a few older ladies smile at you as you work to make tea. You hear the door chime and you call out a “be there in a moment.”

There is no reply and Sam is in the shelves currently assisting a customer so you turn the corner to be met with…sunflowers?

Standing in the center of the entryway is a cold-looking woman in a suit holding a vase of not just regular but annual sunflowers. She looks around, seemingly in awe of the store before centering her attention on you. Her eyes light up in recognition and she calls your name in an American accent.

“There you are, Ma’am! It was difficult navigating here.” The smile that lights up her face is genuine and you feel like you recognize her. Your mind flashes through the faces of your old firm and then, recognition.

“Mary?” You ask in question as the door dings and Simon in a leather jacket enters holding a small box. Mary turns and startles a little at the man as you come forward to help her.

“These are for you!” She shakes off the surprise and moves forward to you, setting the vase gently into your quickly opened arms. The familiar smell brings back memories as you give a small smile at the bright petals before you look back at her. Mary was the assistant to the head of the children’s department and one of the few coworkers who had reached out to make sure you were ok. While you wouldn’t call her a friend she was easily an acquaintance. She smiles at you,

“Courtesy of us at the children's department. Sarah said they were your favorite and she is excited to see you but,” her smile straightens into a semi-sour look.

“I was asked to pass this along, I’m sorry I couldn't say no.” She pulls off her backpack, a leather thing more like an adventurer’s rucksack and you can’t help but huff a laugh at the combination with the suit. Mary sets the backpack down and opens it pulling out a box and something shielded by brown paper. She straightens with a disgruntled huff, that of a mandatory messenger, and holds out the items to reveal a jewelry box and a fresh cut and blooming white rose wrapped in paper to shield it from the cold.

Your free hand goes to your mouth at the bloom, a sense of awe at its beauty but a nagging feeling gripping your heart. You look at her and ask,

“Is it?”

Mary nods and you bite your lip.

“He asked and I wasn’t in a position to say no, though I'd like to shove it…” She grumbles the last of it as you turn to set the sunflowers on the counter, before your back in front of her and gingerly take the items from her like glass. There is an envelope tucked into the paper with the rose you notice, a small elegant thing with a shimmering J.M. embossed on it in gold. The items feel like stone and you slump, not expecting nor wanting to deal with this. Nonetheless, you give Mary a tight smile and she returns it with downturned lips but she offers a smile after a thought.

“We’re rooting for you back home. Some of us considered transferring. If you decide to come home Ms. Williams would see to it you are transferred to somewhere good.”

You consider it for a moment, what if you could go home? That was a thought you file away as you feel a presence approach. Simon is at your side then, murmuring a hello and setting the small box down on the counter next to the sunflowers. He nods a greeting to Mary as she looks up at him and his closeness to you with curiosity. She is about to speak but checks her phone.

“I have got to run but it was good seeing you. Sarah will be in town by Monday for the tour.”

“Thank you for this.” You nod to the sunflowers with a smile and Mary nods before glancing once more to Simon and heading out into the evening. You stand for a moment in silence just looking at the rose and the box before sighing. Simon watches you move, minding the sunflowers to sit down on the stool behind the counter and gently setting down the wrapped rose and velvet box.

Simon approaches the counter and watches you put your head in your hands in thought while you gaze at the rose. The meaning was not lost on you, your first book featured the language of flowers and James would match flowers to different days. A white rose while often meaning loyalty, can also symbolize new beginnings, Your heart curls and you feel tears threatening to well up. You thumb the rose while you pull the small envelope free and brace yourself. You swallow thickly before opening the envelope only to find a small piece of fine paper. You recognized it as something you had gifted James a long time ago for notes. It's what is written on it that makes your heart clench.

Written in beautiful looping cursive, one you know took his focus and full attention was a quote from your first book,

“...and at the end of things, the dragon dipped its mighty head,

“What a mess I have made.”

The queen looked up with a newfound grace and replied,

“All endings, no matter how dark, lead to new beginnings, you are forgiven.”

Could you ever forgive me, my Love?

You pull back at the sound of footsteps as Sam finally approaches the counter and you look up to him with pained tears in your eyes. Sam freezes catching the initials on the discarded envelope before he grits his teeth, he is about to approach but he looks at the customer with a frown on his face. Sam sends a pleading look to Simon and the other man nods.

Simon rounds the counter to your side. In a gentle voice, he calls your name and you look up into the warmth welling in his eyes. His arms come around you and he murmurs,

“Let's get upstairs dovie.”

You nod into his chest clutching the box and the note. As he backs off you stand and take a shaky step towards the open door. As you pass up the stairs Simon is your shadow, a hand bracing at your elbow. Reaching the top, Simon reaches past you to open the door. His chest brushes your back as you walk forward a little aimlessly. Taking point an arm wraps around you as Simon leads you to the couch and lets you sit quietly before taking the spot next to you. You just hold the note, reading the lines over and over again. With a shaking hand, you open the box, and on a silver chain, his, silver chain is your engagement bands. Your hand shakes as you grab the chain from the box, the note forgotten as it slips from your fingers.

As you leave with Sam, you pause, tears streaming down your face you as everything you had built over the years came tumbling apart. You step into the living area twisting your ring off and setting it down gently before walking out.

The silver glittered like a faded star in the warm light, Flashes of lights and the swirls of gemed color matching your dragons. You hold the chain as a life line just gazing into the past. Your heartbeat hammers as your mind clouds into static. As tears stream down you face a large hand comes over yours.

“You need to mourn this, not just work!” Sam follows after you as you grab a handful of old writings and pace.

“Get out Sam!” You raise your voice and sanp at your best friend but he only crowds you,

“When will you cry?”

Simon’s other hand gently closes around the rings, you hear a voice but its a mumble against the static. A hand traces up your arm, coming to your wet cheek and turning your face to his. Pale skin, soft hair and his lips are moving, then your eyes trail up to his. Its tigerseye you think, the flecks of gold in his eyes, smoky quartz or moonstone and you are drawn to their light like a moth, the light dancing golden beads in his eyes. You hand relaxes then, dropping the rings into his palm as you slump into his chest and finally cry.

Simon’s other arm draws you close, his hand cusping the back of your neckas you cry into his shirt, shoulders shaking with sobs. His heart hurts then he realizes, hearing you cry. He grips the rings until his fingernails and the silver digging into his palm hurts. He lets you cry, sobs rattling your soul as you mourn what you had lost.

Your home, your career, your love, your mind murmurs. What had you done but turn tail and run? Why didn’t you fight, gnash your teeth and bite back. You heave. Then what was the ‘kindness’ of Sabrina, the gentle pecks and “everything is ok?” Your breathing pushes in to a panic. Why hadn’t you seen it? The distance, the call the…?

“Dovie” The voice is firm, but soft, and a gentle lift from the static as you blink in the hiccup of tears. You pull back and find tender eyes gazing down at you, Simon hums, feeling it vibrate through your chest,

“There you are Muse, I’m here”

Simon’s voice is husky as his hand moves to hold your face gently as he brushes away a stray tear with his thumb. You gape up at him at the nickname, hushed by the gentleness with which he speaks. Tears trickle down your face as you breath deeply in and out your nose trying to catch your racing heart. As you look into his eyes, feeling the pain mould around your heart, you wonder why?

It tumbles out of your mouth then as a hot spark of anger ignites.Why? Why had this happened, why did you have to leave, why did he dare come, why break your heart? The hand clutching the rings moves then, you feel simon move his arm and set the rings gently aside on the table before his hand takes one of yours. Your train of thought derails at the contact as he connects your foreheads, eyes calling to yours.

He looks at you with Everything, light reflecting like jewels as you can see yourself in his eyes and something hits you like a hurricane as you gape up at him. Who was he to look at you this way, more who were you to deserve it? New tears well up as you doubt yourself and you move to look away but simon speaks,

“Don’t hide Muse, not from me.” He murmurs it as he entertwines your fingers and gratefulness and something sweet bubbles up in your chest and you finally lean into him, savioring his warmth. He watches with relief as your eyes focus on him, finally out of your mind and back in the present.

You whisper then, a question that has haunted you for the past few days, Why?

Simon smiles then, small but steady, as he thinks himself, Why?

Flashes of your smile, you engrossed in a book a look of concentration on your face. Most of all though, your love for stories. How you give books to the kids, helping the parents calm the clamoring children. Another time he comes in Sam is running the counter and he turns the corner to a sigh that melts his heart.

You are holding a baby as a mother reads to her children, a soft song on your lips that dances through the air of the bookstore. Once the baby stops fussing you let the mother finish before passing her the little girl with a soft smile.

Or the day he wandered in to find you hosting a crafting circle for a near by childrens center. Your sitting with a puppet in your hand, using it to guide the glitter usage of a group of children. As he slips into the shelves he smiles at your laughter.

Or maybe it was all Johnny’s fault. The affectionate scot who jabbered on and on about the friend, “a sweet lass who makes the best tea L.T.” Or “Steamin’ jesus Simon these blasted cookies.” Or maybe its was how you made him feel above the clouds, looking past the scars and mask and seeing the man underneath.

Everything here in the city led him to you, he thinks, before speaking,

“I want to be with you.” Before meeting your lips.

Chapter 9 end :)

Taglist!

@ghostlythots, @tapioca-milktea1978, @cmbghost, @nexthyperfix, @feedthefandoms995

#2 A confession is made

#9 Alternate universe

#20 Forehead touching

#27 Nickname - Muse

#80 Soft Simon my beloved

#95 Wipe away the other's tears

#cod mw2 2022 fanfic #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #soap and reader #simon riley fluff #fanfiction #simon 'ghost' riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x you #on the same page #Simon riley x you #Simon riley #cod mw2 2022 #john soap mactavish #Protective ghost #kyle garrick #kyle gaz garrick #ghostchallenge

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sassenach77yle · 19 days ago

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||COUNTDOWN ||SEASON 5 EPISODE 10 || MERCY SHALL FOLLOW ME||

#83daysofoutlander☆

July 10, 1776 THE

TIDE TURNED FROM THE EBB just before five o’clock in the morning. The sky was fully light, a clear pale color without clouds, and the mudflats beyond the quay stretched gray and shining, their smoothness marred here and there by weed and stubborn sea grass, sprouting from the mud like clumps of hair. Everyone rose with the dawn; there were plenty of people on the quay to see the small procession go out, two officers from the Wilmington Committee of Safety, a representative from the Merchants Association, a minister carrying a Bible, and the prisoner, a tall, wide-shouldered figure, walking bare-headed across the stinking mud. Behind them all came a slave, carrying the ropes. “I don’t want to watch this,” Brianna said under her breath. She was very pale, her arms folded over her middle as though she had a stomachache. “Let’s go, then.” Roger took her arm, but she pulled back. “No. I have to.” She dropped her arms and stood straight, watching. People around them were jostling for a better view, jeering and catcalling so loudly that whatever was said out there was inaudible. It didn’t take long. The slave, a big man, grabbed the mooring post and shook it, testing for steadfastness. Then stood back, while the two officers backed Stephen Bonnet up to the stake and wrapped his body with rope from chest to knees. The bastard wasn’t going anywhere. Roger thought he should be searching his heart for compassion, praying for the man. He couldn’t. Tried to ask forgiveness, and couldn’t do that, either. Something like a ball of worms churned in his belly. He felt as though he were himself tied to a stake, waiting to drown. The black-coated minister leaned close, his hair whipping in the early morning breeze, mouth moving. Roger didn’t think that Bonnet made any reply, but couldn’t tell for sure. After a few moments, the men doffed their hats, stood while the minister prayed, then put them on again and headed back toward shore, their boots squelching, ankle-deep in the sandy mud. The moment the officials had disappeared, a stream of people poured out onto the mud: sightseers, hopping children—and a man with a notebook and pencil, who Roger recognized as Amos Crupp, the current proprietor of the Wilmington Gazette.“Well, that’ll be a scoop, won’t it?” Roger muttered. No matter what Bonnet actually said—or didn’t—there would undoubtedly be a broadsheet hawked through the streets tomorrow, containing either a lurid confession or mawkish reports of remorse—perhaps both. “Okay, I really can’t watch this.” Abruptly, Brianna turned, taking his arm. She made it past the row of warehouses before turning abruptly to him, burying her face in his chest and bursting into tears. “Ssh. It’s okay—it’s going to be all right.” He patted her, tried to infuse some conviction into the words, but his own throat had a lump in it the size of a lemon. He finally took her by the shoulders and held her away from him, so that he could look into her eyes. “Ye don’t have to do it,” he said. She stopped crying and sniffed, wiping her nose on her sleeve like Jemmy—but wouldn’t meet his eyes. “It’s—I’m okay It’s not even him. It’s just—just everything. M-Mandy”—her voice wavered on the word—“and meeting my brother—Oh, Roger, if I can’t tell him, he’ll never know, and I’ll never see him or Lord John again. Or Mama—” Fresh tears overwhelmed her, welling up in her eyes, but she gulped and swallowed, forcing them back. “It’s not him,” she said in a choked, exhausted voice. “Maybe it’s not,” he said softly. “But ye still don’t have to do it.” His stomach still churned, and his hands felt shaky, but resolution filled him.

“I should have ki || ed him on Ocracoke,” she said, closing her eyes and brushing back strands of loosened hair. The sun was higher now, and bright.

“I was a coward. I th-thought it would be easier to let—let the law do it.”

She opened her eyes, and now did meet his gaze, her eyes reddened but clear. “I can’t let it happen this way, even if I hadn’t given my word.”

Roger understood that; he felt the terror of the tide coming in, that inexorable creep of water, rising in his bones. It would be nearly nine hours before the water reached Bonnet’s chin; he was a tall man. “I’ll do it,” he said very firmly. She made a small attempt at a smile, but abandoned it. “No,” she said. “You won’t.” She looked—and sounded—absolutely drained; neither of them had slept much the night before. But she also sounded determined, and he recognized Jamie Fraser’s stubborn blood. Well, what the hell—he had some of that blood, too. “I told ye,” he said. “What your father said, that time. ‘It is myself who ki. ||s for her.’ If it has to be done”—and he was obliged to agree with her; he couldn’t stand it, either—“then I’ll do it.”

She was getting a grip on herself. She wiped her face with a fold of her skirt, and took a deep breath before meeting his eyes again. Hers were deep and vivid blue, much darker than the sky “You told me. And you told me why he said that, too—what he said to Arch Bug: ‘There is a vow upon her.’ She’s a doctor; she doesn’t kill people.” The hell she doesn’t, Roger thought, but better judgment prevented his saying so. Before he could think of something more tactful, she went on, placing her hands flat on his chest. “You have one, too,” she said. That stopped him cold. “No, I haven’t.” “Oh, yes, you do.” She was quietly emphatic. “Maybe it isn’t official yet—but it doesn’t need to be. Maybe it doesn’t even have words, the vow that you took—but you did it, and I know it.” He couldn’t deny it, and was moved that she did know it. “Aye, well . . .” He put his hands over hers, clasping her long, strong fingers. “And I made one to you, too, when I told ye. I said I would never put God before my—my love for you.” Love. He couldn’t believe that he was discussing such a thing in terms of love. And yet, he had the queerest feeling that that was exactly how she saw it. “I don’t have that sort of vow,” she said firmly, and pulled her hands out of his. “And I gave my word.” She had gone with Jamie after dark the night before, to the place where the pirate was being held. Roger had no idea what sort of bribery or force of personality had been employed, but they had been admitted. Jamie had brought her back to their room very late, white-faced, with a sheaf of papers that she handed over to her father. Affidavits, she said; sworn statements of Stephen Bonnet’s business dealings with various merchants up and down the coast. Roger had given Jamie a murderous look, and got the same back, with interest. This is war, Fraser’s narrowed eyes had said. And I will use any weapon I can. But all he had said was, “Good night, then, a nighean,” and touched her hair with tenderness before departing. Brianna had sat down with Mandy and nursed her, eyes closed, refusing to speak. After a time, her face eased from its white, strained lines, and she burped the baby and laid her sleeping in her basket. Then she came to bed, and made love to him with a silent fierceness that surprised him. But not as much as she surprised him now. “And there’s one other thing,” she said, sober and slightly sad. “I’m the only person in the world for whom this isn’t mu. r. der.”

With that, she turned and walked away fast, toward the inn where Mandy waited to be fed. Out on the mudflats, he could still hear the sound of excited voices, raucous as gulls.

AT TWO O’CLOCK in the afternoon, Roger helped his wife into a small rowboat, tied to the quay near the row of warehouses. The tide had been coming in all day; the water was more than five feet deep. Out in the midst of the shining gray stood the cluster of mooring posts—and the small dark head of the pirate. Brianna was remote as a pagan statue, her face expressionless. She lifted her skirts to step into the boat, and sat down, the weight in her pocket clunking against the wooden slat as she did so. Roger took up the oars and rowed, heading toward the posts. They would arouse no particular interest; boats had been going out ever since noon, carrying sightseers who wished to look upon the condemned man’s face, shout taunts, or clip a strand of his hair for a souvenir. He couldn’t see where he was going; Brianna directed him left or right with a silent tilt of her head. She could see; she sat straight and tall, her right hand hidden in her skirt. Then she lifted her left hand suddenly, and Roger lay on the oars, digging with one to slew the tiny craft around. Bonnet’s lips were cracked, his face chapped and crusted with salt, his lids so reddened that he could barely open his eyes. But his head lifted as they drew near, and Roger saw a man ravished, helpless and dreading a coming embrace—so much that he half welcomes its seductive touch, yielding his flesh to cold fingers and the overwhelming kiss that steals his breath.

“Ye’ve left it late enough, darlin’,” he said to Brianna, and the cracked lips parted in a grin that split them and left blood on his teeth. “I knew ye’d come, though.”

Roger paddled with one oar, working the boat close, then closer. He was looking over his shoulder when Brianna drew the gilt-handled pistol from her pocket, and put the barrel to Stephen Bonnet’s ear.

“Go with God, Stephen,” she said clearly, in Gaelic,

and pulled the tri. gg€r.

Then she dropped the gun into the water and turned round to face her husband. “Take us home,” she said.

117SURELY JUSTICE AND MERCY SHALL FOLLOW ME~ A breath of snow and ashes

#outlander #the frasers #outlanderedit #outlander starz #outlander series #outlander fanart #sophie skelton #brianna mackenzie #roger mackenzie #stephen bonnet #outlander season 5 #outlander books #outlander book #outlander 5x10

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hayleylatour · 4 months ago

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Finding Peace 🕊️

Content warnings- angst, medical talk and hospital stay. NICU/ pre mature birth.

Summary- Mia and Noah are faced with the pre mature birth of their daughter, an emergency C-Section and a NICU stay.

Paring- Baby daddy! Noah Sebastian X OC Mia

~Chapter Seven~ Mia’s POV

~3 weeks later~

Gulping down the last of my water I set the glass in the sink as I double over and grab onto the counter. Pain shoots through my back, it’s almost like period cramping but about 10 times worse. No ones is home currently. The guys went to the studio early, Noah said they probably wouldn’t be back till late tonight. The pain has been coming and going since I woke up at 8am, it’s 5 in the evening now. It has become more frequent and more intense. As the pain subsides i walk to the table and grab my phone calling Noah.

“Hello?” He said after the third ring.

“Noah I need you to come home. I think she’s coming now.”

“What do you mean? You aren’t due for another like 7 weeks?” Panic rises in his voice and I can hear his keys jingle. “I’m on my way, I’ll be there in 20 minutes” a rush a liquid down my legs and a small puddle on the floor has me crying.

“Noah- my water broke” tears stream down my face. It’s too early, she’s not ready. Shes too early, too small, too weak.

“I’ll be there in 5, don’t move!” The engine roars to life. Noah is home in less than 5 minutes, his hair disheveled as if he’s been pulling at it.

“I’m scared” I’m shaking I can barely breathe the pain is becoming worse.

