#please please PLEASE make any corrections if i did flop this is my first time doing a proper-ish guide....
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beaudesoleil · 2 months ago
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Hello! Ur art is ABSOLUTELY awesome! (Tastes like slurpee) Any tips on drawing cats? Like anatomy and style and stuff?? TYSM
thank you, i feel very honored! as far as tips go.....i'm not too good on sharing tips BUT i'll try ^^ idk how much they will help but i'm pretty sure they will give you a good understanding! (APOLOGIES IF I MADE ANY MISTAKES I WROTE THIS AT LIKE 5 IN THE MORNING sob)
starting on the face/head here. the head of a cat is relatively small compared to its body. it's mainly angled and dome-shaped (that depends on breed). the length also varies. for now i'll be sticking with the three generic head shapes for times' sake
if it's a foreign or oriental-type cat (eg; crowfeather), the head is longer and wedge-shaped, slopes downwards and has less pronounced cheeks. the ears are larger and pointier as well
if it's a standard-type cat (eg; bluestar), then the head is broad and medium-sized with well-developed cheeks, and the ears are average-sized and more curved
if it's a cobby-type cat (eg; yellowfang), then the head is wider and significantly shorter with protruding cheeks, and the ears are smaller and more like little nubs
now onto the body, limbs and tail...most cats share the same body shape, that being a lean, powerful body with a long tail and well-built semi-muscular limbs. some cats do stray from this stereostypical shape and either have slimmer bodies, shorter tails and shorter legs but those will be shared for another time
the torso of the body is long and well-set, not extremely thin and vasiform. the boning of the torso (and the body in general) is dense and able to support the cat's weight. it can either be wiry, average or stocky. the coat/pelt of the body can vary, ranging from short to long, and so does the patterns, ranging from striped, spotted, tortoiseshell/calico, rosettes and sometimes even with none at all.
the limbs are sturdy and muscular (which is seen more prominently in male cats) and usually sport medium to large paws with (obviously) retractable claws and prominent knuckles. the hind legs are naturally way longer than the front, so most cats mainly walk with their rear raised and their tail drooping and hanging there
the tail is thick and long, ending in a rounded tip. some cats have longer, winding tails (eg; tallstar) or short, stubby tails (eg; stumpytail) but again this is solely depending on breed. not much to say on tails tbh it's fairly easy
lots of people struggle on accurately capturing the looks and appearance of a cat, so if you still are even after the guide i suggest you look at references on google, visit the MESSYBEAST website (thats where i get most of my cat anatomy slop from) or take inspiration from wayne mcloughlin and owen richardson, two artists (one former, since wayne passed in 2015) that work on the warriors covers.
i hope this little guide helps with generic cat anatomy and how their bodies function externally! maybe i will make a part 2 on styles but who knows....maybe? maybe not? depends on my mood tbh ^^
-beau
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ichorai · 2 years ago
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water dragon ; aemond targaryen. (m)
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the sequel to little dragon!
pairing ; aemond targaryen x tully!f!reader
synopsis ; aemond loved his wife and his children more than anything. to lose one of them... that would bring nothing but war to the seven kingdoms.
words ; 10.3k
themes ; fluff, smut (minors dni!), heavy angst, established relationship (married), parents au
warnings / includes ; major character death (please proceed with caution), blood & cheese, descriptions of violence/blood, unprotexted sex scenes, sex in the rain, jealous!aemond, foul language, you and aemond have three children (syraena, kyrion, myra), cameos of the rest of the hotd characters, syraena experiencing gender dysphoria :( aemond being a good father/husband (most of the time), kyrion is a dragon dreamer, aegon being gross and touching you inappropriately, so sorry if the valyrian isn't completely correct </3 the timeline for this fic is a bit shifted so that king viserys dies a couple years later than he does in the show (so the children have more time to grow) lots & lots of foreshadowing !! there will be a part three.
main masterlist.
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A dull, heavy thud resounded across the training yard when Criston swung his morningstar at Aemond yet again, its thick spikes missing his cheek by a hair’s breadth as he gracefully spun away, the ball landing onto the ground. Before his mentor could strike him again, Aemond darted around him in the blink of an eye, slanting the longsword’s blade against Criston’s throat. 
“If we were enemies on a battlefield, you would be dead,” the Prince murmured.
The Dornish knight raised his hands in surrender. “Then I am grateful we are neither enemies nor at battle.”
With a hum, Aemond let the sword retreat back to his side, turning to place it back on the weapons rack. Only, he found his gaze falling on a small girl amongst the onlookers, her e/c eyes wide, curious, and eagerly dark.
“Syraena? What are you doing here?” he asked his eldest daughter, striding up to her and staring her down with the most stern expression he could muster. It was an hour past noon, and that meant she was supposed to be at her embroidery lessons with the Septa. Or perhaps it was dancing lessons? Aemond couldn’t quite recall. Either way, she wasn’t supposed to be here.
Upon further inspection, he noted that her wispy hair was far shorter and more scraggly than usual, small bits of silver strands littered over her scrawny shoulders.
“What did you—did you cut your hair?” Aemond accused, his single eye narrowing as he knelt down in front of her. “Gods, your mother is going to have my head.”
“Do you like it, Kepa?” Syraena replied, wildly ruffling the short silver tendrils with a wide smile. “I found a sharp shard of glass by that broken window beside the mess hall… and I cut my hair with it!”
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Aemond blew out a long, exasperated sigh. Though this wasn’t the first time Syraena had startled her parents, prone to impulsive recklessness, it didn’t make her proclivities any less hard on Aemond’s heart. “Darling, that is wildly careless. Don’t ever do that again, you understand me? Come on—you shouldn’t be here, your mother must be worried to death searching for you.”
Swiftly, he wound his arms around the six year-old, lifting her up so she would sit over his waist. Of course, Syraena being Syraena, pulled a sour face and began reaching out for Criston, who was observing on with an amused expression.
“But I want to watch you spar!” she complained, twisting in his grasp and kicking at his stomach. Aemond had to bite down on his tongue to swallow his groan of pain, but he held onto her tight nonetheless. “Kepa, let me down! Let me go!”
“You should be in your lessons,” Aemond chastised, striding up the winding stairs back into the Keep. 
Pouting, Syraena let herself flop limply against Aemond’s shoulder. “I hate lessons. I hate the Septa. I hate being a girl.”
Raising a brow, Aemond glanced down at her before softly patting the back of her head. Though he hadn’t a clue what it was like to be a woman in Westeros, he could understand her feeling of not belonging amongst others who seemed to belong so easily. Syraena never got along with other girls her age, who were often afraid of her callousness and her tempestuous nature. In that respect, Aemond supposed his daughter was just like him.
“I’m sorry, my sea dragon. Perhaps I’ll let the Septa know that you no longer wish to dance.” 
“And embroider!”
“Hm. That, as well.”
Syraena grinned widely—her curved lips reminiscent of yours.
“Kepa?”
“Mmh?”
“Don’t tell mother I cut my hair,” she whispered, eyes shining with worry.
It was hard for Aemond to suppress his smile. “I’m sure she’ll notice regardless of whether I tell her or not, darling,” he gently told her.
Her expression dropped. “I didn’t mean to cut it this short. I just don’t like my long hair.”
“You’re very beautiful either way, Syraena,” he easily replied, before stopping in front of his chambers, where he knew you were watching over their baby daughter. “Alright. You go on inside—I’ll go speak to your Septa.”
He set his daughter down on her feet. She loitered by the door, dragging her feet glumly.
With a bark of a laugh, Aemond nudged her forward. “Go on. Your mother won’t be angry. Not that much, at least.”
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Aemond’s only son, Kyrion, was a quiet boy. Only five years of age, born less than eleven moons after Syraena, he was already of greater intelligence than most far older than him, growing a knack for reading and drawing. The maesters would often express that his mind was developing much quicker than what was deemed normal. 
Not only that, but he was quite handsome, as well, with strikingly sharp features akin to his father, and a head of snow-white curls. His eyes were a pale shade of purple, always distant and clouded over with thought. From as soon as he began to talk, Kyrion often spoke in strange, twisted riddles, mystifying both you and Aemond to no end.
King Viserys, as sickly as he was, had claimed him to be a dragon dreamer. Alicent had hushed him then, thinking he was on another one of his senseless rambles, and gently asked the two of you to step out so he could get some rest.
Now, as Aemond sat with his son in the library, he pondered the possibility of it all. Perhaps Kyrion had a divine gift—the ability to see glimpses of the future. He would have to speak with you about it, see what you thought first.
Even if it were true, Aemond didn’t want to put any kind of unnecessary pressure on his son. Kyrion was only five, after all, no matter how startlingly intelligent he was.
“And what does this say?” He tested the boy, tapping his finger against the dusty Valyrian book.
Immediately, Kyrion replied in his soft, far-away voice, “Zaldrīzoti mērī ipradagon parklon. Dragons only eat meat.”
“Hm. Good.”
“It should be more specific,” said Kyrion, hands fidgeting beneath the table. “Dragons only eat cooked meat.”
A ghost of a proud smile hovered over Aemond’s lips. “That is correct—this book is old, from a time before maesters were able to record accurate, detailed information about dragons.”
Kyrion didn’t reply, flipping the worn, yellowed page.
“What does this mean?” he eventually asked, pointing at an unfamiliar word.
Aemond glanced over at the book, before blanching, and cleared his throat hastily. The paragraph was depicting a few different maesters’ debates on the mating practices of dragons—a topic of which Aemond was not too keen on broaching with his five year-old son. 
“Mmh… nothing of importance. Keep on reading, my water dragon. You’re doing very well.”
Blinking up at him with his large, pale violet eyes. He seemed to sense his father’s discomfort, so he let the matter drop, returning his attention to the book. Aemond blew out a relieved breath—he’d surely have to tell you about this later tonight.
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Myra Targaryen, the youngest of Aemond’s children at three years of age, was a sweet little girl with a soft heart, always wearing a gentle smile. She loved all things in nature, and had a near unbearingly kind soul. She loved singing and dancing, a stark contrast to Syraena, who turned her nose away at such activities. At times Aemond wondered how Myra could possibly be his kin, for she was far too pure and he was… certainly not.
Unlike her sharp-faced siblings, Myra’s features were much softer and healthily plump. Her hair was a shade darker than them as well, the curls a silver-gold hue of blonde. Though Aemond was hoping for another daughter that bore your beautiful eye color, Myra was born with his dark purple irises, nearly blue in certain lighting.
As you had left to soak in a bath, Aemond had taken it upon himself to put his river dragon to sleep, tucking her beneath a fleece blanket and brushing her flaxen away from her drooping eyelids, heavy with exhaust from the day.
“Ēdrū sȳrī, Myra,” he whispered, brushing a kiss upon her forehead. Sleep well.
“Night-night, Kepa,” she responded, grinning sleepily, dimples indenting her chubby cheeks. “Today I saw a butterfly in the gardens!”
“Mmh, was it a large butterfly?”
“No. It was very small—smaller than my hand! I named it Hūra, because it was white, like the moon.”
Finding her grin contagious, Aemond felt a smile flicker over his usually stoic demeanor. “A lovely name. Your Aunt Helaena loves butterflies, as well. Perhaps you can tell her all about Hūra tomorrow.”
Myra enthusiastically nodded, before sitting up against her feather-pillows, reaching up to her father to press a sweet kiss against his scar, just below his eyepatch.
By the Gods, he could nearly feel tears prick the corner of his vision, but he managed to subdue them for a minute, not wanting to weep in front of his young daughter, lest she grew worried for him.
“I like Kepa’s scar,” she mumbled as she settled back down to go to sleep. “How did you get it?”
Aemond was silent for a long while, unsure of what to tell her. “An accident,” he simply replied. 
“Does it hurt?”
It did, at times. Not as often as it used to, but there were instances he could still feel phantom pains throbbing behind the leather patch. “Not anymore,” he lied, voice quiet.
If Myra had any other questions, she didn’t get the chance to ask them, already drifting off into slumber.
Aemond hummed, before rising onto his feet, making his way out of her chambers. To his surprise, you were hovering by the doorway, arms crossed and affection written plainly over your expression.
“I just put Kyrion to bed,” you whispered, leaning into his touch when he cradled your face with his palms with a quiet greeting. “He was speaking in riddles again—something about a deal with a stag?”
The two of you began making your way down the hall, to your shared chambers. “Stag?” he asked. “Baratheons?”
“I don’t know.” You shook your head, sighing. “I worry for him.”
Aemond slipped into the room after you, shutting the door behind him. He gathered you in his arms, capturing your lips with his in a chaste kiss. When he pulled away, he studied your concerned features—just as beautiful as the day he’d met you.
“We’ll be fine, dōna embar,” he reassured you, leading you to bed with a protective hand resting over your lower back. You loosely smiled at the nickname—sweet sea. “The dragon-trouts are strong. No house, stag or otherwise, could ever lay a hand on them.”
Instead of responding, you kissed him again, your nose bumping against his in your haste. The both of you laid down on the tall mattress, the promise of sleep whispering sand into your ears.
Before you could fall into a dreamless rest, however, Aemond quietly murmured, “I’m assuming Syraena didn’t tell you she cut her hair with a shard of glass she found by a broken window. Kyrion also asked about mating practices whilst we were in the library. And Myra wanted to know how I got my scar.”
Startled at the sudden barrage of information, you abruptly sat up, eyes wide, sleep suddenly the very last thing on your mind. “What?”
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The next morning was dreary. 
It was a rare thing for rain to grace the capital, as it was usually arid and warm. But the skies were grey and thunderous, miniscule pinpricks of water beginning to fall from the dark clouds. You stood on your chamber’s balcony, enjoying the cooler temperatures and the light drizzles dampening your skin, your hair, your sleeping shift. It’d been several moons since it last rained—compared to your original home, the Riverlands, King’s Landing simply paled in comparison. How you missed the feeling.
Aemond, on the other hand, seemed indifferent to the change in weather. He stepped out to join you, one of his spindly hands reaching out to grasp the damp fabric around your waist, the other moving upward to tilt your chin so you’d look at him.
“How beautiful you are, ābrazȳrys,” he whispered, trailing kisses down from the corner of your lips to your jaw. The Valyrian word for wife was uttered with an extra husky tone. “The hour is quite early—the children are still fast asleep.” There was a rough, needy scratch to his voice, indiscreetly conveying his lustful intentions.
With a wanton grin, you replied breathily, “Fuck me in the rain, Aemond. Fuck me until I can’t wa—”
Before you could finish your sentence, Aemond was already shoving you up against the stone railing, his hot mouth slanted desperately over yours. You kissed him back with just as much vigor, curling one of your legs around his waist. Already, you could feel his length hardening, pressing against your lower stomach.
You moaned lewdly into his mouth when the hand that had been under your chin snaked further downwards to grasp at your breasts through the drenched shift, his nimble fingers pinching at your sensitive peaks. His other hand relinquished his grasp on your waist, slipping beneath the fabric between your thighs and running a finger through your folds. The action made you cry out, grasping his forearms for dear life.
“You’re already drenched for me,” Aemond susurrated, pulling away from your lips, which you had chased after with a sigh, littering kisses against your bobbing throat. “Ñuha jorrāelagon.” My love.
“Please, Aemond,” you croaked, needing more. “Please, I need you inside me.”
With a hum, Aemond swiftly shoved your damp shift up to bunch around your waist, leaving your lower half completely bare for him. 
“Who am I to deny you, embar?” he whispered, biting the outside of your ear, before slowly sliding his leaking, throbbing length into your cunt. “Fuck! Mmh—you take me so well, sweet wife.”
Slowly, he began rocking into you, prideful at the way you rolled your eyes into the back of your head. Your shift, clinging against you like a second skin thanks to the rain, made the motions of your heaving, bouncing breasts all the more enticing. He ducked his head to freckle kisses over your chest as he thrust into you, murmuring praises into the wet fabric.
A clap of thunder drowned out the obscene noises the both of you were making. 
Wildly, Aemond tore himself out of you, extinguishing the fiery complaints on the tip of your tongue by turning you over and pushing your stomach into the railing, so you could face the city. You were far too high up for anyone to clearly see, but the thrill of it was there, nonetheless.
Your husband slid back into you with a deep groan and a string of curses, sloppily pounding you from behind as he neared his peak. He wound an arm around you to languidly stroke at your pulsing clit, which had you bucking back into him with a surprised choke of his name.
It wasn’t long until you collapsed against him, your cunt clenching around his cock like a vice, white stars bursting out in front of your vision. Not too soon after, Aemond spilled himself within you, his hot cum dripping out of your core and down your thighs, panting against your shoulder. 
“Mmh,” you moaned once he slowly pulled out, so as to not overwhelm you with overstimulation. “I do hope it rains in King’s Landing more often.”
“If it leads to more of this, then so do I,” Aemond replied, turning you around with gentle touches to kiss you soundly. “For now, how does a hot bath sound?”
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Myra’s shrieks of laughter echoed across the large chambers as she clumsily ran away from Syraena, who was enacting a large, hungry dragon searching for her prey. 
“Kepa, help me!” she screamed, scrambling to hide behind her father’s legs. Amused, Aemond picked up his youngest girl, setting her on his hip. His eldest clung to his shin, forcing Aemond to drag the both of them across the room as they squealed in delight. 
“Faster!” Syraena ordered. Aemond made a mental note to tell Criston he was most likely going to be late for training today, knowing his girls probably wouldn’t let go of him for the next few hours.
On the other side of the chambers, you sat by your son next to the fireplace, sipping on a chalice of spiced apple cider. Kyrion was sprawled out on the expensive chaise, the corner of his tongue poking out of his mouth as he concentrated on drawing on a piece of parchment with a coal-tipped pencil.
“Mother, look,” he said, pulling your attention away from your husband and the excited girls. The paper was pushed onto your lap, covered with black smudges and hastily drawn lines. “This is what I see in my dreams.”
You blinked, studying the drawings closer. “What is it, honey? Are those trees?”
His white hair flew every which way as he vehemently shook his head. His small hand pointed at the six figures, hovering a few inches above the uneven ground. “Those are people. They didn’t bend the knee.”
Horror’s dark fingers wrapped around your heart, and you reared back to stare at your son. “Kyrion, what is this? You… have you seen this?” 
His pale violet eyes met your terrified ones. “In my dreams,” he repeated, voice soft and tame, as if he hadn’t just drawn a picture of six lords hanging from the gallows. “You don’t have dreams like those?”
Still in shock, you shook your head, mute.
Kyrion studied you for a moment longer, before grabbing another sheet of paper to start drawing again. “You’re lucky, mother. Sometimes I feel it.”
“Why is that, Kyrion? What else do you feel?”
The little boy shrugged. “The milk curdles, the blood spills.” He fell quiet after that, clearly done with the conversation.
Struggling for words, you blew out a long breath, before looking back at the parchment. You leaned forward to press a kiss to his head, patting down his short white curls, before standing up and making your way to Aemond, his drawing in hand. Myra had somehow ended up on his shoulders, yelling for help as Syraena jumped around, trying to catch her little sister’s flailing feet.
“Mama,” the young river dragon cried, reaching out to you with tearful purple-blue eyes. “Syraena bit me!”
True to her word, there were shallow teeth marks imprinted in her chubby shin. Syraena grinned at her handiwork, looking none too apologetic. 
“Aemond!” you sharply reprimanded, which made your husband flinch at the sudden attention, puzzled as to why the blame was placed on him instead of Syraena. “Gods, did you just stand by and watch as your daughters mauled each other?”
“I was outnumbered, darling. They are vicious little things, our girls,” Aemond lightly replied, letting go of the golden-haired girl so she could cling onto you, sobbing into your neck. At your stern expression, Aemond added on, “Syraena, say sorry to your sister.”
With a quick tongue, she quickly said with years of rehearsed practice, “Sorry, Myra. Can I come watch you train now, Kepa?” 
Before he could reply, you stepped in. “Ah-ah, Syraena. You need to go to the Septa and apologize for running away from your lessons yesterday. You may be excused from embroidery and dancing, but that doesn’t give you the right to be rude.”
Glum, Syraena glanced at her father, who only beckoned her along. “Listen to your mother.”
With a heavy exhale, the silver-haired girl stomped out of the room to do as she was bid. 
You traced your hand along the bite mark on Myra’s leg. “It’s not too bad, sweetheart. Go on—go ask your brother if you can draw with him.”
Sniffling, Myra slid down from your arms and waddled off to sit by Kyrion, who wordlessly scooched over to make space for his little sister.
“What’s wrong?” Aemond asked, noting the worry in your expression. The once light-hearted atmosphere seemed to dissolve away in an instant.
Pursing your lips, you handed over the drawing. 
“Kyrion said he saw this in his dreams. People hanging… he said they didn’t bend the knee,” you whispered. 
Aemond studied the coal-streaked parchment, eye narrowed. “Perhaps that’s all it was… just a dream.”
“Or it could be a vision. Your father said it himself—our son is a dragon dreamer,” you responded, gripping his forearm. “Aemond, I’m worried that war is upon us. Sooner than we think it is.”
There was little Aemond could truthfully say to comfort you, and so he simply drew you close, breathing in your homely scent—pleasantly noting that he could still smell the rain on you. 
“It’ll be alright,” he murmured sincerely. “I won’t let anything happen to you, or our family. I’ll keep you safe.”
Blinking away the tears stinging the corner of your eyes, you pressed your nose against his throat. “I’m not sure you’d be able to, husband. Not in a war for the iron throne. Nobody is safe from that.”
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Your law-sister, Helaena, had always harbored a gentle, sweet soul—a direct opposite to her brother and husband, Aegon. The very thought of being trapped in a loveless marriage, made to squeeze out heirs for a monster of a man was already nightmarish enough… you couldn’t fathom what it was like for Helaena to endure such a life. Nonetheless, she was often as happy as one could be, dreamily smiling and murmuring unintelligible words to herself. 
That evening you found yourself having tea with her, listening to her speak about the strange weather and the bugs she had found washed up in the gardens due to the rain. 
