#in the form of writing about finding hope in the most unexpected places

[syn4k]

that post is so correct thank you for putting it back on my dash 10 times

every spare moment of ours is spent thinking about characters being gentle with each other and i am not even exaggerating. sunup to sundown. this shit is chronic

[peachysunrize]

[TANGERINE DREAMS]

summary: being stood up on his wedding day, Aemond’s life takes a turn for the worse. Heartbroken and humiliated, he finds unexpected help in Helaena’s childhood friend, who helps him move back into his family mansion. Summer cocktail parties and a long stay at the Targaryen residency, Aemond might let the girl who’s always been in his life make a home in his heart.

Tangerines, in general, symbolize prosperity, good luck and happiness. So if these delicious fruits appear in your dreams - whole or in the form of juice - it is usually very positive. A dream with tangerines expresses the desire and the possibility of progress and prosperity

word count: 5.2k+

warnings: angst & fluff! English isn’t my first language<3

a/n: loviessssss welcome to the first chap of my summer romance! I hope you love this as much as I do when I’m writing it! Reblogs & comments are most appreciated🥹🍊 and very special thank you to @namelesslosers for betaing this for me<33🩷

Dividers by @/firefly-graphics

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Updates: every Saturday!

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Chapter 1: runaway bride

He shouldn’t be stressed, should he? 

Everything is in the right place; groomsmen are standing behind him while fixing each other’s coats and reassuring him, bridesmaids are in front of him as they talk and giggle, the guests are whispering and the priest is tapping his fingers on his watch.

Alys is a few minutes late, but it’s just a few minutes, there’s nothing to worry about. Aemond knows she must be even more stressed than he is. It’s their big day after all and naturally, the bride is the more anxious one. Surely that’s true, right? But why are his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his coat uncontrollably, why is rocking on the ball of his feet? He can’t be that nervous.

He looks around, finding his mum biting her nails. She searches around the room, looking for someone, anyone, to come and tell her about her bride-to-be’s whereabouts. His eye finds Helaena, watching as she caresses the flower petals before meeting his gaze, smiling broadly at him. He smiles back, but it doesn’t reach his eyes to convince her he’s doing alright. He is alright, just a tad bit too stressed for everyone’s liking, especially Helaena who can sense his nerves buzzing with excitement and fear. 

The church Alicent chose for his wedding has been used by Targaryens for years and passed on for generations. The walls covered in royalty tapestries of mythical Valyrian gods have seen many weddings and unions, and now, they will see his wedding.

He sighs, wanting to run his fingers through his hair but remembering his hair is in a low bun and his Mum would kill him if he ruined his perfectly done hair. He sighs again, looking up at the ceiling, his brow furrowing in worry.

What is taking her so long? She should have been here ten minutes ago.

Aemond turns around and looks at Daeron, their eyes meeting for a brief second before his younger brother nods and walks to the corner of the hall before slipping out the door without any hesitation. 

“Don’t worry, brother, she’ll come around,” Aegon says, his breath stinking with the three glasses of champagne he’s had from the bar in the garden attached to the church grounds, where they will host the party.

“This isn’t another simple date she can be late to. This is our wedding, Aegon!” He exhales shakily, his voice barely above whispering.

He knows he is right, even Aegon knows he is right, but there is little they both can do. They need to wait for her to show up eventually. She will, won’t she? Of course she will, it was Alys who was too eager to marry, start a family, and take a step towards their shared dreams. She reassured him of his hesitation, and he agreed to do this with a heart full of love.

“Sir,” the priest calls him, “I’m needed for another ceremony in about an hour and the ride there will take a long—“

“She will come,” Aemond’s response is more of a reassurance to him than the priest, “you must have seen this more than us, Sir, the bride always shows up.”

“Yes, yes, my apologies,” the man nods his head, going back to do whatever he was doing before. 

With every second that passes and Alys doesn’t show up he grows more restless, beads of sweat forming on his hairline. Aemond is a closed-up person, not really used to showing his feelings and emotions outwardly, but now, he is tapping his foot on the ground while his eye swipes at the guests, finding his half-sister’s family behind his Mum — he averts his eye quickly. The last thing he needs is to get furious over his sister’s goblins.

“What is taking her so long?” He hears someone say from the guests, even their stupid gossip is not enough to distract them from how late the bride is. He is growing desperate at this point, the muscles in his shin are growing tired with how fast he is tapping his foot on the floor, his fingers can no longer fidget with his coat instead his nails are digging into his sweaty palm.

Please, please, Alys, just open this door… He thinks to himself before spotting Daeron sneaking inside the hall with you on your toe. He watches as the two of you make your way toward Helaena, whispering something in her ear before she and Daeron leap out of the hall in a second, catching everyone’s attention.

The hall grows noisier, and the hushed whispers turn into loud accusations and questions; “Where is the bride?”

“I have always known she was problematic!” 

“Eight years older? How scandalous!”

“How did Viserys Targaryen let his son marry her?”

“I have heard she has quite the reputation with men, always after their money—“

Now his hands are shaking, he hides them by locking them behind his back before he looks in front of him, trying to mask out the noise. Aemond catches your eye, watching as you give him a reassuring smile before taking slow steps towards him.

“Hey you.”

“Hey…” he replies as best as he can without his voice breaking, “you look beautiful.”

“So do you, little nerd!” You reach to fix his bowtie, trying to calm him down a bit, “not so little though, right? You’re getting married before me!”

“Yeah, I’m younger and I beat you to it,” he chuckles a little, silently thanking you for keeping a leash on his nerves.

It’s always been like this since the two of you remember. Growing up close to the Targaryens as Helaena’s kindergarten friend until now, you have grown to know each of the siblings like the back of your hand, especially Aemond who was a constant presence in your games with Helaena since he could walk — sometimes it feels like you are his best friend and not Helaena’s with how attentive you are to him. As much as he wishes for that to be true, he knows the bond you share with his sister is something so precious and special that no one can break it.

“Just so you wait, Aemond, you won’t be invited to my wedding when the time comes!” You tease him, trying to lighten his mood, reaching to fix a few strands of hair that have fallen out of his bun.

“That’s not fair—“

Everyone falls silent when the door is pushed open, revealing a heaving Daeron and a very anxious Helaena. You both turn around to look at the siblings, meeting them halfway with Aegon following you closely. 

“We…” Helaena starts, but she can’t talk. Something bad must have happened for her to be so speechless.

“What?” You ask gently, resting your hand on her shoulders in hopes of trying to get her to talk.

“We found Alys,” Daeron looks at Aemond with an unreadable expression, “but she…”

“Spit it out for fuck sake!” Aegon whispers through gritted teeth, his hand shoved in his pockets as he waits for Daeron to finish his sentence.

“She doesn’t want to get married,” Helaena blurts out, swallowing the lump in her throat as she looks at Aemond with sad sympathetic eyes.

“Hel, this is insane. Did she say it herself—“ you say, frowning slightly.

“Criston is holding her back from running away. There’s a car parked outside, I think—“

Aemond can’t listen to these words anymore, so he pushes past his siblings and you, jogging out of the church towards the attached garden, finding Cole and Alys tangled in a messy fight as she tries to escape from his grasp.

“Alys!” He yells her name, making the couple freeze, but in a second, she knees Cole in his stomach and runs past him, her long white dress drags across the grass as she bolts out of the gates too fast for Aemond to be able to catch up, and once he does, he watches the car leave.

The noises around him vanish, and all he can hear is the thumping of his pulse in his ears, and the sharp breaths he takes. The world around him seems to disappear, and his good eye follows the path the car is taking, his fingers are tingling, his chest rising and falling rapidly while he tries to regain his grip on himself.

He sighs, finally his senses coming back as he looks around him, finding you, his Mum, and his siblings running towards him. Aemond doesn’t wish to talk to anyone, he wants to stay invisible, for the world to swallow him whole and keep him away from the humiliation that is about to be unleashed on him.

“Darling—“

“Aemond—“

The group reaches him, Alicent cups his face in her warm hands as she looks at him with tears stinging her eyes. Aemond can see how devastated she is about him, how she desperately wants to say something and ease his pain but the words are lost in the air when she opens her mouth to utter them.

He reaches and holds her wrists gently, pressing her palms against his cheeks as they silently communicate their emotions — no words need to be said, they understand, Alicent understands his pain, and he knows that she would take it away if she could.

“We should tell the guests,” Aemond says before letting go of his Mum’s hands, striding past his siblings and you towards the salon attached to the church, finding many of the guests already there — his half-sister and her kids with a few other relatives.

He knows they are waiting to hear more of this mess just to taunt him and make his day worse. Everyone knows they are looking for one mistake from him and his family to ruin their reputation, and now, with Aemond Targaryen’s runaway bride, they must be ecstatic.

“What happened, nephew? We thought we were invited for a traditional wedding, but all we see is a lonely groom—“

The glare Aemond gives his uncle and nephews is enough for them to shut up. He tries to put up a strong front, head held high and hands folded behind his back, but if you squint you can see how his resolve is crumbling with each second that he spends in their presence.

He decides not to give in to their silly games and walks towards the bar before he snatches the pack of cigarettes on the stool, leaving the room without saying a word. His mind is foggy as he tries to walk past everyone, he is handling many things at the same time but the bitter and heavy feeling in his chest crushes his strength to process it.

The sound of chatter and gossip fades away as he walks through the back garden of the church; a few little benches and a fountain in the corner hidden from the eyes of the guests with a wisteria tree.

This area could have made a romantic core memory for Aemond and Alys if only things had gone differently…

With a deep sigh, he sits on the ground, his back against the fountain as he fiddles with his bow tie, undoing the first few buttons of his shirt, his coat falling on the ground next to him. He opens the pack of cigarettes, pulling one out before he reaches in his pants for a lighter — something he is sure you’d scold him for as you always do, teasing him lightheartedly about his obsession with lighters.

When he inhales the smoke, his mind gets clearer, and he can think a little better, but he is not sure if he would really like to do so. His ex-fiancé left him just a few minutes ago, and his mind fills with dreadful thoughts.

Was it him?

Was he too young for her? Too immature?

Did she change her mind because she loved someone else?

Was he too strict and selfish?

Was it really him who brought this on himself? On his family?

He blows out the smoke, resting his elbow on his knee as he reaches to untie his bun, his hair falling freely around his shoulders while the droplets of water land on the soft silver strands from the fountain.

It is the beginning of the summer, the spring chill of the weather is replaced with an increasing heat, the birds chipper and he can see the peachy hue of sunset in the sky from between the leaves of the tree.

He feels numb, a dull ache in his chest blooming as the reality hits him. Aemond takes another drag of his cigarette, throwing his head back, and letting his hair fall inside the water fountain. He sniffs, closing his eye to keep his tears from flowing down, the storm of his thoughts wrecking his mind once again.

He loves her, she was his everything from the start — his first kiss, first girlfriend, first fight. Alys was his everything, and now, she is nothing but a memory, a memory he wishes to wipe away quickly. 

How can you claim to love someone and leave them without any remorse? 

There is guilt and sadness, but mostly it’s the doubt and self-hatred that makes him want to sob. Many questions are swirling in his head about how he is the reason she has left. Maybe she was right about leaving him, no one would like to be the wife of a man who deals with heavy pain daily.

He takes another drag, relishing in the feeling of the soft evening breeze that kisses his heated skin, cooling him down a little. The smell of smoke grounds him in this world, making him forget about the mess that is probably happening in the church. He is sure his siblings and Mum are trying their best to talk to Alys’ relatives and other guests, explaining the situation in a hurry.

“Your suite must have cost thousands,” you say casually, announcing your presence as you walk with your long dress in hand, careful with how uneasy your heels feel on the soft grass, making your way to where he is sitting.

“Nothing compared to the decorations she ordered,” he scoffs, putting out his cigarette on the edge of the stone of the fountain before he straightens his neck and looks at you.

“Yeah, I saw them,” you sigh, fisting your skirt before sitting next to him, shoulders touching subtly, “she has a very… interesting taste. Who’d thought a lawyer would be into witchcraft?”

“She likes things no one can understand,” he says, gazing up at the wisteria tree, “I also paid for the dress you are getting wet grass stains on—“

“That was irrelevant because Hel bought it for me! She knew how much of an ass you’d be about it,” you chuckle a little, watching as a ghost of a smile finds its way to his face before it falters and his eye drops to the grass, the smile no longer visible.

“Yeah, maybe that’s why Alys left,” he scoffs in disbelief again, shaking his head a little as he thinks of every bad trait he has, considering all of them could be the reason she decided she was better off without him.

“Her loss,” you say softly, “you are too funny, little nerd, even for someone who can be a stuck-up ass sometimes.”

“You are lucky my sister loved you enough to keep you around because I’d get rid of you the second I could,” he mumbles, huffing out a small laugh when you punch his biceps playfully.

“That’s not nice, Aemond!” You laugh together, rubbing the place where you hit him, “You love me too, that’s why you will never get tired of me,” saying this, you can see his shoulder tensing — love, what a weird word to use. 

Does he love you? Does he even love anyone?

Maybe he does, but it wasn’t enough to keep his fiance with him.

Maybe his love was too much for Alys to bear.

“How did you find me?” He asks, his voice hoarse and thick, “I was trying to be invisible.”

“Give me that—“ you grab the pack of cigarettes from him, pulling one out and waiting for Aemond to light it for you. You inhale a puff, handing it back to him before looking up at the sky, “do you remember when you’d steal my books and go into your old stables to read?”

“I do, no one could find me,” he takes a drag of the cigarette, blowing out the smoke before he talks, “but you did.”

“I believed you would do it because you wanted someone to look for you,” you look at him with soft eyes, “and I always did. Your siblings had no idea where you would go, but I knew you like the back of my hand. Or maybe I just wanted my book back!”

He matches your smile, but you can see the pain in his eye, this is not a time to beat around the bush. He wishes to let it out — whatever it is. Perhaps it’s anger, frustration, betrayal, maybe it’s his ultimate desire to vanish into thin air to save himself from the press and humiliation that he’ll be going through.

“What did I do wrong?” He asks, and you must be able to see the agony he is in, he is in grave distress, and the cloud of doubt is causing a tornado in his head that will kill the remaining of his confidence, “did I not give her enough love, show her how much I wanted her?”

“You gave her your heart, something you would never do for someone you didn’t like,” you reach and squeeze his shoulder, “you did your best, gave her your everything. We all saw how devoted you were, it is not your fault.”

“Then why? Why?!” He asks desperately, looking at you with his wide teary eye, the ocean blue orb staring into your soul with need, “I thought I was everything she wanted, she said it herself—“ he looks away before he can cry, throwing his head back to stop the tears from falling, putting the cigarette between his thin lips.

“You are more than enough, Aemond—“

“She wasn’t worth it, was she?” He cuts you off, “she took me for granted,” he sounds so little, so fragile, and he feels so.

“You loved her! I’m sure, Aemond, that your love for her was so beautiful and precious, it was Alys who couldn’t be better.”

“She was the one who wanted to get married as soon as possible…” he whispers, closing his eye as he talks with the cigarette between his lips, “even Aegon made fun of me for not saying no to her, he said I needed to grow up and not give in to her whims.”

“Aegon is a little shit, he can’t even keep one girl in a one-month relationship. He should be the last person on earth to get advice from,” You nudge his shoulder, grab the cigarette, and pull it away from his lips, “loving your partner is not a crime. So what? You liked spoiling her, did you not?”

“Yeah, I did…” he says, looking back down at his fingers rubbing over the fabric of his pants, “Alys used to tell me I was a kid too, that I needed to grow up or else I wouldn’t be a good husband.”

“Oh, Aemond…”

He averts his gaze towards you, tears brimming in his eye, “I did everything I could,” he is helpless, the gut-wrenching feeling is eating him alive.

“Don’t bottle it up, little nerd,” you reach and push a few strands of his hair behind his ear, “you can cry, I’m here.”

And he does; he rests his head on your shoulder and starts sobbing quietly, tears falling on his scarred cheek.

“I’m here,” you whisper, wrapping your arm around his shoulders, making him feel safe enough to pour his emotions out.

Aemond has been avoiding the situation as best as he can; ignoring his grandfather’s calls, not leaving the house for a few weeks, and trying to get a hold on his life again.

All his efforts are in vain.

He still lives in the same apartment in Rosby he and Alys bought a few months ago, their photos and pictures hanging on the walls, the bed they used to sleep on together, their bathroom, their kitchen — everything feels like an old movie reel, a twilight zone he doesn’t know if he likes to leave or embrace and drown in it.

Aemond has been keeping contact with his siblings throughout the past week, refusing their help to come and live with him for a while, saying he wanted some time alone to figure out what he wished to do from then on.

The media is filled with pictures of him standing outside the garden catching the car speeding away — how the paparazzi get there? No one knows but the fingers are pointed at his half-sister and uncle. The pictures are all over the news and the internet, mainly using his Targaryen name to drag him into the dirt.

He plops down on the couch, unlocking his phone only to be greeted with thousands of texts from his Mum and Daeron, begging him to come home and stay the summer with them in Targaryen residency. It’s not an idea he hasn’t entertained before, in fact, he would like to go back home and take some time off for himself. So he texts Alicent and tells her he’ll move in with them for a while until he is better and ready to come back to this forsaken apartment.

He starts packing a few hours later, dirty clothes thrown into the washing machine while he sits on the floor with a huge suitcase ready to be filled. Suddenly his phone starts ringing, startling him greatly. He reaches for the phone on the bed, looking at the screen to see who’s calling him. You. Your name lights up his phone, making him smile a little, thinking probably the word has spread like wildfire.

“Hey,”

“Hey yourself, little nerd!” You say enthusiastically, “heard you wanna move back into your Mum’s place.”

“Hmm, yeah,” he sighs, securing the phone between his ear and shoulder as he talks to you, “a change would be nice, especially for the summer.”

“Then you’re in luck!” You reply, “Hel asked me to come and spend the summer at the mansion too!” he chuckles when he hears you groaning over who knows what before continuing, “Anyway, I’ll come to your place whenever you want so I can help you pack whatever you’d like to take there and then drive to King’s Landing.”

“Sounds great, I really appreciate the offer,” he agrees, grabbing the phone as soon as the washing machine stops, “I’d like it if you could take some time and come here tomorrow?”

“Of course, just send me the location, alright? The sooner we pack, the sooner we can have some of Aegon’s magnificent cocktails!”

“Urgh, that loser will be home too?” He feigns a groan, breaking character when he hears your snort.

“Stop being mean to him, he makes the best Sex on the Beach!” You both chuckle, knowing you are right, Aegon does make the best cocktails known to humankind, “We’ll have fun there, and I’ve missed Vhagar so much!”

“I missed her too,” Aemond says fondly, “thank you again for helping me out, I wouldn’t have reached out if you didn’t call me.”

“Oh I know, that’s why I called. You can always count on me! Anyway, I’ll come tomorrow and help you pack.”

“Alright, thank you, I’ll text you the address,” Aemond says, grabbing the basket to empty the wet clothes from the washing machine.

“See you tomorrow, Little nerd!”

“You should have told me you have a Chevy Camaro, I doubt we can fit anything in this little car!” you hug and greet him when he opens the door, “I brought my things too if it’s okay with you.”

“Yeah, sure, the sooner we pack, the sooner we can leave!” He replies, grabbing your suitcase’s handle, and leading you inside his apartment, “Don’t worry, my car has carried much larger things. This is nothing.”

“Whatever you say! Now— woah, you are packed already?” You look around the room, a few boxes neatly put on top of each other and labeled, one backpack and another half-filled suitcase on the floor.

“I just need some help with my clothes and whether I should…” he points at the framed photos on the walls, photos of him and Alys, “throw them out or send them to her with her belongings.”

“Well, I think you should give it some time before you do something you might regret,” you squeeze his shoulder lightly, “it seems we can go tonight, right? You don’t have many things left to pack.”

“Yeah, just a few clothes! You can get the snack while I put them in the suitcase—“

“No, no, lemme fold your clothes! You should start putting the boxes away, I’ll get everything ready,” you pat him on the chest, walking towards his bedroom to fold his clothes for him.

He nods silently and thanks you before he grabs the boxes and leaves the apartment. You both work quickly, taking a break and having tea together, you ask about how he’s holding up, and he dismisses your questions as best as he can, not really wishing to entertain the thoughts that’ll disturb him.

“Aemond, do you want to bring your books too?” You ask him, groaning as you drop the heavy box on his bed, “because I doubt we’ll have enough space to take all of these with us to King’s Landing.”