“It’s okay, why didn’t you call me earlier? I would have come home”

“I didn’t want to bother you”

“Let’s go, let’s go have a baby.” The ride to the hospital is a blur, the pain becomes almost unbearable. I’m rushed to labor and delivery and doctors and nurses are in and out of the room.

“When did you first notice the pain sweetheart?” An older lady ask me.

“When I got up this morning, around 8. I thought they were Braxton- ah” my sentence cut short as another pain arises.

“These are real sweets. Let’s call NICU make sure they’re ready for this little girl please” she calls out to one of the nurses. She nods before swiftly making her way out of the room.

“NICU?” Noah says.

“Yes sir- she’s a little early for the party. She’ll need some extra help adjusting” the woman says calmly. Noah’s eyes widened this wasn’t the plan, she was supposed to stay put. 7 weeks-she was supposed to keep getting bigger and stronger for 7 more weeks.

Roughly 2 hours had passed before doctors and nurses were running into the room. One throwing a paper gown to Noah. “Mia, her heart rate is low, we need to do something now. It could be detrimental, we need to do an emergency C-Section. Okay?” Being wheeled down the hall and to an elevator, we make our way to the OR.

“Okay Mama! we’re ready, dad should be here in just a second then we’re going to start.” The doctor says as Noah rushes through the double doors and straight to me. “Alright everyone, let’s have a baby.” The doctor starts asking for supplies, everyone is moving quickly and soon a small person is lifted above the curtain. Shes here.

“Congratulations it’s a girl!” The doctor says before handing her to the nurse, who rushes her to the warmer.

“Shes not crying! Why isn’t she crying? Hello somebody tell me why my daughter isnt crying! Noah please go- go see her. Why isn’t she crying?she’s supposed to cry!” The room is silent for a moment but it feels like an eternity before a loud scream is heard and I exhale a breath i didn’t know I was holding. Noah walks back over to me tears in his eyes as he begins brushing the hair back from my face. “Shes so beautiful, she has your nose and lips. Theyre going to take her now do you want to meet her before they go?” Nodding, he steps aside as a young nurse brings Ophelia into view. Wrapped in a white hospital blanket her cry’s have become more of a sniffle, she’s so little. How is she supposed to be able to fight when she’s this tiny.

After the doctor had closed me up and I was sent to recovery. Ophelia was taken to the NICU. Tubes and wires are covering most of her small body and face. “You can hold her if you want.” The nurse says to me. “You won’t hurt her.”

“This wasn’t supposed to happen. Shes not strong enough, we don’t have her nursery done. We were supposed to have time.” My voice wavers. Looking at my little girl, the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor she’s connected too almost like a metronome.

“Mia. She is strong, she’s a fighter. Got some damn strong lungs too.” I laugh of course she would.

“Thats all Noah. The strong lungs. He’s a vocalist”

The nurse-Rebecca, opens the glass box and gently picks Ophelia up and out. Handing her to me before stepping back.

“What’s her name? If you have one picked out.”

“Ophelia Grace Davis” Noah says coming up behind me. “The guys are finishing her room. They left soon after I did. It’s done. They’ll be here soon, they have some things for you. We forgot your bag and the doctor said we will be here at least 48 hours. Standard protocol for C-Section.” His voice is soothing but does little to heal the pain in my chest.

“Can we stay here for a few more minutes?” He nods. Rebecca walks out leaving us look at the person we created in awe.

#bad omens #noah sebastian #bad omens cult #bad omens band #nick folio #jolly karlsson #nicholas ruffilo #badomenscult #badomens #concrete jungle #noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian bad omens #noah sebastian davis

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ameliaenya404 · 28 days ago

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Morning Brew

There was something about spending the early hours of the morning with Dabi. It didn’t happen often. It was a rare occurrence when he woke up before 10. He liked to sleep in late and most times you had to shake him awake. You tried to let him sleep as long as he wanted to though within reason; you knew he was tired.

The effect his quirk had on him. The constant lingering pain he was in. You tried to make it easier for him, grab things for him, and replace his staples to avoid infection.

He was strong, and firm. But you still knew you had to handle him gently. His mind wasn’t fragile, but his body was only mortal. So when you had the rare chance of no missions and the opportunity to leisure around, you took mornings slow.

He had woken up early today, around five. Before the sun rose. Dabi was incapable of existing in the early hours of the morning without something to do so he got up, leaving the bed, kissing your forehead before making his way into the kitchen and setting up the coffee machine. He grabbed his half-full box of cigs off the kitchen table.

As the gentle stream of coffee dripped into his cup he didn’t hear you sneak up behind him. Your arms wrapped around his waist and your cheek pressed against his back.

“Why’d you leave?” You mumble, your voice is still heavy with sleep and a bit slurred. You woke up right after him, releasing his side of the bed was empty, and shuffling around the base to find him. Finally having spotted him in front of the coffee machine, leaning against the kitchen counter with one hand on the counter and another holding a cigarette to his lips as he took lazy drags.

“Wanted to make some breakfast,” He said, exhaling a small cloud of smoke.

“Coffee and cigarettes are not breakfast,” You grumble, kissing the bare skin of his back before taking a step away.

“Eggs? Pancakes?” He asks and you open the fridge and look in at the bare selves. You need to go shopping soon. The shopping list you made more than a week ago sitting neglected on the kitchen table.

“The best I can do is one egg…a leaf of lettuce…and…lemon juice.” You grumble before shutting the fridge with a sigh.

“That doesn’t sound…great…food is food though,” He shrugs and you smack his bicep.

“No I’m not gonna make you trash food, we aren't that poor…I’ll figure something out.”

You looked out the window in the kitchen, leaning over the counter to crack it open. Letting cool air into the stuffy room. With the curtains now drawn back you could both see the sun rising. The sky was a blurred gradient of soft-hued pinks and oranges. It looked a little surreal as you stood with him. The fridge and cabinets are empty. Dust collecting in corners not filled with furniture. The sunrise was a prettier sight than the popcorn ceiling or the peeling paint on the walls.

Dabi wrapped his arms around you, leaning down to mumble in your ear. “I wish I could take you out of here,” He sighs. You turn your head a little to glance back at him, meeting his gaze. His cigarette is left abandoned in the makeshift ashtray that sits on the corner of the kitchen counter.

“What?” You whisper. A confused smile on your face as he blinks back at you.

“You deserve more than this…” Dabi grumbles, kissing you on the cheek before stepping away reluctantly when the coffee machine lets out a beep to indicate it’s finished.

“No, no…We both deserve more. But don’t worry, we can…we’ll make it work, okay? I love you.” You finish. Pacing a bit back and forth in the kitchen. Trying to reassure him it’d be fine. You could pick up an extra job, and the league was picking up traction. Tomura was even talking about the PLF. You had a feeling things would be fine; It was just a matter of standing in wait.

“I wanna treat you to somethin’ nice doll,” He takes a sip of his coffee. There’s no doubt it’s probably scalding hot but he didn’t let it show in any way. His quirk maybe? There were still things you didn’t know about him. It didn’t bother you. Well, maybe a little. He’s yet to tell you his real name, although you have a feeling you’re pretty close to finding out eventually anyway.

“I’ll just be happy with a kiss, no need for anything fancy.” You peck his cheek, and he wraps his arms around your waist. Pulling you closer and leaning down to kiss you properly. He tastes like nicotine and black coffee, all in all bitter. But the kiss is sweet. His warm palms molded against your hips feel nice; your own hands find purchase in his hair. Not yet styled and still fluffy and tousled.

“Want me to fix you a cup, baby?” He says against your lips before pulling back a little to let you catch your breath.

“No, I’m good for now. Thank you though…It’s too early to go out, yeah?”

“We can go for a short drive if you want,” He says, letting go of his hold on you and taking a long sip of his coffee, draining the mug until it’s almost empty.

“Yeah, I just want a little fresh air.” You smile softly. Taking the empty mug from him and putting it in the sink, next to a pile of bowls that’s yet to be washed from when you made dinner for him and the rest of the LOV.

“Good thing the windows don’t roll up on that pile of junk we call a car,”

He was right, it was a cheap car. You’d had it for years and even before then you had bought it used. So god knows how old it was. Ancient like the house you were standing in. You remembered with the slightest hint of fondness the one time you tried to drive the league to the beach in it one hot summer night.

Tensions were high between them and you figured after being stuffed in the base together for such a long week they needed to get out for a while. Halfway there the car stalled and, Dabi and Tomura had to get out to give it a push to get it started up again. You got to the water though and it worked a little.

They just needed some fresh air sometimes. Cabin fever between a bunch of questionable individuals wasn’t exactly the most ideal.

“Yeah yeah, just try not to get pulled over this time. We barely got out of that car chase last time and I don’t have the energy to be so stressed this early in the morning.” You said, referencing the last time he got pulled over for failing to use any turn signal and having to speed off when the cop asked for ID and he incidentally didn’t have one.

The worst part was because he ended up having to speed off, he got car sick after. You had to deal with him pulling over once the cops were gone and throwing up on the side of the road.

You ended up carrying medicine on you the entire time since because of how easily car sick he gets.

“Yeah whatever,” He grumbles, “Go get dressed.”

“Says the shirtless one,” You giggle.

There was something about spending the early hours of the morning with Dabi.

They were sweet.

#bnha #mha #mha dabi #dabi x reader #dabi x y/n

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acute-crashout-jeyuso · 2 months ago

Text

Between The Ropes… a Jey Uso x Rhea Ripley fic.

Chapter 17: Up Up

It was Tuesday, September 24, 10:21 AM. The sun was just starting to warm the driveway as Jey and Jon were in the middle of a grueling workout in Jon’s garage gym. Kanye West's music blared through the speakers, filling the space with intensity. Both twins were drenched in sweat, their muscles aching as they pushed through their set of chin-ups. The garage smelled of iron and effort, with heavy breathing mingling with the bass of the music.

Jey’s mind was still foggy from the early morning flight. He and Rhea had barely gotten into Orlando at 4 AM, and all she wanted to do was crash into bed. Jey had tried to sleep in, but Jon wasn’t having it. At 9:30, Jon had nudged Jey out of his dreams for a workout, and after some resistance, Rhea, still half asleep, had playfully shoved him off the bed, grumbling for him to "just go."

Now, here they were, in the heat of it, with no sign of slowing down. As they were about to finish their set, the music cut off abruptly, replaced by the familiar ring of FaceTime on Jey's phone. Annoyed, Jey rolled his eyes, wiped his hands on his shorts, and glanced at the screen. It was Damian.

"Bruh," Jey muttered, swiping to answer. "You messin’ up the vibe, D."

Damian's face filled the screen, unimpressed. He rolled his eyes dramatically. "Whatever, man. Listen, what are you doing for Rhea's birthday?"

Jey froze mid-rep, his muscles tensing for a reason completely unrelated to the workout. His face went pale as if the weight of Damian’s words hit harder than any barbell. Jon, who was pushing himself through the last of his chin-ups, burst into uncontrollable laughter, nearly falling off the bar.

“Bro, what?!” Jon cackled. "You don’t even know her birthday?!"

Jey shot him a look that could kill. “Shut it, man!”

Damian’s face was filled with disbelief. He let loose a stream of curses in rapid Spanish, his frustration showing even through the phone screen.

Jey snapped. “Yo, ENGLISH, Damian! I can’t deal with this right now!”

Damian sighed, clearly irritated. “You’ve been with her for how long, and you don’t know her birthday? It’s October 11th, Jey. That’s like, in two weeks. Right after we get back from Bad Blood. Get it together, bro!”

Jey’s eyes widened, panic flooding his chest. He hadn't even thought about her birthday, let alone made any plans. His mind was racing now. How could he not have asked about something so important?

Jon, still chuckling, came up behind him, slapping Jey on the back. “You are in so much trouble, man.”

Jey muttered under his breath, feeling the pressure settle in. Damian, now calmer, leaned into the camera, his voice stern but supportive.

“Listen, you’ve got time to plan something, but don’t screw this up. Rhea deserves the world, and I know you want to give it to her. I’ll help if you need it, but start thinking about what she likes, where she’d want to go, and... you know, maybe ask her this time.”

Jey nodded, still in shock but grateful for the wake-up call. “Yeah, man... thanks. I’ll figure something out. For real.”

Damian gave him a hard look, then hung up, leaving Jey standing there, still holding his phone like it was about to explode.

Jon, ever the instigator, grinned and threw an arm around Jey’s shoulders. “You better start thinking fast, lil bro. Rhea doesn’t seem like the type to let a missed birthday slide.”

Jey groaned, running a hand over his face. “Man, I’m so screwed.”

—

After Jey wrapped up his workout, he grabbed a towel and headed straight for the shower. The cold water was a welcome relief, washing away the sweat and the weight of his sudden birthday realization. As the steam filled the bathroom, his thoughts were racing—he had to come up with something special, something that would blow Rhea away.

Once he finished, Jey changed into a fresh set of clothes and made his way through Jon’s house. His youngest son, Jeyce, was out with Trinity and his cousins, running errands and picking up supplies for the movie night Trinity had planned for later. The house was quieter than usual, and it gave him a rare moment to check in on his older son, Jaciyah.

Jey walked down the hallway and stopped in front of the door to the guest room where Jaciyah was staying. He knocked softly, but there was no response. Slowly, he cracked the door open, careful not to disturb his son if he was still sleeping. What he saw warmed his heart.

Jaciyah was fast asleep, tucked under the covers with Rhea’s three dogs curled up around him. The oldest dog, sitting right by Jaciyah’s side, had its head resting on his arm, and Jaciyah had draped an arm around the dog protectively, as if they were lifelong companions. The other two dogs were nestled at the foot of the bed, content and unmoving, like they had found their new favorite spot.

Jey smiled to himself, closing the door as quietly as he could. Seeing his son so comfortable with Rhea’s dogs made something inside him soften. It was a small reminder that their worlds were blending more and more each day, even in the most unexpected ways.

He made his way back down the hall toward the guest room where Rhea was still fast asleep. As soon as he entered, he stifled a laugh—Rhea had completely taken over the bed. She was sprawled out, half the blankets tangled around her legs, her arm stretched out across the mattress. Jey had grown used to her sleeping like this, but it never failed to make him smile.

He walked over to the vanity and took a seat, careful not to make too much noise. Pulling out his phone, he opened the notes app and scrolled down to the file he had been updating for months. It was simply titled, Rhea. Inside, he had jotted down every little detail he had learned about her—the things that made her smile, her favorite bands, fast food orders, what movies she loved, her favorite snacks, and random little quirks he picked up on.

His eyes scanned through the list as he tried to think of what he could do for her birthday. He tapped his fingers on the screen absentmindedly, reading through each entry.

- Favorite fast food: In-N-Out (Double-Double, no onions, animal-style fries, chocolate shake) and Pizza Hut (Hawaiian Style Pizza with Brownies)

- Favorite band: Motionless in White (but she has a secret soft spot for The 1975).

- Favorite color: Black (but sometimes she likes dark purple for her nails).

- Favorite movie: She won’t admit it, but she keeps watching The Great Gatsby. But I’ve noticed she only plays it whenever she is sad or mad, make a mental note to ask her why.

Rhea always tried to play it cool, but deep down, she had her sentimental side. And then there were the little things she did every day—how she loved walking barefoot when she thought no one was looking, or how she’d hum softly when she was thinking.

But what could he do to make her birthday unforgettable?

As Jey continued scrolling through his notes, an idea started forming. He knew she loved simple things—time with the people she cared about, music, and food. Maybe it didn’t have to be some grand gesture, but rather something personal, something that showed her he truly saw her.

He opened a new note and started typing:

- Birthday plan ideas:

1. Private dinner at the beach, somewhere quiet.

2. Rent a classic car for a day (something from *The Great Gatsby* era—she’d love that).

3. Get the family together, make it low-key but intimate—she loves being around the people she cares about.

4. Propose.

He paused, thinking about how she had lost their baby just a short time ago. It was still fresh for both of them, and he didn’t want the day to bring up too many painful memories. But he also wanted to celebrate her strength, her resilience. Maybe the best way to honor her birthday was to give her something that showed her just how much he appreciated everything she had gone through.

Jey smiled to himself, feeling the pieces slowly come together. He was getting closer to figuring out what to do, and for the first time since Damian had blindsided him, he didn’t feel completely overwhelmed.

Glancing over at Rhea, still fast asleep and peaceful, Jey knew he had time to make this birthday perfect for her. And he wasn’t going to mess it up.

Rhea stirred awake slowly, her eyes fluttering open as the soft light from the window streamed into the room. Jey glanced up from his phone and smiled.

“Morning, Button Nose,” he teased, his voice warm and affectionate.

Rhea gave him a sleepy smile, stretching out under the tangled blankets. She mumbled something incoherent before burying her face in the pillow again.

Jey chuckled. “You hungry?”

She nodded, still half-asleep, and mumbled one word. “Starbucks.”

Jey rolled his eyes, though the smile on his face never wavered. “Of course. You wanna come, or are you just gonna be lazy?”

“Nahhhh,” she groaned dramatically, pulling the covers tighter around her as if the bed was the safest place on Earth.

He leaned over, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Alright, what’s the order?”

Without even opening her eyes, she rattled it off. “Venti Apple Crisp Oatmilk Frappuccino, Ham and Swiss croissant, and… a birthday cake pop.”

Jey laughed as he grabbed his phone and quickly typed out the order. “I swear, you and those cake pops.”

Rhea just grumbled something unintelligible, half asleep again. Jey shook his head, kissed her one more time, and stood up, grabbing his wallet and keys. He made his way downstairs, the quietness of the house giving him a moment to think. The faint hum of the AC was the only other sound in the house.

He stepped outside and headed to Jon’s car, sliding into the driver’s seat. The warm air hit him as he started the engine and pulled out of the driveway. It didn’t take long to find the nearest Starbucks, and as he was waiting in the drive-thru line, his phone buzzed.

He glanced down at the screen. Dad.

Jey frowned a little, answering the call quickly. “Hey, Pops. What’s up?”

His father’s voice came through the line, calm but with a serious tone. “Jey, just wanted to let you know, some old lady dropped off a box at the house today. She said it was for you and Rhea. Looked important.”

Jey’s heart skipped a beat. He knew immediately what it was. He had almost forgotten, but now it all came rushing back. The jewelry containing the ashes of their baby. The one they had lost.

His chest tightened as memories of that painful time flashed through his mind. It had only been a few days since they lost the baby, and while they had tried to move forward, the weight of that loss was always there, just beneath the surface.

“Yeah,” Jey said quietly, his voice strained. “I remember.”

His dad’s voice softened. “I didn’t want to leave it outside, so it’s inside, safe. Whenever you’re ready, come by and pick it up.”

“Thanks, Pops,” Jey replied, swallowing the lump in his throat. “I’ll get it later today.”

They exchanged a few more words before Jey hung up, his mind now focused on that box. He leaned back in his seat, trying to steady himself as the car in front of him inched forward. He wasn’t sure how he’d bring this up to Rhea, not so soon after everything. But he knew they’d have to face it together. To be fair he had received an email saying it would be ready by Monday and he foolishly forgot that he asked for a rush on the jewelry.

He pulled up to the window, collecting her order, his mind still elsewhere. The Starbucks worker handed him the Frappuccino and croissant, and Jey forced a smile, offering a quick “thanks” before driving off.

As he made his way back to Jon’s, Jey’s grip tightened on the steering wheel. For now, he had to focus on the moment, on making sure her day started off right.

One thing at a time.

Jey pulled into Jon’s driveway and parked the car, the smell of Starbucks filling the interior. He grabbed the bag and drink tray, then headed back inside, feeling the weight of the conversation with his dad still lingering in his mind.

As he made his way upstairs, he could hear the soft, familiar soundtrack of The Great Gatsby playing in the background. When he opened the door to the guest bedroom, there was Rhea, sitting up in bed, wearing his hoodie, her hair a tousled mess but looking completely at peace. She had the blankets wrapped around her legs, her eyes glued to the screen as Leonardo DiCaprio’s voice narrated the iconic lines she must’ve heard a hundred times by now.