“Many worms, yes,” she mumbled, fiddling with a wooden carving of a cockroach. “Worms and drowned ants. Ants and drowned worms. Beetles, as well, yes.”
You smiled, glancing at her children, Jaehaerys and Jaehaera, playing with yours—though Kyrion wasn’t really playing with his cousins, more just standing in the shadows and silently watching his sisters play with them. He truly was a copy of his father, after all.
“The poor creatures,” you surmised. “Rid of their homes and families just because of a bit of rain.” A bit of guilt twinged within your chest—just earlier today, you had told Aemond you wished for it to rain more.
“Oh, it’s not all that bad,” Helaena hummed, looking up at you with a mild grin. “Death gives way to more life. There will soon be new worms, new ants, new beetles. It’s simply the way of nature.”
You nodded, setting down your teacup. “I suppose you’re right. It’s just a shame that it has to happen in the first place.”
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To your surprise and none of Aemond’s, all the childrens’ dragon eggs hatched within their cradles. They were growing larger and larger every day, being looked after by the dragon keepers before the children could ride them.
Today, Aemond took them down to the Dragon Pit, where his children were going to bond with their respective beasts. You were invited to come, as you always were when Aemond went off on his excursions with the kids, but you had wrinkled your nose and turned back to your book. 
“I have no taste for stinking of dragon today, thank you,” you curtly replied, grinning down at your book. “Don’t you think Myra is a bit too young to bond with her dragon? She’s only three.”
“It doesn’t hurt to get acquainted,” he swiftly replied, before bending at the waist to slant a sweet kiss to your hairline, before taking his leave to head out of his chambers and wrangle his kids down to the Pit.
They were excited to go, Syraena most especially, practically sprinting down the corridors. He called out after her to slow down, but she paid him no mind. 
The Dragon Pit smelled of smoke and charred meat and something distinctly dragon.
Keepers brought out the three dragonlings, playfully nipping at each other’s wings and yipping as if they were young pups. 
The largest of the trio was named Aerion—Syraena’s dragon. He was a slender beauty, with shining black scales and sharp, crimson wing membranes. With the Keeper’s nod, Syraena confidently marched forward, stroking her dragon’s head, a toothy grin plastered across her lips. Aerion seemed to purr beneath her touch, plumes of grey smoke falling from his nostrils.
Next to come forward was Kyrion’s dragon, his rippling scales a dark shade of green and sharp eyes a molten amber. “Tyvaros,” Aemond heard his son mumble his dragon’s name. “Tyvaros.” A bit more timid, Kyrion hesitantly stepped forward and, with the Keeper’s approval, he reached out for the small green dragon. He was the calmest of the three, leaning forward to gently nudge his head against Kyrion’s shoulder.
The smallest of the hatchlings was Goldentooth, a pale, cream-hued dragon with aureate spikes running down her back and along her tail. She was Myra’s to claim, having been the very last to hatch. 
“Go on, Qelbar.” He gently nudged his flaxen-haired daughter forward. River, he affectionately called her. “Don’t you want to bond with her?”
Myra nodded, teeth sinking into her bottom lip. “What if she doesn’t like me?”
“I can’t see a reason why she wouldn’t like you,” he calmly responded, patting her back. “Your brother and sister are getting along with their dragons just fine. It took me a long time to bond with a dragon, as well. You’ll get there, eventually.”
His words seemed to instill some courage into her, and so she shuffled along to the last Keeper, murmuring hello to her dragon. It wasn’t long until the fear subsided, and the small dragon was already climbing all over her arms and shoulders.
After an hour of bonding, the Keepers were hoarding the dragons further down into the Pit for feeding, and in turn, Aemond took the children back up into the Keep. They all stank of dragon, something you definitely weren’t going to be happy with, but had wide smiles on their faces nonetheless.
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There was a hearing carried out on the subject of the heir to Driftmark (which was settled in an unsettlingly gorey manner, courtesy of Daemon Targaryen), which meant Princess Rhaenyra and her sons were back in King’s Landing for quite a while, to Aemond’s displeasure. You, on the other hand, bore no ill-will to the Princess, and were rather excited for the royal dinner to be held the next day. 
The night after Vaemond’s beheading, Kyrion had tugged on your skirts and asked if you could accompany him to the library so he could return his book.
“Alright,” you told him with a small smile. “But we must be quick about it—the hour grows late, and I can see how sleepy you are.”
The purple-eyed boy nodded, taking your hand as the two of you made your way down the dark corridors, to the library. When the both of you turned the corner, you nearly ran straight into Lucerys, jumping back in surprise.
“Oh, Gods! My apologies, my Princes,” you exclaimed, flustered at the sudden appearance of Rhaenyra’s sons. “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”
Lucerys tilted his head. “No need to apologize, Lady Tully.”
“Targaryen. Tully is my maiden name—I’m married to Prince Aemond now,” you gently corrected. 
“Evidently so,” said Jace, glancing at your son with a polite smile. “This must be my little cousin. Kyrion, isn’t it?”
The white-haired boy stared up at him with his pale eyes. “Ice and fire. Arrows and seas. Pacts and death. I saw you in my dreams.”
“Kyrion,” you hastily reprimanded, mortified that your son was speaking of death in front of Princess Rhaenyra’s eldest son, gathering the small boy up in your arms. “Sorry, he must be tired. It’s his bedtime—” 
“He doesn’t look much like you, does he?” Lucerys observed, finding it eerily strange to be staring at a little boy that was a near carbon copy of the bane of his childhood. 
Brows furrowing, you hesitantly replied, knowing the stale animosity between him and your husband, “I… I suppose not, my Prince. He takes after his father. My daughters, too.”
“Ah, then we must arrange to meet them. I’m sure your children would enjoy playing with my little brothers, Aegon and Viserys. They must be around the same age,” said Jace in an amicable manner. 
Before you had a chance to respond, a familiar voice spat, “And why, pray tell, do you think I would ever allow my children near you and your filthy kin?” 
Aemond appeared from out of the shadows, features set in one of cold fury. Both Jacaerys and Lucerys took a step back, shoulders stiffening. They had seen him training earlier today—it didn’t go past their notice that he had become incredibly skilled in combat over the years. In no way would either of them be a match for him. 
Wary not to allow a fight to break out, you reached out to place a calming hand on his arm. “Aemond—” you gritted out.
“Leave us,” he growled.
Teeth gnashing together, you shook your head and whispered, “Aemond, I don’t want there to be any bad blood between us.”
“Take our son and go,” he said, more gently this time. To you, Jace and Luke were just boys—sweet boys with kind hearts. To Aemond, however, they were the monsters who took out his eye. They were a threat to him and his family’s safety.
Exchanging a worried glance between him and Jacaerys, who nodded at you to take your leave, you blew out a frustrated breath, before hastening away with Kyrion in your arms. It seemed the two of you would have to take a trip to the library another day.
Lowering his voice, Aemond calmly told the two brothers, “Speak to my wife or my children again, and I’ll have the both of you fed to my dragon.”
Luke swallowed nervously, but Jace stood his ground. 
“Is that all, Uncle?” he challenged, eyebrows cocked. 
Aemond fixed a sharp glare on them, nose upturned. With an irritated grunt, he turned and strode off after you, leaving the two bastard boys stunned and mildly confused in his wake.
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Once he had made sure his girls were safely tucked in their beds, Aemond paid his son a visit, sitting by his side.
“I apologize for interrupting your trip to the library, water dragon,” he murmured, patting down the boy’s messy white curls. 
Kyrion chewed on his bottom lip in thought. “Why don’t you like them, Kepa?”
Aemond’s single eye searched his son’s gaze, completely sincere in his curiosity. “A story for another time, when you’re older,” he replied. “Your mother said you’ve been drawing what you see in your dreams. Can you tell me about them?”
“Which ones?” he asked.
The one-eyed man felt sick at the thought of his little boy having to watch a thousand lives pass by in his visions, most having to inevitably end in death. It was a curse to be a dragon dreamer, he thought with a grimace. A burden.
“Whichever you want to tell me about, tresy.” Son.
Kyrion’s pale eyes seemed to mist over, and he fixed his gaze on a random candle across the room. “I see you wearing a crown. You sit on the Iron Throne.”
A beat of silence. “What?”
It seemed his son had mistaken Aemond’s befuddled expression for anger, as he shrank away from his father with a frown. “I’m sorry, Kepa. Don’t be angry with me.”
Aemond softened. “I’m not angry, Kyrion. I was just… shocked.”
Not all of Kyrion’s visions came true, did they? Aemond tried his best to wrack his mind for the dozens of times his mystic ramblings lead to nowhere. 
“I also see mother sailing away on a ship with Syraena and Myra. She looks sad,” he quietly spoke. “I don’t like that dream very much. Can I go to sleep now, Kepa?”
Blowing out a small breath, Aemond mustered a small smile, though it didn’t quite reach his worried eye. “Yes, of course. Sleep well, little dragon.”
Hastily, he stood back up on his feet, blowing out the candles around Kyrion’s chamber, before striding out the door. His head was spinning with a million thoughts at once, his son’s wispy voice echoing within his mind.
A crown on his head. His wife and his girls on a ship. Seven hells… what was to become of his family?
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Myra was humming a sweet song of summer, chubby cheeks rosy with the warm breeze that blew through the Godswood. She was seated in front of you over a yellow blanket situated on the ground. In your hands, you were weaving the little girl’s golden hair into an intricate braid, small wildflowers slotted in between the crevices. 
A little ways away from the both of you, Syraena was running circles around the Weirwood tree, fighting off invisible enemies with a long, wooden stick she claimed to be her sword. 
“There you go, darling,” you said, patting Myra’s shoulders once you were done. “Syraena, come here! I want to fix your hair!”
Your eldest girl huffed and puffed as she stomped over, her short silver strands sticking up every which way. “What’s there to fix?” she grumbled, plopping down in front of you.
“Perhaps if you hadn’t foolishly sliced it all off with a shard of glass, it wouldn’t resemble an uneven rat’s nest sitting upon your head,” you reprimanded. 
Giggling, Myra clapped her hands. “Rat’s nest!” she parroted.
Syraena scowled. “It’s not fair. You let Kyrion have short hair. I want to be a boy, like him.”
“If you wanted short hair, you could’ve just asked. Lailena would have gladly cut it for you,” you said, brandishing a wooden comb to gently run it through Syraena’s thin silvery strands. “Do you want to know what your father said when I was first pregnant with you?”
Syraena shifted with a grimace as you yanked at a knot in her hair. “What?”
“He said he didn’t care whether you were a boy or a girl. That you were his blood, regardless. His tempestuous sea dragon,” you said with a small smile, mimicking a sour face at her nickname. “And Kyrion came next, our tranquil water dragon. Then lastly, Myra, our sweet river dragon.”
When you were done, you had Syraena turn around so you could inspect her hairline, brushing back any stray bits of hair that escaped your comb. “All finished. Beautiful, handsome… I’ll call you whatever you want me to call you, sweetling.”
She chewed at the inside of her cheek, nodding. “Can I go play knights with Jaehaerys now?” 
“Go on,” you lightly nudged her away, an exasperated smile tugging at your lips, knowing full and well her hair was going to be all mussed in no less than half an hour of playing. 
Before Syraena could get up and scramble away, however, a figure approached the three of you. She was clad in a black cloak, detailed with fine red thread in embroideries of flames and dragons. Golden jewelry decorated her pale skin, her long hair like sheets of pure snow.
The Princess Rhaenyra.
“Princess,” you breathily greeted, mind flashing back to last night, when you had bumped into her sons. 
You were about to get up to bow, but Rhaenyra quickly said, “No need, Lady Y/N. My apologies, I wasn’t aware the Godswood was occupied. If you’d like to be alone—”
“Oh, no, it’s quite alright, Princess. It’s a space to be shared, after all,” you said with a courteous smile.
Rhaenyra studied you carefully, her purple eyes taking in your form. It was a strange thing, she thought. You were married to her half-brother, and mothered her childhood friend’s grandchildren. A childhood friend that was her friend no longer.
With you, however, perhaps the story could be different. 
A genuine smile graced the Princess’ lips. “These are your girls?” she asked.
The taller and older of the two most certainly took after her father, with her sharp features and silver hair, though she bore your eyes and your smile. The younger was plump with a softer face, and had more blonde than white hair, her large eyes a deep shade of violet.
“Yes, this is Syraena, my oldest. And this is Myra,” you told her. “My son Kyrion is in the library at the moment, with his father.”
“His father,” Rhaenyra echoed quietly, voice distant. The memory of little Aemond in front of her, eye slashed out, and Luke cowering behind her with a bleeding, broken nose flashed into her mind. Clearing her throat, she reeled herself back into the present by saying, “Your children are very beautiful. Have you considered any potential suitors for them yet?”
Your eyes widened simultaneously as Syraena’s head whipped up to stare at you.
“No,” you replied, a tad too quickly. “I don’t think I’d want to subject them to that until they come of age. Or until they want to.”
The Princess tilted her head to the side with a mild laugh. “If your daughters were anything like me when I was a teenager, then you’d find the latter quite a challenge.”
“Yes, Queen Alicent has told me of your youth… how you rejected nearly all the contenders for your hand,” you replied. “I can’t say I could relate. Aemond was my first and only suitor.”
She hummed in thought. “I only asked because I just had my sons betrothed to their cousins.”
Right. Jacaerys and Lucerys were to wed Baela and Rhaena. 
So that was why she asked. She wanted to know if Alicent was scheming, just as she had been. Betrothals and weddings were equivalent to political currency in times of war.
“I don’t plan on wedding my children off any time soon,” you reassured her. From the corner of your eye, you could see Syraena’s shoulders loosen up. The prospect of marriage was not one she was particularly interested in.
“I see,” Rhaenyra said, though her face was much more relaxed now than before. “I shall go wash myself before supper tonight. I look forward to seeing you there.”
With that, she turned to take her leave. Myra looked up at you with a toothy grin. “Can I come with you to supper?”
“It’ll be past your bedtime,” you said, rising to your feet and picking her up to place on your hip. “But I promise we can spend the entire day together before that. Come on, Syraena, I’ll drop you off at Jaehaerys’ room.”
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That evening’s royal supper was a disaster.
It started off well enough, with several toasts from the adults, and an additional one from Jacaerys dedicated to his uncles and his cousins’ good fortune. The King gave one long, hunkering speech on unity and the togetherness of the dragon’s house, wheezing through his words all the way. 
Only then did the feast begin, consisting of a large assortment of roasted meats and soups and plates of steaming bread. There were also cold platters of appetizers passed around, full of cheeses, figs, and grapes. Viserys had barely eaten a bite before he had to be escorted back to his chambers, past his point of exhaustion.
Aegon had spent most of the dinner tormenting Jace and Baela on their future marriage. When he grew bored of his nephew’s stoic demeanor, he turned to you, his good-sister. It was evident the Prince was quite drunk as he blathered on and on about the most trivial topics as you gingerly drank your hearty soup, though you didn’t have much of a stomach for it anymore. 
The last of the toasts came from Helaena as she congratulated Baela and Rhaena on their betrothals, subtly dunking on her husband before she drank with a dreamy grin. 
Not too long after, music started playing, a symphony of strings and bells, and Jace had offered his hand to Helaena, much to Aegon’s dismay. 
In an effort to retaliate, Aegon leaned close to your ear, placing a hand on your thigh beneath the table. You had jerked away from his touch, glancing at Aemond, who sat on your other side. 
“Care for a dance with me, good-sister?” He smelled of wine and a general foul dampness.
You swallowed the lump in your throat. “That’s quite alright, my Prince. I don’t think you’re in a state to dance with me.”
“Nonsense, Lady Y/N, I am as sound as the day I was born!” he drunkenly hiccuped, words slurring together. His hand found its way back to your thigh, fingers gripping tighter this time. You tried to yank your leg away, nearly standing up with the effort.
Sensing your discomfort, Aemond growled out, “Leave my wife alone, brother.”
The song drew to a close, and Helaena returned to her seat, beaming brightly. 
“Or what?” Aegon cackled, clearly enjoying seeing his brother get riled up. Thankfully, his hand slipped away from your leg to grip another chalice of wine. “What will you possibly—”
Before he could finish, Jacaerys stood between you and Aegon, offering his hand.
“If I could have this dance, Lady Targaryen?” he asked, emphasizing the family name in memory of your correction last night. His expression bore one of concern, obviously coming here to offer you an escape from Aegon.
Sparing a glance to your husband, who had taken to silently bristling, you nodded once.
“Of course, my Prince,” you said, taking his hand. Much to your satisfaction, Aegon had looked like he was struck across the face. 
Off the two of you danced—spinning and twirling and laughing the entire time. Aemond was never too fond of dancing during the celebrations, always cautious of the stares, much preferring to dance with you in the privacy of your own chambers. Watching you openly have such fun with Jacaerys, however, made jealousy coil tight within his abdomen. You were smiling so widely—a smile that he had the joy of seeing every morning. To see it elicited because of his bastard nephew kindled an envious, green flame inside him.
Then came the pig. 
And Lucerys’ none-too-discreet giggling.
Something in Aemond snapped.
The music halted as he slammed his fists onto the table, and his wife hastily stopped dancing with Jacaerys to see what the commotion was. 
Of course, Aemond simply couldn’t help himself. In front of the entire family, he called his nephews Strong boys.
Pandemonium broke out. Jacaerys had let go of you to storm forward and land a punch on your husband, which seemed not to affect him in the least, shoving the brown-haired boy to the ground. 
Aegon, eager to join the chaos, had grabbed Lucerys by the scruff of his shirt, shoving him into a searing platter of fish. “A gift for the new Lord of Driftmark!” he announced with a wild, manic grin.
In the end, Daemon had been the one to put a stop to the scuffle, staring down Aemond with raised brows. With a frustrated hum beneath his breath, your husband stormed out of the mess hall, making his way upstairs to your shared chambers.
You scrambled out after him, lifting your skirts to give you space to run. It was improper to leave without bidding the rest of the family goodbye, but then again… nothing about the dinner had been proper at all.
Once you had rushed into the room, Aemond roughly slammed the door shut, pushing you up against it. His fingers were already undoing the laces on your back, his lips sealing shut over yours.
“Aemond,” you murmured against him, lightly pushing at his chest. “Stop, for just a minute.”
Your husband pulled back at your request, single violet eye ablaze.
“What… Gods, why would you do such a thing? Why would you go out of your way to torment them?”
“You know very well why,” he quietly gruffed, reaching behind to pull off his eyepatch, tossing it onto a small table by the door, the sapphire in place of his lost eye gleaming dully beneath the moonlight. Your lips parted to ask him something else, but he cut you off by gripping your chin, whispering in a possessive fashion, “Hush, ñuha dōna embar. Seven hells, you’re more beautiful than ever. And you’re all mine.” My sweet sea.
“Don’t hush me!” you hissed, brows knitting together. “Aemond, Jacaerys will one day be the crown prince when Rhaenyra ascends the throne. It is not wise to provoke them in such a manner.”
Blowing out a heavy sigh, Aemond stroked your cheeks with the pads of his thumbs. “They’re bastards, my love. The throne is not theirs to take. And my sister… the realm will not accept her as their ruler. You know this, jorrāelagon.”
“They swore an oath! Our families swore oaths to her. I don’t know about you, but I’m not too keen on becoming an oathbreaker,” you reminded, softening beneath his touch. “Aemond, I don’t want to fight with you. I just don’t want you to do that again. If not for me, then for our children. Don’t go picking fights where it’s not needed.”
Aemond shut his weary eye. If Myra had seen him tonight, she would surely be afraid of him.
“I’m sorry, my love. I’m sorry. I got caught up in my anger.”
You leaned forward to kiss him, soft and gentle, and Aemond wasted no time in reciprocating, pressing you back against the door. Off came your dress and down came your styled hair with Aemond’s skilled fingers. In no time, Aemond had your legs wound around his waist, his coat unbuttoned and shirked off somewhere behind him. Your drenched core was pressed right against his throbbing length, rock hard and leaking with pearly beads of precum.
“I love you, more than anything, more than life itself,” he murmured against your throat, gently nipping at the skin there. “Tell me you’re mine.”
“I’m yours, Aemond,” you moaned wantonly when one of his hands snaked down to thumb at your clit. “Please, I’m yours, please fuck me.”
With a satisfied hum, Aemond planted a deep kiss onto your parted lips, a groan rumbling from his chest when you bit into his bottom lip, eyes hooded. He lined his cock up, before sinking into you with one smooth motion, his forehead falling into the crook of your neck.
You held onto him for dear life when he began to rock into you, scratching faint crimson lines down his toned back. The pain seemed to only spur him on, and he shifted his angle to pound into you deeper, your eyes rolling into the back of your head at the pleasure.
“Fuck!” he bit out. “So good, ābrazȳrys. Feels so good around me.” 
He moaned when you clenched around him, his breath hitching when you slid your hands up into his hair and yanked with no abandon. In no time, he could feel you coming undone around him with a litany of colorful curses, shaking almost violently in his hold. In turn, Aemond came inside you with a shout of your name, rocking into you once, twice, thrice more.
Slow, he pulled out of you, watching the cum drip out of your spent cunt with great satisfaction. He kissed you sweetly, nose nudging against your cheek.
“I’ll get you cleaned up,” he softly said, carrying you across the room to set you down on the bed. “Go to sleep, love.”
“Mm, I love you,” you murmured. A ghost of a warm smile etched into the corner of his lips. He repeated the sentiment to you, but you had already drifted off to sleep before you could hear it.
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King Viserys was dead. Rhaenyra and her children were gone, having flown back to Dragonstone earlier in the day.
And already, Aegon was to be crowned King.
You were none too happy about the turn of events, but you were to turn the cheek and play the part of the faithful wife, for the sake of your family and their safety. The lords who had refused to bend the knee to Aegon were either thrown in the dungeons or hanged, labeled as treasonous traitors to the realm. It was just like Kyrion had drawn, as he claimed to have seen in his dreams.