“Just those that are already tucked away!” He yells from the kitchen, finishing cooking for you, “We’ll finish it after dinner, c’mon.”

“Okay,” you sigh tiredly, not really expecting the packing to drag on for so long. After all, he said he only needed a few clothes, not half of his wardrobe with his expensive watches and sunglasses.

“I think we have packed enough for at least ten spontaneous parties Aegon will be throwing this summer,” you mutter, sitting behind the island in the kitchen.

“I doubt he’d let an occasion like my birthday let go so easily now that I’m back home,” Aemond shrugs, handing you a plate, “he mostly ignores the occasion but I’m sure he and Mum will do something, and make a huge deal out of it. That’s why I need to be prepared.”

“Well, it’s the first birthday in a while that I’m attending too so it better be something good!” You tease him, thanking him for the delicious meal.

“It will be, or at least Mum’s plans will be great. She has Daeron as her non-assigned assistant now that I’m gone and they make quite the duo. They always host the best gatherings together.”

“Alicent is a perfectionist, of course, she’ll be the best person to throw a birthday party for you,” you agree with him, “but you can’t deny that Aegon’s parties are always better! He’s reckless, and the drinks are the best.”

“Only the best for the oldest Targaryen son, right?” He sighs again, looking down at his plate, “Sorry, it slipped my tongue, I shouldn’t have said it.”

“It’s okay,” you reach and rub his forearm, “you’re dealing with lots of things now, I understand, we all do.”

“I hope I don’t ruin your summer with us with my stupid sappy attitude,” Aemond jokes — or at least tries to.

“Sappy or not, you are my best friend’s brother, and I watched you grow up! There is nothing you can do to make my time with you miserable,” you smile at him softly, finishing your plate before you both stand up to get ready and leave, “I’ll take care of the dishes, you go close your suitcase and we take whatever’s left to your car.”

Time passes quickly and you find yourself getting inside Aemond’s car later than you expected. He makes sure everything is packed and safe both in the apartment and in the trunk before he gets inside the passenger seat — he can’t drive at night because of his eyesight so you’ll drive to King’s Landing. It’s not a long ride fortunately; four hours by car and you’ll be there in no time.

Aemond, despite trying to keep up with the conversation, falls asleep halfway through the road, and you let him take a nap before you arrive there and get bombarded by questions left and right.

When you pull in front of the entrance gates, Cole is already waiting for you, ready to take your bags out and park the car even though someone else could be doing it.

“Hi, Cole,” Aemond greets him with a thick voice, rubbing his sleepy eye before he gives Criston a halfway hug, patting his back.

You shut down the engine, get out of the car, and greet Cole after you hand him the remote, following Aemond in the path leading to the entrance door with a few boxes in hand as you help him take a few of his belongings inside the house.

Alicent is already waiting in front of the door anxiously, slowly rubbing her throat and neck as she waits for Aemond to reach her before she brings him in a tight embrace, not minding the sharp points of the boxes digging in her sides — just having her son with her is enough to remedy all of her pain.

“My darling,” she tears up a little, caressing his hair and kissing his cheek, “I’m so happy you decided to come home, I missed you so much.” “I missed you too, Mother,” he pulls back a little to put the boxes down and hug her completely, resting his head on top of hers as she wraps her arms around him.

Everyone is interrupted when a series of barks echo in the house, and in a second, a huge fluffy black Chow Chow jumps on Aemond, licking his face happily. Vhagar, oh, how he missed his old lady. He chuckles and scratches behind her ears, ignoring all the stares as he reunites with her.

“Babyyyyyyy!” Helaena squeals before she runs towards you to help you with Aemond’s things, kissing you and giving you a side hug, “Thank you for agreeing to come! I’m sure we’ll have lots of fun together.”

“Thank you for having me, lovey!”

“I’m so thankful you helped him, darling,” Alicent pulls away from the pair nearly lying on the floor while one of them is having his face licked, her hand caressing your back as she draws you in her arms as well, “Thank you for bringing home, I’m in debt to you—”

“Oh, no, it was nothing!” You look at her before giving Aemond and Vhagar a cheeky smile, “It was the least I could do, I’m glad I could help.”

“Come, come! You must be tired, your rooms are ready. Cole will take your bags,” she says, leading the way with Aemond who has his free arm wrapped around Daeron, and Vhagar jumps next to his feet while you and Helaena follow them.

“Aegon is asleep, you know him, he has big plans for this summer, especially now that Aemond can use some distraction,” she bumps her shoulder to yours, “meaning we’ll have the time of our lives!”

“Yeah,” you smile at her before looking ahead of you, catching Aemond turning around to give you a quick smile, “What a summer it’ll be.”

[sugar-phoenix]

cowboy, you have a hard time wrapping things up neatly. ✦

synopsis: Boothill doesn't do things quietly. He's loud, and messy, and he likes doing things his way. Even though these all annoy you somewhat, the cowboy starts growing on you. And then one day, he does something unexpected. tags: f!reader, f/m, no smut, fluff, light angst, mentions of Boothill's past a/n: 2.5k words, this was a lot of fun to write. hope you guys enjoy it!

ao3 link here!

Your heels clacked as you walked down the halls, the ground littered with bodies and empty bullet shells. You sighed. Unlike Boothill, who left the remains of IPC soldiers and his mark everywhere in the form of bullet holes dotting the walls, you preferred to do your work neater, quieter. His loud whoops and hollers echoed down the corridor from ahead, making you cringe.

There were many things Boothill was in excess of. Too fierce. Too exposed. Too gleeful. Too loud.

You were not fond of loud.

“I got the place cleared for you, ma’am.” Boothill’s voice rang out like a bell.

“I noticed,” you responded, turning into the server room. In front of you, server towers loomed overhead, blinking with a million eyes. “You’re not very subtle, cowboy.”

“Subtle? Why would I wanna be subtle when I could strike fear into the heart of the IPC?” Boothill chuckled.

“Being subtle can be pretty scary,” you mused, going to the main terminal and typing the code you were given. “What could instigate more fear than an invisible threat you can’t see?”

“I dunno. I like to think that knowin’ who your enemy is and knowin’ that nothing can stop him is way more scary, lady.”

Boothill sank his pistol into his holster, then strode over to where you were standing, the sound of his body moving like oiled machinery.

“After all, ain’t knowin’ how you’ll die the most terrifyin’ thing of all?”

“Touché,” you conceded, scanning the database for the folder you wanted. Boothill waited at your side, and you felt a little shock that the man who was, only minutes ago a whirlwind of gunmetal and gleaming sharp teeth, could now stand so still.

Finally, you found the folder you were looking for, and you loaded it into a drive you inserted into the terminal. Boothill had offered the use of his own ports as a way to store the data, but you had refused. Data was no good to you if you could not parse through it with your own eyes.

“Alright, we’re done here,” you said as the download finished. “Let’s get out of this place.”

The cowboy at your side said nothing but smiled, flashing his razor teeth. You both stepped out into the hallway, only to be met with a new squadron of IPC guards.

“Looks like they sent the calvalry,” you remarked.

“Yeah? Well, if you know anythin’ about cowboys, you’ll know that we don’t take kindly to calvalry.”

And with that, he was off, shooting and hollering and kicking. You ducked back into the server room, letting the cowboy have his fun, and shook your head. When the sound of gunfire had stopped, Boothill leaned around the corner.

“‘S all clear! I took care of ‘em.”

You stepped out to find a pile of bodies and more bullet holes in the walls. Well, I guess this time it couldn’t be helped.

“What’s wrong? You don’t like my handiwork?” Boothill commented at your slightly dismayed expression.

“Cowboy,” you sighed, “you have a hard time wrapping things up neatly.”

He only laughed, a rough raucous sound that reverberated down the hallway as the two of you made your exit.

✦✦✦

You stood in the middle of the ballroom in a shape-hugging red gown, fanning yourself with a paper hand fan. Eyes searching the surrounding crowd, you looked for the familiar cowboy hat. You found Boothill standing against the back of the room, looking absolutely miserable in his suit. A smile creeped up your lips. It took a lot of hemming and hawing to get him to wear that suit.

“I need my body bare, otherwise I’ll overheat,” he’d said.

“Boothill, darling, it’ll just be for the night. You’re going to cause an uproar if you just walk in with that sorry excuse for a jacket. It would be absolutely scandalous. We need to be subtle tonight.” You had adopted the pet name after a few missions with him. The two of you were slowly becoming fond of each other.

“What’s wrong with a little ruckus?” Boothill had asked. “I like ruckus.”

“I know you do, but just this once we could do without it. Come on. You get to cause ruckus every other mission we’ve had so far. You can live without making noise just this once.”

To your surprise, he conceded, taking the suit from your hands and walking to a room, muttering and cursing under his breath.

Now you felt a little sorry as you watched him. He looked like a dog that had been forced into a humiliating outfit just for its owner’s enjoyment.

Your eyes met, and you flashed your fan over your face. The signal. You had gotten what you came here for. Relief flashed over Boothill’s face, and he made his way through the crowd to you as you started walking towards the exit.

You stopped abruptly when you saw the exit.

“What’s wrong, darlin’?” Boothill asked, then, “oh,” as he saw what caused you to pause.

The archways were lined with more security guards than either of you had remembered when you first came in.

“They know we’re here,” you whispered. “They’re waiting to catch us on the way out.”

Boothill said nothing. You saw the calculations happen in his crosshair eyes. Slowly, he smiled, revealing his shark teeth in a devilish grin.

“Oh Boothill. No.” You said with dread.

“Oh but we don’t have much o’ a choice, do we?” he whispered. “Just let me do what I do best, darlin’.”

You looked at him, and he caught the worry in your eyes.

“Don’t worry ‘bout me. I always get out, don’t I?”

You sighed.

“Fine.”

Boothill smiled wider than he had the entire night, and stepped away from you, making his way back into the crowd. You reached under the slit in your dress, hand on the dagger strapped to your thigh. The feeling of the hilt under your hand grounded you. It wasn’t long until you heard three deafening gunshots, and glass raining down from above. Chaos and panic erupted, and over all of them, the familiar laugh you’d grown to love. You watched as the archways were flooded, and the guards rushed towards the cause of the ruckus.

Taking the chance, you merged in with the panicked crowd streaming outside the ballroom, as more gunshots echoed behind you. Once you were out, you rushed to your sports car, and got into the driver’s seat. It roared to life as you turned the ignition, and you took it out of the car park and drove it to wait in front of the entrance. Panicked partygoers ran around your car, but your eyes were focused on the entrance. The way you white-knuckled the steering wheel would definitely leave imprints.

“Come on, come on,” you muttered. “Come on, cowboy.”

A beat passed, then two, then ten, and Boothill was nowhere to be seen. You got anxious, watching the large golden arches that led into the ballroom with the giant crystal chandelier that hung above them outside.

Just when you were about to accept that Boothill had been captured, or worse, dead, he emerged from the entrance, a crazed grin on his face, his expensive suit torn in shreds. You sighed in relief. Just before he reached the car, he turned around, aiming upwards, and pulled his trigger. Five bullets flew through the air, severing the chains of the giant chandelier. The guards chasing Boothill were trapped in the ballroom as the light fixture fell to the ground in front of them, shattered glass scattering everywhere. Boothill cackled, then leapt over the hood, taking his seat in the passenger side. You wasted no time flooring the gas pedal, the car screeching away from the ballroom.

“Should teach those muddlefudgers not to waste money on showin’ off,” Boothill laughed.

You rolled your eyes, smiling.

“Hard time wrapping things up neatly,” you said.

“That’s just my trademark, darlin.’”

The two of you glanced at each other, grinning wildly, as your car sped into the night.

✦✦✦

You gazed out the windows of the Astral Express. The endless expanse of space unrolled before you, a landscape of endless opportunities.

Boothill had been called to the Astral Express for a favor, and he thought you should tag along.

“They’re a pretty cool bunch, you should come meet ‘em. Who knows, they might come in handy for ya in the future.”

You didn’t need the cowboy’s persuasion to come and meet the famed Nameless. You were more than happy for a chance to come face to face with these trailblazers, to converse with them and see how they operated.

The Astral Express crew surprised you at first. They were less of an organized team and more like a ragtag family of people from all different walks of life. Pom Pom, the little conductor of the express, scrutinized you for a bit until they sniffed (disapprovingly or approvingly you couldn’t tell), and announced, “Pom Pom welcomes you aboard the Express.”

Soon after, you got to meet the rest of the Express crew. There was March 7th, the cheerful girl with bubblegum-pink hair. There was Dan Heng, the quiet, reserved young man who often kept to himself in the Astral Express' database archives. There was Stelle, the mysterious gray-haired girl who was apparently a repository for a Stellaron. She kept quiet at first, but soon you learned she had a joke for every occasion and didn't hesitate to crack one even at the most inopportune moments, to the chagrin of her companions. Then to the two stewards of the Express: Himeko, the red-haired, confident navigator, and Welt, deep in thought and with a walking stick he kept close to himself at all times.

 Boothill seemed to fit right in. He was the one who introduced you excitedly to Dan Heng, cackling and talking about how they were “best buds.” Despite Dan Heng’s embarassment at first, you could tell he enjoyed the presence of the cowboy. In that way, you felt a sort of kinship with him.

 The two of you hung out on the Express for a few days, as Boothill helped them with one of their trips. They were currently orbiting a planet named Jarilo VI. Boothill had encouraged you to stay aboard the Express and take a break, but today, Himeko saw you watching the window.

"If you want, you can go down with the rest of them," she said.

"I think I might,” you responded. “Forget what Boothill said about taking a break, I'm at my happiest when I'm working on something anyway."

She smiled knowingly.

It wasn't long before you landed on the cold planet, and it was an even shorter time before you found the crew. Stelle, March, Dan Heng, and Boothill were in a clinic, accompanied by a small child with bright yellow hair and a doctor who wore a large apron. You'd soon come to know that these two were Hook and Natasha, respectively.

Boothill made a show of being upset that you weren't on the Express, but you could tell that he was very happy you had decided to join them after all.

Apparently the crew had been on a wild goose chase, and to your mild disappointment they were finished with the whole affair. Stelle, March 7th, and Boothill all attempted to explain the situation to you, and Dan Heng kept sighing and correcting them every five sentences, so in the end you understood very little.

As the four of you walked out of the clinic, Hook caught up to Boothill and tugged at his pants.

"You aren't leaving, mister, are you?"

Boothill turned around, and in a manner you'd previously thought uncharacteristic, he crouched down and ruffled the young girl's hair.

"I am, sweetheart," he replied.

 "But, but, you're a member of the Moles now! You have to stay with us."

"Oh, and I'm only an *honorary* member?" Stelle asked, in mock anger. Hook giggled mischievously, then turned back to the cowboy.

"Also, I need your help with something," she added.

"Oh? What's that?" Boothill asked. Hook produced a strange trinket from one of her pockets.

"I wanna give this to my daddy, but I dunno how to wrap it up."

Boothill chuckled, ruffling her hair again.  “Your daddy sure is lucky to have a little girl like you.”

Then he did something that was so unexpected, the action of it was seared into your memory forever.

Slowly, he took off the bandana from around his neck, and laid it flat on the ground. Then, he took the trinket from Hook's hands and put it on top of the bandana, in the center. Deftly, and with a gentleness you'd seen from him very rarely, Boothill wrapped up the object with careful folding and gentle knots, then presented the object to Hook.

"There you go. And once your daddy opens it, you can wrap the bandana around your own neck, and I'll be there with ya and the Moles in spirit."

Tears sprung to Hook's eyes and she surged forward, hugging his neck and wailing loudly. Boothill chuckled, patting her back tenderly.

✦✦✦

The crisis with Jarilo VI solved, you and Boothill bade the Astral Express crew goodbye and went on your way. In the small spaceship you sat in, you gave Boothill a look.

What Hook and the Astral Express Crew didn't know was that the bandana he wore around his neck was very dear to him. A remnant of his past, a past that he had talked very little about with you, even though the two of you had gotten very close with each other.

Boothill sighed, feeling your gaze on him. "You wanna ask me about what happened with the girl, I can tell."

"Well, I mean, if you don't want to talk about it, I guess that's fine with me--" you started.

"No, no it's fine. It's somethin' I should've told ya long before. It's just painful for me is all."

You wanted to tell him that it was okay for him not to tell you, but you couldn't bring yourself to speak.

"What I never told you before, darlin’, was that I used to have a little girl of my own."

You raised a hand to your mouth. Never in your life would you have thought that the man in front of you—loud, brash and reckless—was ever a father.

"Before I was a Galaxy Ranger, before I got this metal body that I have now, I used to be just a cowboy. And one day I found myself with a daughter. Precious thing, loved her to death." He paused, taking in a deep breath, then let it out. "The IPC, they came to our planet... and they took her away from me. Took her and my whole family away from me. Razed everything I had to the ground.

 “That bandana I wore, well. It was my only reminder of her."

"Oh," you said, understanding why he was so guarded about it in the past. There was a long pause as you waited for Boothill to talk again.

 "But that girl, Hook," he started again, "she… reminded me of my daughter." Boothill took a shuddering breath. He had lost his ability to cry a long time ago, and you knew this, but sometimes he did things that told you he was weeping, invisibly. Until now you hadn't known what about.

"They would have been friends," he said softly.

"I'm sure they would have," you agreed.

You thought about the way he wrapped the gift for Hook.

"Where'd you learn to do that?" you asked.

"Do what?" he replied.

"What you did with the gift. How you folded it."

"Oh, that," he chuckled. "Some things you pick up being a dad."

There was another pause before you decided to speak again. "Well, I'll admit I was wrong about you then."

 "Wrong about what?" he asked, and you chuckled a little before answering.

"Turns out, cowboy, you do know how to wrap things up neatly."

Boothill laughed then, a soft, light sound, and you smiled.

comments are also very appreciated!

dividers by @cafekitsune

[justlemmeadoreyou]

This is the collection of everything I've ever posted! It's not too good, but I hope you like it anyways!

Please don't interact with my writing if you're not above 18. You can interact with me, talk to me if you want, but you shouldn't be here if you're under 18.

I TAKE REQUESTS! There are a bunch of them in my inbox as well, and I try to write them as soon as I can! But please don't do that thing where you send the same thing to multiple writers--it is kinda off-putting for me.

I would love for anyone to like/comment on/reblog my posts. Everyu interaction is much, much appreciated, and hey, it helps us grow. It's free-supporting people who write here. So please, do what you can!

searchable tags: #harry styles fanfiction for all original posts. (to filter out the reblogs) #ask for all asks in my inbox

Please don't repost or translate any of my works anywhere. Any support in the form of likes and reblogs is truly, madly, deeply appreciated!

Here's my ko-fi for any tips you would like to give me!