Jey gave a soft smile while taking a mental note—her wearing his hoodie was always a good sign. It was something she did when she wanted comfort, and right now, she looked like she was in her element.

Rhea glanced over at him, her face lighting up when she saw the Starbucks bag in his hand. "You’re my hero," she said with a sleepy grin.

Jey walked over and handed her the drink and pastry along with the cake pop she always insisted on. “Here you go, birthday girl in training,” he teased.

She rolled her eyes but took the drink gratefully. “Thanks, Button Nose,” she said playfully, using his own nickname for her.

Jey leaned down and kissed her forehead, his lips lingering just a second longer than usual. "I’m gonna check on Jaciyah, see if he’s up," he said, straightening up.

Rhea nodded as she sipped her drink. “Okay.”

Jey gave her a wink and turned, heading back to the room where Jaciyah was still sleeping. He carefully opened the door, hoping his son was awake now, but ready to see the same peaceful sight he had seen earlier with the dogs still snuggled up to him. As the door creaked open, Jaciyah stirred, blinking slowly as he woke up. The dogs, still lying next to him, perked their heads up but stayed comfortably in place.

“Hey, buddy,” Jey whispered as he stepped inside. “You sleep good?”

Jaciyah nodded, rubbing his eyes and sitting up. “Yeah I guess…The dogs were comfy,” he mumbled, still half-asleep.

Jey chuckled, walking over and ruffling his son’s hair. “Good. Listen, I was thinking… how about we take a little trip today? Head over to Grandpa’s in Titusville. What do you think?”

Jaciyah yawned but nodded, slowly waking up. “Yeah, sure I guess.”

Jey was relieved. At least Jaciyah was even talking to him. Jey figured spending some time with his dad might be just what they both needed— Solofa had a way of talking to his grandson that seemed to get through to him in a way Jey sometimes couldn’t. Plus, with everything on Jey’s mind about the jewelry, he could use his dad’s advice.

“Alright, cool. I’ll wait for you get dressed, and then we’ll head out in a bit,” Jey said, feeling a small sense of peace in the plan.

Jaciyah nodded, and Jey smiled, knowing his dad would have a way of bringing some perspective, both for him and for his son. Maybe a little time at Grandpa’s house would give him the clarity he needed to figure out how to handle everything with Rhea—and the ashes—when the time came.

—

Jey gave Rhea a quick kiss on the forehead, his lips brushing against her soft skin before he stood up. “I’ll be back later, okay? You and Trinity try to stay out of trouble.”

Rhea sighed as she watched him leave, the familiar loneliness creeping in now that he was gone. As soon as she heard the door click shut, she grabbed her phone and dialed Trinity’s number. It rang a couple of times before her future sister in law picked up, sounding upbeat as ever.

“Hey, girl! What’s up?” Trinity’s voice echoed through the line.

“Not much. Just bored now that Jey left,” Rhea replied, leaning back into the pillows and taking a sip of her Starbucks. “Where are you guys at?”

Trinity chuckled. “We’re just leaving Academy. Had to get some last-minute stuff for the kids. We’re heading home now.”

Rhea hummed in understanding but couldn’t help but let her boredom show. “Wish you guys were home already. There’s nothing to do here.”

“Girl, you won’t be bored for long. I got something at Academy that’s going to keep these kids busy for hours. Jon is gonna throw a fit when he sees it,” Trinity said, her voice full of mischief.

Rhea perked up, intrigued. “Oh? What did you get?”

“A water bouncy house,” Trinity said with a laugh, clearly pleased with herself. “You know how it is—it’s Florida, it’s hot, and the kids need to burn off some energy. And, let’s be real, we could all use some fun.”

Rhea’s eyes widened, a smile spreading across her face. “No way! That’s amazing. I might need to hop in there with them.”

Trinity laughed, knowing Rhea well enough to believe she would. “Girl, we’ll both get in there. Jon’s gonna lose it when he sees the backyard covered in water and bounce house chaos.”

The thought of Jon’s reaction made Rhea laugh. “Yeah, I can see it now. He’s gonna act like he’s mad but then end up having the most fun.”

“Exactly!” Trinity said. “But after the kids tire themselves out, we’re still doing that movie night. Got all their favorite snacks, blankets, the whole deal.”

“That sounds perfect,” Rhea said, feeling a wave of excitement wash over her. The idea of a carefree day with the kids, and then winding down with movies, was exactly what she needed. “I can’t wait. I’ll see you when you guys get back.”

“Alright, see you soon!” Trinity chimed before hanging up.

Rhea smiled to herself as she set her phone down. The idea of spending the afternoon with the kids, bouncing around in the water bouncy house, followed by a relaxing movie night, felt like a nice escape from everything that had been weighing on her. For now, she’d relax and wait for the chaos to begin when Trinity and the kids arrived.

After lounging for a while, Rhea finally decided it was time to get up and shower. She stretched, slipped off Jey’s hoodie, and headed over to her bag, pulling out a pair of comfy lounge clothes—some soft joggers and a loose tee. Before hopping in the shower, she grabbed her protective goggles to shield her freshly done lashes. As she was adjusting them in front of the mirror, her heart nearly skipped a beat when the bathroom door creaked open softly.

She spun around quickly, but her worry faded when she saw her cat, Storm, strut into the bathroom like he owned the place. “Storm, really?” she said, sighing in relief. The mischievous cat just meowed as if to say, “What did you expect?”

Rhea chuckled and scratched his head gently. “I should’ve known it was you.” With that, she closed the door properly this time and stepped into the warm shower.

The hot water did wonders for her muscles and ribs, easing the tension she hadn’t realized was still there. She let her mind wander, thinking about the upcoming movie night with the kids and Trinity, and of course, the bouncy house. It had been a while since she’d let herself just relax and enjoy something silly and fun like that. For a brief moment, she imagined bouncing around with the kids, the water splashing everywhere, all of them laughing without a care in the world.

Once Rhea was done with her shower, she quickly brushed her teeth again and got dressed in her lounge clothes. Feeling refreshed, she headed downstairs, her damp hair tied back in a messy bun. As she reached the bottom of the stairs, her phone buzzed in her pocket. It was a text from Jey.

Miss you. I’ll try to be back soon.

A soft smile tugged at her lips as she read the message. She quickly typed a reply.

Miss you too. Be safe. Can’t wait to see you.

After sending the message, she wandered into the living room. It was quiet, peaceful. The perfect time to throw on a movie and just relax before the chaos of the day kicked in with the kids and the bouncy house.

Rhea settled onto the couch, flipping through the streaming options before landing on an old favorite, Bring It On. As soon as the opening credits started, she heard the familiar sounds of paws padding against the floor. One by one, her furry crew began to gather around her. First, Storm jumped up onto the arm of the couch, curling up in his usual spot. Then, her three dogs—Barry, Bella, and Luna—came trotting over, each finding a place near her feet or right beside her on the couch. Tank and Marley soon joined her on the other side of the couch.

She couldn’t help but smile as she looked around at her little animal family. “Well, guess it’s a party now,” she murmured, scratching behind Storm’s ears. With all of them settled in, Rhea felt a sense of calm wash over her as she sank deeper into the cushions, the comforting presence of her pets making everything feel just a little bit brighter.

—

Jey scrolled through his phone, eyeing private proposal setups, his mind racing with the weight of the decision he'd finally made. He was going to propose to Rhea. The thought filled him with a mixture of excitement and anxiety. Jaciyah, his oldest, had been quiet during their drive to Titusville, where they’d just arrived at his dad’s house. Jey wanted to make sure his son was okay with everything—especially the divorce from Takecia and his future with Rhea.

“Dad,” Jey called out as his father entered the living room. “Could you talk to Jaciyah? See how he’s feelin’ about all this? I know it’s a lot for him.”

His father nodded, placing a reassuring hand on Jey’s shoulder before heading outside to the porch where Jaciyah was sitting, staring off into the distance. Jey exhaled and leaned back, his eyes drifting to the small box beside him on the table. Inside it was the necklace holding the ashes of their unborn child, along with Rhea’s ring. Jey had already his ring on him and he felt more at peace knowing his unborn child was with him. Onto Rhea’s ring, It was something he wanted to give to Rhea when he asked her to marry him, it was the perfect ring.

The thought tugged at his heart, but before he could get too lost in it, his mother walked in with a steaming cup of koko Samoa. She placed it gently in front of him and sat down across the table, her eyes full of warmth and understanding as they met his.

"You look like you got the weight of the world on your shoulders, son," she said softly.

Jey gave a small, tired smile and took a sip of the drink. The familiar taste brought a sense of comfort, but his thoughts were still tangled up in everything happening around him.

"I do, Mom," he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "I wanna propose to Rhea. I’ve already made up my mind, but... there’s just so much to think about. The divorce, the kids, everything with her ex, and now... this." His hand hovered over the small jewelry box. His voice dropped to a whisper. “I don’t even know if now is the right time.”

His mother’s eyes softened further, and she reached across the table, placing her hand over his.

"Son, if you’ve made the decision to ask Rhea to marry you, then you’re ready. You wouldn’t be thinking about all this if you weren’t. But I know it’s not easy—especially after everything you’ve been through." She glanced at the box, understanding its significance without needing an explanation.

"How do you think she’s going to feel about this?" Jey asked, gesturing to the box. His voice trembled with the weight of his emotions. "About having a part of our baby with her all the time?"

His mom smiled gently. "She’ll feel what any mother would feel—connected. Even though you both lost that child, it doesn’t mean you’ve lost the love you had for them. This..." She tapped the box lightly. "This will keep that memory alive, in a way that’s beautiful. I think it’ll mean the world to her."

Jey nodded, feeling a lump in his throat. "I just don’t wanna mess it up. This has to be right."

"You won’t mess it up," his mother assured him. "The love you have for her, for that baby, it’s all right there in your heart. That’s what she’s going to see when you ask her."

Jey took another sip of the koko Samoa, the warmth spreading through him. He wanted to believe what his mom was saying—that everything would fall into place.

As his thoughts turned to Rhea, he felt a sense of determination rise in him. He would propose, and he would find the right way to do it. For Rhea. For their baby. For the future they were about to build together.

His mother gave him one last reassuring squeeze before she stood up, leaving Jey alone with his thoughts. He picked up the small jewelry box, holding it in his hands, feeling the weight of the ashes inside. He whispered to himself, as if speaking to the child they had lost, "I’m gonna do this right. I promise. Solofa opened the back door and Jaciyah walked in, completely ignored Jey’s presence. Jaciyah went to the front room and he pulled out this phone to ignore everyone. Solofa signaled for Jey to come outside.

Jey sat on the porch steps next to his father, the weight of the conversation pressed down heavily. The quiet sounds of the yard, the rustle of leaves in the breeze, and the fading light of day felt distant compared to the turmoil brewing inside him. He had known this conversation with his father was coming, but nothing could have prepared him for the emotions now bubbling to the surface.

Solofa was silent for a moment, his eyes focused on the horizon. There was something heavy in the air between them, a shared understanding that words were needed but not easy to find.

"Joshua," Solofa finally said, breaking the silence. His voice was steady but carried the weight of years of wisdom and heartache. "I’ve been thinking about everything. About you, Jaciyah, and... all of this."

Jey didn’t respond right away. He simply nodded, his throat tight. He knew his father was about to say something important, and he wasn’t sure he was ready to hear it.

Solofa turned to face his son, his eyes filled with concern. “Your son, Joshua, he’s hurting. Deeply.”

The words hit Jey like a punch to the gut. He had felt it—seen it in Jaciyah’s eyes—but hearing it from his father made it real in a way he couldn’t ignore. He swallowed hard, feeling a lump in his throat that refused to go away.

“I know, Dad,” he finally said, his voice rough. “I’ve seen it. I know he’s angry. I just... I didn’t know how bad it was.”

Solofa sighed and ran a hand over his face, as if the weight of what he was about to say was too much to bear. “He’s angry because he feels like you broke up his family, Joshua. He feels like you left his mom... and in his mind, he’s being forced to accept Rhea, the woman he thinks is responsible for all of this.”

Jey’s chest tightened with guilt. He had tried so hard to protect his son from the mess that was his relationship with Takecia, but it hadn’t worked. Jeciyah had seen more than he’d realized, and now he was paying the price.

“It wasn’t Rhea’s fault, Dad,” Joshua said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Takecia and I... we weren’t happy. Things were broken long before Rhea came into the picture.”

Solofa nodded slowly. “I know that. I believe that. But Jaciyah doesn’t. All he sees is his mom hurting and you moving on. In his young mind, that means Rhea is the reason. He’s hurting because he feels like he has to choose between his love for you and his loyalty to his mom.”

Joshua clenched his fists, feeling helpless. “What do I do, Dad? How do I fix this? I don’t want him to hate Rhea. I don’t want him to feel like he’s losing me.”

His father’s hand landed on his shoulder, a grounding gesture, as Solofa looked him square in the eyes. “Joshua, you need to talk to your son. Really talk to him. Let him be mad, let him tell you how he feels. And then... you need to tell him the truth. Explain to him why things didn’t work with Takecia, but make sure he knows it was never about Rhea. He needs to hear that from you.”

Jey nodded, his mind racing with everything he wanted to say to his son. But then, there was something else he needed to admit—something that had been weighing on his mind.

“There’s something else, Dad,” Jey said, his voice quieter now, hesitant. “After the six-month waiting period is over... I’m going to ask Rhea to marry me.”

Solofa didn’t react at first. He simply studied his son, the silence between them stretching out. Finally, he spoke, his voice calm but firm.

“You’ve made your decision, then.”

Jey nodded, feeling a mix of certainty and nerves. “Yeah. I love her, Dad. I really do. I’ve been thinking about it for a while, and I’m going to propose to her. I was planning on doing it in two weeks.”

Solofa let out a long breath, his face unreadable for a moment. Then he turned to his son with an intensity that caught Jey off guard.

“Before you do that,” Solofa said, his tone serious, “I need you to make me a promise.”

Jey’s heart skipped a beat. “What is it?”

“Promise me you’ll talk to Jaciyah first. Before you ask Rhea to marry you, talk to your son. He deserves to hear it from you, to understand what this means for your family.”

Jey stared at his father, the weight of that request settling heavily on his shoulders. He hadn’t fully thought about how Jaciyah would react to him proposing to Rhea—at least, not in the depth he should have. But now, with his father’s words hanging in the air, he realized how crucial that conversation would be.

“I promise, Dad,” Jey said, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ll talk to him. I’ll make sure he knows that he’s still my priority, no matter what happens.”

Solofa’s face softened, and he gave his son a small, proud nod. “That’s all I ask, Joshua. Your son needs to know that no matter how things change, your love for him won’t.”

Jey felt his throat tighten again, the emotions overwhelming him. “I just want him to be okay, Dad. I want him to understand that this isn’t about replacing anyone. I love Rhea, but I love him too. I don’t want him to feel like he’s losing me.”

Solofa squeezed his son’s shoulder again. “He’ll come around, Joshua. But it’s going to take time. Don’t rush it. Let him feel what he needs to feel, and be there for him when he’s ready.”

Jey nodded, feeling the weight of his father’s wisdom settle deep into his bones. He had a long road ahead of him, but at least now he had a clearer path.

As they sat there together, the sun shining, Jey felt something he hadn’t felt in a while—a sense of understanding. It wasn’t going to be easy, but with his father’s advice, he knew he could start mending the rift with his son and build a future with Rhea.

“I’ll do it, Dad,” Jey said quietly. “I’ll make things right with Jaciyah. And when the time’s right... I’ll make sure he knows how much he means to me.”

Solofa smiled, pride and love shining through the lines of his weathered face. “I know you will, son. I know you will.”

—

As Jey and Jaciyah settled into the car for the 52-minute drive home, the silence between them felt thick and heavy. Jey glanced over at his son, who sat quietly, staring out the window. Jaciyah hadn’t said much after his conversation with his grandpa, but Jey knew there was a lot on his mind.

Jey drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, trying to figure out the best way to start. He wasn’t the type to shy away from tough conversations, but this one felt different—he didn’t just need to explain things, he needed to heal the hurt he had caused.

He exhaled softly and broke the silence. "Jaciyah," Jey began, his voice calm, "I know things have been tough lately. And I know I’m the reason for a lot of it."

Jeciyah didn’t respond right away, his eyes still fixed on the passing scenery outside the car. But Jey pressed on, knowing he needed to say this, even if his son didn’t want to hear it.

"I’ve made mistakes, man," Jey admitted, his grip tightening on the wheel. "With your mom... with you. And I don’t expect you to just forgive me overnight, but I want you to know I’m sorry."

Jaciyah finally shifted in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. His voice was quiet but edged with frustration. "I don’t get it, Dad. Why’d you have to leave us for her?"

The question hit Jey hard, but he had been expecting it. He swallowed the lump in his throat and glanced briefly at his son before returning his gaze to the road.

"It wasn’t just about Rhea," Jey said softly. "Your mom and I... we weren’t good for each other anymore. We were holding on to something that was already broken, and I didn’t want to keep hurting her or you by pretending we could fix it."

Jaciyah’s expression hardened. "It feels like you just gave up. Like you picked her over us."

Jey shook his head. "I didn’t give up, Jaciyah. I fought for a long time to keep things together, but sometimes... staying together for the wrong reasons can hurt more than letting go. I didn’t leave you, and I didn’t leave your mom because I didn’t care. I just... I wanted to be happy again. And I wanted your mom to be happy too."

The car was quiet for a moment, the sound of the tires on the asphalt the only noise between them. Jey could feel the weight of his son’s pain and anger, and it cut him deeply.

"I know you don’t like Rhea," Jey continued carefully, "and I understand why. But I want you to know this—she didn’t break up me and your mom. That was already happening, with or without her."

Jaciyah was silent, his face still set in a scowl. Jey sighed and tried again.

"Look, I love you more than anything, Jaciyah. You’re my son, and nothing’s going to change that. No one will ever come before you."

Jaciyah’s voice was small but filled with hurt. "It doesn’t feel like that sometimes."

Jey felt his heart break at his son’s words. He had always prided himself on being a good father, but hearing Jeciyah express that kind of pain made him realize just how much damage had been done.

"I’m sorry, bud," Jey said, his voice thick with emotion. "I never wanted you to feel like that. And I’m going to do everything I can to make sure you don’t feel that way again."

There was a long pause before Jaciyah spoke again, his tone uncertain. "So... are you going to marry her?"

Jey’s breath caught for a moment. He hadn’t planned on bringing it up yet, but Jaciyah deserved the truth.

"Yeah," Jey said softly. "After this six-month waiting period... I’m going to marry her. I’ve been thinking about proposing in a couple of weeks."

Jaciyah turned to face him, his eyes wide with disbelief. "You’re really going to marry her?"

Jey nodded, his throat tight. "I am. But before I do anything, I wanted to talk to you about it. How you feel about this matters to me, Jaciyah. I need you to know that."

Jaciyah’s face twisted in a mix of emotions—confusion, anger, and something Jey couldn’t quite place. "I don’t know, Dad. I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel."

Jey swallowed hard, trying to find the right words. "I get that. I don’t expect you to be okay with it right away. But I promise you, I’m not rushing anything. But look… before I do propose, I want to talk to you first. I want to know what’s on your mind, and I want to make sure you’re okay with this. I’ll wait…"

Jaciyah’s eyes flickered with uncertainty. "What if I’m not okay with it?"

Jey’s heart ached at the question, but he forced himself to stay calm. "If you’re not, we’ll talk about it. I want you to be honest with me, Jaciyah. I don’t want to push you into anything you’re not ready for."

They drove in silence for a few more minutes before Jey spoke again.

"I’m going to ask you for something, Jeciyah. Before I propose to Rhea, I need to make sure we’re good. I need you to talk to me—really talk to me—about how you feel. That’s the promise I made to your granddad, and it’s the promise I’m making to you. I won’t go forward with anything until we’ve had that conversation."