“A beast beneath the boards,” Helaena had constantly murmured, which frightened you to no end. 
It was only worsened when Kyrion would reply with, “Bursting red, red in the sky, the sun in her mouth.”
Syraena was rupturing at the seams with a constant stream of questions—questions you had no such answers to. And your youngest daughter was crying the entire day, sensing the tense, fragile atmosphere. Your husband had gone to find Aegon in the slums of King’s Landing, who had unsurprisingly disappeared in thin air. 
Not before long, he was dragged back into the Keep, and the coronation commenced above the Dragon Pit. The beast beneath the boards broke out only minutes after the crown was placed on his head. Hundreds of commoners and smallfolk were killed in the commotion. Princess Rhaenys rode her scarlet dragon, the Queen That Never Was mounted on the Red Queen of Dragons.
Aemond had shoved you back, protectively standing in front of you, though there was very little he could do. The both of you were immensely grateful the children were left in the castle with Lailena, safe from the chaos and the havoc. If you were to die today, you’d be dying in Aemond’s arms, knowing your children were safe for the time being—what better way was there to die?
But neither of you died that day, for Meleys had only screeched out a shrill warning, before clambering out of the Pit, and absconding to the clouds. Red in the sky.
Aemond had ushered you to the Keep, before hugging you tight in the secluded privacy of your chambers, genuinely terrified that he could’ve lost you. 
The next day, he was already leaving again. He was to go to Storm’s End to broker a deal with Borros Baratheon: a marriage proposal between his brother Daeron and one of the Lord’s daughters. It seemed that betrothals truly were the realm’s political currency now.
“I want to come with you, Kepa,” Syraena said, staring up at her father with narrowed e/c eyes. “Let me come with you!”
Expression softening, Aemond ruffled her already-mussed hair. “It’ll be a quick trip. You can come to the next one, Syraena.”
The next goodbye was for his son, who hugged his father loosely. “An eye for a pearl,” he mumbled, too quiet for Aemond to hear. 
Clutched to his leg, sobbing hysterically, was Myra, her cheeks damp and her dark, plum-hued eyes red-rimmed. “Oh, river, don’t cry for me. I’ll be back tomorrow, I promise.”
Finally, he turned to you, his hand on the back of your head as he kissed you, chaste yet passionate, and rested his forehead on yours. “Stay safe in here, my dear sea.”
“Storm’s End is wet and cold and… obviously stormy. Keep yourself warm. Don’t get struck by lightning, is all I ask, husband.”
“As you wish, love,” he whispered, before ducking his head to kiss your cheek. With a laugh, he pried his sweet girl away from his leg, lifting her up to chastely peck her forehead, and then handed her bawling form over to you. She was always this way when Aemond had to leave for longer than a day.
The four of you watched Aemond head out of the Keep. Unease roiled within your stomach with his absence. 
“Three days for the pearl to wash ashore,” said Kyrion. There was a pallid tone to his skin, and he glanced at you with his large, pale eyes. “Mother, I’m scared.”
“Come,” you quickly said, ushering the children to their chambers. “Let’s go play with Auntie Helaena and Jaehaerys and Jaehaera, yes?”
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It was late the next night when Aemond returned. The moon glowed in a sliver of its regular size, the crescent unnaturally bright in the dark sky, void of any stars. You were standing out on the balcony, sleeping shift rustling with the warm wind when the doors behind you creaked open.
Rainwater dripped from his cloak as he stepped in. 
Drip, drip, drip.
His single eye was wide and haunted, expression so far that it seemed like Aemond wasn’t even in the same room as you. 
“Aemond?” you called out, stepping back into the chambers and crossing the room in quick strides to greet him. “Gods, you're sopping wet. Are you alright?”
It was as if he didn’t hear you, staring at the ground with parted lips. There was an unfamiliar, raw sort of terror blanketed over his features, you could see it clear as ever. Your brows indented together, and you reached out to softly graze your fingers along his damp face. 
At the gentle touch, Aemond snapped his gaze to you. His hands were shaking.
Finding yourself at a loss for words, you roped him into an embrace, clutching his drenched form tightly against yours, uncaring that you were getting soaked in the process. This seemed to break him out of his reverie, as he began to tremble violently, and his chest thundered with silent sobs. His nose went directly to your neck and you hushed him with your free hand stroking the back of his head.
“Aemond, my love, what happened?” you asked again.
This time, he tried his best to answer you. “I didn’t… I didn’t mean it.”
“Didn’t mean what, darling?”
“Vhagar didn’t listen to me. I tried to stop her,” he croaked, pulling his ashen face away from the junction of your neck, searching your comforting face frantically. “I… I killed him. I killed Lucerys.”
Your lips parted in shock. There was little you could find to say—for what could you tell your husband, now a kinslayer? No amount of comforting words could fix a situation such as this.
When Rhaenyra would inevitably find out about her son, war would rain down upon you and your family.
With a thick throat, you tightly hugged Aemond again, tears gracing the corners of your own eyes.
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The days passed in a blur. Aemond was quieter than ever before, regret painted over his sharp features each and every time you glanced at him. Once he told his mother, she had nearly gone down the same manic spiral, but steeled herself to deal with the Green council. 
When Aegon heard of his nephew’s death, he threw a large, grand feast, inviting all the Lords and Ladies at court.
Neither you nor Aemond attended.
The fourth night after Aemond had returned from Storm’s End, you were in Kyrion’s chambers, brushing away his ivory curls with tender hands as he settled beneath his fleece blanket to go to sleep. Aemond was putting the girls to bed by reading them a story, as the both of them were more restless than usual as of late. 
“Kyr, baby, I have a question for you,” you said, voice soft and hesitant. Should you really be asking your son this? When Kyrion tilted his head in a silent motion for you to continue, you cleared your throat. “In your dreams… Did you see what happened to your cousin, Lucerys?”
Your son nodded once, biting at the inside of his cheek, a habit that he seemed to share with you.
Before you could ask him what he saw, there was a sudden, dull thud heard outside, followed by the familiar screech of steel. Fear wound its cold, dark hands around your pulsating heart.
The door flung open so quickly that the hinges whined in protest. Your eyes fell upon the two guards in front of Kyrion’s chambers, sprawled over the cobblestone floor, dark ichor leaking out of slit throats. Two looming figures stood in the doorway. One large and burly, the other short and thin as a twig. 
You had no time to react, for a second later, the small one had darted forward, seizing you with surprising strength, brandishing coarse rope from thin air and binding your limbs together with tight knots, doing so with just one hand as his other was tightly sealing your mouth so you wouldn’t be able to scream for your husband, for more guards, for anyone. The other large man slammed the doors shut and barred them with one of his many swords he was carrying. The one holding you roughly gagged you with a cloth as soon as he pried his hand off, tying the ends around the back of your head. You gagged when your tongue registered the taste of coppery, day-old blood and sweat. 
Despite the hindrance, you screamed your throat raw through the cloth anyway, kicking furiously and struggling in desperation against the small man, who was adamant on keeping you rooted to one spot. Your yells came out muffled and guttural, but not nearly loud enough to alert anybody outside, seeing as the closest people to the chambers were now dead.
Your son whimpered out for you, but he remained quiet after that, his pale mauve eyes wide as he fixed his gaze upon the large, brutish man who slowly approached him.
“Don’t be scared, little fish,” the mousy man sneered gripping your cheeks so you’d be forced to watch your little boy cower further beneath his covers. “We’re simply debt collectors, you see. An eye for an eye, a son for a son. We just want ‘im. Won’t hurt one hair on your pretty lil’ head, ey?”
“NO!” you sobbed, struggling thrice-fold against him, to no avail. “Take me! Please, not my son!” you screamed, though it sounded like nothing but incoherent wailing through the dirty cloth.
You could do nothing but watch in horror as the large man tightened his grip on his longsword. The other hand reached out for your son, dragging him out of bed by the scruff of his sleep shirt so he dangled nearly a meter away from the ground.
“Don’t look, mother. I don’t want you to see it,” he whispered, just loud enough for you to hear through the thundering of your pulse in your ears, making your knees buckle. “I saw it in my dreams.” 
With one strike, the man lopped Kyrion’s head clean off.
Your heart seemed to stop for a moment. You screamed through the cloth, sobbing as you painfully crumpled to the ground, the gangly man finally releasing you. The blood… your son’s blood… his bed was covered with it. The walls behind him, the floor, the books on his desk…
Red, everywhere…
The two monsters had taken Kyrion’s head, the large man’s crimson-flecked fist gripping your son’s pearly-white curls, both fleeing the chambers in a blink of an eye. 
You sobbed against the ground, inching your way to your son with your bonds digging into you. You didn’t care. It was nothing compared to the pain within your chest.
“Kyrion,” you wailed through the cloth, using your shoulder to roughly shove it down your lips, letting it fall around your neck, tearing the corner of your mouth in the process. 
The entire Red Keep seemed to awaken with your grief-stricken scream. You kneeled your head against your little boy’s decapitated body, sobs wracking through your entire form.
That was what Aemond had rushed into, hearing the echoes of your cries from far away. He’d locked the girls’ rooms before coming, fearing the worst.
Upon seeing you on the ground, hovering over his murdered son, Aemond collapsed to his knees beside you, gathering his broken, shaking wife in his arms as he tugged you away. With trembling fingers, he undid the ropes around you, allowing you to throw your arms around him freely.
“Look away, jorrāelagon,” he said, voice uneven as he began to cry with you. “Look away.”
His words made you sob even harder… your son had told you to do just the same.
When Criston Cole came rushing in with Alicent Hightower, Aemond had immediately got to his feet, murderous revenge painted across his features. He helped you up, still crying hysterically.
“Mother, escort Y/N to our daughters’ chambers. Get a dozen guards to man the door. I’ll find our son’s murderer, and I’ll kill him myself.” He began striding away, Criston hot on his heels. 
You called out for him, voice hoarse with overuse.
Pausing in his steps, Aemond turned his head ever so slightly, but didn’t meet your gaze. He blamed himself, of course he did. He was ashamed, because it was his fault his son was dead. It was his fault he couldn’t protect him—that he couldn’t protect you.
It seemed that Aemond was far too blinded by his rage to learn from his mistakes.
“I need you here, please! Please, Aemond, please don’t go,” you sobbed, leaning your weight against Alicent, who had taken to cradling you against her chest.
A muscle in your husband’s jaw jumped. A tear slipped down from his only eye, and he continued to walk away, determined to bring justice to his son. It felt as if a searing hot knife had pierced through his chest and twisted when he heard your despaired cries ricocheting off the stone halls of the Keep.
Revenge, was all he could think of, cold anger dancing along the dark shadows of his face. If it is a war they want, it is a war they shall have.
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a/n ; hey !! thank you for reading this fic until the end <3 means so much to me! i made some picrews of what i visualize the kids to look like so here you go !! they're all aged up, ofc.
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2K notes · View notes
juxi2218 · 15 days ago
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TOWEL TROUBLE!!!
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Fushiguro megumi x reader ( 1.3k )
Warnings: English is not my first language, please bear with my ass; I'm trying to improve it by writing for my pookie gumi!!! (Feel free to correct any grammatical mistakes I may have made) (Might delete it later if it flops lol)
A little preview for yall: “wh-what are you doing?” he panics. You smirk slightly. “What? Am I not supposed to hug my own boyfriend?” you move your head from his nape to his shoulder, trying to get a look at him. His cheeks flush crimson and his eyebrows furrow in a cute little scowl, and he’s still staring fixedly at his cupboard.
You and Megumi stumbled into his apartment, both of you soaked from the rain. Today was your date and it was going well until the rain stormed in. You had been at a café and neither of you had an umbrella so you had to run to his place, which was close by. The cozy apartment was a welcome respite from the storm outside.
“Ugh, I hate getting wet” you murmur to yourself as you finish untying your shoe lace; and this doesn’t go unnoticed by Megumi. He gives you a glance and says “you can go have a shower first. I’ll lend you some of my clothes.” Your ears perk up and you go give him a peck on his cheek.
“Thanks a lot gumi!!”
“Yea, it’s nothing” he says while his cheeks show a visible blush of hot pink. You chuckle a bit before running to his bathroom for a warm and peaceful shower.
It hasn’t been long since you both started dating. Say, it’s been a few months and it sure was hard to get this man to open up. Your relationship started when he came sprinting to you one day, assuming the love letter was a confession from you to your other male friend. However, unbeknownst to him, you were actually playing matchmaker and had agreed to deliver the letter on nobara’s behalf.
Nobara had requested that you give the letter to the other guy, but Megumi got hold of it instead and, unaware of the truth, tore it into pieces. You and the other guy were shocked until Megumi confessed that he likes you. You had a good laugh and explained him what actually was happening. He turned red. You still remember his stupid face from that time.
All red and cute.
He apologised to you both and ran away. The next day, you reached out to him and boom! You guys started dating.
Yeah sure, the confession wasn’t the grand, romantic type you’ve imagined, nor did it unfold like a scene from your favourite movie or book. But despite that, you’re grateful as you never expected him to confess his feelings to you first.
It was really slow at first. The shy pinky holds gradually turned into hands intertwined, progressing to gentle hugs. Yes, you both have kissed for 5 times already and you were the one who initiated it because you know that this poor man would go nuts if he had to make a move on you first. He knew that you were a little bold when it comes to these things, and he had zero complaints with it. He’s so shy, you want to bite him to nothing!! (This man is making me go weak in my knees istg.)
You come out of the shower with only a towel wrapped around your body, hot steam rising from your skin. 
“Gumi! I’m done showe- OUCH!” the man threw one of his sweatshirts at your face.
“Don’t just come out wearing nothing like that!”
“I’ve got a towel wrapped around me you idiot! And why’d you have to throw this at my face?!” you say while rubbing your poor face. As you regain your composure, your eyes roam around his bare chest showcasing his abs (chap 156 argh I’m so proud of my guy) and a pair of black trousers hanging loosely from his hips not failing to show his V line. You were practically drooling over the marvellous sight in front of you.
“you’re naked too!!” you exclaim.
“What? I’m decent? “.
“Huh? You’re only wearing your pants.” You point at his lower half and pout.
“Whatever, just go and change.” He exhales softly, closing his eyes. He then turns his back to you and closes the door of his cupboard while murmuring a few curse words to himself.
You cheekily sneak up to him, wrap your hands around his waist, and rest your forehead against his nape.
“wh-what are you doing?” he panics.
You smirk slightly. “What? Am I not supposed to hug my own boyfriend?” you move your head from his nape to his shoulder, trying to get a look at him. His cheeks flush crimson and his eyebrows furrow in a cute little scowl, and he’s still staring fixedly at his cupboard.
“Shut up” he mutters.
You smile, your grin growing wider as you tease him. He sighs. “I told you to go and change.” He looks at you, then swiftly turns his head away, avoiding eye contact as he takes in your damp hair and the scent of his body wash radiating from your skin. Your hand slides around the other side of his shoulder, gently coaxing his face back towards you. “But I wanna hug you!!” you whine, pouting.
“Yes,” he breathes, his tone husky as he nods, “yes you can do it after getting changed, yeah?” he says, his voice weakening. You shake your head, “yes, but!” you pout again, giving him your most innocent puppy eyes. You can’t help but feel a little mischievous as you keep him wrapped around your fingers.
“Stop being stubborn.”
“I like to hug you like this!”
“y/n, jus- “
“Do whatever you want! I’m not gonna step back!” you retreat your arms from his shoulders and tighten them around his waist.
With only a towel separating your skins, heat surges through his body as he feels your chest pressed against his bare back.
His head spins, and he’s overcome with a sense of weakness. He feels like he’s going to faint. His head is numb.
He doesn’t know what to do, but his body seems to have developed a mind of his own.
“Whatever I want huh?” he mutters, his voice barely audible. He takes hold of your hands, pinning them against the cupboard on either side if your head as his grip intensifies, your back pressed firmly against the cupboard’s surface.
You look at him with wide shocked eyes.
Your towel slips from the grasp you had (now gone) and you gasp in unison as Megumi’s hand reaches down to steady it (before the disaster). You feel your breath coming in ragged gasps as you look down.
His hand wraps around both of yours, holding captive as his other hand still cradles your dear towel, holding you close. You feel your heart beating wildly, racing at an alarming rate... You’re sure it’s going to burst out if you don’t get your shit together. You feel hot, incredibly hot; like all your senses are heightened. The warmth of his skin, the rush of blood to your head. This man is going to be the death of you.
You gaze up at him, and his cerulean eyes lock onto yours, sending a cold shiver down your spine. You feel your face grow hot as he looks down at your lips, his gaze piercing and intense.
You feel heat creeping up your face. He leans in. You close your eyes. You swear you can hear your heart begging you to set it free so it can go jump off a roof.
He stops when he’s an inch away from your lips, his breath warm against your plush. “If you don’t stop this, I can’t promise where this will lead us” He warns.
Shivers run down your spine again at the sudden change in his demeanor and his deep voice sending a thrill through your entire body. He lingers there for a few seconds and pulls away while a proud smirk paints his face so as to tease the shit out of you.
You flutter your eyes open as your hands move to hold your towel and watch him as he walks into the bathroom, leaving you feeling frustrated and flustered.
“Hmph! asshole” you mutter to yourself.
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echantedtoon · 1 year ago
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What If: Kokushibo Edition
DISCLAIMER: THIS WORK IS IN ABSOLUTELY NO WAY CANNON TO DEMON BRIDE AND IS NOT AN ENDING. IT IS A WHAT IF IDEA THAT I THOUGHT WOULD BE FUN TO WRITE. PLEASE KEEP THAT IN MIND GOING FORWARD.
WARNINGS: One innuendo and mentions of pregnancy.
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The world was a quiet place today. Just alone with his thoughts and own work. 
Widdle. Widdle. Widdle.
It was a rarity that nothing was planned for him today. No work. No responsibilities. No training. No plans. Just whatever he wanted to do today. Which again was rare but not unwelcome. He never did like being left unoccupied for too long however so it would be the perfect time to get the project he wanted to do done. Everything shall go precisely as planned.
Widdle. Widdle. Widdle.
No sounds except for the light bird chiros and the small movements of his hand held knife against the wood. The calloused hands continued their own work pushing the carving tool against the wood slicing off piece after piece little by little with precise knowing strokes. The small pieces falling onto his lap or bouncing off his legs to join the others on the floor. 
Widdle. Widdle-
...Ah. There she was.
STOMP. STOMP. STOMP. STOMP.
He didn't even bother looking up as the angry footsteps approached. He knew she was coming towards him long before he even heard her. The force behind the angry footfalls for told the approaching woman's anger but again he was expecting that from the start. He felt no fear as the floor thuds stopped directly behind him. Not even bothering to stop his woodworking.
"REALLY!?"
"You have arrived...I was honestly expecting you..sooner." A hand brought up the tiny wooden piece to a maw holding a jawful of fangs. A breath blowing away any small pieces of wood splinters.
"Do you want to explain a few things going on?"
He finally bothered to turn his head slightly. Standing above him was a woman. Purple eyes staring down at him. Her pretty face brought a fragrance of hydrangeas with her, a familiar scent that calmed his senses. Her expression was one of annoyance which he had been expecting. 
"What ever do you mean?"
"Oh don't play games with me." She frowned more before pointing at his face. "I wanted something specific from the kitchen for breakfast today and I was denied but I was given options. Options from a diet plan I was told YOU put into place for me."
"Oh yes. That. ...You are correct." His eyes turned back to the work in his hands-
"Kokushibo, don't you ignore me!" You marched around to stand in front of him as he continued working on whatever it is he was doing. "That's not the only thing you've decided to go out and do! I also found out from Akaza that you ordered him to stop training me for the next ten months!"
"Correct...Hand to hand combat is dangerous...for your body right now...It could put stress on you...or you could get struck in the stomach ...and I won't allow that."
"THAT MAKES NO SENSE!! I also found out that you placed Kaigaku in charge of guarding me?!"
"I'd prefer you to have ..extra protection during this time."
"You scheduled me a doctor appointment for tomorrow without asking me?!"
"I need to be able to.. monitor your health."
"You assigned nannies to 'help me with the boy's?!"
"You'll need the extra help for them."
"...When did you stop trusting me?" You gave a desperate ask making the top pair of eyes turn to you but he didn't pause his work. "If I gave you a reason to doubt I can take care of myself let alone the boys then just...Tell me what I did wrong?" Your arms flopped to your sides. "What did I do to make you lose faith in me?"
"Nothing...You haven't done anything...to make me have that opinion of you... You're capable."
You again held your arms up with a major look of disbelief. "Then why all the sudden changes without telling me first? I'm not hurt and you just said I'm capable. If you think I'm pushing myself too hard, I'll try to fix it but you have to tell me why first."
"Hm... You're certain?"
"You're my husband. I didn't think there'd be secrets between us. Koku..." Hands  reached out to grab his cheeks making him pause his work and turn up to your worried look. "You promised me no secrets or lies on your vows. Honor that."
There was was from him before he sighed through his nose. "As you wish..You would have found out...from the doctor tomorrow...anyways."
"Find out what?"
"You're two weeks pregnant."
Silence. He stared as your body just... paused as if you were in a picture perfectly frozen in time. Your eyes staring ahead of you at him. Mouth closed in a small line. His bottom eyes peeked down as he continued his woodworking unsurprised by your reaction. There was silence still as you remained still... eventually you opened your mouth slightly-
"Twins", he answered matter of factly, "Both male."
You just sat there..your brain spaced out and there was a ringing in your ears as you blanked.  Your thousand mile stare finally slowly refocused. You only managed to yell out one word. "WHAT?!"
"You're two weeks pregnant..Twin boys. I just...told you that."
"I-I JUST-...YOU CAN'T BE SERIOUS!" Your hands pulled back as your eyes shot down to your middle. It didn't even look like anything changed. You didn't even feel any different or...or... ANYTHING!!! "YOU'VE GOT TO BE JOKING WITH ME?!"