Hope you have a great day! 🫶

updated on: 19/5

HOLIDAY FICS 2023 [8]

HEADCANONS

jealous!harry headcanons

boyfriend!harry headcanons

boyfriend!harry headcanons (another one 🙈)

dad's best friend!harry headcanons

mean!friends with benefits!harry headcanons

harry in love

grumpy!harry headcanons (mechanicrry universe)

husband!harry headcanons (explicit version)

secret relationship with 1D harry (headcanons)

《《 SERIES》》

Secret Little Rendevous | (co-worker!harry x reader) [COMPLETE SERIES]

In which you are in a friends-with-benefits relationship than Harry, and it gets messier as you go forward. (Not your typical enemies to lovers fic)

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5

Unfulfilled | (nerd!harry x reader)

in which you and harry are (friendly) academic rivals, and things change

part 1

A Chrome Connection | (grumpy!harry x sunshine!reader)

In which you are in desperate need of some car-fixing(and a place to live in) and you find Harry, a grumpy mechanic who supposedly dosen't care about people around him. But, will he melt when he finds a broken girl crying in her car on a cold Thanksgiving night?

a misfortune - part 1

windfall - part 2

melancholia - part 3

Hopelessly Devoted to You | (lawyer!harry x reader)

In which Y/n just wants to leave her abusive husband, and Harry is hopelessly devoted to her

Part-1 Part-2 Part-3 Part-4

Sweet Creature | (restaurant owner!harry x chef!y/n)

you landed your dream job as a line cook at Harry Styles' prestigious haus kitchen restaurant in chicago. the tough chef job demands focus, but it's really hard when your boss looks like harry styles.

part 1 part 2 part 3

《LONG ONE SHOTS》

An Eternal Embarce* (hades!harry x persephone!y/n)

in which persephone is back after 6 months, and the underworld blossoms once again. tensions arise too, but there is nothing that the king of underworld and queen of sspring can't handle together [Word Count: 7k]

Just the two of us -vday check in

Serendipity*

harry meets you at the most unexpected of places, and helps you like a knight in a wedding suit. it all starts at your best friend's wedding, where you find yourself in a predicament without an escort. as panic sets in, harry appears, sent by the groom's brother to fill in as your last-minute companion. from that moment, a serendipitous connection begins to bloom between you both. [Word Count: 5k]

Solace* (famous!harry x masseuse!y/n) part 2

harry is in need of some unwinding and destressing, and he finds the perfect masseuse for that. they end up growing much closer than the relationship they began with, but it's never that easy, is it? [Word Count: 11.6 k]

Rain-Kissed* (footballer!harry x nerd!y/n)

y/n and harry, former rivals turned reluctant partners, find unexpected chemistry. heated glances, playful banter ignite a spark. a near-tragedy makes y/n confront feelings, and...will they be reciprocated? ft. lots of mutual pining [Word Count: 6.1 k]

Intertwined* (hockey player!harry x figure skater!y/n)

harry practices at the local ice rink every night, but lately, all he can think about is a specific figure skater that he admires from a distance. when she asks him for some "private" lessons on ice, will they give in to the stolen glances and undeniable tension? [Word Count: 6k]

《ONE SHOT/BLURBS》

SMUT

hot n' hard*

you and harry are at the pool for some fun, and you both rile each other up throughout. you both end up fucking at the edge of the pool and your exhibitionism kink has never been fueled so good.

thigh riding*

you playfully tease harry and, let's just say, it does not go well

don't stop

riding harry with your hands tied behind your back

breeding kink-blurb*

harry sees you around kids on a Christmas dinner, and he's obsessed with giving you his own

cupidity*

"don't make me take you home and punish you"

his* (jealousrry blowjob blurb)

harry is jealous, primal and dominant tonight, and you have never been so turned on

temporary fix*

in which a stranger at a bar becomes your good night (inspired by temporary fix by 1D (duh))

three knuckle deep*(aka fingering blurb)

in which you break harry's rule, and there are consequences

curves*

a plus-size!y/n fic

good girl*

straight up filth, sex w/ harry

euphoria*

soft dom!harry while his girl sucks on his cock

near the fireplace*

sex near the fireplace after a christmas dinner

a new year, a new beginning*

new years with harry's family, followed by some love making

FLUFF

drunk harry

in which harry is drunk, and you are trying to take care of the cutie pie

drunk y/n

in which you have a test the next day, and you find refuge in drinking and harry

addicted

about Harry’s addiction of kissing you

vexed

in which you are burnt out, and Harry comes to your rescue, in cute pajamas, with cookies and hot chocolate

tranquility

inspired by harry's pics of him swimming in the ocean

here for you

a fluffy period blurb, ft. pillow fights and kisses!

baby

boyfriend!h takes care of pregnant!reader, with a lot of fluffy cuteness. the baby kicks for the first time, and harry is overjoyed.

cuddles

ft. harry being cuddly and clingy

late-night serenades

you play guitar, but harry dosen’t know that. one night, you can't sleep, and harry's guitar looks quite tempting

breakfast in bed

in which harry wants to bring you breakfast in bed, but you have woken up. thankfully, he is cute and you're smitten

hold on to me

(trumpet player!harry x clarinet player!reader) you're both off to college after a while, and it's your last time playing together. feelings are comnfessed, and promises are made.

a christmas with harry

your first christmas with harry at his home, surrounded by his family and friends

dance with me

in which you and harry are at a friend's wedding, and you really don't know how to dance

thanksgiving

coming from a place where thanksgiving isn't celebrated, harry is more than happy to show you

ANGST

trepidation

in which you are too busy for the relationship, and he feels you slipping away.

insecure * requisite(part 2)*(SMUT)

in which harry feels insecure, because you want to keep your relationship a secret. ft: fluff, angst, dirty talk

waiting * for you(part 2)

a 6 month anniversary date turns into broken promises and doubts over your love

disconnected*

first time sex with harry, which leads to misunderstandings, miscommunication and insecurities

requests are open!!!

(*-> smut)

blurb night concepts

21/4

divider and header by @/saradika

[ellecdc]

Hii L!! I don't know if requests are still open but I really like how you write whimsical!reader and I've been thinking about it a lot lately. is it possible to write a whimsical!reader with Regulus that's centered outside of the AMWAP universe? Thank u smmm

-spokenfolk

they'd be so cute fr. thanks for requesting 🫶

Regulus Black x whimsical!reader (gender not specified)

Regulus knew he shouldn’t be surprised to find you out here – but his heart thumped in relief when he finally made out your form standing ankle deep in the Black Lake with your face pointed towards the stars above. 

Most people would begin to panic, finding their partner standing in a body of water in the middle of the night all alone. But this was just the kind of thing one learned to expect when dating you.

Expect the unexpected.

“You’re going to have to find a better hiding spot, my love.” He called out to you from the dry edge of the shore. You never spooked at the suddenness of his voice, proving you’d somehow sensed his presence prior to him alerting you of it. 

Though he couldn’t see your face, he could tell you were smiling.

“I wasn’t hiding, Regulus.” You said as if he were being particularly ridiculous. As if he hadn't just spent the better part of an hour looking around the castle for you.

He smiled all too adoringly at your back even though you couldn’t see him. “Could have fooled me.”

You turned at that, offering Regulus a kind smile. Regulus guesses you would be incapable of smiling any other way. “I hope I didn’t worry you terribly.” 

Regulus felt his heart squeeze at the sentiment. He’d likely worry about you for the rest of his life if he were to be quite honest. He’d be happy to do so, however.

“What are you up to, tonight?” He asked instead of answering you.

You turned your smile back towards the sky; Regulus mourned the loss of it. “Recharging.”

He hummed in acknowledgment as if what you just said made any sense at all to him. “Do you think you’ll be much longer?”

You chuckled at him and turned your entire body to face the shore instead. “You cannot rush this Regulus. Why don’t you join me?” You said, opening your arms widely.

Regulus hated to admit how inviting your embrace seemed to him, even at the expense of soaking his pant legs. He held strong, however. 

“I quite like the view from here, thank you.”

You let your arms fall to your sides, but your smile never wavered. 

“It’s very good for your inner vibrations, Regulus. The moon has been charging these waters all month. Tonight is the new moon, so you must recharge tonight, otherwise you’ll be waiting another month to try again.”

Regulus was sure you were trying your hardest to sound stern, but your voice only echoed across the waters like the gentle song of a siren calling him to his watery grave.

And who was he to deny that call?

“Oh, if you insist.” He spoke into the night, not at all begrudgingly removing his shoes and socks before rolling his pant legs up as far as they would go to join you in the lake.

The wattage of your smile rivaled that of the moon not currently present in the sky, acting as a beacon guiding Regulus towards you. 

You spun in your place to once again point your face to the sky while Regulus slotted himself in behind you and wrapped you in his arms, pushing his face into the crook of your neck. 

“You’re supposed to face the stars, Reggie.” You whispered to him.

Regulus hummed into your neck. “Who says I’m not?”

You chuckled, patting Regulus’ hands from their place on your stomach as you allowed him to rock you back and forth gently.

“You’re silly.” You admonished. 

The two of you stood in the water, swaying placidly as if you were being pushed ashore by the meager waves this Lake produced, enjoying the quiet and each other’s company.

“Doesn’t this feel wonderful, Regulus?”

Sitting in the quiet night, alone, with you in his embrace? Yes; Regulus thought this felt very wonderful. 

[monstersflashlight]

Hello! ^^ Could I please have a teeny tiny smutty request? Idk if it's monster fuckery if the "monster" is an apparation, but I like horror smut/romance and realized I find very attractive freakishly tall uncanny beings in wide-brimmed hats (Lady D counts too, but she's less creepy and more violent) Especially if they are creepy muhehe. Acting with gentleness that just feels not right. Well, here I wrote some little opening to get the vibe? (I'm a little embarrassed to write anything nsfw qwq) The feeling when you are walking home and have your usual paranoia that someone is watching or following you. For the last few days you've even been seeing something white between the trees in the forest across your house. Or in your windows at night. You shrug it off as a pole or light oddly reflecting. You need stronger glasses anyways, so it can be anything when it's so far. But when you've went to sleep you let your balcony open to let fresh night breeze in. Sadly, not only breeze went in. You heard the door sliding and opened your eyes. Your blood froze and scream died in your throat in pure paralyzing fear. You expected a robber and would use pepper spray you keep on your nightstand. But it's not. The giant figure clad in white is bent forward and in it's knees too to even fit in the room that's was not built for someone like it. It's head isn't moving in sync with it's body, keeping it turned your way while a gentle smile appears on it's face. Such a contrast to it's eyes that glow with malicious intent and too long arms reaching towards your paralyzed form.

Hi! I think this would be great as a demon, like sleep paralysis demon kinda thing, hope that works! <3

Fem!sleep paralysis demon x gn!reader || tw: heavy dub-con

You stare at her as she approaches, her smile is soft but uncanny, you feel your whole body shiver at her look. But you can't move. She keeps walking towards you, the contrast of her eyes and her smile creeps you out to the point of anguish, but there's something else... Heat travelling down your body that excited you in the most unexpected way. Heat pooling in your lower abdomen as you get... aroused? Your brain is kind of fucked up, but you are definitely feeling something else besides fear at that point. Her smile gets bigger, creepier, too many teeth showing and way too sharp. But you can't look away.

You think you hear her talk, but her lips don't move. But you know she told you not to be afraid, not to be worried... She's not going to inflict any pain. You don't know why, but you know she's telling the truth. She looks scary, and you might be minutes away from peeing yourself in fear, but something about her tells you it's okay. Whatever she's going to do, it's okay. You are okay.

The first contact of her way too long fingers against your frozen body is like an electric shock, makes your body arch and your eyes roll back into your head, you open your mouth in a silent scream as she laughs creepily. Another shiver runs down your spine at that sound, a tear softly running down your cheek as she lowers her body over yours.

She touches you all over, so much and in so many places at once that you can't process all the sensations at once. Your nipples, your neck... Every erogenous zone in your body is pressed and caressed at the same time as her face floats over yours, her eyes pinning you down without any force, her smile getting so big you think she could open her mouth and swallow you whole. But she doesn't talk again. She caresses your body, touches your every cell... And you lay there unable to move, being forced to enjoy whatever she's doing to you.

You wake up with a shout, your body shaking with the aftershocks of an orgasm and completely alone. Instead of being scared, you can't stop thinking how to make her appear again.

[running-with-kn1ves]

Need you to write more WLW 😫😫😫😫

It’s the only thing keeping me sane!!!!!

A/N: I wrote this based on a random ass scene I saw in The Boys and now...here lies this creation. (Female fitness trainer is nearing completion)

CW: blackmail, manipulation, toxic relationship type beat, controlling behavior, threats, cigarettes

Synopsis: you attempt to break up with your girlfriend-- she's too much. But she was going to keep you, one way or another.

You knew the rough crowd around town was... intense. But this chick was on another level. Kali liked to scare you; with how little you knew about her friends, leering on their motorcycles as she watched from behind a cigarette, your mind swam with scenarios of being abandoned on bloody asphalt behind a dumpster.

The music she blares in her shitty, one-eyed car and the smoke trail she left in bathrooms-- she liked being revered as nothing but trouble. You were doing your best to stay away from any kind of danger, focused on fixing the pieces of your tarnished education as your grades had not been kind to you. But Kali got to you first, ripping away any thoughts of work and reparations to your tuition debt.

So, despite the foggy kisses, lipstick stains on your jaw, and unexpected clinginess she showed to the idea of moving you in with her, you're making an attempt to break up with her.

"You... want to ditch me?"

"What? No! I'm just, I'm extremely worried about this next semester." You put a hand on her square-cut, polished fingers. "If I fail even one class again, my scholarships will drop me. I'm already on probation with the university."

You hope she can see how worried you are in your eyes, squeezing her hand to ease the news. She was going rigid, stiff as a tree with the strength of a waiting titan.

"School, huh."

Kali watched you beneath wispy bangs, looking straight through you. As if you weren't there, heart-pounding and palm-sweating in front of her.

You were glad she balled her hands in fists before you grabbed them, having one too many instances of your fingers crushed in her grip.

"B-but... we can still see each other.. maybe, sometimes on the weekends. I just can't afford any distractions, I've already spent a fortune getting to where I am."

"Is this because I want you to move in with me?" She blurted, straight faced and tight lipped.

Dark, midnight eyes bore into you for the truth.

Her ears perked at the sound of your jaggy sigh, knowing this would come up. "... No, but I have to say that it is still pretty early in, well, "us", to be considering... that."

"Really?" She asked earnestly, cold fingers finding their way around your forearm. "Because I still feel pretty confident about the idea, baby."

You hated how she could call you "baby" so easily, how every "sweetheart" was patronizing or forceful, or could be the most saccharine thing you heard when you first woke up.

her boot tips pressed against the side of your shoes, trapping you in like a snake wrapped around a rat. One hand held yours in a death grip, the other raking shivery nails against your knee from under the coffee table.

"I've got a perfect place for your stuff, work's only ten minutes away; why would there be any little reason to stay at your dusty old apartment?"

"I, I don't think you're hearing me--"

"No, no baby, I think you forgot who's choice this was to make." Your skin was a deep color under her fingers, her strength far outmatched as your clammy, fragile hand was brought to her cheek. She tutted under her breath, tsk'ing in condescention. "What would you do without me? How are you going to survive alone, no car to get to your classes, or the grocery store, unprotected around your peers... I can't imagine it, especially since your landlord never got his money to re-lease your apartment next month..."

From under the table her swift fingers brought a bulging envelope to the table, previously stuffed in your landlord's mailbox.

It wasn't even opened, the cash and tenant forms sealed without a mark.

Your jaw went slack, coffee cup cold in your hands.

"How did you--"

"Try it again, and I'll find it. You'll keep losing money, keep draining chances to come to me lovingly."

Kali sweetly tiptoed her black nails up to your shirt collar, sending shivers down your neck with each gentle, uncharacteristically slow touch.

Without warning, the woman snatched your shirt in her fist and jerked you forward, pulling you tightly against the coffee table. The seething anger she bore hardly made a sound, leaving the fellow cafe attendants nearby unbothered.

Your wince left her apathetic, bear-like eyes relishing in how unnerved and frantic you were becoming.

"I so rarely give out second chances. You, my love, are very lucky to be the exception. Don't make me regret it," your girlfriend was only inches apart, painted lips plump and teasing only breaths away. "I don't like to play dirty, but I will if you run from me. Is that clear, baby?"

You swallowed thickly, letting your gaze run away from hers as she bore into you with intense malice.

"Say yes," She whispered, on edge of twisting your wrist. "So I don't have to show everyone in here who you belong to."

Your cheeks lit up, terrified of the baristas and groups of students who'd look your way if she carried out that threat. Kali was unpredictable, something you found so endearing when you first met. She was always moving, doing something you couldn't expect. Now, it was scaring you.

You nod your head, regretting the idea of trying to break up with her in public. She wasn't afraid to make a scene, unlike you.

"Of course, Kals. There won't... be any need for that."

You hoped the sweetly familiar nickname with a hint of an anxious smile would make you sound casual, as if you weren't sweating behind your jacket and avoiding her blinkless stare like the plague.

"That's right." She whispered, letting go of your collar to pull at your jaw, this time only with the intent of dragging you closer. She was always so rough with her grip, capable or causing pain with its force, or merely leaving you breathless.

The punk's hand from beneath the table took mercy on your thigh with its painful rakes, moving instead to your cheek. Cold rings nicked your skin, her knuckles brushing against your face in a gentle, longing caress. You were hunched over the table now, uncomfortably risen as she sat like a queen in her cushioned chair, your face in her hands and your breath stolen by her.

Her pierced tongue came to graze the inside of your mouth, all-consuming and grinning through her teeth.

She tasted of stale cigarettes and mint gum, her current oral fixation besides the longterm smoking vice she's had since middle school.

You reluctantly kissed back, feeling wrongness in your gut. This isn't how it was supposed to go, you weren't supposed to be sharing hot breaths or hearing her satisfactory groans for capturing you once again. You were supposed to be leaving teary eyed and frightened of what she'd do now that you were no longer on her good side. But this, was far worse. You were walking on ice that was already breaking, the freezing water below beginning to flood the only surface of land you had left.

Kali pulled away, not without a few last kisses to the corner of your mouth and cheek, leaving wet lipstick stains. Your lips were probably about as red as hers were now. Dark lashes heightened by her thick mascara clouded your view, your girlfriend looking up at you through them with a gentle hardness.

She wasn't so scary when you were falling to her whims, like putty in her fingers and teeth.

"Kal..." you mumble, upsettingly conflicted between your failure to carry out what you came for, and your fear of what her threats would do. Her history of breaking into your bedroom window and making herself at home wherever she tracked you left you without a doubt of her potential. It made you all the more anxious of what she would be like if you didn't follow through with what she wanted.

"My friend is out of town for the weekend, said I could use his condo by the beach... a getaway, just for us baby." Her cold thumb smoothed over your bruised lips, an inkling of a smile coming to curl her mouth upward. "You'll be there, tonight. Dressed in that cute little number you wore on our first date. Is that right?"

It wasn't a question, it was a challenge. 'Are you going to let go of this once in a lifetime second chance I'm giving you? ' is what she was asking.

You didn't want to say yes. You didn't want to show up, to spend another agonizing second with her knowing that your failing at everything you hold dear. But her hold on your face brings you to fall back into your comfort zone.

"Yeah, Kals. I'll... I'll be there. But--"

She laid a firm hand on your shoulder,  leaning against your ear with wrathful delight.

"Promise you won't bail on me, sweetheart. I don't wanna come looking for you," She let go of your sweet lips to play with a strand of your hair, curling it around her finger. "I really don't enjoy forcing you to obey.."

That was such a lie. She loved it, relished in your mild disobedience at times. But this was a different level of rebellion, one she detested.

You swallowed your protest, frustration bubbling in your stomach in distress and fear.

"I promise, Kal."

[pretzel-box]

Hiya! Hope you’re day is going well for you! Could I request a male (experiment) reader x Sebastian solace? Like the reader is somewhat similar to his monster form if that makes sense. ALSO I LOVVVEEEEE YOUR WRITING ITS SO GOOD! HAVE A GOOD DAY, AFTERNOON, OR MORNING

words: 1k

tags: can be read as GN!reader actually

authors note: Thank you so much!!

Sebastian was used to the solitude of the Hadal Blackside. The darkness, the eerie silence, and the constant tension that hung in the water were all part of his daily existence. He had grown accustomed to the loneliness that came with being something similar to a hybrid But that all changed one day when he encountered something—or rather, someone—completely unexpected.

He was slithering through one of the many winding corridors of the facility, his long tail gliding effortlessly over the slick, damp floor. His angler lure bobbed gently in front of him, casting a soft glow in the murky darkness. He had been on edge all day, sensing a strange presence in the water, something that felt both familiar and foreign. It was enough to make even him wary, and that was saying something.

As he rounded a corner, his three fluorescent eyes scanning the dimly lit hallway, he caught sight of movement up ahead. At first, he assumed it was one of the usual creatures that roamed the depths, perhaps another wall dweller or an angler monster. But as he got closer, he realized that this was something different—someone different.

You were curled up in a shadowy corner, Your long, sinuous tail coiled around You like a serpent. Your skin was a deep shade of blue, almost blending into the darkness around you. A long fin ran down the length of your tail, shimmering faintly in the dim light. You ears were shaped like delicate fins, twitching slightly as you sensed his approach. But what caught Sebastian’s attention the most was the small, glowing lure that dangled from your forehead, much like his own.

You were another experiment.

Sebastian stopped in his tracks, his eyes widening in surprise. He had never encountered another creature so similar like himself before. The scientists at Urbanshade had always treated him as a one-of-a-kind experiment, something unique and singular in its creation. Yet here you were, another hybrid, looking just as startled as he was.

For a long moment, neither of them moved. They simply stared at each other, two creatures of the deep who had never expected to find anotherlike themselves. Finally, the silence was broken as you cautiously uncoiled yourself, your large glowing eyes watching him warily.

“Who… who are you?” Your voice was soft, almost melodic, carrying a hint of the ocean’s depths in its tone.

Sebastian blinked, his own voice caught in his throat. He wasn’t used to speaking, especially not to someone who wasn’t a scientist or a monster. But there was something about you that made him want to respond, to reach out and connect in a way he had never done before.

“I’m… Sebastian,” he said hesitantly, his gruff voice sounding awkward to his own ears. “I live here.”