Jaciyah shifted in his seat again, his face thoughtful, but still pained. "I just need time, Dad."

Jey nodded, understanding the weight behind his son’s words. "Take all the time you need. I’m not going anywhere. We’ll get through this together, I promise."

Jaciyah didn’t respond, but Jey could see the tension in his son slowly beginning to ease. It wasn’t a solution, not yet, but it was a start. As they continued the drive home, Jey knew proposing to Rhea would have to wait… Jey glanced at Jaciyah again, silently hoping that in time, they would both find a way to heal.

—

Jey and Jaciyah finally pulled up to Jon and Trinity’s house, the familiar sight bringing a sense of comfort after the long and heavy drive. As soon as they parked, Jaciyah got out of the car and headed straight to the bedroom upstairs, barely acknowledging Jey.

Jey sighed, watching his son disappear into the house. He knew Jaciyah needed space, and he wasn’t going to push him right now. Instead, he stepped out of the car and lingered near the front, hearing the sound of laughter from the backyard.

Curious, Jey walked around to the side of the house and saw Jon and Trinity in the backyard, jumping on a giant water bouncy house with their kids. The sight of them having fun, carefree and full of joy, made him smile softly. It was moments like these that reminded him of how important family was, even when things were complicated.

As Jey looked closer, his eyes landed on Jeyce, his youngest, running around the yard, a water gun in his hand. The little boy was darting back and forth, his face lit up with pure excitement. Jey’s smile grew wider, watching his son have the time of his life. But it wasn’t just Jeyce that caught his attention.

There, chasing after Jeyce with her own water gun, was Rhea.

She was laughing, her hair soaked, as she playfully tried to tag Jeyce with the water stream. The two of them ran around the yard, dodging and weaving, their laughter filling the air. Jey couldn’t help but smile, his heart warming at the sight. Despite everything—the drama, the hurt, the uncertainty—seeing Rhea bonding with his youngest made him feel a sense of hope.

At least Jeyce was acknowledging her presence, embracing her in the way only a child could. Jey watched as his son’s face lit up with joy every time Rhea playfully sprayed him with water. The connection between them was natural, effortless. It wasn’t forced or complicated like the situation with Jaciyah. It was pure and innocent.

For a moment, Jey stood there, just taking it all in. The laughter, the playfulness, the way Rhea fit so seamlessly into this part of his life. He knew there were still challenges ahead, especially with Jaciyah, but seeing Rhea like this—so happy, so at ease—made him feel like maybe, just maybe, things could work out.

Jeyce let out a squeal of excitement as Rhea finally caught him, spraying him with a jet of water. Rhea laughed, scooping him up as he wiggled in her arms, trying to escape her grasp. Jey couldn’t take his eyes off them, his heart swelling with affection. It was moments like this that made him realize how much he wanted to build a future with her—a future that included moments like these with his children.

He knew the road ahead wouldn’t be easy, but for now, he allowed himself to smile and enjoy this small moment of happiness, with the ring still inside his pocket… just aching to be on Rhea’s finger.

Rhea was the first to notice Jey standing at the edge of the yard, watching them. A smile spread across her face as she lowered her water gun and nudged Jeyce gently. “Go get your dad,” she said with a playful glint in her eye.

Jeyce, always eager for a challenge, grinned mischievously and took off running towards Jey, spraying the water gun wildly in front of him. "Dad!" he yelled, laughter bubbling up from deep inside him. Jey, caught off guard but amused, put his hands up in mock surrender, backing away.

"Oh, you wanna play, huh?" Jey teased, trying to dodge the streams of water as Jeyce got closer. For a moment, Jey played along, darting and weaving as Jeyce chased him around the yard, spraying him with water. The sound of his son’s giggles echoed around the backyard, and Jey couldn’t help but laugh too.

There was something healing in this simple moment—a sense of peace that Jey hadn’t felt in a long time. It was as if, for just a few minutes, everything else melted away. No complications, no drama—just him and his son, playing under the warm afternoon sun.

Finally, Jey slowed down and stopped running, letting Jeyce catch up. "Alright, you got me!" he said with a grin, holding out his arms in surrender. Jeyce, overjoyed at his victory, ran straight into his father’s arms, spraying one last burst of water before dropping the gun.

Jey scooped him up into a tight hug, holding his son close as they both laughed. The water soaked through his shirt, but Jey didn’t care. For the first time in what felt like forever, he felt a kind of peace settle over him—peace that came from being with his family, from seeing his son so happy, and from knowing that, despite everything, he could still create moments like this.

"Got you good, Dad!" Jeyce said breathlessly, his face beaming as he looked up at his father.

Jey chuckled, hugging him tighter. "Yeah, you did, little man," he said softly, pressing a kiss to the top of Jeyce’s head. "You definitely got me."

As he held his son in his arms, Jey glanced over at Rhea, who was watching them with a smile, her eyes filled with warmth. The connection between them was silent, but it was there, strong and unspoken. He could feel her love and support in the way she looked at him, in the way she was becoming a part of his life—and Jey couldn’t help but feel grateful.

In this moment, surrounded by laughter and love, Jey allowed himself to fully relax. He didn’t have all the answers yet, but he knew one thing for sure—he wanted more moments like this. Moments where his family, both old and new, could come together, where happiness could be found in the simplest of things.

Jey smiled down at Jeyce, still holding him close, and whispered, "I love you, bud."

Jeyce grinned back at him, his eyes twinkling. "Love you too, Dad."

—

After an afternoon filled with laughter and water games, the kids were finally wrangled inside by Trinity. She somehow managed to corral them into the showers, giving each of them their set of pajamas to change into. As she handled the bedtime routine, Jon took charge of dinner, pulling out his phone and ordering a stack of pizzas from Pizza Hut. It was an easy choice, one that he knew would please everyone, especially the kids after their full day of fun.

Jey, now feeling lighter after spending time with his youngest, was tasked with setting up the movie night. He rifled through the options, trying to pick something that would keep the kids entertained. Meanwhile, Rhea had happily taken over the role of making "movie buckets"—popcorn, candy, and drinks all tucked into small containers for each kid.

As she worked, meticulously layering the snacks, something caught her attention. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Barry, her dog, slowly walking up the stairs. It wasn’t just the fact that he was heading upstairs that bothered her—it was his demeanor. Barry had been acting strange lately. He hadn’t slept beside her and he seemed drawn to the kids’ room, refusing to leave sometimes.

A feeling of unease settled in her stomach. Rhea put down the bucket, wiping her hands on her jeans. She grabbed the candy bag of Jolly Ranchers on instinct and followed Barry up the stairs, her heart tightening with worry. As she neared the top, she saw the door to Jaciyah’s room was slightly ajar.

Peeking through the gap, Rhea froze. There was Barry, sitting quietly with his head resting in Jaciyah’s lap. But what made Rhea’s heart clench was the sight of Jaciyah, silently crying. His small shoulders trembled as he stroked the dog’s fur, his face turned down to hide the tears from anyone who might notice.

Rhea's breath hitched. Seeing Jaciyah like that made her heart break in ways she hadn’t anticipated. She had known this transition would be hard for him—harder than anyone could truly understand. But seeing it up close, seeing his pain so raw, left her feeling helpless and scared. She wanted to comfort him, to tell him it would be okay, but she wasn’t sure if her presence would be welcomed.

Swallowing her own anxiety, Rhea softly pushed the door open a little wider. Jaciyah looked up at her, his eyes red and puffy, but he didn’t say a word. For a moment, they just stood there in silence, the air heavy with unspoken emotions.

Rhea hesitated, unsure of what to do. Then, almost as if her body moved on its own, she extended her hand, offering Jaciyah the bag of Jolly Ranchers she had brought with her. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

To her surprise, Jaciyah’s tear-streaked face softened. A faint, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. Slowly, he reached out and took the bag from her hand.

"Thanks," he whispered, his voice barely audible.

Rhea gave him a small nod, her heart aching for him. She didn’t say anything else—didn’t want to push too much. Instead, she gave him the space he needed, quietly stepping back and closing the door behind her.

As she stood on the other side of the door, her back against the cool wood, Rhea took a deep breath. She had no idea what Jaciyah was going through entirely, but she hoped that, in some small way, her gesture had helped. Barry remained by his side, the loyal dog providing the comfort that Rhea couldn’t at that moment. She turned and made her way back downstairs, her thoughts heavy with the weight of everything left unsaid.

#fanfic #fanfiction #jey uso #rhea and jey #rhea ripley #wwe #wwe smackdown #wwe raw #yeet #the judgement day #rhea ripley and jey uso #rhea x jey #the judgment day wwe #wwe damian priest #wwe the bloodline #wwe rhea ripley #jimmy and naomi #wwe the usos

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antisocialmastermind · 3 months ago

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Chapter 11

Chap 1 Chap 2 Chap 3 Chap 4 Chap 5 Chap 6 Chap 7 Chap 8 Chap 9 Chap 10 on Ao3

Day 11: SONUEGL = lounges

As June unfolds into July, Kurt is a cat in the sunshine. His whole existence is warm and gold-dipped and he feels obscenely grateful and lucky. He doesn’t even mind Elliott’s constant ribbing about how happy he is. Because he is.

The inaugural show at Muse is drawing to its close and has been by all accounts a great success. The gallery is in the black, which is unheard of in these early days. Several artists have asked about exhibiting and there seems to be an ever-increasing stream of patrons with means and enthusiasm.

Serena Mbali’s name and Rachel Berry’s notoriety have done wonders in a very short time. Serena’s works have sold well, three of Elliott’s paintings have little red stickers on their title cards, and Kurt has sold every piece on the gallery wall. His head spins when he thinks about it.

He’s dropped his Thursday shift at the restaurant entirely, feeling cautiously optimistic that he can get by, now that Elliott’s able to pay him for his gallery shifts. He uses the extra time in the studio, caught in a spiral of inspiration-creation-bliss-inspiration that he’s never experienced before.

And then there’s Blaine.

Kurt’s had his share of relationships, ranging from a couple of one night stands, when the mood was right, to Eric, who lasted a year and a half before his career took him to the West Coast and out of Kurt’s life. But he’s never had anything like this. He’s been utterly swept off his feet. By a lawyer.

On Fridays, they go out. Usually to somewhere fancy that Kurt never dreamed he’d see. They’ve ridden through Central Park in a horse and carriage like tourists and on a gondola while Blaine fed Kurt sugar-dipped strawberries. They’ve had dinner at the Empire State Building and Kochi and seen Broadway shows and Kurt’s first opera at the Met.

It was awkward at first. He was uncomfortable with the ostentation and wealth that seems entirely unremarkable to Blaine. But Blaine never seems like he’s preening or bragging or even concerned. He does things because he wants to and he can , and Kurt just needs to relax. He feels pampered and adored and giddy with it.

On Saturdays, Kurt lounges in Blaine’s bed for as long as he can before heading to Muse for the day. They lie there and talk lazily about nothing and everything, kissing and giggling and dreaming. They take turns making each other breakfast or dance around each other in the kitchen as they cook together.

And of course, between Friday nights and Saturday mornings, they fuck. Heated and intense and gentle and nuanced, loving and frenzied. It’s pure ecstasy and Kurt can’t get enough.

****

He feels stupid talking to Elliott. Like he’s a kid or naive or both. But if he doesn’t get out of his own head and get some perspective, he’s going to explode. Or eat an entire cheesecake. Or something. They’re in the living room drinking wine when Kurt brings it up.

“Do you think I need to ask Blaine if we’re exclusive?”

Elliott looks mildly confused when he replies, “Why are you asking me?”

“I don’t know,” Kurt sighs. “I don’t trust myself? Like, what if I ask and he’s insulted that I even had to ask, because of course we are. Or what if I don’t ask so he assumes I don’t want to be? Or what if he just laughs at me because I’m making a big thing out of nothing –”

“Kurt,” Elliott interrupts gently, ‘does it feel like nothing?”

“No,” Kurt tells him. “It kind of feels like everything.”

Elliott’s lips tighten into a tiny, repressed smile. “You need to talk to him,” he prods.

“I know,” Kurt groans. “I know I do. But I just … I don’t wanna jinx it. It’s been so perfect I just don’t want to make waves, you know? I’m ridiculous.”

“You love him?” Elliott’s voice is quiet and his eyes are intent on Kurt’s face.

“I don’t,” Kurt replies. “Not fully. Not yet. But I’m starting to. Or I could. But sometimes it feels like he has all the power and that’s – Oh my god, never mind.”

“Kurt, that’s not okay.” Elliott suddenly looks concerned. “You guys need to be on equal footing if a relationship is going to work. You can’t be feeling less than. And he can’t be in charge all the time. That’s not right.”

“Oh god, no.” Kurt rushes to reassure him. “It’s just me. My head. It’s not anything he’s doing. I guess I just feel… inferior sometimes. Because he’s able to give me so much. And I can’t give him anything.”

Elliott’s eyebrows shoot upward and his face is earnest when he says, “Kurt, I’m pretty sure you’re giving him something he wants. He’s still here, isn’t he?”

“Was that a sex joke?” Kurt asks.

“It really wasn’t,” Elliott says, in that plainly honest way he has. “I mean, if you’re being truthful that he’s not lording it over you or anything, then it sounds like you just need to come to terms with the fact that you’ve got yourself a boyfriend who can spoil you if he wants to.”

“Is he my boyfriend, though?” Kurt whines.

And now Elliott does laugh. “Oh my god, Kurt. Talk to him.”

****

Kurt doesn’t talk to him. The timing hasn’t been right. He will. He’s going to, but right now Kurt’s still waiting tables and making art and helping Elliott change over the show in the gallery.

Several of the pieces from the first show, including all of Kurt’s except one, were sold online to anonymous collectors. In the sales records for each of them is a note reading, ‘ agent will call ,’ so those need to be packed up.

Elliott’s unsold pieces will stay. He’s the gallery owner and it’s a good conversation starter to have some of his own work on display. But they move it further back.

The modular walls are moved into a new configuration and artists for the next show are coming in to hang their work. Posters and fliers and press releases are designed and typed. Kurt feels like a professional artist for maybe the first time in his life. It’s a strange, wonderful, giddy feeling.

Blaine sends him flowers. Or has lunch delivered for both him and Elliott. Or texts let me know the minute you're free, and Kurt is just over the moon with how perfect his life feels right now.

Which is why it’s such a dizzying fall when it all goes wrong.

Chapter 12

#klaine #kws 2024 #kws2024 #klaine-word-scramble #klaine word scramble #klaine fanfiction #what i wrote

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clockwork-ashes · 3 months ago

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Tag Game - Writing Patterns

Rules: List the first line of your last 10 (posted) fics and see if there’s a pattern.

thank you @zenkindoflove for the tag <3 i’ll add one shots to this as well, but not any that are super short :)

Lucien Vanserra had spent many long hours in his relatively young life wondering if he truly belonged. (Outsider)

Elain was humming softly to herself, bright sunshine streaming in through the windows of the small kitchen as she stood on the tips of her toes, grabbing the sugar from the highest shelf. (The Little Things)

Gwyn had been feeling remarkably brave lately. (First Date)

The Autumn Court was the loveliest place in all of Prythian. (All Things End)

Eris could feel his heart beating as he ran through the halls of the Forest House. (Prince of Ashes)

The Lady of Autumn had a name, although she was hardly ever called by it. (Mirrors)

Eris sat on emerald grass, a green so rich and lovely, still damp in the cool air of the early morning. (Wildflowers)

Eris watched as flames danced in the fireplace, watched as embers sparked onto the stone floors. (Only Embers)

Eris had always loved the forest. (Shallow Waters)

Lucien tugged at the iron chains around his wrists, the unforgiving metal biting into his skin. (All You Have Is Your Fire)

idk if i really see a pattern other than maybe my attempt to set the tone for the rest of the fic? maybe lol? or just a starting with something that a character is doing or thinking. this was fun!!! tagging with no pressure and sorry if you’ve already done one!!! if you don’t have 10 fics, do as many as you like :)

@nocasdatsgay , @cauldronblssd , @teddyhoneybear , @ninthcircleofprythian , @missfckingfortune , @dusk-muse

and anyone else who wants to do it :))

#tag game <3

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fullfiresiren · 1 year ago

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unconquered // 10

[10; by exhale alone]

house of the dragon aemond targaryen x last valyrian!reader

[read on ao3]

Despite the early hours of the morning, the Keep, you find, is always busy.

You walk along the long corridors as the golden hour streams through the windows, passing maids and servants as you go, all immersed in their duties to the crown.

You wanted to visit Prince Aemond, but your sworn sword made it known that he had left on Vhagar last night and hasn’t returned since. You think of him fondly, a warm sensation blooming in your chest, and you cling to it. It feels like home.

You are on your way to the library, with Ser Erryk by your side. There’s no real rhyme or reason for your visit -- just something to pass the time and keep you occupied throughout your days. Perhaps you can find more of the novels that Helaena brought you -- grandeur tales of romance and love that have you thinking more and more about her brother. Perhaps you could research what little is known of your homeland? Search out any books that speak of Valyria? Reading knowledge of what you have forgotten may trigger other memories to resurface.

“I shall wait outside for you, my lady,” Ser Erryk interrupts your thoughts when you arrive, taking position next to the large wooden doors.

“Ah, thank you, Ser,” you say, passing him.

“If you need help carrying any books back to your apartments, please send for me.”

“Oh, I can take books out?” you stop, blinking curiously, as if the thought never once occurred to you.

He looks at you with soft confusement, before smiling. “Yes, my lady. If you wish to.”

You must seem pleasantly surprised, and Ser Erryk laughs to himself at your innocent expression, before reaching out, and holding the door open for you to step inside.

At once, you are greeted by a recognisable head of long, white hair.

“Helaena!” you exclaim happily. “What a wonderful surprise!”

“Y/n!” She shoots up from the table she was reading at to rush to you, grasping you in a welcoming hug. “Dear sister!”

Her endearing nickname makes you feel like finally finding refuge from a torrential downpour, outlasting the storm that you thought would sweep you away.

“Have you been well?” you ask.

“Yes, I have,” she says, all bright and shining. “I missed your company yesterday, but I heard you were out doing something far more interesting with my brother."

You smirk at her with mirth. “What did you hear?”

“Only that he had a wonderful time. My brother is very smitten with you.”

Your heart squeezes at the knowledge. Helaena clasps her hands in front of her chest, and then motions to the table behind her.

“Would you like to join me?”

“Very much,” you grin, “I will just find some books.”

“If you’d like to read ones like those I gave you before, I have a pile of similar novels over here?”

“Oh, wonderful!” You pause, thinking on whether you should voice your question or not. Helaena gives you an expectant look, and you bite the inside of your gum. “Do you happen to have any novels on Valyria?”

“I am sure we do,” she says, but then becomes a little shy. “However I am not the best person to ask. My brother has always adored Valyrian culture, and has read every book in this library that contains some knowledge about it. When you next see each other, you should ask him to show you. I’m sure he would be more than happy to speak with you about it.”

You mull over your thoughts with an open book, sitting beside your soon-to-be sister-in-law as the two of you indulge yourselves by reading at a long, mahogany table. You have long since lost interest, however, in the words written on the page. The library is quiet, in a soothing sort of way, and with Helaena by your side, you feel as if you could sit here for hours; content in watching the way the dust flits about lazily as it passes through narrow streams of light.

My brother has always adored Valyrian culture.

The phrase is like fire in your veins. Has Prince Aemond truly always loved your homeland? So much so, that he’s read every single book in the Red Keep’s library if it even so much as mentions the topic? Does he... hold you in the same regard? Is your joining fate, something unspoken carried through the ages, that transcends time -- or is it a carefully woven plot? Helaena coughs absentmindedly from beside you, and inadvertently interrupts your thoughts.

My brother is very smitten with you.

You are close enough with her now, that you feel you can voice them.

“Helaena,” you begin, and she turns her head towards you, eyes finishing the last sentence she was reading before she gives you her full attention. “I want to say to you that I am entirely enamoured with your brother.”