"I never jest... Especially with something so serious."
"HOW DO YOU EVEN KNOW!? IM SUPPOSEDLY PREGNANT AND I DON'T LOOK ANY DIFFERENT THAN I DID LAST MONTH!!"
"I have explained how my transparent world...vision works...Have I not?" You froze as finally all his eyes looked at you seriously. Oh..You forgot about that. "I took the proper... precautions early..to avoid any headaches or danger...later. I was serious when I said...I would take care of my remaining..family."
You only stared.. before you slowly looked back to your middle and a hand shakily pressed against your stomach...still didn't feel any different. "...How did this even happen?"
"Three weeks ago...we celebrated our anniversary by-"
A hand quickly pressed against his mouth as your face went beat red. "IT W-WAS A RETORICAL QUESTION!!"
He only made your face burnt hotter by reaching up to hold the hand over his face and press a kiss to the palm. "Yes ...But the end results are welcome."
You sputtered like a fish before just groaning and resting on your knees. For a moment neither person spoke as you rubbed your face and he held your hand to his cheek. "..... How long have you known?"
"Three days...I had a hunch and confirmed...it. I figured you didn't know and wanted...to make preparations first."
"Does anyone ELSE know?!"
"Only you and I...I've told no one else yet."
That relieved you at least but then a wave of dread hit you as a thought popped up. "Oh good gods...What are the boys going to think?"
"Our children will no doubt be quite...happy... Yuichiro however will be stubborn in the beginning...but with time he will come..to terms."
Rui and Muichiro would be excited for this especially with Rui bouncing off the walls becoming a big brother...But..You gave him a slightly worried look with narrowed eyes. He seemed to instantly know what you were thinking about.
"I will not favor these children...over the previous three," he spoke with assurance. "As someone who has..had a childhood plagued with... segregation I will not subject any..of them to that."
You sighed in relief instantly turning your head down..but paused noticing something that you didn't see before. There was four cylinder shaped pieces of carved wood on the opposite side of Kokushibo's lap. All perfectly aligned in a row. Except these weren't just ordinary sticks. The tops were widdled to a semi point and there was a series of holes carved in a series down their spines revealing the hollowed insides. You stared at them before turning your head and finding a dagger and the makings of a fifth hollowed stick in his lap. Slowly you blinked before pointing them out.
"Kokushibo. Are you making...flutes?"
"Yes. I am...nearly finished with the set."
You looked back to him bewildered. "Why?"
"Gifts for our children." He finally released your hand to reach down and remove the dagger and almost finished flute From his lap despite your surprised look. "I had one...as a child..I intend to pass that tradition on."
You stared at him more .. before smiling. "Aw.~ Really? That's so sweet of you...But all of this aside.." You gave him a stern look. "I'm going to continue what I've been doing so far."
"You will not stress..your body."
You made to stand pulling one knee up. "I won't stress myself out but you can't just stop me-" A hand grabbed your wrist and yanked before you could even blink. "EEP!!"
You gasped out as you were pulled forward, and in a second you found yourself placed in Kokushibo's lap with his strong arms cradling you to his chest. The redness in your cheeks was back instantly as he chuckled.
"Just did."
"Y-YOU CHEATED!!" You casted a glare up at his smile. "I wish you would S-S-Stop doing things without telling me you know!"
"Agreed. ...That is why I did not make... arrangements for a nursery yet..That will be a joint decision."
"Well thank you for that." You deadpanned looked at him despite the red in your face and crossed your arms. "Is there anything else you did I should know about?"
"I have thought of names ...for the boys." You blinked and would've shouted at him again if he didn't suddenly gently touch the right side of your stomach staring at it as if he could see something you couldn't. You blinked at jumped slightly at the gentle touch. "Michi." You blinked as his hand moved to the other side. "Yori."
"Michi and...Yori?" Your rose a brow before looking back at him. "You named one of our sons after you and didn't ask me first? I don't dislike it but you could've at least.." You paused..."Wait.." You narrowed your eyes. "Yori??...As in-"
"Do not say it-"
"Yorichii." 
Kokushibo visibly paused...and his eyes looked away. ".... Perhaps we should rethink the names-"
"Nope! Too late!" You smirked. "Mama's decided she likes those names. Their nicknames can be Mi-Mi and Yor-Yor.~"
"Stop."
"Aw. Don't tell me Mi-Mi senior is mad. I think it's cute.~"
"I regret not waiting."
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luveline · 2 years ago
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for shy fri!! what about jonathan x shy!reader who are constantly in their own little world? similar to this remus one you did!!
thank you my love! i hope this is close to what you wanted <3 shy!fem!reader x lovesick!jonathan
Jonathan isn't sure if you know how much he wants you. Talking as your boyfriend, you're together, and he still wants you. To hold your hand, or your wrist, your forearm in his hand, your forearm pulled close to his chest. To slide the first two fingers on his left hand behind your ear and tilt your head so he can see all your eyelashes. To pull your thigh over his and feel the weight of it through the whole movie. He wants every tiny piece of you there is up for offer, and he'd feel selfish if he weren't so sick in love. 
"Do you want some?" you whisper, offering your box of Milk Duds to him expectantly. 
He takes a handful just to watch your face as you shake them out. 
"More?" you ask. 
"That's fine," he whispers back, "thanks." 
He wants, desperately, to add 'honey'. Honey, baby, angel, all those too sweet pet names that'll make you hide your mouth, hand pressed delicately over your lips, smile evident in your eyes if nothing else. 
"Welcome." 
There should be a word for it, the want to press his chest to yours, to overlap. If he had his way, his friends would fade into the background, they already have, and he'd snake his arm behind your head, hook your neck in the crook of his arm and encourage your face to his neck. He'd dot more kisses than anyone ever has into your crown. 
"Are you okay?" you whisper, quiet than before. You've shifted on the couch to get right next to his ear, each word tickling his inner ear with the accompanying breath. 
He turns his face slowly so as not to startle you. TV light catches your cheek and brow, illuminating you in a bright, translucent blue. If you weren't the shyest girl he'd ever met he'd kiss you right here, friends forgotten, but you'd genuinely be uncomfortable and he doesn't ever want that. 
How to lure you away? 
He leans in like he might kiss you, lips a hair's width from your cheek. "Drink?" 
"Yeah, please." 
You misunderstand. Jonathan stands with your confirmation and catches hold of your wrist at the same time, tugging at you gently. You rise up and follow him out to the kitchen, and really there's nothing subtle to it, nothing at all.
"They're fucking disgusting," Mike says. 
Will reaches into his lap for some popcorn and hums, not disagreeing. "It could be worse." 
"Could it?" Lucas' face appears between them, leaning down from his seat on the armchair. "Will, your brother needs help, psychologically."
"He's fine." 
"He's watching the movie via lights on her face," Max adds, backing Lucas up with a scrunched up nose. She doesn't care if you and Jonathan are being sweet on each other, she cares about being right, and Lucas is correct. "It's obsessive." 
"You guys'll understand when you're older," Steve pipes up, flopping into the gap you've left behind. Robin rolls her eyes at him. "Nah, you won't. They're weird." 
"They're in love," Will says, laughing like this is the stupidest conversation anyone has ever had. 
Dustin isn't one to stay quiet any longer. He wishes he could back Will up. He can't. "Listen, I have a girlfriend, and that's not right." 
"You have a girlfriend?" Max asks, voice layered in a cheerfulness she absolutely is not feeling. She's too good at pretending — her tone is nothing less than convincing. 
In the kitchen, your skin burns with heat. The door is nowhere near thick enough to cover the sounds of their bickering. It grows louder and louder, the kids debating your love life with a voracious passion.  
"Let's not beat around the bush," you hear Steve say, "they're definitely canoodling in there." 
"Why are we friends with him?" Jonathan asks, similarly embarrassed but trying not to show it. 
"Because he's nice. And he has Robin as an add-on. It's like a two for one." 
"Two for one on idiots," he mumbles, offering you a freshly filled glass. Robin's laughter sounds from the living room, high-pitched and breathless. 
You smile despite yourself.
"I'm sorry," Jonathan says after a small pause. "This isn't what I was trying to do." 
You put your glass on the counter and smile at him. It's not the brilliant smile you usually give when you're alone. Jonathan's amazed to find that, even as a couple, you have a little warm up period every time you see him, adorable, a tinsy bit disconcerting. You can be very cautious.
"What were you trying to do, Jon?" you ask earnestly. 
He puts down his glass too. He smiles, breath caught, hands tentative and then not. "This," he says, hands vying for your cheeks. He cups your warm face in his for a stolen moment, thumbs rubbing at the skin shy of your nose, and then one hand slides to the nape of your neck, and the other goes over your shoulders. He pulls you in for a hug, as he has tens of times, but finds himself worrying when your arms don't come up automatically to meet him. 
He hugs you a little bit harder. 
"Oh," you say, arms circling his waist, half as tight and twice as affectionate, hand rubbing at the bumps of his spine. 
Shy, yes, but skimpy with affection? Never. You hold him like he's made of something infinitely precious, soft and sweet and silent, your breath warming a crescent moon against his shoulder. 
"You sure you're okay?" you ask quietly, face turning so you can kiss the slip of chest peeking out from under his shirt's neckline. 
"I'm fine. I'm good, really. I know you don't like this stuff in front of everyone, so…" 
Your face slips down to his chest. "You could hug me a little in front of them. Better that then have them," — you pause, and the quiet is filled by the sounds of your friends' continued arguing — "doing whatever it is they're doing." 
"Right now, I think they're debating when you're gonna break up with me." 
"Never," you say. It's so fast, your answer. Instant. You cough to cover up your embarrassment and Jonathan has to hide his smile in the skin above your ear. 
"Hey, you should be glad," Steve says, too smug, something awful in the way the room quietens to broadcast him. "Better they're too weird to cuddle in front of us than teen pregnancy." 
Jonathan sighs, knowing you won't want to hug him any longer after that. Sure enough, you break apart from his hold and take a too fast swig of water, frantic. "Let's go back in," you say. 
You leave and he hasn't even picked up his cup. Jonathan presses the heels of his hands to his eyes and takes a 'Don't pick a fight with Steve' breath, frustration and agitation and an inkling of adoration for you all mixed up in his head. 
"Where's Jonathan?" he hears Will ask you.
"Practising on his hand?" Steve asks. 
Jonathan takes another deep breath. 
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shadowcitrine · 6 months ago
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We Had a Spa Day
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Boondock Saints. Silly/for fun.
Words: 555
Named OC (because I can't write any other way) is dating both of the boys. Connor comes home with food. Not edited.
Connor entered the loft apartment juggling the two bags of food in one hand. Madison was at the counter cutting up a cucumber and Murphy was on the couch, a book in his lap.
Something was off.
It wasn't the fact Murphy was shirtless and reading, and it had nothing to do with Madison who was looking more pleased than normal, it was something else. Something he couldn't put his finger on. He cautiously shut the door taking turns eyeballing the both of them. Madison finished her task and brought the plate over to Murphy and he looked up from his book long enough to gingerly take a slice.
That's when Connor picked it out. “Are your nails green?”
Murphy went pale, eyes opening wide as he answered around a mouthful of food with a sheepish, “No.”
“They are! They're green!”
“Nu-uh!” Murphy sat up. “They're mint.”
“Sage Mint Green.” Madison corrected. She shooed Murphy's legs off the couch and took a seat happily munching away. “We had a spa day!” 
Connor gaped at his brother. “What did she do to you?” He turned to her. “What did you do to him?!”
“We started with masks and cucumbers on the eyes. I did his nails and helped with mine.” She held up her nails for inspection. “See? We match!”
“She turnin’ you into one of those fancy metro-sexuals? Because I'm telling you now woman! You will not have a go at me!”
Murphy shrugged, uncharacteristically unbothered by his brother's jabs. “Turns out hand massages aren't that… bad.”
“The fuck did you do to him?!” Connor gestured at Murphy reaching for another cucumber slice. “I mean look at hi– Did you do his eyebrows too?!” 
Madison beamed. “If it makes you feel better he screamed the whole time.”
“Did not!” He flopped back on the couch rearranging the book in his lap.
“Miss Donnah across the hall nearly phoned for the police.” Madison cleared her throat doing her best accent which was awful at best even without the deepened mocking voice. “‘Aye! Love! Stop it! You're a sadist! If you have any love for me you'll- aaaaah!’”
Shaking his head Connor faked utter disgust. “I don't know who you are anymore.”
“Night's not over yet. He's coming back to my house for a slumber party.”
“A slumber party?” Connor snorted. “Going to braid each other's hair next? Tell secrets about all the cute boys you like?”
This is when Murphy held up the book he was reading. Emblazoned on the front in Papyrus lettering were the words ‘Kama Sutra.’ He didn't even bother to hide his smile. “Three positions.”
Connor's mind went blank. “She bribed you?” He looked to Madison holding up four fingers at his brother. “So when's my spa day?”
“It's not spending quality time together if I have to bribe you.” Madison smiled sweetly. Murphy held up the book to her. “Yeah, that's fine.” 
“It says you need to stretch first.” He frowned at the book.
Madison took the book from him and turned it sideways. “It's fine, I'll help you.”
Murphy's carefully shaped eyebrows shot up nearly to his hairline, his mouth tapering to a silent ‘Oh’ shape. “I don't think I'm meant to bend that way…”
“I reiterate, when is my spa day?”
Madison deepened her voice again, “‘Because I'm telling you now woman! You will not have a go at me!’”
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astrobolical · 1 year ago
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A (Hopefully) Helpful Guide to What in "Hell" is Bad?
Part 5 - Shop, Secret Shop, Inventory and Management
Last Updated: Oct 30, 2023
I have a mild love of documentation (okay, it’s a problem) and I find it fun— so here we go! I’ve hopefully written out most of the options you’ll encounter while playing, as I know it’s been a confusing start with the game coming out in the state that it did.
And let’s be real here, most gacha-style games can feel overwhelming at first, especially if you’re new to them overall. It happens, and with all the questions I’ve seen floating about, I wanted to maybe help someone out, as well as have some fun. Or this’ll flop, either way, still fun.
There will absolutely be things I’ve missed, or glossed over— or even gotten wrong— so feel free to ask about anything, tell me things, or correct me.
For full transparency— I have spent money on this game, but I have not “whaled” whatsoever. I wanted to test certain things, and I have a strong sense of curiousity.
Looking for another part of the game? Check out the other parts:
Part 1 - General Overview, Achievements and Contracts
Part 2 - My Devils, Levelling, Skills and Artifacts
Part 3 - Chapters, Levels and Dark Sanctuary
Part 4 - Unit Types, Elements, Battle Boards & Battle Tips
Part 5 - You Are Here!
Part 6 - Secret Club (Adore), Secret Club (Unholy Board), Hell-Oh! Talk
The Shop — What’s in it?
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As with most mobile games, the shop has a lot of options— I’m going to go over them here, but I’m not going to list each individual item found. The item list in Part 7 will go over any items I’ve come across in more detail.
Disclaimer: Please spend responsibly. Nothing that costs real money is necessary to enjoy this game, and I am not listing these out to entice you (nor am I in anyway associated with PrettyBusy lol), it’s just to let you know what’s there and what to expect.
Exchange Guilty Gem
This is where you can exchange your Guilty Gems (Cash) for the red Guilty Gems we’re more familiar with. The blue Guilty Gems are only available for purchase, and can be exchanged here for their “Free” counterpart in this first area of the shop— it’s the page you’ll open to!
Purchase Guilty Gem
This where you purchase the blue Guilty Gems (Cash) for real money— please spend wisely if you choose to do so! They range from $2.79 for a “Handful of Guilty Gems” (40) to $154.99 for a “Guilty Gem Mountain” (2167 Guilty Gem (Cash) + 650 Guilty Gem (Free)).
Purchasing these is not necessary to enjoy the game, I promise. I actually haven’t at all touched this area of the shop.
Package
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This is a large subsection of the Shop, with a lot to look at too. These are packages or monthly subscriptions you can purchase for real money. They’re usually limited on how many times you can purchase them, whether overall, monthly or daily. These were once obtusely overpriced, but they’ve been altered since launch.
I won’t list out every option— because I’m sure the packages will change regularly, but I will make note of the Monthly Supplies that are available — essentially three subscriptions. These subscriptions last for 28 Days and need to manually be collected each day once purchased.
Guilty Gem Monthly Supply
Guilty Gem (Cash) - 157 (ONCE upon purchase)
Guilty Gem (Free) - 30 Daily
Action Power - 120 Daily
Contract Monthly Supply
Guilty Gem (Cash) - 157 (ONCE upon purchase)
Guilty Gem (Free) - 10 Daily
Greater Keys of Solomon - 5 Daily
Development Monthly Supply
Guilty Gem (Cash) - 110 (ONCE upon purchase)
Guilty Gem (Free) - 10 Daily
Strawberry Chocolate Friendship Pretzel - 3 Daily
In all honesty, they’re not that worth it, so don’t feel like you need these, either. It’s good to support PrettyBusy if that’s something you want to do, though, but just know it’s not required to enjoy the game at all.
I primarily wanted to bring these subscriptions up because of the manual collection requirement— it’s easy to forget since they’re tucked away and there’s no reminder.
Exchange House
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Another area of the shop with multiple subsections— these ones, though are more interesting, and are from items you can naturally accrue in the game (with a couple exceptions).
A lot of these have some similar items in common, just for a different currency— here’s what you can usually find in here overall:
Tears of Solomon
Greater and Lesser Keys of Solomon
Action Power
Pure Gold & Crowley’s Books
Various promotion materials
Skill improvement materials
Artifact Enhancement Stones
Nightmare Candies
Guilty Gem Exchange House
Note: The free daily present you can find in here counts towards the daily achievement of purchasing something from the shop once!
Yep, this is different than “Exchange Guilty Gem”!
This is using our pretty Guilty Gems (Free) to get in game items. There are a couple packages locked to Guilty Gem (Cash), but not many.
There are unlimited purchases, daily purchases and weekly purchases found within this section. There’s also an “account limit” and a Monthly Limit on some of the (Cash) bundles.
Pancake Exchange House
This is where you’ll exchange the Snickering Pancake item you get when trading in your extra tealeaves from your inventory (getting to that below!). Essentially, if you get a devil more than once, you’re given tealeaves from the second time onward, and you can use these tealeaves to Evolve a devil up to five times. After that though— well, you sell them! I’ll get to the how later, but once you have them you can come to the Pancake exchange to get some items here. Including 30 Lesser Keys daily, if you’ve got the pancakes for it!
(You can also get pancakes from selling artifacts, but early on especially I’d recommend using your artifacts to enhance and evolve the artifacts you want to use.)
Pretzel Exchange House
I’ve yet to find a good source for these, so this will be brief and updated once I have a more solid idea. I’ve primarily gotten mine from rewards or the Secret Club with the rainbow reactions. However, if you’ve got them— spend ‘em here!
Necronomicon Exchange House
Necronomicons are received upon completion of most Dark Sanctuary levels— and here’s where you can use them. Including up to 30 Solomon’s Tears per week. They can take a little to build up, but it’s a worth it shop to visit when you have some.
Event Exchange House
Special temporary shops that appear with events, and use the event specific currency— grind the event, reap the rewards! There is event specific items such as special voice lines or stickers also available. But remember, time is of the essence here, as it won’t be there long.
Passes
Within the shop there’s also various passes— they’re not a store, you don’t buy things from them, but they’re very useful to keep an eye on! Essentially as you progress through the game there’s rewards that can be found and claimed here. The game’s not very transparent about letting you know about these.
Mission Pass
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This is a pretty big one, with a new set of goals unlocked each day for 14 Days however there’s no time limit to finish it. There’s a lot of rewards (along the bottom) as you accumulate points, usually a random amount of Lesser/Greater Keys.
At the end you get 500 Greater Keys and a copy of Sitri!
Solomon’s Levelup Support Pass
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Note: In order to unlock the second column “Special Reward” there is a price to it. It was lowered since the beginning of the game.
These are rewards for your account growth, meaning as you level up your account you’ll receive bonuses here— including things like Solomon’s Tears. Some level milestones are more exciting than others, though. Still worth it to make sure you go and claim it!
Devil Growth Support Pass
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Note: In order to unlock the second column “Special Reward” there is a price to it. It was lowered since the beginning of the game.
Rather than your account, this time it’s milestones for your devils (or, really, the first devil to reach any of them, it doesn’t matter if it’s the same devil or a different one)! As you reach these milestones you’ll get some nice rewards that will help you enhance your devils, or give you some Guilty Gems to spend in the shop!
Secret Shop
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This shop is … well, a secret. I’ve gotten it twice in my time playing since launch, and I have yet to learn how to trigger it. You’ll know when you have it— a large purple portal will open on your Home Screen, and there’s some unique and rarer items tucked away within it— including the ability to buy an L-Grade Devil once per month for a hefty price tag of Guilty Gems (Free).
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That said, I’ll have to add more details here when I get it again— at the time, this guide wasn’t even a thought yet!
Inventory
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Note: If you want to see details of an item, simply tap it in this menu.
All the items you accumulate can be found, and used if applicable, here. Again, I’m not going into individual item details here, but I’ll explain what each pocket of your inventory tucks away for you.
Currency
This holds everything you can “spend” within the game. This includes from the shops, contracts, levelling, etc.
Material
The Materials tab, as it says, holds materials that you will use for levelling your devils. This includes things like the Solomon’s Tears, jellybeans, gummies, hallucination pies, etc. Anything you need to level your devils ends up in here.
Box
Here you’ll find items that you can open— they vary in what exactly is within them. Most times they’re given as rewards for various things— especially from Dark Sanctuary. Make sure to see what you have in here!
There will be two types of “chest” or box that you can open.
Random - This will give you a random type and/or amount of an item depending on what it contains (i.e. type of jellybean, amount of Pure Gold)
Choice - Choose what type of material you receive — these always contain materials for your devils, and you select the type
I do suggest leaving any that say “Choice” alone until you reach a point that you need something specific, though! But make sure to take a look if you weren’t aware of these— the pure gold and Crowley’s books can really build up.