You tilted your head, You fin ears twitching as you processed his words. “I’m living here too,” You replied, your name rolling off You tongue like a gentle wave as you introduced yourself. “I… I didn’t know there was anyone else like me here.”

Sebastian felt a strange warmth in his chest, something he hadn’t felt in a long time. It was a mix of relief and curiosity, the realization that he wasn’t alone in this dark, twisted place. “I didn’t either,” he admitted, his gaze softening as he took in your appearance. You were beautiful in a strange, otherworldly way. You features delicate yet strong, gracefulness that contrasts sharply with the harsh environment around them.

They stood there for a while, simply observing each other, both unsure of what to say or do next. But there was an unspoken understanding between them, a bond that came from shared experiences and a mutual sense of isolation.

You were the first to break the silence again. “Do you… do you live alone here?” You asked, your voice tinged with sadness.

Sebastian nodded slowly. “Yeah. It’s just me. The people who… who made me like this don’t come around anymore. Their luck.” He hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal. “What about you?”

You sighed softly, your tail twitching as you curled it around yourself again. “I was brought here not too long ago. They… experimented on me, just like you. I managed to escape before they could do too much, but I’ve been hiding ever since.”

Sebastian’s heart ached at your words. He knew all too well the horrors of Urbanshade’s experiments, the pain and fear that came with being treated like nothing more than a test subject. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, his voice filled with genuine empathy.

You looked up at him, your eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “It’s okay. I’m used to it by now.” You hesitated before adding, “But… it’s nice to know I’m not the only one.”

Sebastian felt a strange urge to comfort you, to reach out and touch you hand or offer some form of reassurance. It was an unfamiliar feeling, one he hadn’t experienced in a long time. He had always been solitary, resigned to his fate as a lone creature of the deep. But now, with You standing before him, that solitude didn’t seem so inevitable anymore.

“Maybe we don’t have to be alone,” he suggested softly, his voice almost shy. “We could… stick together, you know? Watch each other’s backs.”

You blinked in surprise, your expression softening as you considered his words. For a moment, you looked like you might cry, but then a small, genuine smile spread across your lips. “I’d like that,” You whispered.

Sebastian felt a surge of warmth in his chest, a feeling he hadn’t known he was capable of. It wasn’t love—at least not yet—but it was something close to it. It was the beginning of a connection, a bond that neither of them had expected but both desperately needed.

In the end you became an assistant in his shop, sharing the same tasks as him and occasionally murking the one or other person that tries to flash you with a flash beacon.

[shadowsviper]

Finally Home

Phillip Graves x Reader

He's finally home after a long mission.

Requested by: @shadowcompanygirl

Words: 1.4k

Sorry, this took me way longer than I expected but I hope this was good enough. I didn't know how to end it so I kind of panicked and kept writing.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Phillip Graves had been gone for the past two and a half months. Unfortunately for you, it was normal for many soldiers to be gone for months. He was the CEO of the Shadow Company, it was almost guaranteed he'd be gone for weeks or months.

Phone calls and messages from him were rare. He tried his best to call whenever possible, but being in a foreign country with little to no cell service made it hard. The last message he had sent was from over a week ago. It was a picture of the cutest dog you've ever seen. After that message, he was radio silent again.

The night he returned was unexpected. He wasn't actually supposed to be back for another two weeks but his mission had ended earlier than expected.

As he drove himself home, he passed by all the landmarks you would usually point out if you were in the car. Driving past each one, he knew he was getting closer to home. To you.

The neighborhood was quiet, only the hum of his car engine could be heard. Once he parked his car in the driveway, he turned it off and got out. Phil looked at his house. It was a big suburban house he bought with you a few years ago. You had actually been the one to pick it out, something about the color and the design of the house drew you in.

Phil reached into the trunk, grabbing his duffle bags. He tried to be as quiet as possible when he closed the trunk and locked the car.

As he walked up the small steps of the front porch, he noticed a colorful bed of flowers near the bushes. A small smile appeared on his face as he admired them. He was glad that you found something to do while he was gone. He trusted you always to make the house look as nice as possible.

When he walked in, the house was dark and quiet. He figured you were probably asleep, considering it was the middle of the night. He placed his bags on the floor, wincing at the soft thumps of his belongings when they hit the floor. He crouched to remove his shoes.

He didn't notice a figure walking towards him while he was crouched down.

The noises he was making weren't as soft as he thought. He had woken you up. At first, you thought there was an intruder but when you heard nothing other than the soft thumps you assumed something just fell over. Since you weren't fully asleep, you decided to check it out. Not your brightest moment; getting out of bed in the middle of the night to investigate a sound.

You were surprised to find Phil by the door. He wasn't supposed to be back yet, and he didn't seem to notice you.

"Phil?"

Phil's head snapped up to find you standing in front of him dressed in one of his shirts. He stood up to his full height, opening his arms for you.

You didn't hesitate to walk right into his arms, allowing them to wrap around your waist. Your arms reached over to wrap around his neck. His vest still contained most of the stuff he needed for missions. It was bulky enough that it stopped you both from being pressed chest to chest. He would’ve left it at the base but he wanted to get back to you as soon as possible.

As much as you would've loved to stay in that position forever, you pulled away first, moving your hand up to cup his face. Your eyes scanned over his face, searching for any injuries. Thankfully, you found nothing except for that old scar on his cheek. Your thumb brushed over it gently causing Phil to lean into your hand. You could feel the tears forming in your eyes as you process that he was alive and well.

"I missed you," you said. Your voice was quiet and wavering a bit as if you couldn't believe he was actually standing in front of you. "You weren't answering and I thought you weren't coming back for another week or so."

"Change of plans, darling." Phil leaned in to kiss you. It had been far too long since either of you got to be in each other's arms. This time he pulled away first, he brought his hand up to wipe away a few stray tears from your face. “I’m sorry for the lack of calls. I know it worries you, but I thought a surprise would be nice.”

You sighed. You can always count on Phil to scare the shit out of you when he doesn’t answer. As long as he came back to you after a mission, you could put up with it a little longer. 

“Why don’t you get that vest off?” You tugged at the vest with a smile. “Take a shower. I’ll heat up some leftovers for you.”

Phil nodded. He was always grateful that you were willing to treat him so well when he came back even if you were tired. He did feel bad considering he hadn’t been around and left you to do all the work around the house. He gave you another kiss before grabbing his things off the floor and walking up to the bedroom. 

It wasn’t long until you heard him coming back down the stairs while you grabbed a plate out of the cabinet. You turned your head to find Phil walking towards you, his hair was damp from the shower. He walked up behind you, placing his hands on your hips and leaning in to place a few kisses on your neck. 

“You’re amazing, you know that?” he mumbled into your neck. You let out a small laugh as you plated his dinner.

You grabbed the plate and turned around making Phil lift his head from your neck. He could only stare at you with love. “You tell me every time you see me. Come on, eat.”

Phil grabbed the plate from you and went to sit down at the dining table. To say he was hungry was an understatement, he was starving. The meals he had on base weren’t as good as your cooking. If he could, he would just eat whatever you made for the rest of his life. Although he probably wouldn’t share with his Shadows, he knew he’d lose your cooking to them.

As you watched him eat, a part of you couldn’t help but think that this was all a dream and he would be gone when you woke up the next morning. A selfish part of you wanted to keep him from ever going back to the military. You wanted him here to yourself, knowing he would be safe from any harm. However, you knew nothing would keep him from that life, he saw the Shadow Company as his brothers, a second family, but of course, he saw you as his first.

“How long are you staying?” You were scared of his answer. Knowing his line of work, he could leave at any time.

Phil looked up at you, putting his fork down. “Not for a month at least. I’ve got some people handling things so I have more time with you.”

You smiled. A whole month. It’s shorter than you liked, but a month was a month. You weren’t going to take any of it for granted. Phil stood up from his seat, grabbed his plate, and walked over to the sink. You heard the clink of the plate being set down. 

“I’ll do the dishes tomorrow, let's get to bed,” Phil said, walking back over to you and holding his hand out. “I’ve kept you up long enough.”

You grabbed his hand and Phil led you up the stairs and into the bedroom. You saw the bags and vest he had haphazardly thrown in the corner of the room. You decided that it was tomorrow's problem, you just wanted to get into bed and sleep. The two of you crawled into bed, immediately wrapping your arms around each other. 

“How about I take you on a date tomorrow, darling?” Phil asked. His southern accent was a little stronger because of how tired he was. He knew it’s been a while since he’s taken you anywhere and he wanted to make sure you knew just how loved you were.

It seems like you had a smile permanently etched onto your face. You haven’t stopped since he’d gotten home. “That sounds great.”

[kiskisur]

hello!! sorry to bother,, but may i have a kabukimono x ftm reader smut ? kabukimono is still pretty new to the world in this fic, but he wants to know what it's like to be stuffed inside reader if that's okay<3 hope you're doing alright!!

it's so warm..

warnings: NSFW, kabukimono is new here like actually, kabukimono x ftm!reader, honestly dk how to write a pussy so receive a hole 💔 buff reader and smaller kabukimono is so...

note: okay, I love this BUT DW YOU AREN'T DISTURBIGNGN ty though Ily 😭😭‼️<33

kabukimono looked at you with his flushed cheeks and worried face, caressing your body and bit his lower lip when you squirmed around him.

"are you sure, this won't hurt..? I mean- what if I hurt you?" he spoke with a slight shaky tone, bowing his head.

he was new to humans of course, always curious about the emotions, how they interact and how it feels to be stuffed inside you..

you lift his chin, making eye contact with him before giving him a smile.

"it's gonna be okay, I'm strong! I can handle anything" you hum, reassuring him before pulling him closer to you and pecked his lips.

kabukimono's face turned crimson, getting shy all of a sudden before nodding and hastily taking off his lower clothes.

he leaned closer to you, kissing your lips before his hand lands on your slit/clit to rub it, earning a gasp from you.

"are you- mmn!-" he was about to check up on you only to be cut off by you kissing him again.

he assumed you were feeling good and continued to play with the most sensitive spots in your body, pulling away from the kiss to catch some air.

"ah~ a-are you sure this is your f-first? you're so- nngh~" you breathed out, your eyes closed shut as he continued to do his job.

"Is this okay? do you want me to go faster..?" kabukimono contemplated your form, getting even more flustered at the thought of him filling you up.

"just- put i-it in" you stuttered, holding his wrist to stop him as he made eye contact with you. shyly, he held you by the waist and slightly lifted you up as if you were just a piece of paper.

oh right, he wasn't even human-

before you knew it you were straddled in his lap, his hard-on resting just behind you.

"are you sure about this? what if you get hurt?" his indigo eyes looked back at you, trying to find some type of reassurance making you giggle and shake your head.

"I won't get hurt, it's okay." you peck his lips again, earning a sigh from him, he can barely even wrap his arms around you because of how small he was beside you.

you slowly lift your hips, gently taking his cock and slipping it inside you slowly and gently.

you slightly hiss at the unexpected pain, who knew the buff man would have a dick inside him?

after finally taking him after a few tries you lower yourself causing his dick to hit even more deeper spots inside you, earning a groan from him.

"o-oh fuck, so tight.." the man under you spoke with a shaky voice, his hands gripping on your hipsm

"mmg..! a-ah~" you moan out, the tip of his cock rubbing in so many places before you began to ride him at a slow pace.

"fuck, you're so deep inside m-me mmf~" you whine, trying not to put your entire weight on him in fear you might hurt him.

all of a sudden he slammed you down, causing him to hit sensitive spots inside you that could make you cum any second now.

you choke out a moan, your back arching at the sudden pleasure waving in your body as you trembled.

"I'm sorry, I noticed you were w-worried and I thought-" He tried to babble apologies but continued to move you up and down like you were just a piece of paper to him.

"k-kabukimono! mmn a-Ah~ w-wait!" you whimper and moan, your walls clenching around him.

hearing his name slip out of your lips thrilled him, his eyes sparkling as he continued ravishing you.

"gonna cum, fuck you're s-so good I'm sorry I can't stop!" he sputtered, still fucking you roughly but not rough enough to hurt you.

last thing he wanted to do was even hurt you soo..

you cup his cheeks, looking at him lovingly before kissing his lips out of both desperation and love.

you loved this man honestly..

[lorei-writes]

Amberian Demonology AU Headcanons feat. Ikemen OC Community ~3.95k

Thank you for allowing me to write your OCs! When I asked to see who'd trust me, I never expected so many replies >///< I hope that the little something I've come up with is a fun surprise... I'd say you can think about it as of a Dark Fairytale AU as well >:)

Amberian folklore introduces a hierarchy of supernatural beings. At the bottom of it are dushki, generally kind-hearted spirits of little power who co-exist with humans in symbiosis, often for their own safety. Then, there are s’lna dusha – this class consists of spirits of various powers, but unlimited freedom. They can and generally do exist independently of any other beings, although there exists a substantial disparity in level of might between them. At the top of the hierarchy exist minor gods and goddesses, idit. They are the most powerful among all of the spirits, however, they lack freedom. Each of them has a duty which completely binds them. Their lives are not their own to live for as long as it remains unfulfilled. They are not worshipped; rather, they are the expression of the laws binding the universe and introducing the order to it.

The introduction of monotheistic fate to Amber did not fully erase the old beliefs; rather, it turned them into superstition and beings of lesser importance, placing the God-Father as the only true deity, the maker and the architect of all order.

Dragini – Melinda @dododrawsstuff

Find her at the crossroads, sitting alone on a stone or staring at the sign with unseeing eyes. Which way should she choose? Dragini does not know. Hopefully, the coming of the next traveller will bring the end to her struggle… Until then, until that yet unseen person arrives, she will bless those who meet her on their journeys.

A kind protector spirit – meeting a dragini is a sure sign that a traveller will reach their destination safely.

The Dragini are no stranger to homesickness and at times, will appear before the lonesome souls who long to return home. They can take them there, or gift them a piece of it – although it may be realised in a rather unexpected form.

Some of the legends claim that draginins are born from spirits of women who died away from home and were not granted a proper burial. Often accident or war victims.

A polyglot, although her preferred language seems not to be of this world. Only few are humoured and have a conversation with her, and even fewer can recount it. It is alleged that they’re the ones to escort a dragini back where she belongs.

Generally seen wearing outfits from faraway lands, a different one each time she is spotted.

Glodomer – Oliver @evansnoir

He lurks in the corners of barns, in mice nests, in the buzzing of flies. He lives in every ear of wheat, rocked by winds as in a cradle, and dutifully observes the human hands. Dare not disrespect him – to waste food is a sin. A punishment will await those who fail to understand as much.

The Glodomer is a powerful spirit of dual nature – usually a gentle observer, he is capable of calling various plagues upon a region if he so desires.

He lives among the smallest of beings, just barely out of the sight of human eyes. His stealth allows him to come close without being noticed, which he uses to satiate his bottomless curiosity. A glodomer can bring hunger, but he is also hungry and craves to expand his knowledge.

However, glodomers not an omnibenevolent dusha – do not disrespect them or those they rule over. A glodomer is the king of all that lives despite being invisible, including the sick air. With one uttered curse, he can poison an entire village. It is said that he can be appeased with a hefty offering of freshly butchered beef.

Very few people have seen him, but the legend says he can be found napping in black hollyhocks.

Usually portrayed as an androgynous man around the size of a walnut.

Le’shni – Maeve @keithsandwich

Whenever you cut down an elden oak tree, place an offering at the stump. Spare no expense. The feast must be lavish – ready your goat milk, and cheese, and the freshly brewed beer. Raise your cups and praise Le’shni, and leave some bread for her as well. It is only due to her generosity that you are able to celebrate. Do not take it for granted.

A spirit protector of the forests.

The Le’shni are the force of nature personified, they arethe life and soul of the forest they inhabits. A le’shni cannot ever leave it, for their existence is tightly interwoven. She is its mother.

She takes on the appearance of a woman and wields the human speech. However, be not deceived – the aura of gentle helplessness is but a deception. To protect what is dearest to her, a le’shni will cast away all pretence of humanity.

It is believed that for every cut down tree one must hold a feast to appease the local Le’shni and help her replenish her strength. The alternative offerings include a pot of berries or a mug of warm tea, planting a bush or a tree, or… leaving a child alone in the forest at night, to give the le’shni some solace as she mourns her lost offspring.

Lay-la-lay – Beatrice @bicayaya

Lay la luli lalalala lay, sleep, my sun, stay asleep, may kind people live within your dreams, the rain is pelting right outside, lay la luli lalala, lay-la-lay…

A household spirit, the bringer of many blessings.

Fairy-like in appearance, female or feminine, with butterfly wings and usually light hair.

It is believed that lay-la-lays are minor nature spirits who, in their kindness, have chosen to watch over the children. They arrive at human houses soon after a baby is born to ward off any beings who’d like to consume their vitality. However, it temporarily severs the spirit’s connection with nature. As such, a domestic lay-la-lay depends on their hosts for sustenance.

Good parents – and by extension, hosts – will offer their lay-la-lay a saucer of milk or heavy cream, a slice of bread, and something sweet to go with it (depending on the season: berries, or a spoonful of jam or honey). If they fail to do so, she may have to move out.

A well-fed lay-la-lay may choose to remain with her family well after the child comes of age. Humans lose the ability to see them with age; in that case, a feline companion must be obtained, to ensure that the lay-la-lay does not feel lonely and will continue on blessing the household.

Each lay-la-lay possesses a pleasant voice. Her melodies are thought to heal and to be particularly effective against colic.

Rusla – Leyla @violettduchess

Beware of the sudden cold and the mist that follows. One must retreat indoors [once it starts], however, were that not possible… he shall say “Our Father” until he reaches safety, spitting over his left shoulder at the end of every last verse. If that too fails and one begins to hear music, he shall confess his sins while waiting for Rusla to pass her judgement. The innocent will be found safely asleep on the shore. The bodies of the guilty will float at sea until currents carry them into the shallows. [As believed in northern Amber.]

A minor deity, the paragon of justice watching over the coastal regions of northern Amber.

Rusla takes on a form of a naked young woman with long, flowing hair, always surrounded by mist. Whoever hears her call falls into a trance and follows her into the sea, where she draws the crimson thread from their heart to appraise its purity. Only the innocent need not fear – Rusla will call upon the waves to deliver them to the shore.

The legend says a man has once avoided Rusla’s judgement by stuffing his ears with flax tow and wax. He followed her to the sea of his own will and they both disappeared for precisely a year. Not a word had left his lips since.

Epoha – Iris @yarnnerdally

Tic-tac, tic-tac, tic-tac, the spinning wheel turns. Epoha’s hands are gentle and dexterous as they pull at the roving. She’s done it for all eternity, and for all eternity she shall continue, the patient mother of all time.

A minor deity, responsible for the cycles of time.

A young woman or a mother, sometimes described as pregnant, usually portrayed by a spinning wheel or with a spindle in her hand; less often – with weaving tablets.

Epoha rarely appears of her own volition, however, it is believed that she can be invited over for dinner. To do that, one must prepare a feast of sweets. Anything less than twenty eggs for a sponge cake is insufficient. Cream and pudding, kutia, and poppyseed roulades… Once everything is ready, the shutters must be parted. A cloaked woman should arrive within the next hour.

One may dine with Epoha and ask her questions about his future. She is a compassionate deity and will answer them truthfully, but only until the first moths arrive, lured inside by the light.

She disappears at the sight of the insects, together with the food that has been so thoughtfully prepared for her. Worry not if not much information has been obtained – she may spin the thread more favourably still, thankful for the refreshing meal.

Zorana & Nichna – Viva & Esther @lorei-writes

[…] And so it would be known as the equinox, for the day split as they were born. Zorana, that dedicated to the red glow of morning skies, and Nichna, that weaving silver constellations on the night sky. Together they are locked in an eternal game, passing the sun and the moon between each other so that they do not ever get lost. [As told in the story of the Father’s creation of the world.]

Minor deities, recognised in the entirety of Amber. Their other names include: Porana & Nechna, J’sna & C’mna, Zorja & Stra.

Twins, usually depicted as naked women throwing the sun and the moon between each other as if the celestial bodies were balls. Their eyes are said to be as dark as the starless nights, spun light the hair over their heads.

Although none have ever seen them, it is commonly believed that every new moon the twins come to the Krasnawe Oka lakes, where the sky and the ground meet as one. Their laughter carries over the water as they play, more human than divine, yet undeniably unreal.

It is believed that it is the only time the moon or the sun – or either of the celestial sisters – could be stolen. To have a chance of succeeding at that, however, one must brave the marsh in the dark, without the guidance of any light. Cursed be those who fail.