She grins, all the way to her eyes. “Are you truly?”

“Very deeply.”

She giggles, all happiness and excitement, and closes her book to face you, elbows on the table, chin in her palms. “Tell me everything!”

“You cannot utter any of this to another soul -- especially the prince!”

“Dear sister, I promise I will not!”

“It cannot leave this room!”

“On our bond, I swear it!”

You sigh, placing your own book on the table in front of you, and she grasp your hands, holding them tightly. Deeply invested in your courtship with her brother, Helaena is perhaps its most vigorous champion -- openly supporting and advocating your growing bond.

“He’s very reserved, and painfully shy,” you begin, and she nods mutely, agreeing, “as if the effort of conversation is almost too much for him. I feel it is also something that does not come easily to him. How elated I am, then, when I watch him make every endeavour to speak with me, about anything -- about everything. With each day that passes, I grow to know him better, and with every minute spent in his presence, I understand him deeper. Now, he commands my attention. I search for him everywhere, and I long for him. For his company, for his words, for his smile. I ache for it.”

The confession leaves you red, brilliantly so, and Helaena is positively joyous.

“You love him?” she asks softly, tentatively.

You cannot utter it yet. Not until you feel it in your soul.

“I believe my heart is waiting for only him.”

She squeezes your hands, and cries, “I am sure he loves you, dear sister, do not give up!”

You burst into laughter together; both kicking your feet under the table and bouncing with delight at loves true profession. Helaena gushes about the upcoming wedding, practically designing the entire affair herself as she describes just how it ought to be -- blue flowers would compliment the both of you best, after all, she says, and how you look in your wedding dress will be the talk of the continent, for sure!

Your face flushes at the thought of hearing Prince Aemond whisper he is yours -- one flesh, one heart, one soul. That he will be with you now, and forever.

“Tell me,” you speak, “of him. Whatever comes to mind, I wish to know. What was your brother like as a child?”

“Soft,” she says, “Kind. My brother has always been my mothers favorite. When he was young, he would sit in the gardens with me, and spend his time making daisy chains. I guess it was his way of giving me a crown when we both knew I’d never have one,” she smiles, tracing the gilded details of her book. “I remember some nights at dinner, he would complain that he wasn’t hungry, despite the large amount of food that he had piled onto his plate. He would explain that he was taking food back to his chambers, so that he may eat when he felt like it, but I later realised he was sneaking out of the castle at night to give what he could to the smallfolk who were most poor and starving. My brother is like that, y/n. It pains me that none but us see it.”

Just as the poverty in the city struck a chord within you, so too, had it left a deep impact on the prince. How alike the two of you are. With each new segment of information you are privy to, the bond of familiarity and similarity strengthens, almost impossibly so.

“He was... different... after...” she trails off, face turning down in sorrow, “He isolated himself; locked himself in his room for days on end. I thought I had lost my sweet brother forever, but... I see glimpses of him every now and then. Moreso when he is with you.”

You have a feeling you understand what she is referring to, and yet, you cannot help but ask, “After what?”

“After he lost his eye.”

Your throat goes dry. Morbid curiosity has plagued your thoughts on more than one occasion about the events that lead to the prince loosing his eye. A mishap? An injury in training with a sword? A quarrel? A fight? Was it accidental, or, dare you say... purposeful?

“I knew he would have to close an eye for his dragon,” Helaena sighs sadly, “but I didn’t understand at the time... If only I knew the true circumstances, would I have done anything to change it? I hope I would have...”

You take a leap of faith.

“If you do not mind me asking, princess... how did the prince lose his eye?”

She avoids your gaze when she answers quietly, “It was cut out.”

Something seizes your throat and steals the air from your lungs. It was not accidental after all. Someone out there purposefully maimed Prince Aemond -- and when he was a child, no less.

Helaena drops the subject, and does not go into much detail. You cannot find it within you to press her for more, sitting back in your chair, mood low and pained.

“Dear sister,” she begins, and the atmosphere lifts slightly at her affectionate nickname. “If it is alright... may you... tell me about your time... in Old Valyria? If you remember?”

Keeping it quiet only makes the nightmares worse.

“Of course,” you reply, gifting her a smile you hope looks genuine. You would hate to lie to Helaena. “You may ask me anything. If I am able, I will tell you.”

“What was it like? You were a royal, were you not?”

“Ah, yes,” you hum, “I know my parents were the King and Queen -- of that I am certain. I can remember something about my ascension to the throne, but not much else. Only a period of time where I felt the weight of something... more than likely the duty of the crown. Of course, I can remember our dragons. I can remember parts of our city -- our castle. I can remember vividly the golden magma that carved a path through the streets.”

She stares at you with a floaty expression, as if imagining everything you speak of.

“Were there truly hundreds of dragons flying above the city?”

You grin. “Thousands.”

“What about the golden towers? Were they as magnificent as history says?”

“Even more so.”

“Did you have wonderous libraries? Filled with all manner of books?”

“We had an entire building dedicated to them.”

She sighs dreamily. “Were you engaged before?”

The question takes you off guard. “What do you mean?”

“Ah, I apologise,” she lowers her eyes, worried about perhaps offending you with her question. “You were a royal of Old Valyria, and, I’m certain you were as beautiful then as you are now. Surely you must have had your fair share of suitors?”

“Oh,” you understand what she means, and think of how to clear up the confusion. “When I lived in Valyria, it was at the pinnacle of power. There were no need for marriages of convenience or strategic alliances. I was the crown and the throne by myself. I did not need a King. There were many suitors to be sure, but... none ever interested me. Your brother is the only one I have ever been engaged to.”

“How romantic,” she sighs, tapping the table. “It is almost as if it were meant to be.”

You laugh. “How so?”

“You transcended time to find one another,” she explains. You must look confused, and so, Helaena elaborates. “You took no other in your days in Valyria, hundreds of years ago. And yet, you arrived in this precise time, found your way to Kings Landing, and willingly accepted my brother as a husband and equal. Does it not strike you as fated?”

In honesty, you have never really thought about it.

“My brother has always had this deep love for Valyria, too. Ever since he was young. Our father never took much interested in the three of us, but... I remember Aemond would often beg him to speak of it. To tell him what he knew, to recount old stories he’d heard -- any piece of information he could give. It is the only time he would ever spend in Aemond’s company...”

Her statement makes you think of your own parents. They grow clearer in your mind with each passing day. You remember emotions from them, evoked by their memory. You remember feeling loved, cared for. You remember feeling content, and happy. After all, you expect nothing less from the pinnacle of your empire. Perfect parents and a perfect life.

Somewhere in the corners of your subconscious, something whispers that you, too, felt ignored by your father.

After reading in comfortable, and relaxed silence for the next hour, midday approaches. Helaena expresses a longing to see her darling children, and you have never been one to refute her on anything. You have met the twins only once before, noting them to be well natured and soft -- a gift they undoubtedly inherited from their mother.

“Will we meet again for supper?” she asks, helping you stack a few books to carry back to your room.

“If you wish it, I am always happy to oblige -- you know this.”

“Then I dearly wish it.”

You have never had a friend like Helaena. Nor, you think, will you ever in all your life.

She links arms with you until you pass through the doors of the library, where Ser Erryk waits patiently. He takes the multitude of books from your arms, and you send him on ahead, so you may walk with Helaena until the two of you must part. When the time comes, you bid her a fond farewell, promising to see one another again at dinner.

You are alone once again, wandering the halls of the castle absentmindedly, your thoughts mulling over nothing in particular, when you hear it.

It’s hushed conversation that draws your attention, urges you closer; fervent whispers and overlapping voices that are too vague for you to truly make out, until you quietly press yourself into a nearby alcove, straining, listening in to something that was never meant for your ears.

“Do you remember who your family is? Where your true allegiances belong?!”

It’s Otto Hightowers voice, and he hisses harshly at someone. Condescending scorn, like he’s speaking down his nose at something inferior.

“One wrong move, and annihilation awaits!”

“Yes. I understand the severity of the assumed threat.”

That voice you’d recognise anywhere.

You’d know him without touch, without sight. You’d know his very breaths, by exhale alone. Gods, you know him better than you ever knew yourself.

“Foolish boy!” Otto snaps, sharply reprimanding Prince Aemond for his uncaring aloofness, and your mouth parts with the ferocity of his tone. “Think of your mother! Of your dear sister! What could happen to them if we do not control the path taken!!”

He slices back, “I have already given my word that I would, have I not?!”

The atmosphere is heavy and thick, the argument powerful, and despite only catching the tail end of it, you can tell the weight of it burdens those involved greatly. There is painful silence, and you keep it yourself, pressing as close to the wall as you can, too frightened to release the breath you’re holding. Whatever the argument was about, it is obvious it holds great importance to the Prince and the Hand.

Something unsettling grows in the pit of your stomach when you watch Prince Aemond stalk away from your position, coming into view only briefly before he is gone. He was holding something in his arms, shoulders tense, long hair thrashing with his anger and frustration.

The footsteps of his grandfather recede in the opposite way, and when all is said and done, you are left alone with the silence, and more questions than answers.

No matter how you look at it, the events simply refuse to explain themselves. Your puzzled thoughts cannot make sense of the heated discussion, and you’re frowning to yourself. Why was the Hand so adamant that Prince Aemond remember who his family is? Why was he so firm in reminding him to control ‘the path taken’? Are there some affairs to do with the throne that you are not privy to? Crown business you would not understand? Would Prince Aemond even tell you if you questioned him?

You press off from the wall only when you are certain no one is around, thoughts racing over different possibilities, intent on making it back to your apartments without running into another soul.

You almost succeed, arriving at your chambers only to be greeted by the prince himself.

You are a little surprised, if you’re honest. You thought he would have stalked away to his own apartments to be in solitude, or to the courtyard to express his frustrations through the sword.

Yet, here he stands, before you now, as composed as ever, but the strain in his posture tells you otherwise. Even if you had not been privy to the argument, you would know something was wrong. You feel a small sense of victory in your developing skills when it comes to understanding the prince’s innermost thoughts and feelings.

What was cradled in his arms earlier, you notice, reveals itself to be clothing.

“My betrothed,” he greets, bowing to you with a coy smile.

You give him one of your own, but the events of minutes earlier overshadow your expression, leaving it a little unconvincing. Regardless, you readily greet him back.

“My prince,” you say. “Are you well?”

He nods in response. “Are you?”

“I am. What a pleasant surprise to see you here.” You gesture to your apartments, saying, “Would you like to come in?”

He falters at the offer, and instead, to keep himself focused, holds out the bundle in his arms.

“Your riding clothes have been finished, my lady. The ones my father commissioned for you to wear when you fly with Archeon.”

How regal, you think, his name sounds from the lips of the prince. What would your own sound like? Something whispers like a sacred prayer.

“Oh, how lovely,” you murmur, stepping closer to inspect them.

Your fingers trace the black fabric with reverence, with respect, with fondness. The prince is mesmerised. He wants you to touch him like that.

“I thought today we could fly together?”

You ignite, beaming, “Really?”

“Yes,” he laughs softly at your happiness. “Really. Shall I wait here for you whilst you change?”

“Please,” you breathe, taking the clothes from his arms, and he hates that he knows he’d do anything for you; if only you spoke softly, like you did just then. “I shan't be long.”

You disappear into your apartments, and Prince Aemond is left alone with his thoughts. He paces a little, stares at the dust on the stone floors, watches the way the sun reflects off the silver embellishments of his outfit. He’s excited, he realizes, to spend more time with you; nerves and anxiety giving way to a brief feeling of soaring joy. Prince Aemond feels himself smiling only when the muscles of his cheeks begin to ache from the expression. The number of hours he gets to spend with you, he feels, is never near enough. He wishes to be with you always.

You reappear promptly from your chambers clothed in the black riding gear; an almost identical outfit as his. Soft leather and silver clasps on your fitted jacket, well-tailored trousers, and calf-high boots. You’ve pulled your hair up and away from your face, and you look breath-taking, even in something as plain as black. He realises he’s staring, and looks away sharply.

“Shall we go?” you ask, stepping towards him.

You’re pulling on leather gloves, and he wants to tell you not to -- the memory of your hands touching fresh in his mind from before, soft skin fitting together like they were always meant to. He wants to feel your fingers intertwine. He’s completely hopeless, and shakes his head at himself, lips pulling up into a smirk.

“Yes, my lady.”

The walk through the crowded city is pleasant with the prince as your company. Conversation flows, pauses in between lull softly, and yet, the noise of passers-by, and those going about their daily lives somehow fades away when you speak with one another.

It’s as if there is no one around.

The streets lay bare and empty, and your laughs bounce off vacant buildings. Market stalls are unattended, no horses brush past you, and the entire city is uninhabited – all except for yourself, and the prince. You cannot see anything but him.

When the buildings finally give way one by one to the beaches, the expanse of the Narrow Sea greets you readily. The sun glints off the unending stretch of water, and it sparkles like it was never really water at all. The soft sand of the beaches remains pure, and turns shades of its former self only when the waves break on the shore; like a lover returning home. It never looks this wonderful when you are by yourself.

Archeon is lounging as he always is, close to the cliffs, and lifts his head at your approaching presence. You hear him coo; extending the same greeting to the prince, growing fond of him in a way similar to you.

He lifts his head at you, and then pointedly turns to stare at the opposite end of the beach. Your eyes follow his, drawn to a mass of forest green, larger still than he.

Vhagar lay at the very end of the sand beach, far enough away from Archeon that it’s clearly intentional -- as if she doesn’t trust him enough to move closer, and you cannot say you blame her. She is apparently sleeping, her massive form rising and falling slowly with easy breaths.

This is the first time you’ve seen her in person.

“I landed her here the last time I was out flying,” he explains, as if sensing your curiosity. “I also... spoke with her... like you told me to.”

You look at him. “You did?”

“Yes,” he says, descending the stairs to the sand. “I told her that she would be staying here, on the beaches, now.”

You follow him eagerly, down to the shores. “I feel she may have been disgruntled at the change in scenery. Not many are fond of being so close to the tide.”

You had heard that Vhagar slept in the wide expanse of lands beyond the city, far too large to be housed in the dragon pit like the others. She sleeps with her back to Archeon, a clear sign for him to leave her well enough alone. Your own shuffles closer to greet you when you approach, and Prince Aemond does not shy from him.

“My heart,” you say, with warm affection. “You have a companion now, I see. She seems friendly.”

He snorts. Not entirely.

“Give her leave to act stubborn,” you murmur, stroking him. “She is old, and tired.”

He nudges you gently, so gently, but the feeling is there. I am old, too.

“Lies, my heart,” you laugh, giving him a look. “You may be older than her, but age does not touch you in the same ways. You know this.”

Archeon looks past you to the prince, huffing at him, as if he will take his side on this. Prince Aemond smiles, hands behind his back, and bows his head to your dragon. There is an audible coo in response, and it carries heavy weight and meaning.

“He is growing fond of you, you know,” you say, leaning your head against Archeon’s muzzle, scales pressing into your cheeks. “As I knew he would.”

“I feel flattered,” he chuckles, “I'm sure Vhagar will feel the same towards you.”

“I hope so.”

“Shall we find out?”

You smirk, and push yourself away from Archeon towards the prince, walking together across the expanse of the beach. You almost act on your urge to hold his hand, but think better of it, inner thoughts battling on what his reaction would be if you leaned into him, and intertwined your fingers with his. Would he pull away sharply? Would your day be ruined thereafter? Would the distances you’ve covered up until now, the path you’ve forged with him in your blossoming relationship be undone? Or would he squeeze your hand tightly, nudging into you wordlessly with a smile reserved only for you?

You reach Vhagar before you can decide.

The great dragon lifts her head at her riders presence, blinking at him slowly, rousing from her slumber. Unlike Archeon, and what you can remember of your others, she is almost completely without horns; skin wrinkled and old, loose with age and covered with thick scars. Her jowls hang low, and her wings, you see, are pitted and torn in places. She wears her almost 200 years in clear abundance, every last day etched into her being.

Her large amber eyes flick towards you, and she huffs.

You smile knowingly, nodding in greeting. “Muña.”

Mother.

Her eyes widen significantly at your speech, and she shifts until she can look at you more clearly. The ground rumbles with her movements, and Prince Aemond steps slightly in front of you, as if ready to pacify her should anything begin. But she only wants to unlock you, discern your character, confirm her suspicions.

The blood of the dragon runs thick, and Valyrian lineage is potent.

“She is beautiful,” you say to him, the hot breath of his dragon rushes past you when she breathes, “If only we could see all the many things that she must have. I can barely imagine the battles she’s fought in.”

“She was there at the Field of Fire,” he says, and you try to press your mind into remembering what you’ve heard of it. “Along with Balerion and Meraxes, she destroyed the largest army ever seen in Westeros. She was also responsible for bringing the Vale to heel in the conquest.”

“You must be incredibly proud to ride her,” you murmur softly, watching him approach his dragon. Her size overshadows his by an incredible amount. Archeon is monstrous, but truly, not as large as Vhagar.

“I am,” he strokes her softly, and you can see he’s smiling when he turns back to you. “Will you join me in the skies, my lady?”

You tell him you will, backing away so he may mount Vhagar with ease, settling into her saddle like he was always meant to be there, before he commands her to fly. She cannot lift herself from the beaches without a running start, and Archeon has enough sense to slink into the tides so she has the full expanse of the beach to take off. He watches her pass him, spread her wings, and soar.

You trudge back along the sand towards your own dragon, the huge imprints of Vhagar’s footsteps swallowed only when Archeon meets you halfway. You are staring at the skies, watching Vhagar’s form linger low; spray kicking up from her mass when she glides over the waves. The sun catches the prince’s hair in a way that almost blinds you. Stark white in direct contrast to the great black beast by your side.

“He claimed her,” you say, in a way that Archeon can tell is full of infatuation. “When he was no older than 10. She was the largest and oldest dragon at the time, and he was brave enough to claim her all by himself.”

He releases a breath of air, turning to watch the pair in the skies, and the sun makes his eyes look like liquid gold. He has already lowered his shoulder for you, and you clamber up his foot, his horns, finding footing on his withers, and settling into his black saddle.

The beating of wings above you pulls your gaze upwards, and Vhagar flies directly above you, the markings and scars of her underbelly clearly visible. She glides gracefully, using the wind from below to stay level and true. Archeon feels your deep desire to join, and without vocal command, launches himself into the skies to be with them. You reach them immediately, gliding together, side by side, over the sea and through the skies.

They are both incredibly large, your dragons -- a fearsome sight to behold. One that took part in the conquest, and the other, from the freehold itself.

After a few minutes of flying, you hear them. They’re speaking to one another. Not in the ways that you do, though. Moreso vocalising -- chittering and humming -- and the more they do, the more you notice their wings beating in sync, their flight style mimicking one another's, their turns and dips fitting together like a puzzle. You’ve never seen this happen before, and judging from what little you can see of his expression, and the way he’s leaning to watch it, neither has the prince.

If Vhagar chooses to bank right, Archeon dips his wing down to do the same. If he climbs higher, so too, does she.

You glance over at Prince Aemond as your dragons level out together, and he looks right back at you, lifting his hands up to signal his own acknowledgement of their actions, and his subsequent confusion. You shrug your shoulders in an exaggerated motion so that he can see from his position, laughter floating across the gap.

It’s endearing and soothing, all the way down to the depths of your soul. A sense of shared belonging washes over you when you watch them interact. It’s like a secret you’re privy to; one shared only between you four.

You’re not even sure how much time passes, too consumed with happiness in flying with the prince and your dragons to notice the sun waning in the sky. He is the first to reluctantly make some kind of signal towards you to land, and when you finally realise what he’s saying, you urge Archeon to descend on the shores, just as Vhagar does the same.

A portion of the cliff face breaks off with the force of withstanding two colossal dragons landing almost in sync, and plummets to the floor. You watch it drop, breaking into hundreds of smaller pieces under the force of its fall. To your right, you notice Vhagar shake her head. She looks tired, whilst Archeon is still lithe and energetic, chittering away happily at nothing in particular. You have a feeling he might annoy her with his youth and size.