Inventory Management
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This is one of the more vague functions found in the game— unfortunate, because getting those snickering pancakes requires you to sell off some items when you can. It’s pretty simple once you know, though— so here’s what to look for.
When you’re on tealeaves (or artifacts, though I don’t recommend selling those) click “Organize” on the right side by sort. This will make the Auto-Select and Sell buttons appear as you see above.
For Tealeaves you can click auto-select and it will automatically select devils’ tealeaves you you have already maxed out, meaning you don’t need to try to remember who you’ve got fully evolved or not. This is why Minhyeok and the A-Grade devil above aren’t selected.
Here’s what you’ll get in pancakes from each grade:
B Grade - 5 Pancakes
A Grade - 10 Pancakes
A+ Grade - 20 Pancakes
S Grade - 80 Pancakes
L Grade - 100 Pancakes
You can also do the exact same thing on the artifact screen. HOWEVER, artifacts will just SELECT EVERYTHING. There is no limitations like you’ll find on tealeaves— so be sure to only select artifacts you’re willing to part with. As I mentioned above, I don’t really recommend selling these over using them as fodder for levelling and evolving other artifacts. Maybe late game, but for early game I’d say don’t.
In Part 6 we’ll cover the Secret Club and Hell-Oh! Talk! (Woo, almost done!)
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happy-tori-friends · 7 months ago
Note
Could I ask for a touch starved prompt with Splendont and specifically Shifty,with the prompt of breaking down mid-hug because they needed it so bad,please?
you got it! *hurriedly attempts to think of a splendont x shifty exclusively ship name, proceeds to realize these drabbles are starting to get longer than they're supposed to be, my brain is overworking itself these are meant to be SHORT but also i couldn't come up with any good ship names life is pain*
Work had piled up in the past week or so. Since Splendont seemed to be the most competent person at his job, others’ sloppily done projects were passed off to him, alongside his own, already abnormally heavy workload. He wasn't really even sure if it was legal for him to be given so much work in such a short time frame, but he just didn't feel like arguing. He liked his job, doing design work was fun to him, and he was pretty good at it too. Coupled with superhero work, however, he didn't really have much time for himself.
It had never really bothered him before, when he got really busy with things. The only one who he enjoyed spending time with was Splendid, and they lived together so it was never a big deal. But now, he did have other friends, and he also had two boyfriends who he loved very much - and missed quite a bit too. Sure, he texted and called Lifty and Shifty, but it didn't feel the same as seeing them in person.
Nevertheless, Splendont did not slack off, and finally, he had gotten everything finished and submitted. It felt good to be done with it all, and he finally felt he could relax.
With a sigh of relief, he flopped down onto his bed, reaching for his phone off of the nightstand. Just as he unlocked it and prepared to tell the twins he was finally free, he received an incoming call. One quick look at the caller ID - Shifty - and he answered it immediately.
“Hey, uh…” The voice on the other end sounded raspy, and almost breathless. “I know… you're busy, but… can I come over? Now? I don't even care if Splendid's around.”
“Of course, Shifts,” Splendont replied, though his brows furrowed at the deep breathing he could hear from the other. “Just you?”
Shifty made a confirmative noise. “Yeah. Just me. I'll… talk to you when I get there. See you soon.” Then he hung up, leaving Splendont in the dark.
To say that he was concerned was an understatement. The twins were not uncommon victims of the curse - it had happened many times since they had first become friends, and it wouldn't stop just because he had started dating them. It wasn't often that one survived while the other didn't, however.
It still made his heart hurt, that he couldn't do anything to save them, that they had to experience the pain of dying gruesome deaths over and over again. Splendont was sturdy, though not immune, and his own deaths were few and far between. But Lifty and Shifty were just normal people - fragile when facing such evil, succumbing to the curse's deadly whims most times they got caught up with it. There was nothing he could do without being there when it happened, but he still wished he could take it all away.
There was no use dwelling on what he could have done, though. If his intuition was correct, Lifty had gotten killed, and being there for Shifty was the least he could do. Splendont got up off of his bed and exited his room, descending the stairs. Thankfully, his brother was off doing his own work right now - Shifty had said he didn't care, but Splendid's presence would likely make him feel worse.
Crimson eyes locked onto the window, staring as he waited to see the purple van pull into the driveway, or Shifty himself arriving at the house. Thankfully, it wasn't long before he noticed the vehicle, and he got up to open the door.
“Hey,” he murmured softly as the green haired man approached him. He opened his arms up for a hug, a concerned look in his ruby gaze. Shifty paused, before closing the distance that remained in seconds, wrapping his arms around Splendont with a shaky breath.
He wrapped one arm around the younger man, guiding him inside, and the other closed the door behind them. Then he fully pulled the other into a hug, both for the sake of comforting him and for recharging himself on one of his boyfriends’ presences.
“Fuck,” Shifty murmured, burying his face into Splendont's chest. His voice was shaky, and he seemed to sniffle slightly. Perhaps it was being embraced that allowed him to break the dam and let tears overflow, shuddering as he let out a sob. The redhead could feel wetness on his shirt, but he didn't care. What mattered to him was being here, and comforting Shifty.
“It's okay. I'm here,” Splendont murmured softly, carefully tightening his embrace, but not enough to crush him. “It was bad, wasn't it?”
Through his tears and sobs, Shifty let out a snort and some laughter. “It fuckin’ SUCKED! You don't know how much you need somethin’ until you can't have it for a while. Bad enough that just… gettin’ it makes me cry like a baby.” He pulled his face out of Splendont's chest, letting out a sigh and wiping away tears. “If someone told me a few months ago I'd be crying because I needed a hug from my boyfriend after not seeing him for a bit, I would have laughed at them and told them to fuck off. God, being in love is weird.”
Splendont smiled slightly, though his early concern had not dissipated. Still, since Shifty seemed a lot less tense, he decided to carry on with the conversation a while, leading him to the couch to sit. “It's not a bad thing though, is it? It's probably better than being alone and keeping everything bottled up.”
“Yeah,” Shifty breathed, settling down next to Splendont, making a content purr-like sound as an arm pulled him closer. “I've let out enough of my vulnerable emotions for the month though, so don't expect too much more from me.”
Splendont laughed. “And there it is. Welcome back, sarcasm.” He took off the fedora to ruffle Shifty's hair. “You're lucky I finished up all my work right before you called. I was actually about to text you two to tell you I was free tomorrow.”
Shifty smiled for a moment before his eyes widened and he began to cough. “Shit!” he exclaimed through the coughing fit. “Goddamnit, I saw some couple hugging in the fucking parking lot and I got all emotional and I totally forgot to pick up Lifty's cold meds!”
Ah. So Lifty was fine, save for a cold, and Splendont had simply misunderstood things. It also could explain the raspiness and breathlessness he'd heard from Shifty. He gave Shifty a pat on the back and a gentle laugh. “You sound like you might be on the verge of a cold, too. How about I come with you to the store, get the cold medicine, and then surprise him? I'll probably be fine.”
“Shut up, I'm fine,” Shifty huffed, rolling his eyes. “...But that sounds nice. It might make him forgive me for taking so long.”
Splendont chuckled, standing up and grabbing Shifty's hand. “C'mon then. Best not to keep him waiting any longer than we need to.”
All's well that ends well, it seemed.
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Note
Please write something about the tortured boyfriend club!!! Hahaha
(If anyone is wondering where I got the phrase "tortured [boyfriend] club" from it's here lmao)
Cammie and Macey would often go out together. It's what girls do. Macey would come over to the apartment, pick up, Cammie and they'd go hang out for the day. Sometimes they'd get their nails done, sometimes they'd get coffee and just do god knows what else, they'd go eat. Very normal, run of the mill, girl stuff.
But this time, they'd left something behind. Or rather someone.
Preston nodded at him from his spot by the door. "What's up man?"
Instead of Macey coming in and retrieving Cammie she had come in with Preston. The girls rushed around like normal, making sure they had everything. When they were done, Zach and Preston saw their girlfriends off, saying goodbye and telling them to have fun.
But then the door shut. And Zach and Preston were alone together for the first time... ever?
"Did I miss something?" Zach asked, finally. Preston hadn't moved any further into the apartment than when he had initially come in. And Zach hadn't moved since he kissed Cammie goodbye and realized Preston wasn't leaving.
Preston smiled good naturedly at the question. "The girls think we should hang out. Be friends."
"We're friends," Zach said, but even he didn't believe it as he said it. The words sounded clunky leaving his lips and his expression betrayed that.
Preston only nodded though. "I said the same thing. In pretty much the same way," he pointed into the apartment, a question in his eyes. Zach stepped aside and waved his arm, allowing him to properly enter the space. "We don't really..." Preston searched for the words. "Hang out. Without the girls."
"And that's what they want?" Zach asked. He wasn't skeptical so much as surprised Cammie hadn't just said something to him.
"Apparently." Preston said, smile back on his face. He took a seat on the couch and leaned back, no doubt trying to make this seem casual. "What do you usually do while Cammie and Macey are gone?"
Zach shrugged. "Stuff around here mostly. Read, tidy up. Or I'll go to the gym."
"See, that's almost exactly what I said," Preston said with a chuckle. "Apparently it's the wrong answer."
"We're not allowed alone time?"
"No," Preston confirmed. "Forced friendship only."
Zach chuckled at that. Only these girls would come up with a ploy like this. "You realize Macey essentially dropped you off for a playdate?"
"Oh, yeah," Preston said immediately. They both laughed at that. "But what was I supposed to do? Tell her no?"
"That's fair." Zach admitted. He sat opposite Preston so they were still facing each other. "Macey's not the type to take no for an answer."
Preston raised his eyebrows, acknowledging the statement as correct. "Not only that, I rarely say no to her." He considered Zach then. "I imagine you and Cammie are much the same way."
"You're not wrong," Zach admitted. "I'm sure you have other friends though."
"As do you." Preston told him. "Joe and Grant and Jonas, right? The thing is, it's not that the girls don't think we have friends, it's that they want us to be friends."
Zach smiled. "Why would they want a thing like that?"
Preston flopped back on the couch, mock-dejectedly. "Hell if I know. Torture?"
"Of course," Zach agreed. "The tortured boyfriend club. That's us."
Preston's face lit up. "I like that. We should use it."
"I think there might need to be more than two of us to count as a club." Zach pointed out.
"Then we'd have to make more friends."
"Well, we can't have that. I already filled my quota for the month with you."
"Your quota is monthly?" Preston asked. "You're it for me for the year."
"Obviously. I have much more substance than you."
Preston whistled. "Wow," he said dragging out the 'o'. "Harsh, Zach, that hurts. And to think I was gonna give you a friendship bracelet."
"Damn. Okay, we'll find you a different friend named Zach and that should take care of it."
"Perfect. I cannot learn another name right now."
Zach rolled his eyes but not with nearly as much annoyance as he usually did around Preston. "I should probably be a better host and ask if I can get you anything." He pushed off the couch and made his way into the kitchen.
"I'm alright," Preston assured. Still the pair made their way into the other room. "I did want to ask you a question though."
"What?" Zach asked, busying himself with going through the fridge.
"We never really talked. About everything. And I get the sense you don't like when I bring it up."
"What? The Circle stuff?"
"No. Cammie." Preston clarified.
Zach paused and looked back over at him. "What about Cammie?"
Preston shrugged one shoulder. "Just the fact that I know her. That I know things about her that she told me. I know jealousy when I see it."
"I'm not-," Zach started.
"Of course not," Preston cut him off. "Why would you be? You're you and you guys are in love. And I'm with Macey."
"Uh huh."
Preston shrugged again, crossing his arms. "You just don't seem to like it when I mention her. So, if it's something I said or did or-,"
"No, no," Zach shook his head and held a hand out for Preston to stop. "You're right. I'm a little..."
"Over protective?" Preston supplied.
Zach chuckled. "Yeah. Let's go with that. It's not you, though."
"Cool," Preston nodded. "So."
"So?"
"Friends?"
Zach shook his head. "No." Preston deflated a little bit. "Tortured boyfriend club," Zach corrected, grinning.
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limabeans-babies-forthewin · 9 months ago
Text
Interdimensional Crisis PT 5
It's about time, right?
Ronin-verse Turtle Tots enter the chat!
FIRST - PREV
            “Grammy.”
Odyn’s voice cuts through the calm morning air and draws the attention of all the adults in the room, causing April, Casey Marie, and Ronin to all smile at the sleepy turtle’s entrance.
“Hey, big guy,” April says. “Good morning.”
“G’Morning, Grammy,” he says. He makes his way across the living room and takes a seat on the couch beside Ronin, leaning heavily against the older turtle’s side as he attempts to shake the remainders of sleep from his eyes. “Did you talk to someone last night?”
April smiles. “I did. So did Grampa. We have a guest staying over for a bit.”
Odyn perks slightly at the mention of a guest, which is a fair reaction given their whole situation. No one really comes to the lair besides them, and even Casey Marie’s boyfriend hardly stops by unless it’s to stay the night every once in a while. The prospect of a long term guest is exciting.
“A guest!?”
“A guest,” Ronin confirms. “From out of town.”
“But you don’t have friends.”
Again, all eyes drift to the bedroom hallway as Yi and Uno make their way in with the rest of the group, the former taking the lead and stopping by Casey Marie as the latter yawns heavily and flops across Ronin’s lap.
“Who’s an out of town guest if none of you have friends?” Uno asks. “Did our Japanese family come over?”
“No,” April announces. “We’ll talk about it in a bit, don’t you worry. But right now, who’s hungry?”
Odyn’s hand rises.
“I am,” Uno shouts.
Yi mutters something unintelligible into Casey Marie’s shoulder.
“Great.” April stands and stretches slightly. “I’ll get started on breakfast. Can someone go wake Moja and our guest, please? He’s in Grampa’s room.”
All younger heads snap up and the children make eye contact with each other in a silent conversation only siblings understand. After exactly ten seconds, all children scramble from the adults and hurry down the hall, attempting to whisper shout since the hour is still early but failing to keep their voices down.
Ronin huffs a laugh at their antics before turning to April. “Why’d you send them for the kid?”
April shrugs as she makes her way to the kitchen. “They’re bound to meet each other soon. Plus I figured if he lived with some version of you guys for any amount of time, he won’t wake unless there’s a minor amount of chaos.”
“Ah.”
The kids fumble with the door for a moment before throwing it open, stumbling over each other and barely maintaining balance as their eyes fall on Moja standing near the head of the bed.
“Hey!” Uno calls, upset. “What’re you doing here!?”
“Checking on the new guy,” Moja responds with a shrug. “He hasn’t moved in a long time.”
Some of the previous enthusiasm shifts to confusion as they all look toward the figure on the bed. As Moja said, the mutant is completely still, only determined to be alive by the sound of their heavy, sleepy breathing. He doesn’t toss or turn like Uno does, nor does he snore like Odyn or mutter like Moja.
“What’s wrong with him?” Odyn asks. “Did’ja try talkin’ to him?”
“I did,” Moja confirms. “I even shook him a bit when it didn’t do anything. I don’t think he can see or hear us.”
Uno rolls his eyes. “Duh! He’s sleepin’.”
Moja rolls hers back. “No, dummy. I mean, in general. Look,” she points at the nightstand to indicate the corrective devices resting on top. “Those are glasses and I think something to help him hear cause they look like my headphones, but weird. So I think he’s deaf and blind.”
Yi’s brow ridge pulls tight in thought. “So Grampa and Grammy have a deaf and blind friend from out of town?”
“We do.”
The children look up as Ronin enters and watch as he approaches the bed. “What’s with the party?”
“He’s not wakin’ up,” Odyn explains. “Moja tried shakin’ and talkin’ and he didn’t move.”
Ronin hums. “Did you try again?”
They hum a negative.
Ronin nods and steps forward, taking hold of Duck’s shoulder and shaking lightly. “Hey, kid—”
“He can’t hear you,” Moja informs. “He’s deaf.”
“Ah.” He shakes again, this time with slightly more vigor.
As Odyn explained, he doesn’t move.
Again. He still doesn’t wake, but this time he earns a groan of discomfort as Duck’s face screws tight. So Ronin stops, a shade of concern dusting his face as he watches Duck finally stir to readjust against the possible discomfort of being disturbed. But he still doesn’t wake.
“Is he sick?” Odyn asks.
Uno frowns in disgust and takes a step toward the door. “Ew. Is he?”
Ronin hadn’t thought about it. “Probably a little,” he mutters. “He had a rough night.”
“Did he get in a fight?” Moja asks. “His face is hurt.”
“No, that’s fine. We talked about it.” He ponders for a moment before sweeping his arms to shoo the children toward the door. “On second thought, let him sleep a bit more. His night was really rough, so he needs to rest.”
“Like a hangover?” Moja asks.
“Is he hungover?” Uno adds. “Is that why he’s sick?”
Ronin blinks and shakes his head as he guides the young turtles out the door. “No, he’s not. How did you even learn that word?”
“It was in the book Grammy April loaned me,” Moja explains as she watches Ronin exit last and pull the door shut behind him.
“If he’s not hungover, what’s wrong with him?” Yi chimes.
“Jetlag,” Ronin supplies. “Go help April with breakfast.”
All children shoot the door another look before scrambling down the toward the main living area. Ronin watches them leave for a moment longer before, like the children before, he looks back toward the door. He didn’t lie about them having a rough night, so he supposes that letting them have some extra time to rest is the best call. There’s not exactly a handbook for interdimensional travel, and he remembers when he and his brothers went through to the Utrom planet. . .
            He shakes his head to refocus before turning and moving to join the rest of the family. Point is sleep will probably help the most right now. So he’ll let him rest.
But then a prickle of worry starts in the back of his mind when he checks in after morning training and finds Duck in the same position as before. Thankfully it’s fairly obvious he’s breathing since he can hear the faint inhale and exhale when he cracks open the door, but he also picks up on the occasional discomforted groan.
He opens the door fully and steps inside, making his way over to the side of the bed and peers over to find their face still screwed loosely in discomfort and a thin film of sweat on their forehead. Ronin reaches out and places the back of his hand on their forehead, frowning in displeasure when he finds him warm with fever.
“Is he sick?”
Ronin turns and finds Moja standing in the doorway, leaning ever so slightly to see around him and look at Duck. “You’re frowning like he’s sick,” she explains. “You always frown like that when we get sick.”
“Do I really?”
“Mm-hm.”
“Huh. Well, yes, I think he is sick.” 
Moja’s brow ridge tightens thoughtfully. “Is he contagious?”
“I don’t think so. I think he’s just having some issues with. . . Time zones.” Close enough.
“Ok.”
Ronin’s frown softens and he reaches out to rub Moja’s head. “Let’s let him sleep, yeah? He’ll be up and moving in a while, and you all can be friends when he is.”
“Alright.”
He gently guides Moja out of the bedroom and he pauses to glance at Duck one more time before closing the door.
The worry grows yet again when he checks in after another hour and still finds Duck asleep, though this time he’s moved to curl on his side and panting lightly. He’s still sweating and there’s now a tight line of discomfort on his brow. More concerning, he’s now noticeably trembling.
A quiet swear falls from his own lips at the sight, but he immediately regrets it and looks down the hall to check for any little ears. There aren’t any and he sighs in relief before turning back to Duck. He fully enters the room again and places a hand on Duck’s shoulder.
“Hey,” he says quietly. “Duck?”
“He’s deaf.”
Ronin turns and finds Odyn and Moja in the door. Both wear similar looks of concern and curiosity as they lean over slightly to see the figure on the bed and they frown when they see him. Fair enough, Ronin supposes. Duck does look miserable.
“Remember?” Moja goes on. “Duck’s deaf.”
He did forget. In his defense, he hasn’t interacted with a deaf person in a while, and when he’s not awake, it’s fairly easy to forget Duck can’t hear him. So yeah, he forgot a dimension slipping kid is also deaf. And blind. He also needs to remember that.
“Thanks,” he says to the children. “Aren’t you supposed to be doing schoolwork?”
“Grammy April said we can come and check on Duck with you,” Odyn explains. “You said he was sick earlier.”
“Is he better?” Moja asks. “You said he’d be up and moving by now.”
Ronin nods in agreement. “I did. And I thought he would be. But he’s still not feeling well, so he’s still sleeping.”
“Time zones?”
“I think so. I’ll have to talk to April about it. For now, can you go get some water? I think he’s dehydrated.”
Based on what he learned about axolotls (cause apparently Duck is an axolotl), they require a lot of water. He offered some last night, but the conversation went too fast for him to make good on the offer and they went to bed. Maybe the lack of water combined with the random dimensional travel made him sick. What if his immune system isn’t capable of processing whatever it is? Will he die?
A small hand tugs his sleeve and Ronin jumps, dropping his attention down to Moja as she offers him a glass of water.
“Here ya go, Granpa,” she says.
Ronin nods and accepts. “Thank you.”
“Are you going to wake him up?” Odyn asks. “I thought we were supposed to let people rest when they get sick?”
“We are. But he needs to stay hydrated or he won’t get better.”
“Ah. Ok.”
He doesn’t look entirely convinced, but Ronin will deal with that in a second. Right now, he turns to the bed and places his free hand on Duck once again. “Kid,” he says gently. “I need you to get up for a second.” He shakes them lightly and frowns when they groan and curl tighter into themselves. “Come on, kid, this is startin’ to get scary.”
“Should I go get Grammy?”
“Yeah, go get Grammy. Then stay out there. I don’t want you catchin’ whatever this is.”
“But—”
“No buts. Go.”
He hears the duo grumble something under their breath but they do as told, closing the door on the way out.
Ronin shakes Duck a couple more times then stops when a pitiful sounding whine pushes from the back of their throat. “Oh boy.”
The door opens again and Ronin glances over as April enters. “Hey,” she says. “Moja and Odyn said the new kid is sick?”
“Yea,” Ronin says with a nod. “He’s burnin’ up.”