Banialuka – Katsuko @the12thnightproject

Hear not a word in a crowd unless you know which mouth bore it. Discord and venom all but fly over the instigator’s heads; there is one even above them, however. Do not trust the talking birds.

A shapeshifting spirit that can take on a form of any flying bird, although cases of small rodents have also been reported.

The Banialukas are seen as rather self-serving, although nobody knows their true intentions. Free as the wind itself, they fly above cities and towns, instigating mischief wherever they go. A master manipulator and an adept liar, a banialuka capable of mimicking any voice she has heard – and using that for her own purposes.

According to the legends, she traverses the world in search of treasure, to then return to her castle-nest in faraway mountains. It is said to be built entirely of twigs, dawn and hard, cold stone. Only those willing to brave the steep slopes it oversees can hope to browse through its treasury.

Be careful, however. A banialuka’s tongue is sharp, but it is hardly the only weapon in her arsenal.

When in human form, she usually assumes the appearance of a mildly eccentric-looking woman. What gives her true identity away are the brightly coloured streaks in her hair – some claim they resemble rooster’s tail feathers.

Skrzyp – Romarin @ikeprinces-stuff

Come to the moorlands at dawn to find the common horsetail. Break its stem thrice, each time with an audible creek, and throw it over your right shoulder. Clap your hands three times and bow as deeply as if the most renowned violinist stood before you. If the heathers hum, the skrzyp has arrived. Otherwise, try another day. [As believed in the central regions of Amber.]

A lonesome spirit that is believed to spend the majority of her life in the form of a cricket. However, she can take up the appearance of a young woman in an intricately embroidered (sometimes with emerald-looking insect wings) gown, usually with long hair let loose down her back.

The Skrzyp are virtuosos of music. She can play nearly any instrument, however, she is most adept at the art of violin – the notes she conjures have arcane properties, and so, many seek her in hopes of hearing her song for their own benefit. Some also hope to become her apprentice… Or to convince her to grant them her gift.

However, everything comes at a price. It is believed one can make a request of a skrzyp, but only if they pass her trial. Those who play even one false note will be turned into escargots.

Gon – Aino @dicenete

They ride on the nights of the full moon, the bellowing of a splendid war horn the signal for their arrival. Close the shutters. Close the doors. Do not let any passing visitors into your house, however innocent they may seem… It is the hunt, and the sinners are the hunted. Hide until they pass.

Gon is one of the minor deities at the head of the hunt, infamous for the duality of her nature – usually a warrior, she can appear as an innocent woman to lure her prey out of its hiding.

She leads the party of spirits together with her lover and his twin brother, the deities of the cycle of rebirth.

It is believed that the hunt targets those who have sinned and have shown no remorse nor will to change their ways. As such, they will be followed through the nation, from woods to the ballrooms of the royal castle. No place will be safe and their torment will know no end until they are hunted and their souls are handed over to the deities of rebirth, to be reshaped and forced to start over in their new lives.

Commonly pictured as either riding an enormous warhorse with a crossbow on her back, or as dancing gracefully in a ballroom, dressed in the finest of velvets.

Didko – Sigfrit @wordycheeseblob

Young men should be especially cautious when they notice a mysterious woman sitting alone in an inn. Do not tell her a word of any weight until you look into her eyes and hold her gaze – if the briefly change colour or shimmer unnaturally, it is not a woman you are talking to, but a didko. Do not talk to her.

A spirit commonly found traversing the roads and lounging in the inns, among other places where information can be found. It is uncertain what she does with the acquired knowledge, however, it is known it will bring forth mischief. By the end of the torment, the matter will be resolved favourably… for the person the didko sides with.

Didkos are infamous for their charming personalities and adaptability. Some believe them to be living false mirrors that reflect precisely that which one longs to be.

Observant and highly adept at reading people, didkos are susceptible to bribery. Offer her a night of blissful gluttony to win her favour… Be careful, however, as your tongue may unravel, thus revealing many more secrets than you have originally intended to.

Commonly seen among merchants and pilgrims, especially during the Lent.

Brzdęk – Ciel @floydsteeth

If you hear the metallic jangle of coins out in the middle of nowhere, you ought to stop. Any horse you may have with you will not take a step forward – you, however, should follow the sound. Those quick enough will be rewarded with finding the brzdęk’s liar, where all sorts of treasures are kept. Catch the little spirit before they enter it to demand a hefty ransom. [As believed in eastern-most regions of Amber.]

A lesser spirit commonly found living on the steppe.

Brzdęks tend to share their liars with mice – in exchange for protection, the rodents provide the spirits with food and company. The bottommost chamber of their nest thus becomes the brzdęk’s treasury, filled with precious stones, cut glass, coins, and other marvels big and small.

Their aversion towards horses is infamous – a brzdęk will go to any lengths to prevent the animal from coming anywhere near them. Usually that means casting spells and preparing enchanted rings, however, traps may also be employed.

Commonly depicted while riding on tops of mice and rats… or flying on magpies’ backs. The elder brzdęks may have special saddles made for them as well.

It is believed that they are born out of magpie eggs hatched by hens that are yet to have their own chicks.

Ohenna – Ava @writingwhimsey

Burn dried grass from wild flower fields to summon her; Ohanna will dance in the bonfires, her body made of flames. Hold her fiery gaze and utter the name of your enemy five times. If you can withstand her scorching breath, you will have your revenge; however, if you falter but once, you will known Ohenna’s wrath. She is the just anger. Do not think you can deceive her. [As believed in the mountains of south-western Amber.]

A minor deity, the embodiment of rightful anger.

Ohenna is not somebody you can stumble into – her existence is tied strictly to the fire. Unless she’s been summoned to talk, she dwells in each flame equally, silently watching over the world through them. She’s the executor, the one to deliver justice to those who have been otherwise wronged and forgotten.

Her will is stronger than iron that she smelts. Ohenna’s judgement is absolute.

One is advised to pick his words carefully while pleading with Ohanna, for she is known for her intelligence and strong feelings.

It is believed any summer or fall fires are Ohanna’s war dance. Many young men gather to witness it, although few manage to follow her movements.

Bza – Yara @fang-and-feather

If you see forget-me-nots growing by the side of an abandoned house, wipe the soles of your shoes clean upon entering it. One shall never be too certain that a bza does not inhabit it. Do not be rude to her – it is those spirits that prevent the decay.

A timid spirit that generally prefers solitude. Can be found dwelling in abandoned buildings or old houses, less often – in attics, among drying herbs, or in hospital wards.

Despite keeping to themselves, bzas are rather friendly and helpful spirits. They maintain properties and prevent the decay and rot from seeping inside – they keep the space clean and adorned in fresh flowers. It is believed that their presence soothes plants.

One is considered fortunate if he manages to invite a bza to live at his house. To do that, he must press three dozens of pansy flowers and then sew them into a garland. Once hanged above the entryway, it will signal that bzas are welcome in the house; however, it is only an invitation. It is only the spirit’s good will if she accepts it.

Appears as a semi-translucent woman with, at times, vividly coloured hair. She invites the smell of fresh herbs, mint, irises, or – often – jasmine.

Deshen’na – Caroline @coral-relevium

Find her in every drop of rain, from a warm spring mizzle to a summer thunderstorm. Look closely – she passes through the fields in her long gown, dark against the surrounding greenery. One ought not to talk with Deshen’na, however, just meeting her gaze is enough to ward off a draught from one’s crop for the following months. [As believed in north-eastern regions of Amber.]

A minor deity, commonly associated with the coming of rain and mourning. (The latter is not the case in north-eastern regions of Amber, which are often stricken with droughts. There she becomes a sign of impending good fortune and everlasting love.)

It is believed that the rain is the tears Deshen’na shed while mourning the death of her husband. Her duty is to walk the land and nourish it with her grief, in a loving memory of the deity of deceit.

A few men believe that draughts haunt north-eastern Amber as it is Deshen’na’s last stop during her pilgrimage to her husband’s grave, where they can briefly reunite once every year. It is said he has tricked even the death itself.

Pale, generally seen in intricate black gowns, giving her the appearance of a noblewoman.

Ne’zvana – Adria @eternallyfrustratedwriter

Do not say her true name lest you wish to summon her; one who does so willingly shall be cursed out, for it is only chaos that follows her. One ought not to even think of her nor picture her in his mind.

An infamous spirit, commonly considered to be the bringer of misfortune or broadly understood chaos.

A ne’zvana is hardly welcomed anywhere, however, it does not mean she lives in solitude. Rather, she hides her existence from those around her. It is said that a person followed by bad luck or otherwise surrounded by unusual events may be haunted, possessed, or in fact be a ne’zvana.

It is believed that a ne’zvana is born when a child grows too moody. Chastising them is one of the few instances when the ne’zvana get brought up.

Due to the fear of summoning her, her original name was used so rarely it has since fallen into complete obscurity. Similarly, hardly any records of her appearance remain, although many believe her to take on a form of a traveller or an insect, such as a bee.

It is said that a ne’zvana can be recognised by her smile. The exact specifics of how, however, are unclear.

Kania – Marigold @violettduchess

Be careful while in the forest – a batting of powerful wings above your head and a high-pitched screeching are no things to be ignored. Stand still whenever you hear them and take three deep breaths. If no voice comes, you are safe to go on as you were. However, if a stranger woman extends her greetings, you must leave immediately. Do not answer Kania unless you consider yourself the master of riddles.

A shapeshifter spirit inhabiting Amber, generally taking on the appearance of a kite (bird) or a scholarly woman with thin-wire-rimmed glasses.

Kania is a voracious spirit that enjoys toying with her prey. That being said, she is also honest and stays true to her word – as per the agreement from days gone by, she can target only those who acknowledge her presence.

Once that is done, one is given another chance to save his life. He must answer three riddles correctly. Achieving that is said to gain the respect of the spirit who then releases her prey.

It is believed that Kania’s appetite is directly connected with her hunger for knowledge. Feasting on humans during the day, she sneaks into noblemen’s libraries and church archives at night to indulge in the consumption of knowledge.

Tag List: @lancelotscloak @solacedeer @keithsandwich @bicayaya @faustianfascination

@sh0jun @queengiuliettafirstlady

Tell me if you'd like to be added to my tag list :)

[elektricvenus]

Rebel Hearts: An Unlikely Love

Pairing: Chloe Price x shy!reader

Rating: PG

Synopsis: you just moved to Arcadia Bay and Chloe is the first person you meet, time to see how this relationship grows….

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Author’s Note: with the news of a new game I haddddd to write something about our punk queen Chloe. It’s fluff and just two cuties falling in love

As Chloe Price sauntered down the streets of Arcadia Bay, her rebellious spirit on full display, she couldn't help but notice a newcomer. A shy and innocent woman who seemed uncertain in this unfamiliar town. Intrigued by the contrast, Chloe couldn't resist approaching her with a mischievous grin.

"Hey, newbie. Lost in the chaos of Arcadia Bay?" Chloe called out, her blue hair catching the sunlight.

The woman startled, her eyes widening as she glanced at Chloe. "Um, y-yeah. I just moved here, actually. I'm not sure where anything is..."

Chloe's smirk softened into a warm smile. She sensed a kindred spirit in this uncertain newcomer and decided that maybe, just maybe, she could be the friend Chloe had been longing for. She walked up to her, offering a hand.

"Well, welcome to Arcadia Bay. I'm Chloe Price, your guide to all things wild and unpredictable around here. Stick with me, and I'll make sure you survive this place in style."

Curiosity and a glimmer of hope shone in the woman's eyes as she shook Chloe's hand and introduced herself. "It's... nice to meet you, Chloe. Thanks for offering to show me around."

And so, an unlikely friendship began to form between them. Chloe introduced her to the hidden gems of Arcadia Bay, from the cliffside views at the lighthouse to the mysteries lurking within Blackwell Academy. As they spent time together, their friendship deepened, their laughter filling the air as they navigated the ups and downs of this small coastal town.

But, as time passed, Chloe started to notice a flutter in her chest whenever she was around her. It was more than friendship, more than camaraderie—it was a blossoming attraction that she hadn't anticipated. The way her innocence and kind-heartedness brought out a softer side of Chloe made her realize that there was something deeper than their friendship.

One evening, as they sat on Chloe's truck, overlooking the beach, the sun painting the sky with hues of orange and pink, Chloe couldn't keep her feelings hidden any longer. Taking a deep breath, she turned and spoke…her voice laced with vulnerability.

"there's something I need to tell you. This friendship we have, it's... it's not enough for me anymore. Being around you, it's like finding a missing part of myself," Chloe confessed, her voice tinged with a mix of fear and longing.

The woman’s eyes widened, her gaze shifting between Chloe's face and the crashing waves. She spoke softly, uncertainty framing her words. "Chloe... I feel that too. This connection we share, it's unique. I... I think I'm falling for you."

In that moment, the air seemed to shift, their unspoken desire hanging heavily between them. Chloe cupped her cheek, drawing her closer until their lips finally met in a tender, hesitant kiss. It was a moment of realization, of two souls finding solace and love in each other's arms.

From that day on, their friendship bloomed into a beautiful, unexpected relationship. They faced the challenges of Arcadia Bay hand-in-hand, each providing strength and support to the other as they navigated the storms that threatened to tear their lives apart.

In the midst of chaos and uncertainty, They discovered a love that surpassed their wildest dreams. Together, they brought light to the darkness, finding solace and refuge in the arms of someone who understood them like no one else could. Their once unlikely friendship had transformed into a powerful and passionate love story, proving that sometimes the deepest connections come from the most unexpected places.

[isaacarellanesismyhusband]

in the shadows

pair: Draco Malfoy x reader summery: y/n (she/her) is Professor Umbridge's niece and had transfered to Hogwarts when her aunt got a job as a teacher there but what no one knew is that Umbridge is abusive towards y/n (she uses the same method she used on Harry Potter in the movie: to write something on a piece of paper and it magically engraves on the back of your hand with cuts) for a while no one noticed and thought that she was just shy but one pearson, Draco Malfoy, a fellow Slytherin, noticed her hand one day in potions class and asked to talk to her privetly in the Slytherin common room and that's when y/n opens up about the abuse and that's when she finds out that Draco had took a notice of her ever since she arrived, but she didn't notice because of her shy and scared demeanor.

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The walls of Hogwarts were a strange comfort for Y/N. The towering stone walls and bustling hallways offered a semblance of security she hadn't felt in years. Yet, even here, the shadows of fear followed her. The shadows took the form of a stern, pink-clad figure: her aunt, Professor Dolores Umbridge.

When Y/N transferred to Hogwarts, it was supposed to be a new beginning, a chance to escape the suffocating presence of her aunt, who had dominated her life since her parents died. However, that hope was short-lived as soon as Umbridge received a teaching position at the school. Now, Y/N was under her aunt’s thumb more than ever.

The other students saw her as quiet, perhaps too quiet, as if she were trying to disappear into the background. In a way, she was. Hogwarts was a large enough place that she could avoid drawing attention, but in her dormitory, in the darkness of night, when the castle was asleep, the true terror emerged.

“Detention, dear,” Umbridge had said one evening after Y/N had the misfortune of spilling ink on her parchment during a study session. Her aunt’s tone was deceptively sweet, but the look in her eyes was cruel. Y/N knew what was coming.

That night, in Umbridge's office, Y/N sat trembling as she held the enchanted quill. "I must not be clumsy," she wrote, over and over. With each stroke, the words carved themselves into the back of her hand, a fiery pain searing her skin. Tears welled up in her eyes, but she bit them back, unwilling to give her aunt the satisfaction of seeing her cry.

Days turned into weeks, and Y/N grew more withdrawn, her hand always hidden beneath long sleeves or bandages. She avoided contact with anyone, but one person had started to notice—the most unexpected of them all, Draco Malfoy.

It was in Potions class, during a mundane assignment, that Draco’s sharp eyes caught the sight of her bandaged hand as she reached for a vial. His silver eyes narrowed in curiosity, his usual sneer absent.

The rest of the class passed in a blur for Y/N, unaware that she was under Draco’s scrutiny. It wasn’t until after the lesson, when students were packing up, that Draco made his move.

“Y/N,” Draco called, his voice softer than she’d ever heard it.

She froze, staring at him with wide eyes. Draco Malfoy, of all people, was speaking to her? “Yes?”

“Can we talk? Privately?” His gaze flickered to her hand. “In the common room.”Y/N’s heart raced, but she nodded, too shocked to refuse. Together, they made their way to the Slytherin common room, the tension between them heavy and palpable.

Once inside, Draco led her to a secluded corner, away from the prying eyes of other students. He leaned against the wall, crossing his arms as he studied her. “What happened to your hand?”

Y/N stiffened, instinctively pulling her hand back. “It’s nothing,” she whispered.

Draco’s eyes hardened. “Don’t lie to me. I saw the way you winced in class. That’s not ‘nothing.’”

A lump formed in Y/N’s throat. She had spent so long hiding, so long pretending everything was fine. But now, under Draco’s intense gaze, she felt the dam starting to break. “It’s... my aunt,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Umbridge?” Draco’s tone was laced with surprise and disgust. “What did she do?”

Y/N hesitated, tears welling up in her eyes. “She makes me write... with a special quill. It—” Her voice broke, and she held out her hand, showing him the faint scars that spelled out, I must not be clumsy.

Draco’s expression darkened as he gently took her hand in his, examining the marks. “That vile—” He cut himself off, his jaw clenched. “Why haven’t you told anyone?”

“She’s my aunt,” Y/N replied, her voice shaking. “No one would believe me. They’d just think I’m trying to get her into trouble. And if she found out I told someone...”

Draco’s grip on her hand tightened protectively. “You don’t have to face this alone,” he said, his voice surprisingly gentle. “I’ve noticed you ever since you arrived here. I’ve seen how scared you are, how you flinch whenever someone gets too close. But you don’t have to be afraid anymore.”

Y/N looked up at him, surprise and uncertainty in her eyes. “Why do you care?”

Draco’s expression softened, the usual arrogance replaced with something more sincere. “Because I know what it’s like to live in fear,” he admitted. “To feel like you have no control over your own life. I’ve been watching you, Y/N. I’ve seen how strong you are, even if you don’t realize it.”

A tear slipped down Y/N’s cheek, and she quickly wiped it away. “I don’t feel strong.”

“You are,” Draco insisted. “And I’ll help you. We’ll figure this out together.

”For the first time in a long while, Y/N felt a glimmer of hope. She wasn’t alone anymore. With Draco by her side, maybe—just maybe—she could find the strength to stand up to her aunt.

As they sat in the quiet corner of the common room, the flickering firelight casting soft shadows on their faces, Y/N felt something she hadn’t in years—comfort, and the possibility of something better. She wasn’t just Umbridge’s niece anymore. She was Y/N, a Slytherin who was stronger than she knew, and now, she had someone who believed in her.

[evillemons]

hiii i love ur work!!! could u do what their marriage proposals would be like? like who’s most likely to have a public / private one, or spontaneous or planned? ☺️

Hi there! Thank you for your request, I love this one :) I'm sorry it took so long to get out, I've had an unbelievably crazy month and took a little break from Tumblr. I also initially tried to write these in the form of short stories, but absolutely hated them, so I decided to scrap them and start over in my usual style.

As an aside: realistically, I don't think any of them would propose in a public setting due to their status. I actually see most of them having really humble and intimate proposals to keep things simple and away from public attention. Now, without further ado:

How BTS would propose

Jin - Jin would really want to make his proposal special, so he would likely start planning a few weeks in advance. He's extremely introverted and a little shy, so there's no way in hell he would propose in public, but he would still want to make a grand romantic gesture to show his girlfriend how much he means to her. It would be a whole day affair, involving breakfast in bed, a professional massage, and online shopping. For the actual proposal, he would take her to the beach at sunset where he manually set up an intimate oasis with a blanket and pillows, candles, lanterns, champagne, and flowers. "Marry me" would be spelled out in rose petals on the sand. Traditionally, he would also get one knee and present a white gold ring with a modest, singular round diamond.

V - Taehyung wouldn't want the proposal to be too grand or flashy as to not attract attention from bystanders, yet he would try to be creative and unexpected. And while elaborate, he would likely come up with the plan last minute and spend a sleepless two or three days arranging everything. The theme would be a scavenger hunt around the city, where each destination holds a cryptic poem that leads to another. Each place would hold some sort of significance in the relationship, like where they first bumped into each other or had their first kiss. The final clue would lead her to him in an open field at night, atop a picnic blanket underneath the stars. He would take his time to tell her everything he loves about her, that she is his soulmate and he couldn't imagine his life without her, before officially proposing. His ring choice would undoubtedly be something nontraditional or vintage, like an opal or emerald.