Prince Aemond uses the rope attached to Vhagar’s saddle to dismount and lower himself to the sand, and when he is settled on the shore, she turns, stalking off towards the opposite end of the beach again, no doubt, to rest. Archeon does his best to aid you in your own dismount, hugging the earth so the distance between yourself and the sands is never too great. You wonder if you should ask for a rope too, but sensing your thoughts, he gives you a pointed look. You laugh, lowering yourself down by his horns, and plopping onto his great wing.

“I won’t ask for one,” you reassure. “You were so indignant at being fitted with a saddle, I fear how disgruntled you would be if I commissioned something else for you.”

You give him a few more fond pets, his hot breath fans over you when he exhales, and you feel Prince Aemond come to stand beside you.

“Until next time, my heart,” you whisper, and then, you retreat from the beaches, with the prince at your side.

The sun is cresting through the golden hour, casting everything in a brilliant hue of copper, the skies shifting through varying shades of vermillion, but everything seems that much more beautiful with the prince by your side.

He strikes up conversation openly, and you both enthusiastically discuss the events of the flight; talking passionately about your dragons and their synchronized movements, coming up with theories and ideas to explain their behaviour.

“How odd!” you exclaim, “I’ve never seen him do that -- not once!”

“Nor I with Vhagar!” he adds, “It was like they were existing as one!”

You recount tales of your times with both dragons, all the way back to the Keep, high spirited and vivacious, until the bronze gates part to give you entrance. Prince Aemond seems to forget himself whilst he listens to you talk animatedly, staring at you openly with a visible fondness. That is, until the Red Keep’s maester approaches you both from across the courtyard.

“My prince, High Lady,” he bows to you both, announcing his presence, voice warbling with age. “Are you ready for your lessons? We have a few to go over before your supper today.”

Prince Aemond’s face drops instantly, replaced now with cold indifference as he stares back at the old man.

“Ah, yes, I see,” he hums. “A moment, please.”

The maester bows, and takes his leave to wait for the prince inside, leaving the two of you comfortably in one another presence.

“Forgive me, my lady,” Prince Aemond speaks, features soft when he looks at you. “It seems I must take my leave sooner than I would have wished.”

You shake your head with understanding, wishing the worry lines on his face to ease.

“It is alright, my prince,” you say. “Please do not fret. We may see one another again whenever you wish it.”

“Tonight then,” he presses quickly, adding, “For dinner. If you’d like.”

“I would,” you grin, “Your sister has already asked for my company at supper, so I shall surely be there.”

“I look forward to it,” his tone is soft when he talks, expression warm, “and I had fun today with you.”

“So did I,” you murmur.

You stay like that for a few moments, staring at each other with muted fondness, until the prince must regrettably pull away take his leave for lessons, and you, to retire your apartments.

It is like an unavoidable rhythm, or a set pattern you must abide by whenever you return to your apartments looking anything other than pristine. A part of you feels awfully guilty, when you watch Elen rush around, already preoccupied in her tasks. She almost never complains though -- not about her job or her duties, and whenever she does, it seems it’s only for the sake of your safety, or you apparent dishevelled state.

She fusses, of course, huffing quietly to herself whilst she lays out various creams, towels, soaps, but it seems only brought on by the labours of the task, and never by you. She takes pride in you, you feel; picking out perfumes and scented washes, scrubbing you with care and diligence. Your wet hair is braided, kept up and away from your face and left to dry in a halo shape, whilst makeup is applied liberally to your eyes and cheeks. Nothing too extreme, Elen adds. Only something to compliment your tone, and bring out your features. Your garments are prepared in a similar fashion, more formal than daywear, but less than what you would wear for a celebration or ball. You wonder if you’ll ever experience one of those -- either before or after your wedding.

Thankfully, Ser Erryk is the one to escort you to supper that night, and both the conversation and atmosphere are a thousand times more enjoyable than they ever were with Ser Criston. This time, too, thanks to your sworn swords diligence and care, you arrive earlier than most – even before the King and Queen themselves. The guards have no need to announce your presence, and allow you swift entry upon your arrival.

When the doors open, you are greeted by Helaena, and her brother-husband, Prince Aegon. The two are standing near the long table, partaking in what looked like dull conversation, and at the noise, they turn towards you.

To your dismay, Prince Aemond is nowhere in sight.

Helaena brightens considerably, and Prince Aegon gives you an awkward look, tipping his head upwards in casual greeting.

“Oh,” he frowns, eyes landing on the man by your side, “Arryk, what are you doing here? I thought I sent you away for the night?”

“It’s Ser Erryk, my prince.”

The two must truly be indistinguishable from one another if even Prince Aegon cannot tell the difference between his own sworn sword, and yours. You must use considerable will to suppress a laugh.

“Right,” he says warily, as if he does not believe him, turning to pour himself another full glass of wine.

“Thank you, Ser Erryk,” you dip your head, voice soft. “You may retire for the night if you wish.”

“Thank you, my lady,” he bows, “Please enjoy your night.”

As he takes his leave, you wonder if his brother is as kind and gentle as he.

“Dear sister!” Helaena’s voice grabs your attention, as she rushes to greet you with a warm hug. “I am glad to see you again!”

“She’s not your sister yet, you know,” Prince Aegon drawls. “And weren’t the two of you in each others company only earlier today?”

She gives you an incredulous look, as if exasperated by her husbands company already. “Lady y/n is my dear friend, and soon to be my sister also. Why should we not spend time together? Her company is most enjoyable.”

“Any time spent with you, my dear Helaena is always a blessing,” you whisper.

“And what is it you do in each other’s company, hmm?” Prince Aegon always has this strange lilt to his voice, like he’s annoyed by everything around him. As if life itself exhausts him. “Discussing my darling little brother, no doubt. Has she told you that he used to wet the bed--?”

“Aegon,” Helaena quips, sending him a sharp look.

“Oh, sorry!” he drawls exasperatedly, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. “I just thought our dear sister should know what she’s getting into!” He smirks, adding, “Have you told her about the blue sapphire yet?”

Your interest is morbidly piqued, but Prince Aegon cannot explain further, cut off suddenly by the double doors opening, and the King and Queen arriving in grandeur. Thankfully, they are without the Hand, but disappointment sits heavy in your chest when you realize Prince Aemond is also not with them. Even with the bows and warm greetings you all exchange, you catch Helaena give her brother a dangerous look from the side of your vision.

“High Lady y/n! What a lovely surprise,” King Viserys greets, happiness seeping from his grinning expression, “You joined us tonight for supper!”

“Ah, yes, your grace,” you bow slightly, “I apologize if this causes any disruption--”

“Nonsense, nonsense,” he makes a noise at you, waving his hand to the servers and ordering an extra plate for you. “We are most glad to have you here.”

You feel, at any rate, a little out of sorts. The Queen gives you a look you cannot place, and you sit in the seat saved for you last time, between Helaena and the absent Prince Aemond.

“Will tonight end in another tantrum from our little brother?” you hear Prince Aegon mutter to his sister-wife.

“If it does, I shall scorn him profusely,” Helaena quips back under her breath.

You spare several glances to the empty seat on your left, wondering where the Prince could be, and if he’s still caught up in lessons. Will he even be able to make it to dinner? You strongly hope so.

Pleasant conversation flows, the food arrives, and the Queen opts to say a few words in prayer before you begin. Everyone bows their heads, and closes their eyes, and you are a little confused with what is happening. Never once do you remember doing such a thing before any meal in Valyria. Something urges you to wait until they are finished, before you begin eating.

“May the seven bless this meal,” she begins, in quiet tranquillity, “may the Father judge us fairly in all that we do. May the Mother smile down upon this gathering with love. May the Smith keep the bonds between us strong, and may the Warrior--”

The doors behind you open sharply and you all fall silent to look.

Prince Aemond walks in, as ethereal as ever, dressed in dark green unlike his usual black, and you cannot help but stare. The color suits him well. He is a little wide eyed at the attention, and you beam at his arrival, face glowing in the candle light. His eye finds you immediately, and he cannot help but return your smile upon seeing how delighted you are simply by his presence, eye swimming with mirth and joy.

“Forgive my lateness,” he says, walking into the room and towards his chair. “I was held up in my lessons.”

“That is no issue, Aemond,” the Queen mutters, giving him a warm look.

He returns it with a curt nod of his head, taking his seat beside you.

“We were just saying a prayer,” his mother says, and he clasps his hands together on the table, closing his eye as she resumes.

You peak at him from the corner of your eyes, and he opens his own to stare right back, lip curling upwards when your shoulders lift with happiness. He cannot stop his own blossoming across his chest.

When his mother finishes, and everyone begins eating, he leans in towards you.

“Please forgive my late arrival, my lady.”

“I was worried you would not come at all my prince,” you begin, taking the initiative to begin plating your food, turning your head to add, “but you have, and I am most pleased.”

“You are?” he teases, leaning in a little closer.

You are about to reply that you missed him, grieved his absence in what little time you spent apart, but the Queen interjects before you can.

“Aemond, how were your lessons?”

He sits upright at once, pulling sharply away from you.

“Good, mother. Informative,” he replies.

“I am glad,” she smiles, before tossing Prince Aegon a displeased look. “If only you were more like your younger brother. How you enjoy wasting your days will always be beyond me.”

The comment comes out of nowhere, and makes the atmosphere horribly awkward. Where the Hightowers and Targaryens may be used to familial squabbles, as someone who is still considered an outsider, there should be no place for them in front of you. But, then again, you remember Prince Aemond mentioning that his parents may bicker, so this in itself does not take you entirely by surprise.

Prince Aegon must have a short patience tonight, knocking back his entire cup of wine before he spits, “More like Aemond how? Dreary? Dull and boring? I’m perfectly happy being the family disappointment if it means my life has at least some semblance of fun.”

“Now now, Aegon, please,” the King tries to keep peace, smiling awkwardly at you, but it seems his son is too far gone to let the comment slide.

Prince Aemond, too, cannot let jabs to his person go without punishment, retorting hotly, “You were always a wastrel. I highly doubt I had any impact on how you turned out. No, you managed to be a disappointment all by yourself.”

The squabble is petty at best, and although you wish to jump in to defend Prince Aemond, he’s holding his own pretty well without you. More than anything, however, you wish the conversation topic would change entirely, and for the quarrel to abide. Helaena sighs heavily to your right, giving you an exasperated look, and you give her a meek smile, hoping the argument lulls by itself. Never one to leave without having the last word, Prince Aegon stands sharply, throwing his cutlery unceremoniously down onto his plate.

“At least I have both eyes,” he spits, and with that, he storms out, taking his leave.

It’s a low blow, and your mouth parts a little at the cutting remark. It’s a clear hit on the prince’s insecurities, and you feel, somehow, not entirely directed at him. It was the Queen who ultimately started the chain of events, and yet, somehow Prince Aemond is the one who suffers.

You cannot openly console him, nor could you even if it were just the two of you. You cannot hold him, nor squeeze his hand reassuringly, and you feel it is even out of place to whisper words of kind affection to him in this setting.

You can tell he’s biting his tongue, cutting himself off from going on a verbal rampage -- if the way he’s pursing his lips tells you anything. He’s also actively avoiding your gaze, and you cannot blame him. He’s been publicly ridiculed in front of his family and future wife on something that is a raw insecurity. If you were in his position, you would feel mortified. You wonder how you would wish to be consoled if the roles were reversed.

The scraping of cutlery on plates resumes, and conversation is strained and forced.

“My prince,” you begin, leaning in.

He hums tightly in response, but does not look at you, focusing instead on cutting his chicken far more forcefully than necessary. You feel a little spurned by his unwillingness, but you cannot bring yourself to blame him.

He thinks you’re going to speak on what just happened, and internally commands you not to. If you resurface the events, bring to light anything to do with his injury or lack of eye, he’ll explode. He can handle hearing of his inferiorities from his family, but not from you. He cannot bear to hear you speak of them, cannot bear to acknowledge that you understand he is incomplete, and undeserving.

You lower your voice, so only the prince can hear.

“I have a pre-eminent theory on our dragons behaviour today.”

Thank the seven you spoke nothing of his fears.

He turns his head to you; tension that palpitated from him in waves begins to soften when he looks at your excited expression. His interest piques, and you grin, raising your eyebrows.

“Will you tell me?”

“It is because they know our feelings unspoken.”

He furrows his brows a little at you, smile pulling tight. “I know that already, my lady.”

“No, I mean,” you shuffle a little in your chair so you may face him easier, using your hands to explain, “they understand our bond. Mine and yours. The bond between us.”

His face grows hot.

Us.

You continue, unaware of the way he’s repeating the word like a mantra in his head.

“They can clearly sense our growing bond. What we mean to one another. What we...” you pause, avoiding his eye, “will mean to one another. We are to be wed, of course. To be... one. I think they understand that. Whether they realize it is affecting their movements so perfectly, is beyond me, but... I do think they know what we mean to one another.”

“And what is that?”

He speaks before he can stop and correct himself.

You blink up at him, embarrassment at the open words of affection and his own question paints itself across your features in a red glow.

“A lady never tells!” you jest, turning back to your plate, laughing.

“A lady should tell her lord husband everything,” he sighs, giving you a sneaky side eye.

“I suppose a good lady wife would,” you muse.

“You do not plan on being a good lady wife to me?”

It’s obvious he’s joking; close enough with you now that teasing comments are good-natured, and only meant to poke fun.

“On the contrary, my betrothed. I shall be the most dutiful and honourable lady wife the realm has ever seen,” you say, smirking, and the words slip out before you can truly understand what it is you’re saying. “I plan on giving you Valyria.”

He cannot tell if you are joking.

Neither can you.

There is an awkward moment where neither of you say anything.

“Hmm,” he says, and you think that is all he will offer, until, “Then I suppose I should teach you the histories of Westeros, from your time until the present -- just as you wished.”

You notice he doesn’t use the word ‘Doom’, for your sake. You are grateful.

“I would like that very much, my prince.”

Supper continues with a pleasant atmosphere despite the earlier events. You exchange small talk and niceties with the King and Queen, talk about your plans to read and sew together with Helaena, and this time, there’s even a warm dessert brought out for you to all enjoy.

When dinner concludes, the prince asks if he may eat breakfast with you tomorrow morn, and voices that he wishes to walk you back to your chambers. You heartily agree, but his mother interrupts.

“Aemond, I wish to speak with High Lady y/n,” she says, giving you an empty smile. “So you may go on ahead.”

He seems apprehensive, for whatever reason, but bids you a warm goodnight nonetheless. Helaena hugs you, and promises to meet again tomorrow. The King gives you a happy smile, and with that, you are left alone in the company of Queen Alicent.

“Will you walk with me?” she asks, but you doubt you have little choice, following behind her as she stalks the corridors.

You walk in heavy silence until you reach what you assume is her apartments, and Ser Criston, much to your dismay, is standing guard outside. He greets the Queen with fondness, and you, with much less.

“Please sit,” she offers once you are inside.

She takes a seat by the lit fireplace, and beckons you over.

You are anything but naïve, clearly sensing that she’s brought you here to discuss a matter that must be sensitive. If it weren’t, she would have voiced her thoughts in the presence of others, and not taken you somewhere secluded with no witnesses to your conversation but her loyal kingsguard.

Only once you are settled, does she begin, and you brace yourself for what is to come.

“You seem to be getting on well with my son.”

It’s said without tone or emotion, and you feel she is not looking for an answer. Your suspisciouns are confirmed when the Queen continues, giving you no time to draft a response.

“It would be a terrible shame if he were hurt in this process.”

Ah.

You understand now. This is a threat disguised as motherly concern.

“Aemond has always been a shy boy,” she sighs, fixing her dress. “He’s rather grown out of that as his youth left him, but I know he still retains some form of softness. I can see it in the way he treats you. As my son, it is my duty to protect him, always. I worry for him, as his mother. He has already experienced enough struggle and torment to last him his entire life. It would truly be a great shame if he experienced any more.”

“Indeed,” you agree with a level voice, before saying, “May I ask what causes this concern, your grace?”

She blinks at you. “I am his mother, High Lady y/n. If the day comes when you are a mother, you will understand.”

Her tactics are as obvious as her fathers were, but the unspoken threat takes you slightly by surprise.

Why is she worried about her son being hurt by you? What can you do? You cannot leave the Keep -- you have nowhere to go; no living relatives, no people, no army, no alliances, not even any friends -- only dragons, and as of right now, only one. If there were any major disagreements between yourself and any member of the Targaryen family, including Prince Aemond, and a fight broke out, they have three adult dragons, and you only have one. If it boiled down to dire circumstances, and if they worked together, Dreamfyre, Sunfyre and Vhagar could easily overpower Archeon with little to no quarrel or effort. There would truly be nothing you could do.

But... if you had all five of your adult dragons together... there would be nothing anyone could do to stop you.

The Queen is holding your gaze, and you suddenly realise. This has nothing to do with her son, and everything to do with you. She already knows the odds, and, as they stand, her family has all the power. She cannot risk you gaining the upper hand. It falls into place, pieces itself together, and you realize now why Ser Erryk was reluctant to take you to see Archeon that night. Why members of the court become uneasy when you mention flying with him, and why there has been every effort made to stop you seeing him.

“Is this because of my dragons?” you ask.

She bristles but covers it well. “Of course not, my dear.”

Of course it is.

“I see,” you nod.

You understand now. She’s frightened. Who else feels this way? It is clear the Queen and the Hand are doing everything they can to stop you using Archeon to find your others, but... does Prince Aemond know? Does Helaena? Can you truly trust anyone?

You feel caught in a thick web, awaiting your own death, and what's worse, is that you entered of your own volition.

Or... are you just being paranoid?

The King himself took you to the beaches to see your dragon, and so, too did his son. Helaena speaks openly with you about her own dragon, and regards yours with fondness. Are you overthinking? Are you being overly cautious? If there were any real sense of threat from you, would they not have killed you already, or thrown you in the cells below the Keep? Why give you the life of a royal? Why betroth you to the prince?

“You may go,” the Queen says, slicing through your thoughts and gesturing to the door. “Please have a good night.”

You stand, bowing to her. “Goodnight, your grace.”

On the walk back to your apartments, the silence returns.

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #hotd #house of the dragon #house of the dragon fanfiction #ewan mitchell #aemond x y/n #prince aemond #aemond #aemond x reader #aemond fanfiction #hotd aemond #hotd fanfic

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front-facing-pokemon · 11 months ago

Note

I just found this blog so I'm jumping aboard the plushie bandwagon.

First we got Absol. (i feel like maybe i should've taken a closer-up picture but it's the face sooo)

Then a Wooloo

And, saving best for last, this Leafeon plush I own... of which I swear on my life is official merch.

I also have some more eeveelutions (plus an eevee and a few more) but: 1. I didn't want to send too many. 2. Eeveelutions are more popular so I wanted to give some other people the chance to submit their own. 3. I don't know where my Pikachu and Snivy plushies are cuz I own too many stuffed animals.

Only reason I submitted Leafeon was so I could show off this ~masterpiece~ of a plushie I own. And it's face isn't the only thing wrong with it too lol. Also I just noticed I accidentally had one of the ears hanging back but I'm too lazy to go take another photo but i hope this amuses you nonetheless.