April motions for him to move and takes a seat on the edge of the bed, placing a hand on Duck’s forehead and frowning at the temperature. “That is high for a coldblooded creature,” she mutters to herself. “Probably from undergoing a massive amount of stress from the dimension hop since it didn’t exactly seem like something he wanted to do.” She withdraws her hand and stands. “Let’s see if we can cool him down and let him rest. That might be all we can do until he wakes up on his own.”
The news isn’t exactly surprising, but it still deepens Ronin’s frown.
“Look, I know it’s not exactly the most assuring news, but it’s all we got right now. Plus, honestly, I doubt he even knows what’s happening to him. This is a new situation for all of us, and he seems young. Let him adjust and process on his own and we’ll help when we can.”
Since he doesn’t have any other choice, Ronin sighs and drags a tired hand down his face. “Alright,” he says. “But when’s time limit before we decide they’re in officially in a coma?”
“Technically we could already consider this a coma since they’re not responding to outside stimuli.”
Ronin shakes his head. “He groans when he gets moved too much.”
April nods and Ronin watches as she mentally logs the information away. “Ok. Then we can check on him every hour or so to see if that stays the same. If he stops responding, we’ll pick a different tactic and move on that.”
“Probably the best idea we have at the moment,” Ronin agrees. “Alright then. Guess all we can do now is wait.”
“All we can do is wait.” April stands and punches Ronin on the shoulder as she passes by on the way to the door. “Hey. He’ll be fine. He’s tough. He managed to take one of your punches and only came away with a bloody lip, remember.”            
“Of course I remember,” he grumbles as he follows her out. “No one will let me forget.”
(Thanks for reading! All interactions are appreciated! Hopefully the next part doesn't take as long to come out, right?)
NEXT
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loveforpreserumsteve · 11 months ago
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Love Grows (demon!Bucky and pre-serum!Steve omegaverse au)
36
IT DIDN'T EVEN take the weekend for Steve to make up his mind. It didn't even take twenty-four hours before he was calling Hodge. He had, after all, had a good month to decide what he was going to do and what he wanted. Not just out of his spouse, but for his and his baby's lives.
"We need to talk," Steve started.
"Kinda figured that much since you called," Hodge had chuckled, clearly not feeling anything coming from the omega on his side of the bond. Because if he had been able to feel it, he'd know that Steve was hesitant and nervous, but also a little relieved to finally have the courage to have this conversation.
"I think we should separate." Steve paused, waiting for Hodge's reply. When nothing came, he added, "Officially."
Unfortunately, Hodge clearly didn't get what he was trying to say. Letting out another chuckle, "Aren't we already? I mean, I don't think we could be any more separated than living across the country."
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Steve had to physically reign himself in so he wouldn't say something too mean. "That's not what I meant. I'm talking about the first step to..."
Steve stopped himself. Could he actually get this out? Get the word out? It didn't seem that long ago that just thinking about the word in an abstract way was too much for him. But now? Well, he still didn't like the taste of it on his tongue.
"To... what, Steve?"
His heart was practically in his throat, threatening to strangle him. His husband was impatient and so obviously unaware of the situation that Steve was currently in. Still, he forced out, "Divorce." Reiterating, "I'm talking about the first step to divorce."
The other side went completely silent causing Steve to wonder if the call was dropped. But nope, it was still there. It took a total of fifteen seconds – the longest fifteen seconds of Steve's life – for Hodge to make any noise at all.
Nasty and cruel, Hodge scoffed, "Divorce? For what reason? You've clearly gone loony without me there if you think that this is a good idea."
"I have not!" Steve defended, growing angry rather than remorseful or even relieved. Boy! Watch out for those pregnancy hormones and deadly mood swings. "And you would've realized that this isn't the first time I've thought about this if you paid any attention to anyone other than yourself!"
"Oh, please! There's clearly someone badmouthing me –"
"I don't rely on others to make my own –"
"You just can't take the attention being on anyone other than yourself –"
"If you really think that, you're more deluded than I thought!"
"And you're more warped than I thought!"
"You know what, think whatever you want," Steve decided, completely disgusted that he could've ever been married – bonded – to someone lacking so much self-awareness. "But the only person that I'm doing this for is me." Marking over his bump in hopes to soothe the active baby, "No, correction! The only one I'm doing this for is our baby!"
"Will you shut the fuck up about, 'our baby'?! Because I'm starting to get real sick of –"
"Oh, don't worry! I'll never bother you again about them! As far as they're concerned, they never had a beta father to begin with!"
Hodge's voice rose several octaves, "THEY NEVER DID TO BEGIN WI–"
At that, Steve ended the call. He wasn't going to just stand there and allow anyone to talk to him like that, but especially not some wannabe actor whose career was going to flop faster than a bunny's ears! For crying out loud, who did Gilmore Hodge think he was?! Steve wouldn't even let his adolescent crush Zac-fucking-Efron treat him like that!
Knock, knock!
With shaking hands, Steve swung the door open. He was just about to let whoever it was have a piece of his mind. Didn't matter what they wanted. All that was in Steve's mind and body was –
"Steven, are you alright?"
Finding Peggy standing there with his morning vitamin shake and little vitamin cake, Steve tried to reign in that fury raging inside of him. Bringing his hand up to his chest, he felt the filigree ball hanging on the necklace down his chest.
"I'm fine," Steve fibbed.
Peggy didn't seem too convinced. Especially when she reached out to brush away some escaped tears from Steve's flushed face. "Dear, you don't have to lie to me. You really aren't that good at it."
Softly chuckling, Steve sniffled, "I'm sorry. I just got off the phone with Hodge."
"Oh no," Peggy sighed, entering the apartment. "It hasn't gotten between you two, has it?"
"No, it hasn't," he confirmed, closing the door behind her before following the older omega into the kitchen. As she made herself at home, Steve admitted, "I'm going to file for divorce."
Nearly dropping the glass and plate that she was holding, Peggy was utterly shocked. Perhaps Steve had hidden his recent disdain for the beta better than he thought. Better than anyone else thought he'd be capable of too.
"Quite frankly," Peggy recovered quickly, "I'm surprised this didn't happen sooner. You weren't matched very well."
"Haven't you ever heard that opposites attract?" Steve weakly smiled.
A small smile tugged at one corner of Peggy's red painted lips, "Yes. But that's not true for everyone."
"I guess not," Steve downed the sour drink. The baby seemed momentarily appeased as Steve ate the tiny cake in two bites. "Now I don't know what to do. Who do I call? Where am I – where are we – going to live? What's going to happen?"
"Darling," Peggy reached across the table to take Steve's hands, "You're going to live right here. It's not like Hodge is going to be here anytime soon and I know that Arnold wouldn't dare kick you out."
Steve nodded, relaxing back in his chair. Resting his hands on his bump, he was comforted knowing that Peggy was right. Uncle Arnie wasn't a bad guy, Steve knew that. He'd make sure that Steve wasn't out on his ass. Especially not with him expecting. Married to his nephew or not, Uncle Arnie wasn't cruel.
"On the other front," Peggy started. "I know someone who could help you more than I can."
Pulling a card out of her slacks pocket, she slid it across the table to Steve. Sniffling, Steve removed one of his hands from his abdomen and took the thick, expensive-feeling card.
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"This guy knows what he's doing?" Steve asked, feeling Silas-or-Rosemary move around, probably trying to get more comfortable in their tiny womb.
"Definitely," Peggy assured. Standing from the table, she asked, "Would you like me to make you an appointment with him?"
"Oh, I," Steve paused, not knowing why he was about to decline the kind gesture. So, he gave in, "Sure. Why the hell not?"
Nodding, Peggy grinned over at him. She suggested, "I can even make you some tea, if you'd like." Now, this time Steve was definitely going to decline because she already did so much for him. However, Peggy could see that and quickly shooed him off, "You go and relax – it'll be good for the baby – and I'll take care of the rest. After everything you've been through, you deserve to have someone take care of you."
Despite how he had been raised and despite his pride in general, Steve decided to do as she said. Entering the living room, he could hear her talking on the phone, but didn't bother to try and listen. Instead, he laid down on the sofa and allowed himself to relax. After his conversation with Hodge and the emotional drain that the beta put him through, it wasn't long before Steve was snoozing. His hands cradled him bump, protecting the soothed pup and dreaming about holding them in his arms. Dreaming about Bucky holding them too.
Wishing all of you happy holidays! Much love and appreciation Minnie ❤❤❤
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bnha-more-like-bnh-gay · 3 years ago
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Rarepair headcanons because I am ignoring my problems
Serodeku:
Izuku reenacts the Spider-Man movies with Sero. Izuku is MJ. They also alternate being Spider-Man sometimes
They skate together
They get very protective when people call their boyfriend “plain”
They play dnd together
Sero tries to make sure that izuku gets some rest
They’re both kinda insecure, izuku more than sero, but still; and they make sure to reassure each other as often as possible
Sero likes listening to Izuku’s ramblings and finds them cute. He has told izuku this, only for the poor boy to imitate a tomato
After Izuku has been particularly reckless, Sero takes advantage of his quirk, wraps Izuku in bubble wrap, and tapes it there
Tokodeku:
Jocknerd bf and goth bf, we love to see it
Tokoyami teaches izuku how to sword fight
They start a dnd club at U.A.
Izuku talks to dark shadow a lot, Dark Shadow approves of him, and has claimed the spot of best man at their wedding
Izuku comes up with ideas to help Tokoyami gain control with Dark Shadow
Dark Shadow is very protective over Izuku, no matter how many times Tokoyami tells him that he can take care of himself, Dark Shadow will put himself between Izuku and any form of danger as often as possible
Dekoyama??? Aoyama/izuku:
Aoyama gives him makeovers, obviously
Aoyama drags izuku to the mall and tries to revamp some of his wardrobe, but he actually finds the “pants” and “flannel” type shirts cute
They help each other train their quirks
Aoyama is trilingual, and teaching izuku English and French.
Izuku always brings Aoyama home some new cheese
Y’all, I love them so much. There needs to be more aodeku content
Monoshinsou:
They have people watching dates. They come up with stories for the people they’re watching; their job, family, background, etc.
They judge people together
They call each other “love”
They’re both dramatic bastards, who will flop onto their lovers lap and proclaim their death due to a minor inconvenience
They jokingly sh*t-talk class A
Shinsou said “I love you” first, and it was because Monoma brought him coffee to class
Monoyama:
Like monoshinsou, they’re both dramatic bastards, who will flop onto their lovers lap and proclaim their death due to a minor inconvenience
They go shopping together and pick out the most dramatic pieces of clothing for each other
I love them so much, please 😭✋
They have tea parties every week, where they sh*t talk everyone else and gossip
They are both fancy bastards, and they wear the most exquisite outfits to go grocery shopping, and the outshine everyone
They both actually make clothing, they’ll go fabric shopping together. Gift exchanges are often articles of clothing that they’ve made for each other
Momomei:
They work on gear together!!!
Momo makes sure that mei gets some sleep
Mei helps redesign momo’s suit
They often work together with izuku to work in gear and such
They actually got together after izuku introduced them. He had been working on gear with mei, and studying with momo and he thought they’d hit it off. He was correct
Shintsuyu:
Dude they’d be so cute
Tsu is a vent gremlin, and you can’t change my mind. So she and shinsou will play a game where they try to find each other. Tsu is in the vent and shinsou is in the classrooms. Shinsou will try to find whichever vent she’s in, or she’ll find whichever classroom he’s in, in 20 minutes or less
I always headcanoned tsu as a dog person, so they’d have two cats and two dogs, and a bunny that they named Deku
They like comparing their friends to animals, hence the bunny, Deku
Kamideku:
Kaminari is a flirt, and izuku does n o t know how to handle it
Kaminari likes listening to izuku’s ramblings, and can keep up with them. He’ll ask questions on things too, and Izuku has never felt more appreciated
I don’t know why I feel like they’d have so many animals, but I do. They’d have so many, man. Three cats, two dogs, four sugar gliders, a hamster
Adhd power couple. They hyperfixated on complimentary things at the same time one time
Kaminari tutors izuku in English, and izuku turots kami in some other subjects. He’s also teaching kami JSL on the side. Kaminari has a live of languages
Momochako:
Study dates, Momo asks ochako to quiz her a lot
Ochako takes to floating momo’s things when she wants attention. Especially when Momo is studying. She makes a game out of how many things she can float until the other girl notices
Uraraka’s confidence does wonders for momo’s. Uraraka always makes sure to reassure momo that she is strong and that she can do this
Momo makes Uraraka whatever her heart desires. Uraraka blushes all the time, and momo takes great pride in getting her girlfriend to blush
Minatoru:
Mina clings to everyone, but especially to toru
They give each other stuffed animals so often. They’ll go to the store to get food, and come back with three stuffed animals that reminded them of each other
Please, they’re so cute 😭✋
They will play hide and seek, I stand by this.
Mina helps toru design a new costume. I hate hers, it’s horrible, and sexist, and not suitable for a fucking child
Toru says that pink is her favorite color
They flirt with each other all the time. Half the class thinks it’s cute, half of them used to think it was cute.
Iidamomo:
I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again, but study dates. they quiz each other, and it actually gets pretty competitive
They also have rage room dates. I will not budge on this. Iida tried to murder someone, and I am excited to see momo finally snap. She deserves it
They alternate paying for dates, don’t try me.
The go hiking a lot
They started liking each other after one late night, both having nightmares. Momo had tea, and offered some to Iida. They talked until the early hours of the morning
They can’t flirt. They try. But they’re horrible at it. They’ll compliment each other all day long, but they cannot flirt.
KIRIDEKU, MY BELOVED:
Y’all,,, y’all, I love them so much
They train together, obviously
They ran into each other one night in the common room after both having nightmares. They talked about middle school, how they were both bullied, izuku’s quirk coming in late, katsuki being abusive, kiri being bullied because his quirk wasn’t “cool.” After that, they were practically inseparable.
They started going on dates, not that either of them knew they were dates. The entire class knew, so did the teachers, so did the rest of U.A. Kirishima picked up on it first after a comment from Mina, he had is realization.
So, he started courting Izuku. Not thag izuku realized this. He brought him flowers on most ‘dates,’ he bought him hero action figures whenever he could, he complimented him until Izuku was red in the face (which was honestly very easy.) Still, izuku remained ignorant to the fact that he was indeed dating Kirishima.
The final tipping point, was due to Uraraka’s help. She was quite tired of watching the two of them pine for each other. It was amusing for the first couple months, watching Kirishima try so hard, and Deku being totally oblivious. However, she took pity on her friends after a while.
So, Uraraka devised a devilish plan to get the two together. She involved Mina, Sero, and kaminari in this plan. What was the plan, you ask? Oh, simply to trap the two in one room until they broke through izuku’s obliviousness.
Kirishima finally “straight” up admitted his feelings, to which Izuku had the sudden realization of “oh my gods, have we been dating this whole time??” Yes, Izuku. Yes you have.
They have two anniversaries after that.
Let’s be honest, they are really, annoyingly, horrifically lovey dovey. Kirishima brags about having “the manliest and bestest boyfriend in the world.” Izuku flaunts his many PowerPoint presentations on how talented and incredible Kirishima is
Uraraka doesn’t know if she did the right thing by helping them. She is so tired
Tsujirou:
Jirou makes playlists for tsu
The few sane ones in class A, I swear
They go on walks in the rain as often as they can
They go for dates in the bookstore too. They each pick out an album and a book for the other to listen to and read
Y’all, they make so much sense togetherrrrr, I’m love them 🥺
Jirou started liking tsu after the crew saved bakugou. Jirou sat with tsu after momo, Iida, kirishima, Todoroki, and izuku apologized and sat with her. They had movie night, and Jirou joined the Bakugou saving crew and tsu with taking well into the night. She just appreciated how much tsu cared
Tsu started liking Jirou after she helped Iida, momo, and izuku try to keep the class in order. She appreciated how diplomatic and calm she was
Jirou would talk to izuku all night long about how gay she was, and how adorable tsu was. So, izuku decided to try and suggest ways for Jirou to ask her out.
She did not end up getting to ask her out though, as Tsu walked up to her the next morning f and asked if she wanted to go on a date. Jirou said yes. Izuku cried
Izujirou:
They make playlists for each other
They go for runs on the beach a lot
They both have insomnia, and often spend time making blanket forts and talking, or FaceTiming and listening to music
Jirou walks into the common room once a week looking for new music. She started liking Izuku after he made a playlist for her for one of these occasions.
They’re both quite awkward when it comes to romance, but neither of them will shy away from facing the truth. So, Jirou made izuku a playlist filled with love songs that reminded her of him and sent it to him. Sadly, izuku is dense as hell.
So, then Jirou wrote a love song and told izuku that the song was for him. Sadly, izuku is dense as hell.
So, then Jirou write analysis about izuku’s quirk for him. Sadly, izuku is dense as hell
So, then, after thinking that Jirou had done so much for him, izuku made her a playlist filled with love songs. Jirou took this to mean that izuku had finally picked up on her feelings, and accepted them.
So, they started to go on dates. Not that izuku knew this, as he is dense as hell. All leading up to izuku finally confessing his feelings on one of their ‘dates,’ to which Jirou responded, “dude, we’re already dating? Aren’t we? I- I thought that was obvious??”
May this awkward couple be forever blessed
Tokoyama:
Goth/prep boyfriends, we love to see it
At least once a day, Aoyama will proclaim that Tokoyami “shines almost as bright as he does, in his fabulous emo way”
They sword fight, and come up with really dramatic scenarios and scenes that they’re in
They bond over being in the izucrew and their shared love of swords. Aoyama took fencing classes in middle school, and Tokoyami got into sword fighting after watching it in pirates of the Caribbean as a young child. He is self taught and watched countless videos on the art of sword fighting
Tokoyami asked Aoyama our by dramatically presenting him with a dagger and going “will you accompany me on a formal outing as my lover?”
Shinyama:
They flirt constantly
No really, it’s getting quite annoying. Someone please stop them.
They both plop down in random areas and proclaim their deaths, the difference between them, is that Aoyama will burst into shinsou’s room, and yell “love, I’ve been murdered. Mourn for me” while plopping down on shinsou’s lap. Shinsou can be found laying face down outside aoyama’s door, and when Aoyama goes to open the door, he just goes “I’ve been murdered.”
^^ one time, shinsou did a very fun Halloween prank for this, where he poured fake blood all over himself for Aoyama to find him an hour later, asleep.
Nap dates. Aoyama get glitter all over shinsou’s room
Iiyama:
Aoyama enjoys making Iida blush, obviously. But he takes joy in doing it specifically when class is about to start. Aizawa is tired of his shit
Here is how I think an iiyama conversation might go:
Aoyama: I ask for one thing in this relationship-
Iida: Aoyama, you know that’s a lie-
Aoyama: for my boyfriend to carry me around all day-
Iida: Aoyama, I cannot feasibly do this with class-
Aoyama: and I don’t think that’s too much to ask for 😤
Anyway, Aoyama got carried around all day that day, despite Iida’s blush and Aizawa’s eye twitch
Everyone in the izucrew is close, but Iida and Aoyama started to get close after Iida told the crew about Stain. Aoyama wanted Iida to know that he wasn’t alone, and that he wanted to help him. So he started packing extra cheese for lunch and giving it to Iida. Iida was very confused at first. But this was Aoyama trying to court him. This was only made apparent by momo and Jirou telling Iida that this was aoyama’s attempt at expressing romantic interest.
Aoyama flirts with everyone, that’s just who he is. But with Iida? Oh it was tenfold. The poor boy was red in the face constantly. Aoyama was a persistent little bugger too, following him around and calling him ‘mon amour’
Kirikamideku:
My dearest traffic light trio, I’m love them
They train together, and kiri and kami always appreciate izuku’s analysis snd ideas
Kiri falls even more in love with izuku and kaminari when they go off on rants. Izuku rants and kami can keep up with him so he asks questions about it. Kiri loves to watch his boyfriends go on rants, I don’t make the rules, but I do enforce them
They started to get closer after kami and kiri found bakugou causing a ptsd flashback (could be on purpose of an accident, up to the reader.) they stated with him and tried to talk him through it. After this, izuku started to tell them about having been a “late bloomer” and being bullied, etc. (I don’t know, man; I tend to over share after flashbacks and after panic attacks)
Izuku tutors them in several subjects, but kami tutors them in English. Kiri just falls in love with his smart boyfriends
Izuku is teaching kami JSL and kami is helping izuku with English and Italian (personal headcanon that Italian has been one of kami’s special interests) kiri loves to listen to them, and finds it relaxing and calming to hear them do this. When he has panic attacks, he’ll ask them to tutor each other in different languages
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pies-writes-and-more · 3 years ago
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Hii how about an Ushijima x GN Reader where they're married and then got into a fight which stretches into days of the reader ignoring Ushiwaka and he'll get reminded of what happened with his parents and all that, angst to fluff btw. (You could also changed anything you want in the plot, just please make it an angst to fluff, I can't handle angst endings ;-;) that's all thamk you vmuch!
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word count: 3,613
pairing: ushijima wakatōshi x gn!reader (as usual, pls let me know if you find something gendered!)
warnings: sad angsty vibes at the beginning, a lot of worry but it's all fluffy at the end!
a/n: bare with me yall, this might not be that great lol i feel like im losing my touch with writing so im sorry if it shows. thanks so much @mistomu for requesting this though! (i also can't handle angsty endings so i hope this was good enough!!!) this idea is v based on my own feelings so i hope it reads nicely! EDIT: the original post says “she seemed...empty” when Ushi talks to Tendō, which is totally my bad. Thank you to the anon who let me know! I’ve corrected it now :)
haikyuu masterlist
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This fight was not like other fights you had had with Ushijima. You loved your husband and all of his quirks, and yet, when you showed up at home with a duffle bag packed, asking your mom to just stay over for a few days, you had cried for hours, wondering if Ushijima was slowly falling out of love with you. Was he really just too busy? Or was Ushijima Wakatōshi falling out of love with you?