RM - As he does with everything, Namjoon would be overthinking about whether or not to propose for months, maybe even a year. He might come up with a few ideas here and there that he thought his girlfriend might like, but end up getting so frustrated that he decides to put it off for another time. While he would prefer to plan something meaningful, his proposal would end up being a completely in-the-moment type of situation as a result of his sentimental nature. Him and his girlfriend might just be chatting over dinner one night, where he has the sudden epiphany that he is certain he wants to spend the rest of his life together and that there is no reason to wait. He would ask her to marry him spontaneously, without a ring or a grand gesture, but he would somehow find the most poetic, extraordinarily romantic and loving words to say. He would later take her shopping to pick out exactly the ring she wants.

j-hope - Hoseok's bougie-ass would insist on taking his girlfriend on a fancy, first class vacation to propose; anything less would be inappropriate. Hobi is undeniably the planning type, although I think he might hire someone to arrange all the details and reservations for the trip rather than doing it himself. I also think he would have the most traditional proposal, and take her somewhere undeniably romantic like Venice or Paris. He would make sure there is a jam-packed agenda for the entire vacation, transitioning directly from one scenic outing to the next. At sunset, he would take her to a high-end restaurant by the water, where he would recite a rehearsed speech that he practiced for days (at a private reserved table, of course) about how much she means to him. He would then pull out a burgundy velvet box to reveal a sparkling, semi-large diamond ring that he picked out with the help of an expert.

Jimin - Jimin is probably the type to dream about proposing to his girlfriend after the first date. However, he's not one to be selfish either, and would try to perfectly cater the day to exactly what he thinks she would want. He would listen closely when she talks about the places she wants to visit, and then write them down later so he doesn't forget. I imagine the proposal occurring somewhere scenic and private that also incorporates some sort of fun activity, like a wine tasting in a winery followed by a walk in the vineyard, maybe even next to a small castle. Jimin would be grinning ear to ear the whole time, and as he gets on one knee, she would probably say yes before he can even utter a word. He would pick out a ring that's semi-traditional but with a unique twist, like a light pink diamond for the main stone, with a diamond band.

SUGA - Yoongi's proposal would be shockingly heartwarming and sentimental. He wouldn't do anything extravagant like a vacation or or grand gesture, but rather pour meaning into his proposal by revisiting history and the landmarks of their relationship. He would take her to the restaurant where they had their first date, the spot by the river where they had their first kiss, and reminisce together. The last location would be at the concert venue where they first met, to which he would book out for the day. In a cheesy, unlike Yoongi fashion (because the day has him feeling particularly sentimental), he would take the stage with his acoustic guitar and sing her a song he's been writing about her since the beginning. It would end with a declaration of wanting to be with her forever, despite everything. He may not initially opt for a ring and choose to discuss it with her afterwards, but if he did, he would pick out something extremely simple like a solid gold band or a very small diamond.

Jungkook - I think Jungkook would want to impress his girlfriend so badly (and also feel influenced by what a proposal "should" be like) that he would end up going way overboard with his proposal. He would send an outrageous amount of flower bouquets to her house, buy her a luxury dress, and take her out to eat at a high end restaurant. And that's not even part of the proposal. The proposal itself would be something adventurous and exciting, like inside a hot air balloon in mid air. It would all be a little excessive and overwhelming, but the sentiment still sweet nonetheless. He might also have the entire day planned in advance, but not know exactly when to propose until the right moment arises. When he does, he would probably be in tears and too nervous to say too much, and only manage a mousy "marry me". Ring wise, I think he would be excellent at picking something that suits her style perfectly.

[ginnsbaker]

Rivers and Roads (Til I Reach You)

Summary: The best(and worst) ways to fall in love with your best friend's younger sister.

Word count: 11.3k+ | Warnings: Angst, Smut, Underage Sex, Minor Violence | Ship: Yelena x Female Reader

A/N: Takes place before "In Flames" but can be read seperately ; Requested by anon: Would you write about Yelena and Reader's first attempt at a relationship? How they saw each other as more than just Nat's little sister or best friend? ; Hope you like it, anon :)

Masterlist

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I

Your father's funeral ends the same way these things always do: friends and family approaching you and your mother, one by one, each offering condolences like they're reading from a script. The words are polite, rehearsed, almost mechanical, and though you nod and thank them, each sympathy feels more hollow than the last. 

Like a zombie, you go through the motions, detached from everything around you. 

The crowd eventually thins, and that’s when Natasha approaches with Yelena in tow. She hugs you tightly, her body trembling with emotion. “I'm so sorry, Y/N,” she whispers, her voice catching in her throat. “If there's anything I can do, anything at all, just let me know.”

You feel her warmth, but your response is cold, almost automatic. “Thank you,” you say flatly.

When you step out of Natasha's embrace, Yelena steps forward, a look in her eyes like she's ready to do the same thing. But as she moves closer, she hesitates, her mouth parting as if to speak, but the words remain trapped inside. Without waiting for her to say anything, you excuse yourself and head up to your room.

Downstairs, Natasha tugs Yelena to go home. But Yelena's gaze is fixed on the ceiling, right where she knows your room is. She silently declines, and Natasha, reading the situation, gives her a knowing nod without pushing further. With a quiet goodbye, Natasha exits, leaving Yelena with her eyes still fixed on the ceiling, lost in thought. 

The minutes feel like hours as she sits there, a battle raging inside her. She wants to be there for you, to offer comfort, but she's paralyzed by uncertainty and fear. Finally, a decision forms in her mind, and she rises from the couch, her heart pounding.

Slowly, she makes her way up the stairs. When she reaches your door, she stops, her hand hovering in the air. She hears the soft, unmistakable sound of crying, and her heart aches.

Softly, she places her hand on the door, pretending it's you, pretending she has the ability to comfort you. But she doesn't, and it's one of the most painful experiences of her young life. To stand there, helpless, listening to the person she cares about hurting, and not being able to do anything about it.

Tears well in her eyes as she leans her forehead against the door, feeling the barrier that separates her from you, a barrier she's unable to cross. 

And so, she waits, trusting that someday, when you're ready, she'll be able to step through that door, reach out, and stand by your side when you need her most.

II

She doesn’t see you for the rest of the summer.

She tries to ask Natasha about you, but even your best friend seems guarded, telling her she hasn't heard from you much either. 

Around the same time, a boy from her class, Jeremy, starts dropping by her house. His visits are unexpected but not entirely unwelcome. He's friendly, outgoing, and he makes Yelena laugh—something she hasn't done much of lately.

But as the weeks wear on and Jeremy's interest in her becomes more apparent, Yelena can't shake the feeling that something's missing. Her thoughts keep drifting back to you, to the sound of your crying behind that closed door, to the pain in her chest that she feels every time she thinks of your suffering.

Jeremy tries to get closer to her, invites her out, sends her messages, even brings her chocolates and flowers, but Yelena finds herself holding back. She likes him, but she doesn't feel the connection she longs for, the connection she feels with you.

One evening, as she's aimlessly scrolling through her phone, avoiding yet another message from Jeremy, she stumbles across a picture of you and your father. The memory hits her like a physical blow, and she can't help but wonder how you're coping, if you're healing, if you even think about her at all.

The very next day, she kisses Jeremy for the first time.

III

When she does see you again, it's at a party before the school year begins.

You're alone, clutching a bottle of Jim Beam like a lifeline. You bring it with you, taking long swigs ever so often, not caring who's watching. You look just like the last time she saw you—uninterested, vacant, a shell of the person that used to be filled with so much good energy.

The crowd around you is lively, laughing, celebrating the end of summer, but you stand apart from it all.

Yelena's concern deepens, and she quickly sends a text to Natasha, hoping that she might have some insight or guidance. “She’s here at the party,” she writes, her fingers trembling. “Drinking alone. Looks lost. What should I do?”

The response from Natasha comes quickly, and it's clear from her words that she's as bewildered as Yelena. “What? I didn't know about this. Keep her there. Don't let her leave. I'm coming.”

Yelena looks up from her phone, her eyes scanning the room to find you again. Her heart aches at the sight of you, standing alone, your face a mask of emptiness. 

She takes a deep breath, steeling herself to approach you.

But before she can make her move, a voice calls her name, and she turns to see Jeremy coming towards her with a smile. 

“Hey, beautiful,” Jeremy says cheerfully, closing the distance between them with a warm smile. He leans in and plants a soft kiss on Yelena's cheek.

Yelena forces a smile in return, her thoughts still consumed by the sight of you across the room. She appreciates Jeremy's presence, but at that moment, she can't shake the nagging worry she feels.

“Are you enjoying the party?” Jeremy asks, taking her hand and giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Yeah, it's good,” she says.

Jeremy doesn't seem to notice Yelena's lack of focus. His eyes are alight with excitement, and his grin is infectious as he exclaims, “I've got a surprise for you. Come upstairs with me?”

Her attention is pulled away from you momentarily. “A surprise?”

“Yeah, I think you'll love it,” Jeremy assures her, tugging on her hand gently. “Come on, it'll just take a minute.”

Yelena hesitates, glancing once more in your direction. You’re looking worse by the second, but she also knows that she can't ignore Jeremy, especially when he's clearly made an effort to do something special for her.

With a sigh, she gives in to Jeremy's urging. “Okay, but just for a minute,” she agrees, allowing him to lead her toward the stairs.

IV

You don’t remember much of what happened when you come to.

Your fist is clenched, throbbing with pain, and the skin is turning an unnatural shade of blue. Jeremy—Yelena's new boyfriend—is clutching his arm, his face twisted in agony. Yelena is kneeling next to him, her eyes wide, her face pale, looking up at you in shock.

“What...What happened?” you stammer, the room spinning around you.

You hear a gasp from the doorway. Turning, you see a tall, lanky man with tousled hair and a startled expression. He's holding a drink, the liquid sloshing slightly from the sudden movement.

“Everything alright in here?” he asks, eyebrows raised in concern.

Yelena's gaze shifts to the man, then back to you. Panic flits across her eyes. “It's nothing,” she says, her voice trembling slightly. “Just a...misunderstanding.”

He hesitates, eyes darting between you, Jeremy, and Yelena. He doesn’t look entirely convinced. “That doesn't look like 'nothing'.”He nods towards Jeremy's arm and your bruised fist.

“You should leave,” Yelena hisses at you, her voice low and threatening. She rises to her feet, seemingly towering over you despite the fact that you’re taller than her. “Now.”

You're still disoriented, the pain in your hand and the weight of the situation pressing down on you. “Yelena, I didn't mean–I thought he was forcing himself on you–”

She cuts you off. “I don't care what you meant. Just get out.” Her voice trembles with a mix of anger and fear.

Mark steps aside, allowing you a clear path to the door, but his eyes remain fixed on you, filled with curiosity and suspicion. As you stagger past him, you can hear Yelena's voice, softer now, murmuring words of comfort to Jeremy.

V

The next time you see Yelena, a week has gone by and the purple and blue on your knuckles has substantially faded. 

It’s the weekend and you find yourself in the public library while the rest are hanging out in malls or anywhere that doesn't carry the smell of books. It wasn’t always like this—you’d normally be in the Romanoffs’ house by now, playing video games with Natasha or discussing art and literature with Yelena.

You're browsing through the contemporary fiction section when you spot her. Yelena's back is turned to you, her blonde hair pulled into a messy bun, strands escaping to frame her face. She's engrossed in a thick book, fingers tracing the lines as she reads. The library's tall windows drape her in a warm, sunlit glow, making her look almost unreal.

For a moment, you contemplate turning around and making a silent retreat. The memory of that night at the party, of Jeremy's pained face and Yelena's horrified eyes, still leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. But instead, your feet seem to make the decision for you, carrying you closer until you're standing just a few feet away from her.

She doesn't notice you at first, so engrossed in her reading. Taking a deep breath, you muster the courage to speak. “Yelena?”

She startles, the book nearly tumbling out of her hands. When she turns and meets your eyes, there's a flash of surprise, quickly replaced by guardedness. “Hey,” she says, voice cool and measured.

“I'm sorry,” you blurt out, the words spilling forth in a rush. “For that night, for everything. I never meant to hurt anyone. I went upstairs to use the bathroom and I heard…sounds…coming from that bedroom and I…it didn’t seemed consensual to me, what was happening–”

Yelena interrupts you, her voice rising in defense, “It was consensual.”

You look deep into her eyes, searching for any sign that she’s not telling the truth. “Are you sure?” you ask gently.

“Yes,” she replies firmly, but there's something flickering behind her gaze.

Not convinced, you press on, “How many times?”

She looks taken aback. “What?”

“How many times did you give your consent?” you ask, emphasizing each word.

She hesitates, her mouth opens to say something, but no words come out. 

The few seconds of her silence feels like hours, and then you finally break it. “I just wanted to make sure you're okay," you mutter, pressing your lips together into a tight line.

“Why do you even care?” Yelena scoffs, her eyes narrowing slightly.

Almost reflexively, the truth tumbles out, “Because you're Nat’s little sister.”

For a brief moment, something akin to disappointment crosses Yelena's features, a shadow over her usually bright and fiery eyes. You catch that subtle shift and, for reasons you can't quite place, you're filled with a sudden urge to retract your words.

She exhales sharply, her voice laced with frustration. “So, it's always about her, isn't it? Can't I just be Yelena, without being 'Natasha's sister'? Why does everything I do or whatever happens to me always get linked back to her?”

You swallow hard, realizing your mistake and at the same time, confused as to why it seems like the wrong reason to come to her rescue. “I didn't mean it like that,” you quickly say, fishing for the right words. “I care about you too, Yelena. But yes, knowing Nat makes me more protective. I'm sorry if it came out wrong.”

Yelena simply studies you for a moment before she starts to walk past you as she says, “You say you care, but when your father passed away, you didn't seem to need either of us. Natasha and I tried to be there for you, but you shut us out.”

Your gaze drops, and you quietly fall in step behind her, knowing that she’s right. They both had a bond with your father and felt his loss deeply. While they reached out, you had inadvertently left them in the cold.

“It wasn't that I didn't need or want you both. I just... didn't know how to reach out, how to let anyone in,” Your voice is so faint that Yelena almost misses your words. Abruptly, she halts and, against her better judgment, draws you into a secluded aisle between towering bookshelves for a moment of privacy.

Her hand then reaches out, fingers lightly brushing yours. 

“Don’t shut us out. You don’t have to say anything. Just… don’t be alone. Because you’re not,” Yelena says. “Nat and I are here for you.”

You take a moment, a quiet sniffle escaping before you subtly dab the corner of your eye. Though your face remains composed and your eyes shimmer, they betray the strength you're trying to project—a strength Yelena wishes you didn’t feel compelled to display around her.

“I–I know…” you say. You squeeze her hand in gratitude before releasing it. Yelena tries not to sigh at the loss of your touch. “Is Nat upset with me?”

Yelena hesitates, keenly aware of the proximity between you two in the tight aisle. “She's... waiting, you know. We both are. We've missed you, Y/N.”

Your lips curve into a small, bashful smile. “I've missed you guys too.”

As a rosy hue tints Yelena's cheeks, she wishes, if only for a moment, that those words were meant just for her. She quickly deflects, her voice slightly uneven, “I was about to borrow this and head home,” she gestures to the book she's clutching, placing it as a barrier between you.   

“Are you planning to stay here awhile longer?” she asks.

You ponder on it for a moment before saying, “Can I come with you?”

Yelena smiles.

“Always.”

VI

“I’ve decided to enlist” Natasha tells you one afternoon after school.

“The military?” you ask, trying to maintain focus on the screen. Your fingers dance over the game controller, securing a win against Natasha yet again. You can't help but suspect that she's using this to divert your attention from the game.

“Not exactly the military,” she clarifies. “It's... well, it's for a government project. Details are classified, even from family.”

You pause the game, finally turning to give her your full attention. 

“You're serious,” you say.

Without missing a beat, Natasha resets the game, her casual demeanor juxtaposing the gravity of her decision.

“Does Yelena know?” you ask, eyes flickering towards Natasha.

She hesitates for a moment, her fingers momentarily stilling on the controller. “Not yet,” she admits, her voice softer. “But I'll tell her soon.”

“Where is she anyway?”

Natasha's gaze drifts before she answers, “She's with Jeremy.”

Your eyes harden instantly at the mention of his name, a reaction so visceral that Natasha picks up on it right away.

“You don't like him,” she observes with a smile.

“No, I don't,” you reply tersely.

Natasha's brow furrows with concern. “Did something happen at that party a little over a week ago?”

“Why do you ask?”

She exhales slowly, rubbing her temples. “Just a feeling... Yelena's been... different since then. I thought maybe you'd know why.”

You’re torn. You feel an urge to warn Natasha about this boy that Yelena’s been seeing. But the look on Yelena’s face after you hit him still haunts you to this day.

She’s obviously smitten with him. Going behind her back won’t help.

“Could you, maybe, talk to her?” Natasha asks. “She always listens to you, you know?”

You smirk, trying to lighten the mood. “That’s because I’m the voice of reason.” 

Natasha lets out a soft laugh. “That you are.”

VII

Talking to Yelena proves more challenging than you have anticipated, because you can’t seem to find her these days.

Each time you're at her and Natasha's place, she’s not home. Her room remains untouched, bed made neatly and no signs of recent activity. Natasha assures you she comes home, but always at odd hours, usually when the city's asleep.

It's surprising to learn that she's consistently invited to parties that neither you nor Natasha know about. 

The girl who keeps to herself most of the time, hiding in bookstores and libraries, has now become the talk of the town and the life of the party. You wonder when and how this transformation took place. 

And because she’s Natasha’s little sister, you can’t help but worry about her. Can’t help but think about the kind of people she surrounds herself with these days.

Can’t help but feel protective of her.

Which is why, when you accidentally run into Jeremy after scouring Yelena’s usual hunts in the East Village, you don’t hesitate to approach him even though you're painfully aware he might have every reason to retaliate for that night at the party.

He's leaning against a graffiti-splashed brick wall, a cigarette smoldering between his fingers. As you draw closer, his eyes lock onto yours, recognition igniting an unmistakable spark of animosity.

“Look who it is,” Jeremy sneers, blowing out a cloud of smoke. “What do you want?”

“I'm looking for Yelena,” you reply evenly.

He chuckles darkly and then holds the cigarette between his lips as he says, “What, are you in love with her or something?”

Your jaw tightens, trying to keep your emotions in check. “She's a family friend, okay? My best friend's sister.”

He raises an eyebrow skeptically, taking another drag from his cigarette before exhaling slowly. “I find that hard to believe, especially after the way you came at me.”

Lifting his sleeve, he reveals a dark, mottled bruise, evidence of your previous altercation. “All this for a family friend?”

“I'm protective of the people I care about,” you retort, your gaze unwavering. “Now, where is she?”

Jeremy smirks, the smoke from his cigarette curling between you two. “Why should I tell you? Maybe you should deal with your feelings first.”

You sigh, your patience waning fast. “Are you going to tell me or not?”

Jeremy takes a long drag from his cigarette, exhaling slowly. His smirk falters for a moment. “She dumped me that night,” he finally says, a hint of bitterness in his tone. “Haven't seen her since.”

You’re surprised (and mildly relieved) to learn that Yelena ended things with him that quickly.

“Then why are you still hanging around her usual spots?” you ask.

He shrugs, falling back against the brick wall, looking more dejected than you would have expected. “Hoping she'd change her mind, I guess. But if you're really desperate to find her, there's this place she mentioned once. A quiet spot by the Brooklyn Bridge, where she goes when she needs to think.”

You nod, processing the information. “Thanks for the tip,” you say reluctantly.

He spits out the blunt and then crushes it with his heel. “Whatever.”

VIII

The sun has begun to set when you arrive in Dumbo. Facing the river, with no buildings within its immediate vicinity, the wind moves freely in its playground. The East River shimmers with colors, and the Brooklyn Bridge stands out against the sky. It makes sense to you why Yelena would choose this peaceful spot in the city for solitude.

You find a series of benches scattered along the promenade, some occupied by people absorbed in their own worlds, either gazing at the river or lost in the pages of a book. 

As you walk further along the riverside, you spot a familiar figure perched on a low stone wall. Yelena, with her hair being toyed with by the wind, is staring at the water with a distant look in her eyes. She's so engrossed in her thoughts that she doesn't notice you approaching.

“Hey,” you start softly, not wanting to startle her.

She turns to look at you, surprised at first before it gradually morphs into wariness. 