ALRIGHT THERE'S BEEN A LOT OF YOU AS I'VE BEEN OUT WITH MY FAMILY FOR CHRISTMAS HUH

let's start with these guys. beautiful. wonderful. i do not believe that that leafeon is official merch. this statement is baffling to me. welcome to the front-facing pokémon family. i love the eyes on that absol and wooloo is one of my faves. i was rather obsessed with it when it first came out and have a whole wooloo tag on my main blog because of it. though i guess i cleared that whole thing out recently so i don't anymore

let's get the nose ratings out of the way:

↑ this is a lie. 10/10 chespin

it's very wide and also 10/10 you're being too harsh. merry day to you too

circular face indeed. did i already post this one? if i did you can have it again

clodsire be upon ye. clodsire fans this is your treat until gen 9

this is a trend now. i think tumblr just crunched this image to hell for some reason so here's what the text says:

"Felt like joining the others for front facing pokeplushies [images] I have more pokemon but its early morning and these are the plushies that are easy to access"

i have not but i imagine "a moment" has long passed by now. my apologies but apparently today was an important day or something? idk

YEAH it's super unbelievably fucked up. i think i kinda remember the circumstance being a bit dire so everyone else was more worried about either 1. protagonist getting stomped on brutally or 2. saving the world from kyurem / the bittercold. i was totally under the impression that he was dead in that moment but i guess the characters may have known that he would just come back? i seem to vaguely remember partner being surprised that he came back and being like "but we watched you die :OOO" but maybe i'm misremembering that. i do create a lot of pmd lore on my own time so i have a hard time telling the difference between canon and fanon sometimes

two a day makes the world go round! this blog started when i started college, paused for 80% of my college career and now has started back up and i just graduated college a week ago. i would say "how time flies" but it has been a very, very long year

i've said it before and i'll say it again: gen 6 is my favorite gen, so you'll be seeing lots of favor for this gen from me in the tags i'm sure. maybe gen 6 is my excuse to start doing other things here. like that stream i keep talking about

if they put meloetta as a little obscure puzzle thang in sv, i'm sure they'll do something for genesect. i hope. at least for keldeo probably. genesect i'm not sure is very popular, unfortunately, outside of the tumblr crowd. if the general public's opinion on genesect is favorable, then maybe

okay and then i tried to scroll down further in my screenshots for more asks and saw the wobbly will smith in a hospital bed Gimme a Hug, Man that i copied from the "i get a little bit genghis kanghis" post so that's it. to everyone who christmases: merry it. it is today. although it's basically over by now so! merry boxing day for tomorrow if i don't say anything tomorrow. but i probably will. now i'm gonna go queue up today's 'mons because i haven't done it yet today. see you all in a few weeks when those post

#gti spoilers #under the cut. don't look if you haven't played it it's an amazing game #not pkmn #nose ratings #about to queue up gogoat and pancham so be ready for those in a while

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xxxdreamscapexxx · 2 years ago

Text

I don’t want to hear thoughts... Unless they’re yours

Chapter 4 Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader Word count:8.6k Summary: Wanda wanted to live the normal life she was never afforded, but something was always missing. Something she denied herself and buried deep inside. But watching you move next door, she quickly realizes that this may not be possible for much longer. Especially with all the interesting things she found in your thoughts. Chapter summary: During a hard week your one solace was your neighbor. She always found a way to cheer you up and help you. Even if you were a little stubborn sometimes. In the end, she always gets her way and during a Saturday around the pool with her family, you realize, you don’t mind. Warning: This will be a multi-chapter fic and this is part 4. There are some mentiones of sexual thoughts and desires and a brief description of a sexual fantasy, but the whole thing is mostly fluffy and cute. Enjoy! Part 1; Part 2, Part 3; Part 4; Part 5; Part 6, Part 7; Part 8; Part 9, Part 10 Series materlist Masterlist of all my works

The rest of the week passed in a blur. You would start your day trying to be positive and calm, but things were moving along slowly at work. You couldn’t find the right candidates for your team, the customer was demanding right from the start, you were constantly being pulled into meetings that you couldn’t provide any input for, but had to be aware of and attend, all parties involved in the project kept finding additional matters to discuss, find a solution for and then implement, all while you were working on establishing processes and guidelines. It felt like a never-ending stream of tasks that no one person could complete on their own. You went early and stayed late each day, ate at your desk, when you remembered to do so and skipped breaks, but the pile of work seemed to only grow and you went home on Friday night completely exhausted and drained. Your one comfort through it all seemed to be your neighbor. You’d run into her in the mornings or in the evenings when you were coming back home and she would always offer you kind smiles and reassuring words that everything will work out in the end. It just needed time. After your evening with her on Monday, you were surprised how well you seemed to get along with the older woman. You spent the minutes before falling asleep that night thinking of the interaction you had with her. She was kind and sweet and she listened to you intently as you spoke, genuinely interested in what you had to say, which in your opinion was rare. On Tuesday you didn’t run into her in the morning, though unbeknownst to you, she watched you through her window, following your path and studying your work outfit for the day. You had chosen a more modest black dress, though still quite short for her liking, considering it was only mid-thigh and a white blazer with dark blue abstract motives, that gave your outfit a fresh look. Your high-heeled shoes made your legs look longer and Wanda traced them with her eyes as she watched you leave for work, already planning how to have a casual interaction with you in the afternoon. You came home quite late that day, tired and stressed, your head buzzing with the events of the day and still thinking through different scenarios and ideas for the project. You barely even remembered how you got from the office to your house, following the navigation on your phone mindlessly. Wanda was working in her garden, spending far longer than she expected in waiting for your arrival, while her sons ran around, playing with a ball. - Good evening, Y/N. – Wanda smiled, lifting herself off the ground, hands covered in work gloves she took off and tucked into her back pocket. The woman wore black pants that clung to her wonderfully and a dark purple top. You loved purple very much and you couldn’t help but appreciate the garment, just as much as the way her body looked while wearing it. Her arms were on full display again, toned muscles drawing your eyes and making your brain fire a quick appreciative comment in your head, before you focused on her face and her green eyes that were always mesmerizing. - Good evening, Wanda. – You smiled your first genuine smile for the day, taking in the scene in front of you. The thought that the family picture they presented was sweet and heart-warming was left unsaid, but the woman was listening in, her smile growing wider. - Coming back from work? – She asked curious, noting you wore the outfit you had left in in the morning. She took a second to appreciate your naked thighs up close, her eyes lingering for just a second. - Yes, it was a really long day. – You admitted, your shoulders dropping a bit despite your best efforts. - This late? They’re working you hard, aren’t they? – She said more to herself. She had spent an hour in her garden waiting for your arrival, something she did not appreciate. In the back of her head, she knew this was turning into an obsession, this constant craving she had to listen to your thoughts, to know what you’re doing, who you’re with, what you like, the scheming just to see you, the invasion of your privacy through listening to your thoughts. But she was convincing herself that if anyone else had the gifts she did, they would use them just like she did. It wasn’t her fault really. She was simply using all the tools at her disposal. - It’s always like that when you start a new project. It will calm down eventually, I just have to get through the first few rough months. - Months? – She looked shocked, thinking all your weeks would look like that. – Sounds stressful. I hope you’ll care for yourself. I know how important it is to have a good work-life balance. - I’ll try. – You sounded shaky. – Perhaps I’ll start by making myself dinner. – You tried to laugh, but Wanda noticed your tired expression and how your stomach rumbled at the mention of food. - You should, dear. Sounds like your lunch wasn’t very big. – Wanda noted and you blushed a little embarrassed, pulling your hands behind your back and drawing calming stars against the pad of your thumb. - I forgot lunch entirely, if I have to be honest. I didn’t have time to prepare anything yesterday and today I just kept pushing it back and… Here we are. – You tried to laugh it off again, but Wanda took your words to heart, her eyes narrowing at the idea that you went hungry. She couldn’t have that. She couldn’t have you work yourself into the ground. Before she could utter a word however, her sons ran up to her, surrounding her on both sides and demanding her attention. Good thing really, as she was seconds away from telling you that you should take better care of yourself and scaring you with her intensity. - Mom, is this our new neighbor? – Tommy asked, looking up between her and you. - Yes, dear. Billy, Tommy, this is Y/N, our new neighbor. Y/N, these are my boys. – She beamed proudly. - Nice to meet you, both. – You smiled warmly at the children, as they studied you. - That’s cool. We used to come over at your house to swim all the time. – Billy informed you with a grin. – Your house is awesome. - Thank you. – You laughed at their honest eagerness. – You can still come over to swim if you like, with your mom’s permission and supervision, of course. - Cool! – Came a happy exclaim for the two boys, who high-fived each other. – Mom, can we? - That’s kind of you, Y/N. – Wanda gave you a knowing smile. – Boys, what do we say? - Thank you! – Said both, turning to you only for a second, before returning their eyes back to the redheaded woman, giving Wanda an expectant look, obviously impatient for her answer. - Good, now go wash up for dinner. We’ll discuss this later. - Ok. – The children dragged their feet, obviously disappointed, but didn’t object. - I’m sorry for that. Please don’t feel obligated to have us over. – Your neighbor tried to apologize. - Like I said the first time, feel free to use the pool. It’s more than ok. – You tried to assure the woman, who seemed genuinely grateful for the invitation. - I… Thank you, Y/N. I really appreciate that. I’m sure, so will the boys. – She smiled warmly at you, eyes scanning you curiously. - It’s no problem at all. – You tried to say, slightly looking towards your house and thinking of leaving, your stomach rumbling once more. - Hey, Y/N? – Wanda stopped you in your track, before you had a chance that you’ll be getting inside. – Would you like to join us for dinner? – She asked warmly. - What? No, I couldn’t. I wouldn’t want to trouble you and your family. – You try to refuse, but she’s quick to stop you. - It’s no trouble at all. – The other woman tries to assure you. – It’s the least I can do for allowing us to use your pool. – She tries to reason. It was a spur of the moment idea for her, but she realizes quickly that she’d enjoy another calm evening with you. - I’m flattered, truly. But I’d love to shower and change into something more comfortable, since these shoes are killing me and just relax with some quick meal and a nice book. Another time? – You hope you don’t come off as rude. - All right. I’ll let you rest, but the offer still stands. If you’d like, you’re very welcome to have dinner with us. – Wanda assures you, before backing away from you, bidding you good night and entering her house. That night Wanda tried to listen in like she usually did, checking in on you and finding out what your day is like, but she gives up quickly. You seem distracted, mind phasing between wanting to think of your inner world and interests, but always being pulled back towards work, thoughts scrambled and chaotic and she quickly gives up, feeling overwhelmed. * * * On Wednesday morning she caught you before you drove off and handed you a box, explaining it was a meal she had prepared for you after you had told her on the day before that you skipped lunch. - It's just a Spanish Tortilla. – Wanda explains, the container still warm against your hands as you held it. – I couldn’t let you go hungry like yesterday. Wanda offered you a genuine smile and a gentle hand rested on your shoulder, making you blush from the proximity and the kind gesture. - You really didn’t have to, Wanda. It’s incredibly sweet of you, but I feel embarrassed. You’ve been feeding me, since I got here! - Nonsense! – Wanda announced with a wave of her hand. – It’s just a small lunch. It’s not a big deal at all. – She insisted, her hand never removing itself from your shoulder. - Thank you. – You tried to start slow, giving it one last attempt at returning the container. – But it’s obvious you just prepared this. God knows how long you’ve been cooking this morning. I can’t accept it. - You can, dear and you should. – The woman told you, smile gentle and kind, but her voice was firm, making no room for further argument. It was the best Wanda could muster. You were a stubborn little thing and your insistence to refuse her kindness was starting to irritate the redhead, who’s patience was starting to ware thin. In her head, she had this perfect picture of spoiling you and making gestures to show you how much she cared and you were stubbornly trying to refuse them. Something she couldn’t allow. Yet her temper was something she needed to keep in check if she didn’t want to scare you with it. She was a changed woman now, a better person and she constantly had to remind herself to keep her emotions in check and take things slow. After all, you didn’t have the privilege of hearing her thoughts. - Take it as my way to make friends. – Wanda tried to soften her first comment, laughing a little. - All right. – You agreed, knowing you were running late and that this was a battle you obviously couldn’t win, since your neighbor had her mind set. You were surprised the woman displayed such strength. She always looked sweet, gentle and maternal to you, that you never entertained how much assertiveness was hiding underneath her kind smiles. It took you by surprise and for a moment you stood there frozen, before you once again thanked her and awkwardly stepped around her to get to your car. * * * It was already way passed lunch when you remembered the woman, when you reached into your bag and took out the container with the Spanish Tortilla she had given you. You were reading emails absentmindedly, using a plastic spoon, as it was the only available utensil in the office kitchen and taking a bite out of the meal. It was so good, you actually had to look back and have another spoonful. You ended up so distracted by how good it tasted that you started to research what was in the dish and how to make it for yourself. By the time you were done with your food and your research, a good 45 minutes had passed and you dove back into work, thoughts of Wanda slowly fading into the background. * * * You made it a mission to go back home at a decent hour on Wednesday, taking a quick shower and putting on a pair of jeans and a plain white t-shirt on, before washing Wanda’s container, picking up her dish from the pie, already washed and walking over to her house. You wanted to return her things and thank her not only for being so good to you, but also for making you eat that day, something you would have probably skipped yet again, if she hadn’t given you the Tortilla. - That was one of the best things I’ve ever eaten. Thank you! – You said, a little embarrassed. – I hope you don’t mind sharing your recipe? Wanda was delighted to see you at her door in your casual clothes. She enjoyed your earlier work outfit, a tight fitting, sleeveless blue dress, today with no blazer, but this domestic side of you was one she appreciated deeply and wanted to see more of. - Of course, I’ll share. – She smiled down at you, her green eyes sparkling. – Perhaps you can come over and I’ll teach you how to make it. – She offered. - I wouldn’t want to trouble you… - You attempted to say, but she cut you off quickly. - No trouble, dear. It would be my pleasure. – She assured you. – You need to stop worrying so much. - Well, if that’s how it’s going to be, why not Saturday? You and the boys can come over. They can swim, we’ll make a nice lunch… You weren’t sure what made you suggest that. You were never friends with any of your neighbors, old or current, you barely knew their names really. But the woman had made an effort to befriend you, made you feel welcome in a place where you knew no one, so it made sense to invite her. - Yeah? That’s a great idea! I’m sure the boys will love it. And so will I. It would be my pleasure, Y/N. You exchanged some more pleasantries, before you made your way back home, feeling genuinely excited. That night you made yourself pasta, mind switching between work, that lately was a constant presence in your thoughts and the Saturday plans you had made, but feeling happy you made the step to invite the woman. You weren’t great at making friends, nor at being social, people your own age rarely understood you, so this new feeling seemed to give you happiness and you decided to embrace it. * * * You saw the woman again on Friday afternoon, painting in her yard, while her children played. She gave you a polite wave and stood up from her spot to greet you and ask about your day. You were so exhausted, it seemed weeks had passed since you’d had a proper break and you went through the motions of your routine mostly on autopilot. You confirmed your plans with Wanda and you both agreed that her and her two boys should come over at 10. She offered to bring the ingredients for the food, but you insisted on buying everything yourself, needing things from the store for your own home and wanting to be the one offering her family food for a change. - You don’t need much for this one. Just potatoes, onions, eggs and some spices. – Wanda told you, still holding a paint brush in one hand. - What kinds of spices? – You asked, taking out your phone, wanting to make a note with everything you’ll need to buy. Wanda thought about it for a second, mouth open to give you the names, when another idea popped into her head and she smiled as subtly as she could. - If you give me your number, I can just send you a list of everything you’ll need, along with the proportions. – The redhead suggested. To her surprise and delight, you didn’t seem to think anything of her suggestion, actually relived. It was one less thing you had to think about and concern yourself with. - That would be great, thank you! – You sighed, waiting for the older woman to take out her phone and telling her your number, which she repeated back to you, just to be safe. You said your goodbyes shortly after that and you headed home, wanting to get changed and washed up, before running to the store. When you came out of the shower, your phone had a message from Wanda, a list of everything you’ll need neatly written down for you and you smiled at the message, thanking her quickly, before dressing up and leaving. Like with everything else, you wanted this Saturday to go perfectly and that meant that you had plenty of preparations to do. You wanted to make a good impression. It was what you were always taught as a child. If you do something, do it well. You needed to excel at everything, to push yourself to be perfect. Your mother had high standards for you, always pushed you to do better and she instilled in you the same mindset. Something that left you with few friends and often lonely, but with great grades and good perspectives in life. She was proud of you and your promotion, of being able to do so well for yourself. She had made you strong, that’s what she always told you. What she didn’t know was that she had also made you needy for approval, for the times people praised you for everything you did right. Made you scared to fail too. Scared to be anything other than perfect. That fear followed you everywhere, made itself known at everything you tried. This small Saturday lunch included. You wanted the older woman to see you as perfect too. With a tidy, clean home, good manners and good hosting skills, as well as a good cook, which meant that shopping wasn’t the only thing on your to-do list and you set yourself to making everything perfect for your guests tomorrow. Wanda listened to your frantic thoughts throughout the evening. You had played yourself some music while doing chores, so most of the time you were singing along, but she could hear other things too. You were putting a lot of effort into the preparations, things she felt unnecessary, since all she wanted was your company, but still felt excited to know you deemed her visit worthy of so much effort, despite your busy week. She had watched you carefully through those days, listened to your thoughts grow uneasy with worry and heavy with the challenges you were facing and she wanted to make it all better for you. She wasn’t quite sure yet why she was growing so interested in you, she just knew she enjoyed your thoughts, your ideas, she liked the way you looked too, she found you beautiful. Some of your more sexual thoughts she discovered made you all the more tempting to her, though she hadn’t heard any more of your fantasies lately.

With a surprise, she realized you weren’t blind to her either, though you hadn’t quite assimilated that you were looking. But you did, you looked at her arms, found them strong and appealing, so Wanda made an effort to show them more, wore tops instead of t-shirts and enjoyed every time you stared. You liked her hair and her curves and you thought of her as beautiful. From the day you met her, you thought of her as beautiful. You enjoyed her features and her voice, you liked looking in her eyes. But for some reason there was a barrier inside your head between what you noticed and connecting it to an actual interest towards her and Wanda had every intention of finding out what that was.

At the same time, everything inside her was in conflict when it came to you. Yes, there were so many things she liked about you, but she also knew that you had an addicting quality to you. She knew she wouldn’t be able to have a casual, friendly relationship with you. If she got close, she would get consumed. Yet, she couldn’t stop herself from wanting to be close to you. She wanted to know more, to be closer, to have you tell her the things she was so rudely listening in on, to touch you too… Ever since she had her hand on your naked shoulder that Wednesday, she couldn’t stop thinking of how soft your skin felt against the palm of her hand, of imagining what it would be like for her to be able to touch all of you freely, to be able to strip you down and take you, the way she knew you liked, the way you both craved.

It was infuriating that her head kept switching between wanting to give in to those thoughts and the realization that she hadn’t done that with anyone for a reason. Her sons were her whole world, her life here in this town was too important to her, to ruin it. Her heart was so full of scars that never healed from all the loss she faced in her life. If she was ever to give in, to do what she craved, to have a taste of you the way she wanted you, the way you would both love, she would never be able to let you go. And she would have one more thing to lose. One more person her heart feared for. One more reason to fall apart if you were ever to leave her.

Yes, those were dangerous things and she was still so fragile. She fought her darkness for so long, fought every thought that told her that she didn’t need to hide. That she was born to rule this world, not cower in a corner of it, just so she can carve out a life of her own. Fought every urge to take what she wanted, all for this. All for her boys. Yet, there were still times, when she was so tempted to give in. You were tempting her to give in. You were awaking all these urges inside her, forcing her to face another part of herself. Flaunting what could be hers right in front of her and stubbornly refusing to let her take it.

Yes, she wanted to get close to you, but she also wanted to make things a little bit better for you, but every time she tried, you refused her and she had to coax you into listening to her. Through those times she found that her soft approach to you made you warm up to her, but she needed to be firm if she wanted you to do as you’re told and she was learning how to walk that line.

That night Wanda fought yet another internal battle. Between what she wanted and what was safe, between what she was and what she wanted to be, between what she had and what she craved to claim. Her life was a constant battle between the power inside her, everything it could give her if she so wished and the things it would also take away. Before you, that battle felt easier somehow, simpler. Now, she felt bolder, eager to risk the safe little bubble she surrounded herself in and all for a girl. And she wasn’t even sure yet what it was she wanted out of what she started. She just knew she had to.