Tournament season was always really difficult for the two of you - you never got to see him as much, but with how busy your own work was getting, the two of you thought maybe it would be okay this time around. Especially after you two had gotten married and moved in together - maybe things would be okay.
As you leaned back in your seat, staring at the wedding ring on your finger, you wondered if it was ever going to be okay again. Or maybe this was just the new normal. You had told your mom you'd just be going out for some fresh air, and yet you didn't feel like you were in a good state to be driving. So here you were, in some random parking lot, staring out the window like all the energy had been drained from your body as you replayed that night over and over again in your head.
You could remember almost every word that was said in that first argument. It hadn't helped that Ushijima was exhausted from training - all he had wanted to do was come home, and flop onto the bed for some much needed sleep. But that's what he wanted to do every night and you were struggling at work and needed any level of comfort. You just wanted him to hug you, to hold you and tell you things were going to be okay.
But when you had tried to tell him you needed him, Ushijima had held up his hand tiredly, barely even looking at you as he commented, "Not tonight, Y/N, I'm tired."
His legs had dragged themselves into your shared room, a dismissive air left behind him. Your brow furrowed as it sank in - why did everyone dismiss you so easily? You told your boss you had needed more time to get the project done, and even though he told you you could take your time, he ended up throwing you under the bus to upper management. Your coworkers all seemed to be taking their sweet time on their own portions, no one was helping, and you wanted to pull your hair out in clumps.
You felt like time was slipping past you too quickly, like your whole days were consumed by work, and yet all you wanted was to be comforted by your partner. A hug that told you that you were doing just enough.
But instead what you got was a husband who clearly wanted sleep. And maybe you should've given it to him. But why did his needs always seem to trump yours? He needed a certain diet so you went out to buy all of his new ingredients, helped make new dishes for him to try. He needed to get up in the mornings and always seemed to do so so loudly, so you had to give up on precious moments of sleep. He had a game this year on your anniversary, so you planned a different date and he just came along for the ride. Now he was too tired, and you just had to sit here and pretend like everything was fine.
Maybe I should have just sat there, maybe I should have pretended things were fine, you thought to yourself as you slunk further into your seat. Maybe we could've talked about it the morning after, maybe I could've just crawled into bed with him and cuddled him then. Maybe then we wouldn't be arguing.
Your phone rang for the 5th time since you had sat yourself here in this parking lot. You knew it was Ushijima, calling again to make sure you were okay, to ask where you were, to nag about your whereabouts. But no, you decided in your petty attitude, this time he could wait for you.
Ushijima and you had been far from the world's most perfect couple. You had known the two of you had vast differences in the ways you loved and the ways you communicated. And yet, there was something so attractive about the way he existed when you first met him. He was honest, determined, and knew exactly what he wanted from life. Sure, he wasn't the most informed when it came to how to talk to parnters or how to communicate his thoughts regarding relationships, but the two of you used to laugh about it, you used to treat every little disagreement as something that you could both work on. So when did it start becoming things that only you were working on? He used to at least spend some time with you - or try to - when things got busy... but this season felt different.
You were not a perfect partner, and you knew that. You kept things buried inside of you, you let things boil up, you didn't communicate, as Ushijima loved to point out to you, but was it so bad to want him to understand that sometimes you wanted him to initiate things? He knew you liked to be hugged some days when it was hard at work, so why had he never come to you and hugged you without you asking? Why hadn't he ever thought about doing anything other than coming home and sleeping?
Your mom's words rang through your mind yet again as you stared off into the clouds - could you be losing the man you once considered your soulmate?
Ushijima's heart fell once more as he heard the beginning of your voicemail once again. Every time he would wait for that little beep letting him know he could leave a voicemail if he wanted, and every time he would hang up right before he had to say anything. Because what was he supposed to say?
He stared at the empty couch in front of him as he stood in the living room, as if you would magically pop out of the cushions to let him know this was all just a trick. A prank. A joke.
That's what this had to be right? It was just a joke right?
Ushijima gripped his phone a bit tighter as he scolded himself internally for thinking that. Sure, maybe after the first night, it could've been a prank. But this was the 3rd night in a row that you had been gone when he came home. He had glanced at your closet, noting that some clothes had disappeared, some of your shoes too.
A pain tugged at his heart as he remembered the yelling match the two of you had gotten yourselves into - he strained his memory, trying to remember just what the climax of it had been. He hadn't hugged you... hadn't consoled you, even when you were crying while the two of you were arguing, this time he hadn't reached out to you to hold your hand, wipe away your tears.
This time he had been so tired from training, he just stood there, staring at you with that blank face he always reverted to. You told him he was always too busy to think of you, and he had told you he was trying to be the best. Because the best is what makes him worthy, the best is what keeps money coming in. He was doing this for himself, sure, but he was doing it for you too - he wanted you to be happy in your future. And yet, you seemed so unhappy with him now.
Ushijima took his phone back out, fingers typing out another text to send your way:
Please Y/N, please just let me know you're okay. We can talk this out. Please come home.
Ushijima stared at the text as it joined the many others he had sent you. Three days and he hadn't heard so much of a peep from you. He had Tendō check in on you sometime yesterday, just to make sure you were alive and not murdered somewhere. You had told Tendō you were alive, but refused to say anything more than that.
"Must be some big argument, huh?" Tendō had hummed when he called Ushijima to update him. "They seemed... empty." And that had made Ushijima feel even worse.
He waited a few minutes, watching eagerly as if waiting for you to respond but no response ever came. Why wouldn't you just talk to him? Why did you always have to hide everything inside? How was he supposed to make things better if you didn't say anything? How was he supposed to know you were upset with just your tone of voice?
The volleyball player winced a bit as he thought back to how hurt you had sounded when you first begged him to just hold you. Why hadn't he just reached out and hugged you? Had he been so exhausted he couldn't just hear about your day?
As if on cue, Ushijima felt another pang in his chest as he thought back to how similar the argument you two had sounded to the ones his parents used to have. Yelling and crying, both of them always sounding angry and hurt.
He had sworn off relationships at first, reminding himself that volleyball was all that really mattered. He wanted to be the best, wanted to reach the pinnacle of volleyball and he didn't need a relationship to get there. He didn't want to get hurt - he had watched his parents both cry quietly in different rooms, watched as one parent would always ignore the other and disappear, until one day his dad was packing his bags and leaving.
Is that what you had done? Ushijima's eyes whirled around the apartment, looking for any sign that you would be coming back. Your clothes weren't all gone so you had to come back right? Your favourite foods were still in the pantry, the accessories you had received from friends were still on the bedside table so... you had to come back right?
Volleyball had been all that mattered to him... until he met you. Ushijima met you and suddenly it didn't matter if he could get hurt - he wanted to be with you. Every moment of free time he had, he wanted to be with you. When did that stop? Ushijima stretched his mind, trying to think of why he hadn't hugged you, why didn't he just console you, comfort you, after what was obviously a long day for you too? He had promised before that he would get better at reading your body languages, keep you in mind even during his busy days... hell he even promised you that he would actually start planning dates together... and yet the last time the two of you had actually done something together was maybe 4 months ago.
Ushijima bit his inner cheek, staring at his phone again - letting you go wasn't an option. If you were going to leave, he wouldn't let you go without showing you he wanted you there. If you wanted to leave, he would make damn sure it wasn't because you thought he didn't want you anymore.
Your phone rang again, but this time, when the vibrations stopped, you received a notification that a voicemail had been left. After all this time, you had wondered why he never just said something after the call. You finally picked up your phone, listening to the voice message he left you:
"Y/N?... I'm not... not good at these things. But I know that's the problem isn't it? I've promised you so many times before that I'd get better at this stuff... and instead of hearing how hurt you were, all I could think about was how tired I was. I'm sorry, Y/N... I'm sorry for all of it. But please, please don't just get up and leave. None of this matters if you aren't around for me to share it with - volleyball, the tournaments, the sponsors, none of it would be here without you always supporting me so please, please just pick up. Or just come home. You don't have to stay if you don't want to... but please come back just to talk... I don't... I don't want what happened to my parents to happen to us. I won't let our differences separate us because everything that you are is everything I love. I fucked up - I can't promise I'll be perfect but if you're willing to just give me one more shot, and I know you've given me countless times to fix my shit, but if you give me one more chance, I promise I'll work harder. I'll do better."
You could hear the hurt in his voice and it took all your willpower not to crumble and hang up right there, call him back and cry. You hated hearing that sound in his voice - knowing he was probably tearing up, knowing he was probably sulking around the apartment. But... why should you run to him when he still hasn't solved anything? What was he saying now that was any different than what he usually said?
"I called my trainer... he agrees that I should be able to have a few rest days. So for the foreseeable future, I'll be taking Thursdays off, or at least I'll be coming home earlier every day if I need to be there for Thursdays. I know one day isn't a lot, and I know it's not much until I can actually act on it, but if you're okay with it, I'd like to spend some of those days off with you... I want to be someone you want to be with for the rest of your life, Y/N... I know I haven't been that in a long time. But if you let me, I want to make up for everything I've messed up on... There's food here waiting for you... I ordered your favourite. I don't even know if you've eaten yet or if you want to see me... but it's here for you if you want it. I'm sorry... and I love you, Y/N, I know I don't always act like it, but I do."
You didn't realize until the message ended that you were crying. Tears were streaming down your face as you tried to weigh the options laid out in front of you. Maybe it was just you being hopeful, but you could've sworn that the man you had fallen in love with, there was just a glimmer of him in that message.
You listened to it over and over again, letting yourself cry and sob into tissues you had stashed away in your car. Why couldn't he have said all of this before? Why couldn't you have just let him sleep? Why did everything have to blow up so fast?
Maybe it was time to try and fix things, you decided after you turned off your phone. You swallowed hard as you turned your car on, desperately wanting for all these awful feelings to go away. If Ushijima was genuine in person, maybe... just maybe the two of you could work things through.
Ushijima had jumped at the sound of someone opening the front door, eyes glistening with tears he had refused to let fall as you came in. The two of you shared a glance, your face showing the awkwardness you felt as you entered the once tense environment.
"Hi," was all you said, your eyes flickering over your favourite food spread out over the dining table.
"Go ahead," Ushijima nodded quickly, rushing to your side to get you a plate and put your favourites on it. He picked the biggest pieces of each dish, setting the plate down at your usual spot and gesturing to you to feel free to dig in.
But you just stared at him, the hurt in your eyes not disappearing even though Ushijima wished it would. You shifted on your feet, wishing you could pretend like nothing had happened, that there wasn't this uncomfortable feeling sitting in your stomach, that Ushijima was just doing a nice thing for you because he was a good husband and not because he was trying to apologize.
"Ushi-" you started uncomfortably, playing with your fingers in front of you.
"No, me first," he interrupted quickly, swallowing hard. Your eyes gazed over him, noting that the normally put together volleyball player suddenly seemed so small, his hair unkept like he had been running his hands through it over and over again, still wearing the shirt he had probably woken up in. "I sorely messed up, Y/N... I'm sorry for getting upset with you when you were just asking for comfort. You've told me countless times before that you appreciate talking when I come home, a hug... some time alone... and I always seem to forget that. But I promise if you come back home, I'll be better. I was thinking we could get tickets to that movie you wanted to see, or... maybe take a trip somewhere," he continued desperately. Ushijima's hand shot out and grabbed yours gently, clasping his own hands around yours. "I'm sorry, Y/N... I'm so sorry. But please... I don't want to go about my life without you around. I don't want to be one of those kids of divorce that are never happy with their own marriages so I promise... I promise I'll work on it."
You hesitated, watching the desperation in his eyes. Funny how Ushijima always seemed to talk more when you were upset, you thought to yourself, chewing on your inner cheek. "Let me eat something and then you can continue apologizing," you teased gently, attempting to lift some of the tension.
Ushijima's eyes lightened slightly as he nodded quickly and pulled out your chair for you. You smiled to yourself, wondering if maybe there was hope for you two after all.
"I'm serious about Thursdays," he told you as you started to eat. The moment the food had touched your lips, you realized just how hungry you were, stuffing your face quickly with the dishes. "We could have a standing date... watch movies or maybe go out to dinner. Try to cook something together maybe?"
You let out a choked laugh, shaking your head, "Ushi, last time we tried to cook together, we almost set the apartment on fire."
"I'll just hand you the stuff you need, I won't touch, promise," Ushijima insisted, but you could see the little smile at the corner of his lips.
You sighed after you after a few bites, looking up at him as if calculating just how ready you were to fix things, "I need to know that we're both giving and compromising equally... I feel like I'm always doing what you need me to do..."
Ushijima nodded, mulling over this for a moment, "You have done a lot for me, and I'm very grateful for it. But you're right, I need to do more."
You gave a small smile, playing with your food for a moment, "I'm sorry I didn't just tell you what was wrong... I know I blew up. In my head, I had been thinking about everything for so long, but I know that to you, it wouldn't make sense why I got angry so fast. I know a hug really isn't that big of a deal but-"
Ushijima shook his head, taking your hand and pressing a kiss to your fingers, "If it matters to you, it's a big deal. You deserve to be comforted, to find solace in our relationship...If you'll give me a warning when you're upset, I'll do my best to hug your emotions away." You nodded and Ushijima seemed to hesitate for a moment, "Can I hug you now?" He asked quietly and you let out a little laugh because Ushijima rarely asked if he could hug you, normally you would just find yourself wrapped in a bear hug.
You nodded and Ushijima wasted no time, pulling you away from your seat and tugging you into a tight hug - it had been a long 3 days after all. He pulled away for a moment, cupping your face in his hands as he just looked at you, silently promising to himself that he would do everything in his power to never be without you again.
Maybe some couples just weren't meant to be together, maybe it had been for the best that his parents had split up. But you and him? You two were a couple destined to be together, it was fate, and there was no way he would be letting any of his dumb mistakes every mess that up again.
You silently thanked any and all of the gods that had led you to this man - arguments or not, you did love him and it was nice to be reminded that he loved you too. And Ushijima worked on it - continuing to remind you over and over again as the evening passed, even as the week ahead went by. So sure, you guys weren't a perfect couple - but sometimes, when Ushijima just held you, pressed that kiss to your lips, made your heart skip beats... sometimes it felt like you guys were as close to perfection as mere mortals could get.
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tarydarrington · 3 years ago
Text
"Alright, everyone," Veth says with authority, and everyone else quiets down. "Tomorrow is the big day."
Caleb sighs and ducks behind his drink. There is a speech coming. This is exactly the sort of ceremony he had hoped to avoid by having this get-together at his home rather than the bar Veth had suggested. It's only five of them, tonight; Beauregard and Yasha are always in town, and Veth had insisted on coming. And Essek, of course. He's not sure when the elf's presence at his side became an of course, but in a careful way, he likes it.
“As the person in this world who cares the most about Caleb--”
Essek silently quirks an eyebrow at that, and it doesn’t get past Veth.
“Alright, come on, just because you got him into bed and I didn’t doesn’t mean--”
Caleb clears his throat loudly, and Veth’s smile snaps back into place.
“As Caleb’s oldest, dearest, truest friend,” she says, and Essek manages to look dignified even while rolling his eyes, “it is my humble duty to tell you all how amazing he is on this momentous occasion.”
“You know, I am starting a new job, not getting married,” Caleb murmurs in her direction.
“And we’re all very proud of you!” Veth replies.
Caleb takes a long drink as the others chime in with agreement. Yasha shoots him a sympathetic look, and he returns a tight smile.
“Come on, man,” Beau says from where she leans against the table, “aren’t you excited, at all?”
He takes a long breath. Excited is a word for it. Ready to vomit at a moment’s notice is perhaps more accurate. The Soltryce Academy is tricky. He’s been back there a few times in recent weeks, for interviews and preparation, and each time, it’s felt like walking through a dream of a place the mind could not quite capture properly.
For whatever purpose, Trent has always wanted Caleb - Bren - to follow in his footsteps. Those footsteps feel a touch too literal in those hallways.
“Caleb?” Beau’s voice brings him out of his thoughts. “You still with us?”
He shakes his head. "Ja. Entschuldigung. There is a lot to think about."
Veth lowers her glass, frowning. "Nobody threatened you, did they? Because I'll have words with them."
"No, nothing like that." Not lately, anyway. He sets his own drink down on the table. "Just a bit worried, perhaps."
"Worried about what?" Beau asks flatly.
Caleb lets out a long breath, looking down at the floor. Where to begin? He’s worried that everything will go wrong. Worried that he’ll turn up with his clothes on backwards, or spill coffee down the front of his shirt, or trip over his words before the lesson even starts. Worried, most of all, about what comes after.
“I hope that I will not…” He searches for the right words. “I hope that I will be able to serve my students well enough,” he settles on. “The examples I have had were, ah….” Trent Ikithon is not one he wishes to emulate.
Essek frowns. “Carve your own path,” he says. “Someone as brilliant as you are needs no one to emulate.”
“Ja, well, that is fine for throwing together a spell or two, but I imagine the students will need a little more structure.” These are young minds. Any mistakes he makes will stick with them. He, of all people, knows just how much.
“Maybe you could ask them what they want from you,” Yasha pipes up. “You know, make sure you’re doing alright.”
Caleb lets out a long sigh. “Ja, maybe. That is a good idea.” Of course, it also requires that the students in question trust him enough to give him a straight answer.
They sit in relative silence for a moment, working away at their drinks. He hopes Veth doesn’t resent him for stepping on the atmosphere.
“Seriously, man, you’re gonna be great.” Beau knocks back the rest of her drink. “You’re already the best professor I’ve ever known.”
“I do not think the owl counts as a point of comparison,” Caleb deadpans. “Regardless, I will settle for not making a fool of myself for a first impression. That will be difficult enough.”
Beau shrugs, and reaches over to refill her glass. There’s a devious look in her eye that makes him nervous. "So why don't you practice?" she asks.
Caleb looks at her warily. "Practice?"
"Yeah, man." She gestures at the others. "Here's your class. Teach us something."
Before he can object, she’s already begun to pull an armchair toward the coffee table in the center of the room. Soon enough, three more seats have joined it, all on the same side. She throws her arms wide with a challenging grin.
“First day,” she says. “Don’t be late.” With that, she flops down onto the rightmost chair.
Transfixed in bemusement, Caleb watches as Yasha and Veth rush to occupy the next two seats in the makeshift classroom. The Expositor commands a room, it seems.
“Are you comfortable with this?” Essek murmurs as he brushes past as well. “I am willing to be the, ah... wet blanket, if need be.”
Caleb sighs, briefly twining their fingers together and squeezing once before letting him go. “Not comfortable, no, but it’s not a bad idea.”
Someone wolf whistles from the peanut gallery, and Caleb turns a fond glare on them all. All three of them are, of course, the picture of innocence. He shakes his head as Essek settles down primly in the last remaining chair. It’s not exactly the picture of an academic setting, with their glasses of half-finished booze still on the table in front of them and the lot of them draped over armchairs and ottomans.
“Alright,” says Beau, who has not even bothered to put her drink down. She makes a trilling sound that he thinks is probably meant to emulate a school bell. “Hit us.”
"We will be brutally honest," Veth promises. "Which means we will tell you honestly how perfect you are."
"Or if there's anything you could do better," Yasha adds.
Caleb stares back at them. It’s nothing he hasn’t gone over in his own head a hundred times. Even once or twice, to a captive audience of cats. It’s a short class. It will be over before he knows it.
The others look up at him expectantly. Watching him. Waiting. Caleb clears his throat.
"I, ah... feel a bit silly,” he admits.
Without a word, Essek waves a hand, and the familiar faces before him shift to those of strangers.
It’s almost embarrassing how much it helps. Caleb takes a deep breath and lets it out, running through the lesson plan in his head.
"Guten Morgen, class, I am, ah… Professor Widogast." It's the first time he's said that particular pair of words out loud.
"Whoo!" the student who is not Veth shouts.
"Yeah!" the student who is not Beau chimes in.
Caleb gives them a look and straightens his coat. "This is Introductory Transmutation, in room 142, so if you are all in the correct place--"
"Professor?" The student who is not Yasha raises her hand.
"Ah, ja, Miss…"
"Lionett."
Not-Beau slaps a hand over her own mouth and mutters, “Holy shit,” into it.
“Was that too much?” not-Yasha whispers.
“Babe, it was so hot,” not-Beau hisses back.
Caleb clears his throat. "Miss Lionett, do you have a question?"
Not-Yasha seems to suddenly remember her role, and she folds her hands in her lap. "No," she says, "I have to use the bathroom."
Caleb pinches the bridge of his nose as not-Beau bites back a giggle. “Ja, okay, go.”
“Don’t let her go!” not-Veth interjects. “She knew it was almost time for class; she should have gone earlier.”
“Dude, if she has to pee then she has to pee,” not-Beau protests.
Pointedly, not-Essek raises his hand.
Caleb lets himself sigh with relief. “Ja, Master…?”
“Gross, Professor, we don’t need to know about your weird sex dynamics,” not-Beau says.
Not-Essek’s face blooms red, and Caleb presses a hand to his face to hide the same. “You know very well, Beauregard, that it is an honorific.”
Not-Beau shrugs, looking very pleased with herself as she takes another sip of her drink. Not-Essek glares very polite daggers at her before clearing his throat.
“Thelyss,” he answers.
Beau cups both hands around her mouth and boos.
“No, it’s better that he’s honest,” Veth says. “We already know he’s a terrible actor.”
“Herr Thelyss,” Caleb says, raising his voice above the heckling. “Do you have a question?”
Essek leans forward, resting his elbows on the table in a gesture that’s much too endearing. “I wondered what you will be teaching us today, Professor Widogast.”
Caleb tries not to dwell on the way the title hits differently on Essek’s voice, instead straightening up and waving one hand behind him. An illusory chalkboard appears in the air behind him to polite applause from Veth and Yasha. Back on track.