“Are you stalking me?”

“No, of course not,” you answer quickly. “I was just... worried about you.”

“Worried? Why?”

“Jeremy told me you two broke up. And with you being... distant lately, I just wanted to make sure you're okay.”

Her eyes drift back to the river for a moment, and then she sighs, her shoulders slumping a little. “I didn't expect him to spill our business to you, of all people,” she mutters, sounding more hurt than angry.

“I ran into him while looking for you,” you explain, trying to ease the tension. “He suggested you might be here.”

Yelena crosses her arms, looking a bit skeptical. “So, you're here out of concern, not because you're trying to... I don't know, gloat or something?”

“Gloat?”You blink in confusion. “Why would I gloat?”

She looks away, avoiding your gaze. “Never mind.”

“I just want you to know,” you start, choosing your words carefully, “That whatever is going on, you don't have to deal with it alone. Nat is worried about you, too.”

Yelena lets out a humorless chuckle. “Nat sent you?”

“No,” you clarify, the sort-of lie coming out easily for you. Technically, she did send you, but she mentioned it in passing, hoping you’d help her get through her sister. “But she's concerned. We both are.”

Yelena hums, seemingly unsatisfied with your sentiments. 

“What are you doing here anyway?” you ask, plopping beside her.

She glances at you, then focuses on the water again. “Thinking... about everything. Did you know Natasha is leaving by the end of the month to join some weird government program?”

Your head whips around to face her, surprise evident in your eyes. "She told you?"

Yelena looks even more surprised–and a little hurt–that you already know. 

“You knew?”

You nod grimly. “But I didn’t know she’s leaving so soon.”

Yelena shakes her head, her expression souring slightly. “I found out accidentally while using her laptop the other day. There was an email opened.”

The two of you sit there in silence, both lost in thought. You miss the days when things were simpler, when the three of you would hang out without any secrets or looming departures hanging over your heads.

“I don’t want things to change,” Yelena murmurs, her voice revealing traces of the reserved young girl who once hid behind her older sister’s more confident demeanor.

You wish for the same thing, but the truth is, a lot has already changed.

Starting with the death of your father. 

And now, faced with the prospect of losing your best friend too, you don’t hesitate. You instinctively pull Yelena into a tight embrace. She stiffens momentarily but then melts into the hug, her breath warm against your shoulder, as your bodies fit together in a new and uncertain way.

IX

Natasha’s up and left by the end of September, and as a new month rolls around, you and Yelena both find yourselves spending time together without the balancing force of her sister. Those first few meetings are stilted, almost as if you're dancing around the elephant in the room. There are fumbled greetings, exchanged in hallways and awkward silences over cups of coffee.

During one of those brief encounters, Yelena mentions her struggle with math. It's a subject you've already navigated, being two years her senior. “I remember going through that topic,” you muse one day, sketching out a problem for her. She squints at your notebook, and you can see the cogs turning.

Your sessions become regular, and soon, the two of you are spending longer stretches of time together. The rhythm is slow but steady. There's a mutual understanding that neither of you want to discuss the glaring void Natasha has left behind. Instead, you bond over shared experiences, inside jokes, and little adventures in the city.

Late night study sessions turn into spontaneous pizza runs. Movie marathons evolve from strictly academic films to cult classics and cheesy rom-coms. There's an unspoken agreement that you both desperately need a distraction, and slowly, you become that for each other.

However, in the crowded hallways of school, things aren't as seamless. You have your established group, a band of friends who’ve known you for years, and their expectations of you are set in stone. Yelena, on the other hand, moves in different circles. With her distinctive style and entourage of artsy friends, they occupy spaces you rarely venture into.

Moreover, your schedules hardly ever line up. While you’re leaving for advanced courses or student council meetings, she's typically heading to the arts wing for a drama club rehearsal or a literature symposium. Those stolen moments in the library or quick nods across the cafeteria become your only connection, otherwise you’d be total strangers from an outsider’s perspective.

One day, during lunch, your friends jokingly mention the budding ‘friendship’ with Yelena. “So, tutoring the sister now? How's that going?” one of them teases. You just smile and shrug it off, but you can't help but feel a pinch of guilt for not integrating Yelena more into your world.

There are also times when Yelena's friends shoot curious glances your way, probably wondering about the nature of your relationship with her. There are whispers, but you both ignore them, focusing on the close friendship you've built, especially with Natasha gone.

It’s your senior year, and you’re just starting to see just how much you and Yelena have in common. 

You can't help but wish you'd realized this earlier, especially since you'll be heading to New York University next year.

X

One night, after you both finish watching “Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind” in your room, Yelena glances over at you, a kernel of popcorn held precariously between her lips.

“Have you ever been in love?”

You almost choke on your soda, before recovering to shrug and say, “I don’t think so.” You watch as Yelena smirks and slowly chews on the popcorn before licking her lips, your eyes following the movement.

“Got a crush on anyone, then?”

The word 'crush' makes your heart race for reasons you’re still unaware of. You find yourself briefly lost in the depths of her green eyes, and there's something about the way her lips curl that grabs your attention. Shaking your head subtly, you rally your thoughts.

“What about you?” you counter, turning the question back on her in an attempt to keep the spotlight away from you. “Ever been in love?”

Yelena pauses, a playful glint appearing in her eyes. She drags out the silence, clearly enjoying the suspense she's creating. “Maybe,” she finally admits with a sly smile.

That simple word instantly has your undivided attention. “Who is it?”

She bites her lip, a move that draws your gaze and makes your heart beat a tad faster. “It's a secret,” she says teasingly.

“Do I know them?”

Instead of answering, she just gives you a mischievous smile and, in a swift move, pulls the covers over herself, hiding underneath. You can hear her giggling, leaving you with more questions than answers.

You chuckle, grabbing a flashlight from your bedside table and diving under the covers alongside her, illuminating both your faces with its soft glow. The confined space brings you closer, close enough to notice the details of her face and the nervous twinkle in her eyes.

“Is it Jeremy?” you ask hesitantly, the guilt from the incident at the party still weighing on you. “I'm so sorry about that night. I never should've–”

“No, it’s not him,” she cuts you off, shaking her head emphatically, her hand lightly touching your arm. “It’s someone else... someone I've felt this way about for a while. For a long time, just loving them from a distance felt enough. But now...” Yelena trails off, her eyes searching yours, for something that might hint that you know who she is talking about. 

That she’s talking about you. 

“...now I’m not so sure it is,” she quietly finishes. 

But your eyes give away your confusion, showing her you can't quite pinpoint who she's referring to. Moreso, when you say, “I hate that they’re making you sad.”

“It’s complicated,” Yelena says. “Sure, the thought of her not feeling the same way stings, but she brings me so much joy. The happiness she offers is greater than the pain. That has to mean something, right?”

“She?”

Yelena freezes at her slip-up. 

“Yes... she,” Yelena drawls. She takes a deep breath, steeling herself. “Nat doesn’t know. I haven't exactly been open about it. Not with anyone, really.”

You shift closer to her, ensuring she feels your presence and support. “Hey, I'm really honored you trust me with this. You never have to change or hide who you are around me. I love you just the way you are.”

She turns her head, her expression simultaneously hopeful and uncertain. “You love me?”

Without hesitation, you nod. “Of course. Yelena, between you, Nat, and my mom, you're the most important people in my life. I've always felt that way.”

She bites her lip, absorbing your words. “Oh,” is all she manages initially. The silence stretches between the two of you, heavy with something you both can’t put a name to. Then, in a voice so soft you almost miss it, she murmurs, “I love you too.”

You weren’t expecting to feel anything differently when she says it back, but you do–

So much, that you consciously maintain a safe distance between your bodies as you both eventually fall asleep.

XI

Days go by, and you start seeing Yelena differently. 

Little things about her catch your eye, like how the sun hits her hair or the way she laughs. You find yourself thinking about her more often than not, even during lectures. 

One afternoon, you're studying together, and you realize you've been staring at the way she holds her pen for far too long. There's a song playing in the background, its lyrics vague and unimportant, but you can't help thinking how it's something she'd love.

But it’s those quiet nights, when the world is asleep, that your thoughts become more personal, more intimate. On one of these nights, as you’re ensnared in those thoughts, warmth spreading all over your body, your phone suddenly rings.

It’s Yelena. Hastily, you pull your hand away from your soaked underwear and try to sound casual as she asks you about a school project that you’ve tackled before. You can’t help but notice how huskier her voice has gotten recently, and as soon as the call ends, you’re shuffling your pants down your legs and fucking yourself with two fingers, coming to the name of your best friend’s sister on your lips.

What follows after is a deep-seated shame. You bury your face into your pillow, trying to muffle the self-reproach that threatens to spill over. 

Now, each time your mind drifts to Yelena, there's a budding warmth, but it's quickly doused by guilt and the looming shadow of Natasha. The trepidation of how she might react to your burgeoning feelings for her younger sister haunts your every thought. Would she see it as a betrayal? As you, taking advantage of Yelena? Or would she understand that feelings, often unexpected and inconvenient, have a way of creeping in?

Days turn into weeks, and you do your best to suppress these emotions, to lock them away and throw away the key. But they have a pesky way of resurfacing when you least expect them to, making ordinary interactions with Yelena charged with a tension you can't shake off.

It's during one such interaction, when you're helping Yelena with a school project at her house, that she catches you staring a moment too long. Her eyebrows knit in confusion, and for a second, you think she's going to question you. But she doesn't, and you're left wondering if she feels it too. Feels a surge of current coursing through her body at any point of contact between your bodies.

XII

The air in Montauk is usually so soothing, but not today. 

Walking through the front door, you immediately notice the empty spaces, corners that were once filled with your father’s belongings. Bewilderment strikes you first. Your eyes dart around the room, trying to take in the enormity of the situation. His jackets are no longer on the hook, his books absent from the shelf. That worn-out armchair where he used to sit with a cup of coffee every morning is no longer there.

The sound of paper crackling captures your attention, and you follow it to the backyard. Your heart plummets when you see your mom tossing pictures into a growing flame. It feels as if time has stopped, as you watch memories being consumed by fire. Each photo that curls, blackens, and disintegrates feels like a piece of your heart being pulled apart.

A scream of anguish and rage leaves your mouth before you can think.

 “What are you doing?!” you shout, rushing forward to snatch what remains of the photos. But the damage has been done.

Your mother's face is a complex mosaic of pain, anger, and a little lunacy. “It's time,” she retorts, her voice brittle but resolute. “Time to move on.”

“How could you?” Your voice breaks, kicking the bench where your father used to lounge in, enjoying a cup of coffee.

Feeling the walls of your house closing in on you, you snatch a small box of photos, the only things that haven't met the flames yet, and storm out.

XIII

The Romanoffs’ residence automatically becomes your refuge.

You don’t even knock, you just barge in, your breaths coming fast, tears streaming down your face. It doesn't take Yelena long to figure out that something's wrong, and she envelops you in a warm, solid embrace.

Her fingers run through your hair soothingly, her voice a gentle murmur in your ear. “It’s okay, let it out,” she whispers, guiding you down the hallway towards her bedroom. Posters of classic horror films adorn her walls, giving the space a uniquely edgy feel. By the side, a stack of books teeters precariously, evidence of her voracious reading habits and an already overflowing bookshelf. Now that you've spent more time in it over the past few months, Yelena's room feels even more familiar than Natasha's ever did.

Before you know it, you're lying down, with Yelena sitting beside you, her hand never leaving yours. Overwhelmed and exhausted, sleep claims you amidst your tears.

Later in the night, you’re woken up by the clinking of a tray. Blinking your eyes open, you see Yelena by your side. She’s holding a plate of something warm and there's a pill and a glass of water on the tray beside her.

“Figured you’d have a killer headache from all that crying,” she says, handing over the pill. Her voice is soft, teasing even, trying to inject some lightness into the heavy atmosphere.

“You made dinner?” Your voice is a croaky whisper.

“Didn't want you starving on me,” she says, shrugging with a smile before setting the tray on the night table beside you. 

And then she starts to ramble, her cheeks tinged pink with embarrassment, “I really don't know how to cook, so I just tried frying some spam. Then I ended up burning one side. I swear, every time I try to cook, I just—”

But you're barely hearing her. In that moment, it hits you just how much she's wormed her way into your heart. In an impulsive moment, powered by emotions running high, you reach out, cupping her face in your hands, and pull her towards you.

The kiss is a sweet, brief meeting of lips, but in that fleeting moment, it communicates more than words ever could. When you pull back, the air between you is thick and your lips are tingling and all you can think about is how much you want to lean in and kiss her again. Yelena's eyes search yours, both of you realizing that things may never be the same again.

Yelena seems to be processing, her green eyes wide and a little unfocused. The softness of her lips still lingers on yours, and the magnitude of what just happened starts to sink in. 

Panic flares in your chest.

“I... I need to go,” you stammer, your mind racing for a reasonable excuse. You can't stay, not now. Not with the desire to push her down the bed looming over your head.

Before she can say anything, before she can even move, you're out of the room, leaving behind a dazed Yelena, clutching the tray she had brought for you, the scent of the burnt Spam still lingering in the room.

XIV

You avoid Yelena at all costs.

For the first three days, your phone buzzes constantly with her calls and texts, and you muster the will to ignore every single one.

At school, you find yourself darting through hallways and taking longer, circuitous routes just to dodge the places where you might bump into her. The hangout spots you both frequented over the past months—the tiny café by the library, the secret alcove behind the gym—are now places you avoid like the plague.

You switch up your post-school routine, taking a completely different path home, even if it means walking an extra mile. Friends begin to notice the lengths you're going to just to not see her and they shoot you questioning looks, but you shrug them off, not ready to talk about it.

There's even a wild, desperate thought about dropping out of school. But every time it comes to the forefront of your mind, you push it away. You're in your senior year; leaving now would mean throwing away all the work you've put in. Plus, you're on the cusp of moving away, starting anew. You just need to endure a little longer.

Every day feels heavier. On one hand, you want to duck and dodge, stay out of Yelena's path until you've figured what it means for you, for her, for your friendship with Natasha. On the other, you're missing her like crazy. More than once, you've caught yourself about to call or text her, only to stop, unsure and overwhelmed. 

And when she stops calling and texting, every time your phone lights up with a notification, a part of you wishes it's her, another hopes it isn't.

And the worst part? The gnawing feeling inside that tells you that the longer you avoid her, the greater the risk of losing her for good. And you're not ready for that. Not by a long shot.

XV

You hide in your room. No one is answering because your mother is still at work, so you just listen to Yelena ringing the doorbell until it stops. You press your ear against the door of your room, straining to hear any signs of movement from downstairs. But there's no one.

And when the ringing stops–for a good ten seconds–you let out a quiet sigh of relief. But just as that thought that she’s given up crosses your mind, there's a sudden thud against your window. Jumping, you pull back the curtain a tad and spot Yelena, a frown carved deep on her face, a couple of pebbles in her hand.

“Come face me, you coward!” she yells, making you wince.

Flustered, you motion frantically for her to head to the front door. After making sure you’re decent enough to receive her, you take a deep breath and head downstairs.

When you open the door, Yelena stands there, eyes boring into you. She’s clearly angry and frustrated, and regardless of those, she still manages to take your breath away.

Yelena steps closer, into the little space you’ve unconsciously provided by opening the door, narrowing the gap between the two of you. Her proximity makes it difficult to think clearly. 

“Why did you run that night?” she asks pointedly, the confusion and hurt undeniable in the way her voice thickens and shakes. “And why have you been avoiding me ever since?”

You look down at your feet as she tries to chase your line of sight. “It's not that I don't want to be around you, Yelena,” you start. “In fact, I want to be around you all the time.”

Yelena’s breath hitches at that. She frowns, trying to decipher your meaning. “So, what’s the problem?”

You muster the courage to lift your chin and finally meet her gaze. “I like you. A lot. So much, in fact, that I'm terrified of what could happen next. I'm scared I won't be able to hold back from falling in love with you.”

She blinks, taking in your confession. “You're such a stupid idiot,” she mutters, more to herself than to you.

“You know those are synonyms, right?” you retort, trying to inject some levity into conversation. 

She arches an eyebrow, “Dense.”

“That's just another synonym,” you mumble, meeting her challenging stare.

But before you can come up with another witty retort, she closes the gap between you two, whispering, “Shut up and kiss me.”

XVI

It’s getting harder and harder to control yourself around Yelena. Being around her has started to feel like you're navigating a minefield.

There's that time you're lounging in her bedroom, reading a book while she goes to shower. The sound of water running and the muffled hum of her voice singing a familiar tune combine to become your favorite music. The soft sheets of her bed, the faint scent of her on the pillow next to you, and the intimate setting conspire against your self-control. You have to consciously remind yourself to breathe evenly, to focus on the words in front of you, and not on the vision of Yelena in the shower.

Even small moments become loaded. Like when she's talking to you, and she tilts her head, exposing the soft curve of her neck. The light catches on her skin just right, and all you can think of is how it would feel under your lips. How she might shiver at your touch, how the pulse beating beneath her skin might race under your caresses.

Then there's the way she's been touching you more. A brush of her fingers, lingering hugs, those almost-too-close moments that send shivers down your spine. It feels like she’s playing a game, seeing how far she can push before you crack.

The dreams aren’t helping either. Some nights they’re tender, others they’re, well, a bit more heated. Waking up from them leaves you flushed and out of sorts.

One balmy afternoon, as the sun's rays filter through the slits of your bedroom curtains, the two of you find yourselves tangled once again. Suddenly, as you're catching your breath, Yelena pulls back slightly, looking deeply into your eyes, the desire evident. “I want you,” she whispers breathlessly, her voice shaking with want.

You freeze, her words threatening to make you combust. “Yelena,” you start, throat dry, “I don't think we should. Natasha doesn't even know about...this.”

She scoffs, rolling her eyes with an exasperated sigh. “This isn't on us. Natasha's off at some super-secretive training camp. How are we supposed to tell her?”

You try a different approach. “You’re sixtee–”

“You’re seventeen,” she cuts you off quickly.

You smile softly at the pout forming on her lips. “I’m turning eighteen next week.”

“Semantics,” Yelena argues.

Your chest tightens, and you finally admit, “There's something else. I've... I've never been with anyone like that before.”

To your surprise, Yelena's confident demeanor falters. She looks away, biting her lip, “Me neither.”

Your eyes widen. “But... Jeremy?”

She looks away, biting her lip. “That night you punched him? That night, it's supposed to happen. But…” She takes a deep breath, her eyes searching yours. “All I can think of is you being outside that room. I can't do it. I've always... I've always wanted it to be you.”

The fact that she hasn’t been with anyone makes you even more nervous. You want her first time to be memorable and good.

“Yelena, uhm,” you start, fidgeting under her gaze. “I have no idea what to do.”

Her thumb brushes over the back of your hand, a soothing gesture. “Neither do I. But that's okay. We have each other.”

“And if we mess up?”

She smirks a little, that playful glint returning to her eyes. “Then we mess up together.”

XVII

It’s a mess, but neither of you would call it ‘messing up’.

When you’ve removed the final piece of clothing off her body, you find yourself staring at the juncture between her legs, your mouth watering at the sight of it.

It’s a beautiful mess.

Yelena shifts slightly, drawing your attention back to her face. Those brilliant eyes of hers are watching you, filled with understanding and the smallest hint of amusement. “First time seeing one up close?” she teases gently, breaking the tension.

Your cheeks warm, but you don’t look away. “You could say that.”

She reaches out, her fingers gently lifting your chin, guiding you to meet her gaze. “It's okay. Remember? We're learning together.”

You nod, kissing her fingers before she lets go of your chin. 

“But please, touch me already,” Yelena husks out, arching her back and lifting her hips closer to your face in offering. “You’re driving me crazy.”

With that, you let go of your reservations, letting instinct take over. 

But you take your time.

You slide your hands under her buttocks, palming her cheeks and keeping her place just in case. The heady scent of her arousal draws you in closer, a fresh wave of wetness collecting between your own thighs. 

Tentatively, you stick your tongue out to touch its tip against the hood of her clit. The sharp intake of Yelena's breath and her subtle tremor give away her anticipation, making the corners of your mouth lift in a fleeting smile. It’s such a small action, and you can’t believe how responsive and needy she’s become.

“God, you're perfect,” you murmur, before flattening your tongue against her core and licking the entire length of her. Your eyes fall shut the moment you taste Yelena for the first time. She tastes as good as she smells, and you can’t help but repeat the act again and again. Each pass draws a deeper reaction from her, coaxing more wetness to cover the lower half of your face. As Yelena's responses intensify, you're grateful for your foresight in keeping her grounded, especially when she instinctively tries to pull away from the overwhelming sensations you're giving her. 