With a groan, Wanda turned yet again in her bed that felt more and more uncomfortable, the longer she turned all these thoughts in her head. She knew if she didn’t stop herself, she’ll have another sleepless night and another splitting headache, so she put all her efforts into emptying her head and letting herself fall asleep, while the faint lights from your house kept on shining.

* * *

Saturday mornings for you were usually left for relaxation and reflection you desperately needed. Most people were draining and you valued your personal time above all else. It was your way to recharge and enjoy the things you lived most. But this Saturday was a bit different. You had made plans and the time for your neighbors’ visit was approaching quickly.

To your comfort, you had prepared everything the night before, so you woke up fairly late and took your time to have your coffee, get ready for the day, put on a bathing suit and a casual dress and just wait for their arrival.

You hated waiting more than anything. It was one of those things that filled you with anxiety and you couldn’t rightly say why. It wasn’t that you were bored, you didn’t mind waiting in traffic for example, in fact you just blasted music and let the line move when it did. Waiting for something specific to happen however filled you with dread. You stood on your couch, coffee mug on the table in front of you, while the sun was starting to really heat up the air outside. It was a normal situation, you had no reason to be nervous, but you were. Your hand shook as you reached for your drink and you took a deep steadying breath, looking at the clock. It was 09:43. You had just a few more minutes to wait. You could manage them. To make it easier you played yourself some music, letting the sound carry through the house and bring you a sense of familiarity that calmed you.

In the house next door Wanda had greeted her children with the news that they would be coming over to your house and that they would be allowed to swim, which was accepted with cheers. She made them a nice, big breakfast that they wolfed down as quickly as they could, hoping to be able to run over as soon as they were ready.

Wanda could barely contain them, listening every once in a while, to check if you’re up and if you’d be ready to receive them. After you awoke, she could hear your uneasiness and decided that she wouldn’t torment both you and her boys by making you wait. She sent you a quick text as a warning and started to gather everything she had prepared, before heading towards your home.

She knocked excitedly, Billy and Tommy chatting happily behind her, announcing their arrival and you hurried to open the door. You were greeted by Wanda’s bright smile, her eyes sparkling as she looked you over as you welcomed them inside your home.

Greetings went quickly, while they took off their shoes and walked further inside, knowing the layout of the house. As they went passed you, you were stunned. Wanda wore a red top, the strings of her red bathing suit sticking out around her neck and a pair of short jeans, her naked thighs on full display. She carried a bag with her, as she kept her sons close by, stopping in your living room.

- I love what you’ve done with the place. – Wanda spoke, as she took an explorative look around. – It accentuates the beauty of the house, while still keeping it welcoming and homey. – She commented, as she saw the shelves packed with books and your music.

- Thank you. – You could almost blush at her words. – Please make yourselves at home. I assume Billy and Tommy know the way to the pool. – You suggested, pointing to the big sliding doors to the yard, seeing the two boys buzzing with anticipation. The blue water was clearly visible from your spot and they almost immediately bolted.

- Race you there! – Tommy shouted to his brother, before turning on his heels and starting for the pool, his brother chasing after him with words of disapproval for being left behind.

- Boys! – Wanda’s voice rang clearly, almost startling you and stopping the two children in their tracks, despite her voice remaining level and cool. – What do we say to Y/N? – She asked with a pointed look. – I taught you better manners than that. – She reprimanded them.

- Thank you for having us over, Y/N. – Billy said readily, a tight smile on his lips.

- Yes, thank you, Y/N. – Tommy chimed in.

- You’re very welcome. – You smiled back at them, still a little startled.

- And no running inside the house, boys. You know better. – The redhead reminded, her voice still stern and unwavering, though a smile was forming slowly on her face.

You didn’t expect the woman to show such assertiveness and strength and something about her words made a shiver pass through your body.

- Now, take the bag and put your towels on the lounge chairs. I’ll be there in a moment. – She instructed and watched the two boys do as she said. – I’m sorry about them. – She turned to you, when she saw them slide the doors and walk outside. – They’re usually better behaved.

- Oh no, that’s perfectly fine. I can see that they’re excited. – You returned her soft gaze, eyes fixing on her face and refusing to move lower, despite your desire to do so. – If you want, I can go make you a nice coffee or an iced tea, while you help them. – You offered. – I have some juice for the boys. I can bring it out now, or keep it in the fridge and take it out when they want a drink, so I can keep it cool. It seems like it’s going to be a very hot day.

- That’s very nice of you, Y/N. I’m sure the boys will be jumping in the water within seconds of settling, so I would suggest saving the juice for later. – She commented, taking a quick glance in the direction of the pool.

- What will you be having? – You inquired, excited to see what she liked. – Juice is on the table for you as well, if you prefer. – You tried to joke, though sincere in your offer.

- Coffee sounds good.

- Any preferences? – You inquired. – I have options.

- I’ll have whatever you’re having. – She told you with a smile, knowing full well what she was about to be served.

- A surprise then. – You smiled happily, heading for the kitchen and starting your coffee machine.

Wanda went outside without a protest, helping her children with the inflatable toys they had brought. The life jackets came next and Wanda mentally prepared for the fight she knew was to come.

- But mom! – Tommy protested. – We can swim! We don’t need these!

- Tommy… - She tried to reason, but was quickly interrupted.

- Please, mom!

- No arguing, boys. – Her voice grew hard, though still calm. – When I’m next to the pool to watch you, you can go in without the life jackets, but if I’m away, I need you to wear them. You need to be safe.

- But we’re fine, mom! We can swim. – The boy insisted.

- You can either wear them and go in the water, or you can just stay on your towels. Your choice.

Wanda’s words left no room for argument and the boys quickly did as they’re told, accepting their fate. When she made sure to put sunscreen on their faces and helped them put on their life jackets, happily jumping in the water, she let them play, picking a lounge chair near the umbrella and slipping out of her clothes, to lie down in her red bikini.

You made the coffee just the way you always did. Heating up and frothing the milk, adding a shot of espresso and caramel syrup, before topping it with whipped cream and drizzling some more caramel as a decoration. When you deemed it good enough to be presented, you took the cup and walked outside. The first thing you could hear was the happy splashing of water and laughter that made you feel giddy, but as soon as you walked outside your heart skipped a beat from the sight.

Wanda was in nothing but her bikini now, her hair splayed around her and a pair of sunglasses on top of her head, her body on full display and you felt weak in the knees at the sight of her. The woman was perfect. Her full breasts and erect nipples were easily outlined through the thin material, her long legs stretched, her thighs sculpted and her belly toned. She was breathtaking and the cup in your hand shook from the sudden nervousness you had to gulp down, while you approached her.

Listening to your thoughts, the woman had to bite back a smirk, her plan working perfectly as she heard your internal panic-stricken battle. The more you approached her, the harder it was to tear your eyes away from her, the image of her body seared in your brain and making your palms sweat.

- Oh, there you are! – She greeted you, getting up a bit, to face you better as you set the coffee down on the small table. – Oh, this looks fancy! – She looked from you to her cup, appreciating the simple web decoration you had made with the caramel.

- It’s a caramel macchiato. – You explained proudly. – It’s my favorite. I hope you enjoy it. Just give it a few minutes to cool down. I wouldn’t want to accidentally burn you.

- That sounds interesting. Where did you learn? – She asked curiously, never really figuring it out from your thoughts.

- It started as a trial-and-error kind of situation. – You laughed nervously. – I never really liked coffee, but mostly because the only kind I ever tried was the black, bitter kind with no sugar that my mother likes. – You watched Wanda smile at that. - Then, in college I tried making something I would like. I would put in anything I could think of, making crazy mixtures. I’d put milk, honey, instant coffee, cocoa, cream, vanilla… - At your words, you could see your neighbor scrunching her face at the thought of such a sweet drink and laughed a little at her reaction. - It would end up delicious, but too much effort and with too many battling flavors. Eventually I toned it down, researched some recipes, tried out some more things… Now I can make almost anything, but I mostly drink this. – You explained, as Wanda listened calmly, watching your face brighten up at your past experiments. – I take it from your reactions that I should have made it plain. – You guessed, not really minding that she would prefer something different.

- Oh, no. I’d love to try. Yours sounds so much more interesting. – She assured you, picking up the spoon you left for her and stirring the drink, preparing to take a sip.

- Well, if interesting isn’t for you, just let me know and I’ll go make you another.

- Don’t be silly, dear. – She waved you off, eyeing your long dress.

It was one of your favorites. It was white, with pink flower motives, ankle length and with a string up back. The dress was lovely, but it was hiding too much and Wanda couldn’t have that.

- Don’t tell me you plan on melting in the sun. – Wanda commented.

- No, of course not. – You smiled nervously, feeling self-conscious in the woman’s presence.

She was so beautiful and fit and her body was gorgeous, despite having two children and you felt uneasy undressing in her presence, your mind very aware of the imperfections you had, but you got up from your chair non the less, your mind very aware of every little movement you made, feeling watched and anxious again, so you did your best to go through with it as quickly as possible. You tried to pick out a more neutral bathing suit for the day, not that you had many, finally picking the one that matched your dress most. It was white with abstract blue motifs on it. When you put it on, you didn’t think of it as too revealing, but under Wanda’s gaze you felt almost naked.

You weren’t sure why you suddenly felt so exposed, after all, you had spent some time here with the woman, talking and laughing and feeling so at ease, but today was somehow different.

You took your spot, taking a few glances at her, unsure what to say, or how to proceed, but as usual, Wanda came prepared. She was easy going and chatty and pleasant, engaging you in a conversation that quickly relaxed you, making you forget all your previous worries. She complimented your coffee, eventually drinking all of it, she asked you about your days at work and more about your interests, sharing some of her own in the process. Every once in a while, you were interrupted by the two boys, who wanted to show her something new they tried, loving their excitement. Eventually the two of you joined them in the water, receiving some splashes from their overly excited swimming, but you didn’t mind at all. It was fun. You were growing fond of the family next door and you were glad to have them over. They brought their joy with them, the boys playing with you and asking you a million questions, growing even more excited when they learned you had plenty of board games and that you would love to play with them sometime.

When lunch neared, Wanda took the lead, leaving the boys in the pool for a bit longer, while the two of you walked inside. You had bought everything she had listed, preparing it neatly and you watched with amazement how she made herself comfortable in your kitchen, showing you what she did and how and sometimes even asking you to help her with small things. She would walk around you confidently, sometimes placing a firm hand on your lower back as she passed by you, touching your shoulder and smiling at you charmingly.

The meal was easily prepared in her company, Wanda taking all the pressure from it and making it seem fun and easy, all while talking to you sweetly. She was reassuring and kind, her voice soothing, her hands gentle, her whole demeanor giving you inappropriate thoughts that you tried to push down.

Secretly Wanda was loving it. Unlike other occasions, you didn’t seem to try and refuse or fight her when she helped. You allowed her to not only prepare the meal, but to help you set up the table, familiarizing herself with your space. She complimented you more than some of your ex-girlfriends ever did, showering you with attention and practically melting at how eager you were to return each gesture.

- You’re such a sweet girl, Y/N. How come you don’t have a boyfriend or girlfriend knocking at your door, begging you not to stay here. Not that I’m complaining! – The redhead asked, while she placed napkins around the table.

- Well… - You hesitated for a second. - My girlfriend and I broke up a few months ago, so…

- Oh, I’m very sorry! How come? – She frowned a little, looking sympathetic.

- Well… We were very different people, who wanted different things in the relationship and eventually… She wanted a different relationship with someone else, I guess.

- I’m so sorry, dear. – She rubbed your back softly, setting the cutlery she was putting on the table aside, so she could give you a soft hug.

- That’s ok. When I was being honest with myself, I wanted something different too.

Curious what you meant, Wanda let herself listen in on your inner voice, hearing the words you were too afraid to speak out loud. You were too afraid to tell your ex what you wanted, too afraid that she would judge and make fun of you, settling for your fantasies instead. You thought that she was with you, because she found you interesting at first, far quieter and more mysterious than the rest of the loud group of people, but she soon grew to think of you as boring and eventually moved on, just the way everyone else did.

- I suppose it was for the best. – You finally said, shrugging a little defeatedly, but quickly correcting your posture, pulling Wanda from her thoughts and yours.

She was saddened to see that you had such unkind thoughts towards yourself. She thought you deserved much better than the people who made you feel unwanted and uninteresting, when she thought you were fascinating. She could treat you so much better, she could listen to you for hours on end, look at your pretty face and your shy smile, never getting tired of you.

- I hope you know it’s not your fault. – Wanda started carefully. – I think you’re a lovely girl and you deserve someone who would appreciate you. – She finally said, patting your shoulder gently.

- That’s very kind of you. – You smiled, hoping Wanda wouldn’t notice how fake it was.

You were curious to ask if she had a partner of her own, but couldn’t muster up the courage to ask, not wanting to be insensitive and the redhead couldn’t bring herself to talk about her past with Vision, or give you the wrong impression by mentioning her flings with different girls she met after she moved here, so she quickly changed the subject, asking the boys inside, so you could all have lunch together.

The two boys stormed in, towels around their bodies, sitting down at the places Wanda pointed out for them and you all sat together, eating and talking with a smile. The conversation mostly revolved around her sons, the children eager to share the adventures the two of you had missed while cooking, telling you about the new game they had thought of and each one asking you to join their team when they would play next.

- So, you wouldn’t want me to join your team? Your own mother? – Wanda questioned with a fake pout on her lips, obviously joking.

- No, I want Y/N! – Billy insisted, followed by his brother, who also wanted you, making you giggle a little.

- You give birth to them, and then they betray you like this! – Wanda joked, shaking her head and looking at you with amusement. She was happy that her boys liked you, it meant it would be much easier for her to introduce you into her family should she get her way with you. – Perhaps I should steal Y/N for my team instead. – She smirked, knowing she had successfully teased both you and her sons.

Your cheeks flushed a little at the idea, but you quickly reminded yourself not to read too much into it. Next to you, the boys were about to protest, obviously not catching on to their mother’s playful tone and you hurried to intervene.

- Perhaps we can play a few rounds and I’ll join each of you for a turn? – You tried to reason, happy to know your suggestion was quickly accepted and the two boys already made plans how to divide your attention.

Since Wanda didn’t want to let her kids go straight to the water after eating, you suggested a game to pass the time. You showed Wanda what you had as options, but most of your games weren’t meant for children so young, so eventually you settled on two simpler options: ‘’Carcassonne’’ and ‘’ Taco, cat, goat, cheese, pizza’’. The second one she found ridiculous, but the boys loved playing, the time passing quickly between laughs and you even had to bite back a snort, when they insisted that Wanda should buy both games for them.

- We have enough games already. – She said as sternly as she could muster, not really able to refuse her boys.

- But we don’t have these games! – Billy pointed out, his brother nodding in agreement.

- You can borrow mine whenever you want. And come over to play. – You suggested. – With your mother’s permission of course.

The children cheered and Wanda gave you an appreciative smile.

- I hope you know what you’re getting yourself into, Y/N. – She joked, a look you couldn’t quite place passing through her eyes for a moment, before it was gone.

- Just my way of making friends. – You shrugged, using the words she once used with you.

The woman smiled at you warmly at that and all of you made your way to the pool again, Wanda walking a couple of steps behind you, her eyes roaming your body. It wasn’t the first time during the day that she sneaked glances and looks, committing to mind every curve and valley, appreciatively drinking in all of you.

God, you were really tempting her. She was itching to wrap her arms around you from behind, press you up against her body and get a real feel of you against her. If you were hers, she’d kiss down your neck, while her hands massaged your breasts. You’d be so cute, pushing back against her, moaning and squirming for her to really touch you where you needed her most. It would be so easy to take you from behind, a hand around your throat and the other down your bikini bottoms, whispering in your ear what a good girl you are, how well you’re taking her fingers and how you need to keep quiet for Mommy. She’d make you cum all over her fingers and then make you walk out there like nothing happened, watching your legs shake, while you struggled to pretend that you didn’t just get fucked.

Trying to shake the thought away, and failing, she laid down on one of the lounge chairs, while you and the boys played in the pool, allowing her mind to play out her little fantasies. It was the first time she actually let herself imagine you this way, the first time she considered going through with her plan and the new, fresh images created a whole new sense of longing inside her.

She only reluctantly anchored herself in the present, when the three of you started calling her and asking her to join your game, allowing her to cool down her body, which started to overheat from the sun and the unbearable desire inside her.

Wanda played half-heartedly, despite her usual competitiveness, the only thing on her mind being the need to get you alone. Something she knew would be ill timed on her part. She did however get another chance, something she intended not to miss on.

She watched you get out of the pool, cheeks red from the sun and lie down on your towel and she hurried to follow you, leaving the boys to play, life jackets securely on.

- Y/N, honey, you’ll burn that way. – She approached, taking the bottle of sun screen and opening the cap. – You’re cheeks are already red. Let me put some sunscreen on you. – She added, not really waiting for your response, before she sat down on your lounge chair, squeezed some of the cream on her fingers and started to gently apply it to your cheeks and forehead. When she was done, she took more. – Turn around for me, I’ll put some on your shoulders and back. – The older woman instructed.

- You don’t have to do that. – You tried to respond, but she was having none of it.

- Nonsense. Just turn around for me, sweetheart. I’ll feel terrible if you have a sunburn tomorrow. – She insisted and with no further response, you did as you were told.

Her gentle hands spread cream over your shoulders, massaging the spot and allowing you to relax under her touch, then moved down your back to do the same. Despite her quick and efficient movements, she was making you melt, the tension leaving your muscles. By the time she put cream on your lower back, you could moan from the feeling.

Wanda’s hands moving on to spread cream on your thighs was a surprise, but you didn’t question it. You felt warm and serene, your mind pleasantly empty, which was a stark contrast to the past few days, so you let it happen, eventually missing her touch when her hands retracted and she left, lying down next to you on her own towel.

- Do you want me to put cream on your back? – You asked, after a few blissful seconds had passed.

- If you don’t mind. – The older woman responded and tried to hold back a smile when you got up and took the sunscreen in your hands.

Up close, sitting right next to her in fact, your neighbor was even more beautiful and sexy. Your mouth suddenly felt dry, but it was too late to back out now, so you did as promised, trying your hardest not to think about how good she looked and how attractive she was, and how lovely her personality was, or how good it felt to touch her. You weren’t supposed to have such thoughts about the woman, resolving to push them down, before they turn to feelings she could never return.

The rest of the day went by quickly in playing and good conversations with Wanda. It was soon time for dinner and you were delighted that the family stayed. You and Wanda cooked, while the boys played and all four of you gathered together around the table, sharing a meal. They only left when it was time for Billy and Tommy to go to bed, something they tried to protest, despite knowing they wouldn’t win and you saw them out with a tired but genuine smile on your face.

- Thank you for having us over, Y/N. – The older woman smiled, giving you a tight hug. – We had a great time.

- It was my pleasure, truly.

- Do you want me to come back after I put them to bed and help you clean up? – The redhead suggested. – I’d hate to leave you to clean all this by yourself.

- I’ll be fine, don’t worry. Go home and rest.

- All right. But if you change your mind, you have my number now. – She agreed. - Say ‘’Goodnight’’, boys. – Wanda reminded and the two of them turned to wish you a good night and thank you, before all three walked back to their house, the boys still commenting loudly about their experiences from the day.

Wanda made sure that the children had taken a shower and brushed their teeth, before putting them to bed, barely reading a page out of their book, before they were soundly asleep.

She made sure to do the same for herself, listening in on your thoughts while you cleaned up, but she only got impressions, since you had played your favorite playlist and sang along to every song. What she was sure of is that you were absolutely in love with her family, smiling every time you thought of something you did with them today. Every time you were putting away the games or passed by the pool, you would think of something sweet or funny that happened and her heart warmed with the feeling, allowing herself to drift off to sleep, small thoughts and ideas swirling in her head.

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