Opening your eyes, you’re met with the most gorgeous sight of Yelena–her fingers clutch at the pillows, pulling them close, while her body arches and writhes–a pure picture of ecstasy. 

Emboldened by her reactions, you focus your attention on her clit, drawing the sensitive nub into your mouth, letting a gentle suction build. The sound Yelena makes is sharp and unguarded, her fingers weaving into your hair, pulling you closer, urging you closer to her heat. 

The flush on Yelena's face intensifies, painting a path from her cheeks to her collarbone as you continue your ministrations. The squelching sounds created by your eager mouth intermingle with her breathy moans, the rustle of the sheets beneath, and your own low sounds of appreciation.

Sensing her impending climax, you momentarily cease the gentle suction, prompting a desperate plea from Yelena, “Please…” But before she can voice her needs, you plunge back in, your tongue swirling insistently around her sensitive nub.

With a final, muffled cry into the pillows, Yelena's body convulses, waves of pleasure coursing through her. You ease your movements, allowing her to ride out the aftershocks of her climax.

Gradually, Yelena's breathing steadies. The vibrant flush of arousal is gradually replaced by a more relaxed hue. Still nestled between her thighs, you place gentle kisses on her inner legs, giving her time to come down from her euphoric high.

Her fingers, previously tangled in your hair, begin to relax, though she doesn’t release you entirely. Instead, they trace delicate patterns along the nape of your neck and your shoulders. A contented sigh escapes her, and you can feel her legs relaxing around you, the earlier tension now but a memory.

Taking this as your cue, you wipe your mouth and chin and gently climb up, situating yourself beside her, pulling her into a close embrace. Her head rests against your chest, listening to the thud of your heart, which beats just as erratically as hers.

“You okay?” you ask softly, brushing stray strands of hair from her face.

She nods, her lips curving into a small, satisfied smile. “More than okay,” she murmurs, snuggling closer. “Thank you.”

You both lay there in comfortable silence, enjoying the warmth of each other's presence. The outside world feels distant, irrelevant. 

After what feels like hours but is probably just minutes, Yelena tilts her head up to meet your gaze, her eyes turning a darker shade of green again. 

“My turn,” she whispers, her hands already exploring.

A soft chuckle escapes your lips as you arch an eyebrow, the sudden role reversal causing a thrill of anticipation to snake through you. “Impatient, are we?" you tease, the hint of a smirk playing on your lips.

Yelena grins, her fingers deftly tracing a path along your collarbone, down your chest, eliciting a shiver from you. “Maybe I've just learned from the best,” she counters playfully, pressing her lips briefly against your neck.

She doesn't rush, taking her time, soaking in every one of your reactions. The softest of kisses to the inside of your wrist has you inhaling sharply. Yelena watches, a glint of mischief in her eyes, before repeating the action, this time lingering longer. Each delicate press of her lips feels like a brand, and you're aware of the rising heat that courses through your body, centered where you want her most.

The press of her thumb against your pulse point, just beneath your jawline, elicits an unexpected moan from your lips. She chuckles softly, clearly pleased with the discovery. “Found a new spot, did I?” Yelena whispers, her voice husky.

Your response is lost as her mouth travels down, her tongue painting a trail down your collarbone, causing you to arch into her touch. “Yelena…” your voice is a breathy plea, laced with desperation.

Her fingers splay across your abdomen, her touch light, almost ticklish. It's a stark contrast to the firm press of her lips against the soft flesh of your thigh. Your hands find her hair, urging her closer, but Yelena pulls away, teasing.

Her eyes meet yours, filled with a playful defiance. “Patience,” she chides, her hot breath against your skin sending another shiver down your spine.

The build-up is excruciating, driving you to your limits.

When her lips finally meet the wetness between your thighs, the sensation is electric. She starts by laying a series of soft kisses there, each one making your hips jerk slightly, seeking more of her. Her tongue dips into you, tasting, exploring, teasing.

Her fingers join in, sliding through your wetness, gathering it before pressing into you. The combined sensation of her fingers moving inside while her mouth focuses on your clit is almost too much to bear. The slick sounds of her mouth on you, combined with the rhythmic thrusting of her fingers, fills the room. The dampness between your legs grows with each pull and push, with every flick and suck she delivers.

As Yelena works her magic, she surprises you by letting her fingers wander further back, teasing the rim of your other hole. The unexpected sensation causes you to gasp sharply, eyes widening in surprise and a new sort of arousal.

“Trust me?” she murmurs against your heated skin, her voice a low rumble that sends another jolt of pleasure through you.

All you can do is nod, your usual articulateness lost to the whirlwind of sensation. With the slickness from your arousal aiding her, Yelena gently applies pressure there, testing, probing, adding a new layer to the pleasure. The combination of her mouth, fingers inside you, and this new, intimate exploration has you spiraling.

Your fingers clutch her head, guiding her, even as your back arches, pushing yourself further into her touch. Yelena, sensing your nearness to the edge, doubles her efforts. The world blurs out, every nerve ending centered on the wet slide of her fingers and the firm, insistent press of her mouth against your most sensitive spot. With a final cry, you come around Yelena’s fingers, leaving you trembling, soaked, and sated beneath her.

For a moment, there's nothing but the two of you—the heavy breaths, the shared warmth, and the intoxicating scent of your combined arousal.

Then, with a tantalizing slowness, Yelena extracts her fingers from within you. You can feel their absence keenly, the cool air hitting the warmth they've just left behind. As she brings her fingers to her face, the wetness on them catches the dim light, making your heart race even faster.

Her eyes, dark with desire, lock onto yours. You're held captive by that gaze, and then with a smirk, she slides her fingers into her mouth, sucking on them deeply, audibly. The sound, the sight of it, is almost too much.

“Yum,” she murmurs, her voice dripping with mischief and satisfaction. The single word breaks the spell, sending another jolt of heat through you. 

You don't even get a moment to process her bold move because, in the next heartbeat, you're overcome with a renewed surge of desire. Drawing Yelena closer, you can feel the slick heat of her pressing against you, the intimate wetness of your arousal mingling together.

The sensation of her clit, swollen and sensitive, rubbing against yours elicits deep, guttural moans from both of you. Your hands grasp her hips, guiding and urging her into a rhythm that sends sparks of pleasure ricocheting through your body. The room is filled with the sounds of skin on skin, punctuated by the wet slide of your clits moving together, and the heady scent of sex.

Yelena's eyes, half-lidded and wild, fixate on yours, capturing every reaction, every moan that slips past your parted lips. Her fingers dig into your hips, anchoring herself to you, as your bodies grind together, lost in wild abandon. 

Your hands cradle Yelena's face, bringing her mouth to yours. As your lips meet, the kiss is all-consuming—a frenzied mix of passion and urgency, the taste of you still on her tongue.

Your hips falter, and you can't hold back the whimper that escapes when you feel that familiar sensation above your groin. The sensation of Yelena's body moving against yours, combined with the feel of her lips and the taste of her mouth, pushes you closer and closer to the brink.

Your focus narrows to the point where the only thing that matters is the tantalizing friction between the two of you. Yelena's rhythm matches yours, her hips moving urgently against your own. 

“God... don't stop,” Yelena breathes into your ear, her voice shaky with need.

Your reply is caught by a moan as the coil in your belly tightens even more, threatening to snap. “Yelena…” you manage, voice raspy and broken.

Suddenly, her teeth bite down into your shoulder, making you gasp. “Sorry,” she mumbles against your skin, but you can hear the edge of ecstasy in her voice.

“It's okay,” you manage, voice strained with pleasure. “Feels... good.”

Yelena's hips grind unevenly against yours, the slickness between you both growing with each movement. Every thrust sends ripples of pleasure through you both, wetness mixing and coating your inner thighs, creating a deliciously slippery friction. You can feel the warmth of her arousal as it mingles with your own, the combined sensation dizzying.

“God... can you feel that?” Yelena gasps, her voice ragged and desperate.

“Yes,” you breathe, nearly overwhelmed by the sensation. The raw intensity of the moment, the feeling of her wetness against yours, is almost too much to bear.

“I'm close,” she warns, her voice strained.

“Fuck, me too,” you whisper back, lost in the sensation.

Suddenly, Yelena's body stiffens, her muffled cry against your shoulder sending vibrations straight to your core. The feeling of her release, warm and wet against you, combined with the bite of pain from her teeth, triggers your own climax. Your bodies shake together, still feeling the rush of pleasure even after the most intense moments have passed.

The room falls silent except for the sounds of your labored breaths and the gentle rustling of sheets. The rawness of the moment makes your skin tingle, and you become acutely aware of the warm stickiness between your thighs and the pulsating ache where Yelena had left her mark on your shoulder.

She pulls back slightly, her green eyes, now softened, searching yours. The corners of her lips tug upwards in a tender, adoring smile. “That was…”

“...unreal,” you finish, still catching your breath.

She chuckles lightly, shifting her weight to lie beside you. “Yeah, I didn't think... I mean, I hoped, but that was…”

“Beyond words,” you murmur, pulling her closer until she’s resting on top of you.

You both lay there for a moment, bodies intertwined, enjoying the afterglow. Yelena reaches out to caress the bite mark she left, a look of concern crossing her features. “Did I hurt you?” she murmurs, lips brushing against the reddened skin.

You wince slightly at her touch but shake your head. “It’ll bruise, but it's okay. Kind of like it, actually,” you say with a sly grin, making her laugh.

She leans down, pressing a gentle kiss on the bite mark, her lips lingering against your skin. “Sorry, I got carried away,” she mumbles against your shoulder.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” you reassure her, tilting her chin up to capture her lips in a soft, languid kiss. “But maybe we should clean up a bit.”

She nods in agreement, and the two of you untangle yourselves from the sheets. The air feels cooler against your flushed skin as you help each other clean up, using damp cloths to wipe away the evidence of your shared passion.

Afterward, Yelena snuggles close, her head resting on your chest, listening to your heartbeat. 

You drape an arm over her, fingers absentmindedly playing with her hair. “I’m glad it was with you,” you whisper, pressing a kiss on the top of her head.

“I love you,” she says, tightening her grip around you. Those three words nearly bring tears to your eyes as a surge of affection for the girl in your arms envelops you.

“I love you too.”

XVIII

You want it to last forever.

More than exploring each other’s bodies nearly every night, you want each moment spent with Yelena to last forever. You might think it's too soon, but honestly, it feels like you've known her forever. 

She’s it.

She’s the one.

Time, however, has its own pace. Before you know it, you and Yelena are receiving an email from Natasha herself that she will be coming home in two weeks. You can't help but feel a growing tension, a deadline looming over your idyllic world. But at the same time, you’re excited to have your best friend back.

One evening, as you both lay in bed, the soft glow from the streetlights outside illuminating the room, you broach the subject. 

“When Nat comes back,” you start, tracing patterns on Yelena's arm, “I want to make us official. Tell her about us.”

Yelena's gaze meets yours, and though she nods, there's a hesitation in her eyes, a shadow of doubt. “Of course,” she replies, but her voice lacks the enthusiasm you'd hoped for. But for now, you pull her close, not wanting to read much into things especially with how perfect the past few months have been.

XIX

The atmosphere feels different since Natasha’s unexpected return. 

A few days have passed, but the three of you continue to circle around each other, resembling planets in an unsure orbit. Yelena and Natasha seem wrapped up in their own reunion, while you tread carefully, waiting for the right moment to bring up your relationship with Yelena.

This evening, you find your opening. Yelena has stepped out, leaving you and Natasha alone in the living room, sitting at opposite ends of the couch. 

“Has Yelena told you anything recently?” you finally break the silence, your voice betraying a hint of nervousness. 

Natasha tilts her head, narrowing her eyes slightly. “What do you mean?”

“Did she mention something big? I mean… you were gone for quite some time and I understand if you’re shocked, but–”

“Uh, yeah, she did mention something,” Natasha interjects softly. “She got accepted to a program in Leeds.”

The world seems to tilt off its axis. Leeds?

“What?” you ask, failing to keep your voice down.

This is news to you. What’s going on?

“She’s leaving in ten days,” Natasha continues, looking at you curiously. “You didn’t know?”

XX

You only realize Yelena's been distancing herself when you hear about Leeds.

Even though you still see her every day, she's managed to avoid spending time alone with you. Every time the topic of informing Natasha about your relationship comes up, she finds an excuse to divert or leave. Now, she consistently includes Natasha in your plans, turning what were once dates into casual hangouts.

As school ends one afternoon, you spot Yelena's familiar figure quickly exiting the building, her pace hurried, as though trying to escape. It's evident she's avoiding running into you on her way home. You remember the desperation that had led you to skip your last class, just so you could finally confront her.

Taking a deep breath, you quickly catch up to her. 

“Yelena!” you call out. 

She pauses, her shoulders tensing, and then slowly turns to face you. There's a hesitance in her eyes, but you're determined.

“Why Leeds?” you blurt out, all your emotions hinging on that single question.

She exhales sharply, looking as if she's been cornered, her gaze darting around. “I... I applied a while ago. Before everything between us started.”

Your heart sinks. “Were you planning on just disappearing without saying anything?”

Yelena's eyes shimmer with unshed tears. “I was scared,” she admits. “I didn't know how to tell you.”

“That's not fair,” you say, your voice choked. 

She nods, biting her lip. “I know. I'm sorry.”

“I just...when did you apply?” you ask, trying to make sense of the timeline in your head.

“After Natasha told me about her own plans,” Yelena whispers. That was before you saw her in this new, intimate way, before everything between you two began. “I thought it would be best if I too had something to focus on.”

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion. “So you applied because Natasha was leaving? Why didn’t you tell me? We could have figured something out together.”

She sighs, her gaze drifting downwards. “It was a spontaneous decision, a way to cope with the changes, I guess. And then, you and I happened... It all went too fast. Before I knew it, I was accepted and suddenly, telling you became the hardest thing to do.”

The realization stings. All those moments, all those memories, and all the while, there was this looming secret she hadn't shared. “So,” you mutter, a tremor in your voice. “This was all just... a distraction for you?”

Yelena's eyes snap up, wide and filled with panic. “No! Never! It wasn't like that at all. What we had, what we shared, it was real for me. More real than anything I've ever felt.”

Your eyes blur as tears gather around your eyes. “Then why Leeds? Why not tell me? Why not give us a chance?”

You find yourself repeating the questions, hoping that if said enough, they might somehow reshape the truth, making it easier for you to accept and move on.

“I didn't want to put you in that position," she confesses, her voice breaking. “To make you choose or feel tied down. I love you too much for that.”

You exhale deeply, gritting your teeth in order to hold yourself together. “Yelena, love also means being honest and facing challenges together."

“I know,” she whispers, unable to hold back her own tears. “I'm so sorry.”

The world around you seems to blur. “So, is this it? Are we just... done?”

She hesitates for a moment, searching your eyes for understanding. “I don’t want to hold you back, and I need to focus on this new chapter. It wouldn’t be fair to either of us.”

Nodding slowly, you muster the strength to say, “Goodbye, Yelena.”

XXI

For several days, your room's four walls become your entire world. Natasha, sensing something amiss, checks on you with growing concern. When she questions your seclusion, you blame it on a virus, claiming it's safer for you to stay isolated. But the truth is, your heart is shattered, and you can't bring yourself to share the painful reality with your closest friend.

At first, Yelena's messages are filled with apologies, each one dripping with regret. But as the days go by, her tone shifts. There's worry evident in the string of texts that asks if you're okay, questions about your health, pleas for just one response.

Then, as silence from your end persists, the messages take on an edge. “Is this really how you want to handle things?” one of them reads. “After everything, you're just going to shut me out completely?”The accusations sting, but you're in so much pain already that it hardly makes a difference.

A particularly scathing text catches your eye one evening: “I thought we meant more to each other. Is this really how you want us to end?”

The screen blurs in front of you as tears threaten, leaving you torn between reaching out and honoring the goodbye you've already given.

XXII

Seven long days of silence later, something shifts within you. 

Distance can't be an end. You can't let it. You decide it's time to act, to see Yelena, to tell her that you’re willing to put in the work despite the long distance.

Pulling on a jacket, you make your way to her house. Your mind races, framing and reframing the words you want to say, the assurances you want to give, the hope you want to share.

As you approach the house, you immediately notice the absence of music from the living room. Yelena always ensured a playlist was playing in the background, a comforting constant whenever they were home. That familiar comfort is missing now, replaced by an unsettling silence. A knot of unease forms in your stomach. You knock, hoping against hope.

The door opens, and there stands Natasha, mildly surprised to find you at her doorstep. 

“Hey! Wasn't expecting you today,” she greets with a lightness. “You here for Yelena?”

You nod, trying to find your voice. "Yeah, I wanted to talk to her."

A puzzled look crosses Natasha's face. “Oh, she said she talked to you a couple of days ago. I thought... Anyway, she took an earlier flight this morning. I assumed she told you?”

The ground seems to fall away beneath you. You manage a weak smile, masking the wave of emotions threatening to overwhelm you. “I must've missed that. Thanks, Natasha. Maybe I’ll just text her…I think I left something on at home. Better head back.”

You retreat before Natasha can ask any more questions, literally running out of the house before you fall apart in front of her.

Reaching your place, you shut the door behind you, leaning against it as if trying to barricade yourself from the outside world. Your phone buzzes with a message notification. It's from Yelena: 

I'm sorry.

[aconstantmonologue]

I just saw Wild Robot in theaters and I am absolutely enamored by every aspect of it.

[YAP SESSION WITH SPOILERS AHEAD]

There were so many beautiful lessons and themes in the whole film that it’s hard to just pick out and label them because doing so would disservice the film in its entirety.

-Roz: From the very start I felt such a strong connection to her. She never really ‘fits in’ anywhere, and faces isolation from those she wants so desperately to form a connection with. It takes her awhile to adapt and understand things outside of her ‘program’, and even then it’s a learning curve for her, change is difficult to process and understand. But eventually she gets to a point where she’s stuck at a crossroads, she still isn’t quite synchronous with the community around her, but they’ve begun to understand and accept her, and she knows that she would be out of place if she returned to her maker. Her love and care for Brightbill and Fink are difficult for her to express verbally, but she expresses through her actions, eventually getting the vocabulary she needs and yearned for. She took her programming, and used it to create a life she truly wanted, not just a husk of a being.

-Brightbill: I saw this film with my dad and my stepmom. My stepmom raised me, she is just Mom for me, but there was a moment where I didn’t understand why I never really got to spend time with my biological mother, and I held a lot of animosity surrounding that for a long time. Eventually I grew to understand that she wasn’t to blame, the situation was out of her control, she simply adjusted her sails to save me, becoming my Mom without hesitation even if it was difficult as first. She was the Roz to my Brightbill, and sacrificed so much of her time to learn and adapt to raise me, and now she has to watch me grow up and live a life of my own.

-Fink: I wasn’t expecting to like him as much as I did, I feel like fox characters tend to fall into a very specific mold and seem flat and under developed. But seeing his growth through the film was lovely. They made it clear that it wasn’t an instantaneous change. He went through lapses where he would self isolate his honest thoughts again, not even sharing them with Roz. But as he spends more time with Roz and Brightbill, he starts to grasp the fact that there are people who WILL care about him with no strings attached. And that he is allowed to get close to others and love them without the fear of it being transactional.

Disability Representation: I was not expecting this at all, and it may not have even been entirely intentional, but elements of this story spoke a truth that rang into my bones as a disabled person. When Roz loses a foot she adapts her surroundings to suit her needs so she can still navigate while training Brightbill to fly. Paddler even makes her a prosthesis to replace the section of the leg she lost. The isolation all three face from their peers for being different and out of place hit so close to home. Being isolated from others because you were “too odd” is something my family and I, and so many other neurodivergent people have experienced, and sometimes you start to lose hope on finding a community that will accept you, until you find them in the most unexpected places.

Going off of that, Brightbill being significantly smaller than the other geese and the criticism he faces for something out of his control was written so well. There are people who will write you, and your capabilities, off without question once they realize that you are disabled and ‘not normal’. He has to do considerably more work and put in more effort to be seen in an equal standing as his able bodied peers. That’s why I think the lesson he learns (along the lines) of “you can do anything I can do, even if it has to look different to fit you” was so important. Disabled people CAN and SHOULD be given the same respect and consideration as able bodied people, and the end result should be the object of value- not the accommodation it took to get there.

I have so many more thoughts but I will contain myself, I do want to see it again sometime soon though :]