“Well, this is your first day,” he says. “So I know that - Beauregard, please remove your feet from the table - I know that most of your other teachers will be spending time going over the material that you will be covering this semester, but, ah…” What is he meant to be doing with his hands? They feel limp if they’re at his sides, but too formal behind his back and too awkward in front of him. Perhaps he should have a lectern? Somewhere to rest them, or shuffle with papers?
His gaze drifts back to his “students,” who all blink back at him expectantly. Essek inclines his head as though to prompt him on. He clasps his hands in front of his chest, hoping it will do for now.
“Right,” he continues. “Ja, so I thought we would take a look at something more practical to start. We will leave the reading for tomorrow; you have enough of that today.”
He waves his hands again, and behind him, a set of runes and diagrams appears on the chalkboard. Above it is written the word Prestidigitation.
“So, ah, partner up,” he orders. “Introduce yourselves. If there is someone on their own, a group of three is perfectly acceptable.”
“I call Miss Lionett,” Beau shouts, grabbing Yasha’s hand.
“Can I go to the bathroom, first?” Yasha asks.
Caleb gives her an incredulous look.
“I really do need to go,” she says.
He gestures towards the hallway, and she shuffles off. In the meantime, Veth and Essek scoot their chairs closer together. Caleb’s gaze lingers questioningly on Beau, who shakes her head.
“She’s not learning anything tonight, man. Go ahead.”
“Ja, okay,” he says distantly.
It feels silly, explaining the spell to this motley crew. Beau has leaned back in her chair, arms crossed, eyes glassy, clearly not paying an ounce of attention. Essek has produced a piece of paper upon which Veth occasionally scribbles, though the way he periodically nods approval at Caleb’s points betrays his own prior knowledge of the subject. After a few minutes, Yasha returns and attempts to take down notes of her own.
“Is everyone following along?” he asks after a while, knowing it’s a futile question.
“Yep,” Beau lies.
“Hmm.” Yasha hums.
“Perfectly,” Essek says.
“You’re doing amazing, sweetie,” Veth confirms with a wink.
He continues, running them through the various applications one by one. Beau gives him an occasional “uh huh” that he believes not one bit. At one point, he catches Essek take a passing glance at Veth’s paper, widen his eyes, and lean forward to murmur something to her. He isn’t sure he wants to know what that’s about.
“Let’s keep focused, please, everyone,” he reminds them.
Essek waves a hand to signal him to continue. Nothing too scandalous, then. He goes through the final few points, then comes to stop in front of the chalkboard, hands awkwardly clasped again.
“Okay, that is it,” he says. “You have as much time as you require to finish the spell, and when you are finished, I would like one person from each group to demonstrate.”
He gives the others a questioning look. It’s one of the points he’s most worried about. A way to take pressure off some of the slower students could just as easily be a way to unintentionally foster competition and resentment. But none of them objects, so he gives them another nod.
“I suppose we should skip the demonstration portion,” he mumbles.
“I can do it,” Yasha chirps. Without warning, she swings the massive greatsword from her back and sinks the tip into the table, making the others jump. “I made a small mark.”
Caleb covers his eyes with one hand. “Ja, will it go away in one hour?”
Yasha silently places her drink down over the indentation. Caleb sighs. It isn’t as though he has very many guests, anyway.
“I can probably swing producing an odor, for you,” Beau offers. “But I figure you probably don’t want that.”
He ignores her, and instead gives Essek a tight smile.
“Well, would my second group care to demonstrate?”
Beau jerks a thumb in Essek’s direction and fake-coughs to Yasha, “Teacher’s pet.”
Essek ignores her and sits back, fingers working in those little patterns he draws when something has piqued his curiosity. “I believe so,” he says, and nods to Veth.
Caleb raises his eyebrows as all eyes turn to Veth. Though Essek had the courtesy to leave her a halfling, her features and coloring are entirely different - but that wide smile as she stands and rubs both hands together would give her away, no matter the face it was set in. And as Beau swears under her breath, Yasha and Caleb look on wide-eyed, and Essek watches with a smirk, she pulls her hands apart to let loose a shower of sparks.
“You… learned the spell,” Caleb says numbly. He hadn’t imagined any of them were actually paying attention.
“It was an excellent lesson!” Veth replies.
As she takes her seat again, Beau and Yasha give her a smattering of stunned applause. Essek clears his throat pointedly.
“And I guess, maybe, Essek gave me one pointer,” Veth amends with an eye-roll.
“Hey, so your partner system worked,” Yasha points out.
It had. The lesson had worked, the procedure had worked - his teaching had worked. There’s still a little voice in his head reminding him that Veth is brilliant, and an adult, and perfectly capable of learning things like this without even so much as his help - but he can’t deny that it’s his guidance that taught her this particular spell. ‘An excellent lesson,’ Veth had said. In this moment, he’s inclined to believe it might be half true. Caleb realizes very suddenly that he’s beaming.
With a snap of his fingers, Essek dispels the disguises. The soft smile on his face - his real face, and Caleb always misses it dearly when it’s hidden - says he hasn’t failed to notice Caleb’s relief.
“Danke, all of you,” he says sheepishly, waving a hand to vanish the chalkboard.
“Thank you!” Veth says. “For the shiny new spell and for the masterclass in professoring.”
“You were really good,” Yasha agrees. “I’m, uh... I’m sorry about the table.”
He dips his head to hide the way his face is flushing. They exaggerate, the lot of them. But there is something to be said for having friends who will say such things. “Ja, well,” he says, “I am not convinced it will translate to an actual class, but I will hope.”
Beau takes another swig of her drink, wiping her mouth afterwards. “Dude, we were the worst and you still managed to teach somebody something,” she says. “Those kids have nothing on us. You got this.”
He offers her a smile, retrieving his glass from the table as Yasha, Veth, and Essek do the same. He hopes it’s true. He hopes that, separate entirely from his ability to teach them the how of magic, he will be able to keep them safe. That he will be able to keep from passing on any damage he received in his own time in those halls.
He catches Essek’s eye, and the knowing look there puts some of the anxious buzzing to rest. He will be better. He will struggle, most likely. He will stumble, inevitably. But he will give better than he got. He’s been practicing that part for years.
“To Professor Widogast!” Veth shouts, breaking him out of his thoughts.
“Professor Widogast,” the others echo, and Caleb smiles.
“To my very good friends,” he replies.
“To the hottest professor the Soltryce Academy has ever seen,” Veth shouts in response, and Caleb nearly chokes on his drink when Essek casually clinks his glass against hers with a nod.
They drink together. Caleb thinks, just a little bit, he might be excited.
-
thanks @peregrintook for reading this over and telling me it wasn't the worst thing i had ever written (in much more generous words than that), and @saturdaysky for catching me red-handed last time i deleted it and being so kind about it 💜
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donaweasley · 3 years ago
Text
Their Little Secret
Pairing: Loki x Fem!Reader
Plot: This can be read as a sequel to What If or even as a solo.
The reader and Loki have been best friends for long, but eventually realised that it was more than just friendship. As they secretly step into a new world, the entire team, unbeknownst to it all, makes it their mission to make the love birds realise and confess what they feel for each other.
Warnings: Fluff, slight angst in relationship, a happy ending! Oh! And late-night hazards and a long read. Sorry!
Read time: ~26 mins
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“(Y/N), could you please take a look at this once?”
Loki waltzed in through (Y/N)’s door with a file in his hand. She was reading a book, when he knocked.
“It’s pretty late. I thought you said you’d go straight to bed. What are you doing with this poor old piece of rat-food now?”
“I did. But then I couldn’t sleep. So...I thought of doing something boring enough to lull me to sleep. But this old file actually turned out to be quite interesting,” he explained animatedly. “I just couldn’t understand one part. So, here I am!”
She eyed him suspiciously as he spread his arms to accentuate his royal presence.
“That, or you wanted to see me, and this file is a flimsy excuse,” she drawled.
“Come on, darling! I’m fond of you but not to the extent that I’ll have to make lame excuses to see you. Besides, why would I need to lie to you?”
After taking a moment to consider his words, she stepped beside him and asked him to show the file.
“It is here - this part,” he pointed at a chunk of printed information.
“This one is…” She pondered aloud. “That doesn’t make sense! Loki, w-where did you get this from? That doesn’t look like any mission report or anything. It looks like...an excerpt...from...a book?”
Before she could register, a kiss landed on her cheek. It was immediately followed by Loki excitedly wishing her, “Goodnight, darling,” and vanishing into a green glow.
She stood stunned for a while. Gradually, the tingling sensation where Loki’s lips had caressed her skin began to spread like wildfire through her face, and soon she was blushing and smiling like an idiot.
“Idiot!” She cursed him as she flopped back on the bed.
After a few seconds of fiddling with the bookmark, and staring at blurred lines on the page, she closed the book, and decided to call it a night. After what Loki just did, nothing else could compare to a happier ending to the day.
As she closed her eyes, sunny memories started flooding her mind.
It had all started hardly two months ago, when they were having their usual midnight snacks, casually talking the day’s stress away, talking nonsense - just the usual best buddy night.
But then something happened: a childish game of “what-ifs”.
It was fun, for the most part, until Loki had asked her about her intentions if she met the love of her life the next day. Already stained with painful memories of past relationships and with the hopelessness about her love life, she tried her best to evade the question. But Loki, being Loki, kept proding her until she gave him a genuine reason for her frustration.
And everything changed after that. Because in trying to save the other from falling down the emotional cliff, they had saved each other. They had found each other.
She laughed softly as she remembered the hesitancy in both their hearts as they had crossed the threshold of friendship.
That was the first time that she had kissed him. On the cheek. And that was even before she had fully realised that her feelings for him were no longer platonic.
That was the first time Loki had put an arm around her and pulled her close to him.
Another giggle escaped her as she remembered the moment when the soft morning light, and a stiff back had awakened her from her sleep.
Both were still sitting in almost the same position as they had been when they were chatting.
She had found herself cocooned in the arms of Loki, her legs tangled with his, both of them safe under the thin blanket that Loki had picked while preparing for their night. Her head rested on his chest, while his rested on the top of her head.
The last thing that she remembered from the previous night was them promising each other that no matter how things turned out, they’d always be beside one another. And then Loki had pulled her closer, and gently laid her head on his throbbing chest.
It was now peacefully moving up and down with his sleepy breaths. Before opening her eyes to reality, she stole a few moments to let this feeling sink in.
When she had closed her eyes the night before, there was an excitement so high in the air that Thor’s thunder would have been ashamed. It was the hammering of Loki’s heart that had eventually put her to sleep.
The morning brought a peaceful rhythm beneath her ears. It was beautiful, it was calm, it was...reassuring. She loved it more than the thrill of the past few hours.
But no matter how long she tried to soak herself in the feeling, the incidents of the night before still seemed somewhat unbelievable. How could something months long change overnight? Was it all a mirage then, cast by the treacherous night?
The darkness of the night sets the mind free to imagine anything, take any decision. But the clarity of the day brings logic to the forefront, which sometimes turns out to be good but sometimes not so good.
But...it had felt right. She took a deep breath to clear her mind. It still felt right. That was all the assurance that she needed for the moment.
As she turned in her bed, she remembered the raspy voice in which Loki had wished her a good morning.
The close proximity, the husky, sleep-laden voice, the sudden change in the air - everything made blood rush to her cheeks and ears. Loki had sleepily chuckled at her flushed state, though he was only slightly better than her in hiding his own flustered state.
Ever since, not a single day had passed when the two of them hadn’t thanked the stars.
She used to think that she loved Loki’s friendship more than anything. She was happy to be proven wrong when she experienced Loki’s courtship.
A different flower everyday, sometimes inside her room, laid carefully near her door, sometimes on her bedside table, and on some mornings, beside her pillow.
She was used to going out with her best friend Loki, but going out with her boyfriend Loki was an experience on a whole new level. Light brushes of the fingers, sometimes an arm around her shoulder, intertwining of fingers, occasional brushes of his lips on her temple, and not-very-occasional blushes that tinted both their skins.
Every day, before parting for the day, she was blessed with bear hugs from him - something that she had never expected him to be fond of.
It was the best time of her life! Almost every doubt that she had about this relationship not working out had evaporated long ago. It was - she dared to say - perfect!
Except for one small hiccup: they had to keep everything off the radar.
For one, they were still testing the waters. No matter how happy and confident they were with one another, their newfound relationship was still at its infancy, and they didn’t want to declare anything to the rest of the team right away.
Second, everybody in the compound had been teasing both (Y/N) and Loki about “getting a room” for a long time. They didn’t want to give them the satisfaction of knowing that they were finally correct. Well, figuratively.
Unfortunately, the team did not know that they had already confessed their feelings to each other. And so, they were desperate to make the love birds see the truth of their emotions. The Avengers, tough and stubborn as they were, never gave up. And Loki and (Y/N) simply decided to play along.
For instance, around a month and a half ago, Tony had thrown one of his usual parties at the compound, and had brought a line of apparent suitors for (Y/N) and a host of gorgeous ladies and lads to introduce to Loki.
Though the new couple was initially confused at the unbridled attention, they eventually understood what was going on: Tony Stark had decided to use the age-old recipe of jealousy to crack either one or both of them.
It was fun, they both admitted later, to dance to the tune, and give the host a frowning face when he realised that neither were biting the bait. Instead, both seemed to be enjoying themselves flirting or dancing with their respective “baits”.
What escaped the eagle eyes of the team were the furtive looks that both (Y/N) and Loki threw at each other from time to time. It wasn’t easy to masquerade those longing glances with playful teases that two friends might share. But they had to.
Late into the night, after the party was over, Loki teleported into (Y/N)’s room. The security cameras were still a threat to their little secret.
“Hello beautiful!” Loki purred when she didn’t turn all her attention towards him as she usually did, but kept herself apparently busy in making the bed.
“Is this my consolation prize for all your flirting this evening?” She tried to keep it casual but her displeasure seeped into her tone.
“Ooh, someone sounds jealous,” he drawled.
“Speak for yourself, God!”
Loki stepped towards her, and gently caught her hand, putting a pause to her actions.
“Look at me. Please?”
She smiled as she faced him, but he could easily catch the facade.
“I know what you're trying to do. You can’t fool me, (Y/N).”
“And what is it that I’m doing?” She tried to question with the same casualness but her voice kept betraying her.
“You are trying to make it look like it didn’t affect you - me being with all those lovely people. But in reality, you are hurt, even if it is a tiny bit.”
Her smile faltered. Of course, she couldn’t fool the God of Lies!
Closing her eyes, she shook her head, “I don’t know why you’re saying this Loki. I’m perfectly fine! Why would I-”
“You and I understand each other perfectly,” Loki gently cut her off. “Or did you forget that?”
He reminded her of the one line - of the one realisation - that had triggered the tiniest thoughts of them being possibly together, if at all.
Realizing that all doors were closed for her, she tried to turn away from him, only to be stopped by the trickster.
“If it makes you feel any good,” he resumed, “it did burn me a bit, too, to watch you dance and laugh with those clowns.”
At this, she burst into laughter. Loki was glad at the change of mood, and allowed a few happy creases around his eyes as well.
“Is that true,” she asked, “or are you simply trying to make me feel better?”
He shrugged, “What do you think?”
“I’d like to believe that it’s true,” she confessed shyly.
“It is.”
“Well then,” she said after suppressing a wild grin that tried to crack its way through, “I guess that makes us even.”
“Guess so.”
“I’m sorry, Loki,” she sighed, “I lied earlier because I didn’t want to put any kind of pressure on you or anything. I mean...jealousy? That’s the first stage of obsession. And...I don’t want you to think that...”
“Hey,” Loki held both her hands in his, “your feelings for me will never suffocate me. On the contrary, they help me breathe. You have given my life a new purpose. I thought I was happy being your best friend. But this...this is even better. Never think that you’re putting any kind of pressure on me. None of those men or women out there, or anywhere for that matter, can bring me what I feel with you, for you.”
Words seemed insufficient for what she wanted to say. So, she simply nodded, and wrapped her arms around his torso.
“Thank you,” she murmured into his chest.
He chuckled as he ran his hand on her head, “Being jealous actually makes you look cute.”
She unwrapped herself from him just enough to look at his face, “Says the man who just confessed being jealous himself!”
“I never said I don’t look cute,” he shrugged again.
Shaking her head and laughing, she pulled his face down, and placed a warm kiss on his cheek.
“Go now, before I punch that cute face of yours.”
“When you say ‘punch’,” Loki drawled, “do you mean…’kiss every inch of’...?”
Blushing furiously, she pushed him towards the door.
“Shut up, and just go!”
Loki laughed as he wished her a lovely night, and disappeared into his usual green glow.
---------------
But the Avengers were not the ones to give up.
Not many weeks later, Natasha planned an evening at one of her favourite nightclubs. While Steve, Vision and Bucky backed out of the plan, given their previous not-so-delightful interactions with the loudness and the crowd, Thor and Tony were adamant on dragging Loki with them.
“We thought you liked a little fun! Since when did you start wearing grandpa’s knickers?” Tony snorted.
“C’mon, brother, don’t embarrass me,” Thor’s voice boomed in Loki’s room. “(Y/N) has embarrassed me enough. She didn’t want to go either. Said she’d rather sleep than be tormented by the blasted noise.”
She said what? That means she’s going to stay back-
“Wait, what?” Tony turned towards Thor with a perplexed look, “She said that?”
He turned around to face Loki again, “Are you two planning something or have you both become boring?”
No, no, no! They’ll add up…
“I am not boring!” Loki declared. He decided to stay quiet on the other option that Stark had mentioned.
“Well, then join us,” Tony shrugged.
With a dramatic roll of his eyes, Loki agreed.
Needless to say, his eyes went wide when he saw (Y/N) dressed up and ready for the outing when he was expecting her in her pajamas. When she silently questioned him, he immediately realised that he had been tricked.
I have to be more careful.
The team’s plan soon became obvious when, after a few rounds of shots, everyone made a beeline to the dance floor, leaving behind a string of excuses, and Loki and (Y/N) at the bar. Even through the crowd, the duo’s trained eyes could catch glimpses of their teammates shadowing them.
“Do they really think getting drunk will make us confess?” She shouted over the sound of the music.
“I’m a God,” he shouted back. “Midgardian liquor doesn’t affect me anyway.”
“Well, it affects me,” she shrugged and drained another shot down her throat, “and I love it!”
Last one.
She had started feeling dizzy. Getting wasted could be saved for another moment when she wasn’t being spied on.
A few minutes passed in silence as neither was fond of shouting to communicate. (Y/N) bobbed her head to the music while Loki eyed the mass of bodies swaying and moving with the beats.
“Would you-” Loki began but stopped midway.
While her eyes questioned him, he silently slipped from the stool, and came to stand almost behind her.
His hot breath, dipped in a faint whiff of alcohol, hit the shell of her ear as he purred, “Would you like to dance with me?”
She was rendered immobile for a while. A small corner of her mind wondered if Loki knew what he was doing to her.
I bet he knows what he’s doing.
“I’d have loved to!” She drawled. “It’s a shame there isn’t room for a waltz here, and I wouldn’t want a God like you to hop like teeangers in the crowd.”
She felt his chest brush against her back.
“I was actually hoping that you’d be up for that dance,” he pointed at a section of the crowd where bodies were gliding against each other in the most provocative ways.
Her breath hitched again. She didn’t need to turn her head to know that Loki was smirking at his achievement.
But this time, she wouldn’t squeal, she wouldn’t push him away with a timid smile. Diffidence and boldness both tugged at polar ends of her heart until boldness won the war.
Not this time. Two can play the game, darling.
“So, what’s stopping you?” Her lips almost brushed his earlobe as she tilted her head to whisper in his ear.
Where did that come from?!
Loki wasn’t prepared for this.
It was usually him who threw mildly suggestive comments which she pushed away with a shy gesture. He never expected the tables to turn so quickly.
She did not even have enough shots to get drunk yet, he noticed.
“What happened, did the cat get your silver tongue?” She smirked.
“I-I...uh...”
While Loki continued to gape at her, an inkling of panic nudged her chest.
Did I take it too far? He obviously wasn’t ready for this, but…
It all must have been another prank for him, and I…
No!
With a cackle, she sliced the apparent tension in the air. “So, finally got you, ha? Mischief!” She winked.
Turning towards the bartender, she ordered another shot.
Loki’s brain was still trying to decipher her behaviour.
Did she really mean it…? It didn’t look like a joke though…
As she focused on her drink, he thought he saw a flicker of disappointment cross her face, but the incessant dance of light and shadows made her features almost unreadable.
“You should get back to your seat, y’know?” She told him with downcast eyes.
“What?”
“The team might notice and...they might know.”
Did her voice just...tremble?
Loki hated the place: the noise, the dim lights, the secrecy - he hated the way everything seemed to veil her from him.
“I think I’ll go find them.”
Downing another drink, she hopped off her seat, and disappeared in the crowd, leaving Loki to his thoughts.
Once they were back in the compound, Loki went straight to (Y/N)’s room. This time he did not sneak into her room using magic; he knocked on her door. This wasn’t the moment to play a game of cat and mouse. If the entire compound was prying on him, he would gladly allow them to. Well, maybe not gladly.
“Hey! Hi, Loki!”
Her smile was as bright as ever.
Was it all in my mind then?
“Are you alright?” He tried to sound calm but his anxiety turned out to be more stubborn than him.
“Yes, I am. What- Come inside first.”
She stepped aside, allowing him to stride into her room, and flump down on the bed.
“I’m sorry,” he began honestly, “I thought...I thought you were upset. At the club… I thought I saw you...sad? I’m not sure. I just had this feeling that you’re probably not okay, and-”
“Loki,” she held his shoulders and gently hushed him, “I’m fine.”
Her assurance enabled him to breathe normally again.
Caressing his face, she placed a light kiss on his forehead.
“Thank you, Loki! For everything. For caring so much about me.”
“(Y/N),” he held her hand, “are you hiding something? From me?”
He didn’t miss the way she gulped before replying.
“Why would you say that?”
“Look, I’m sorry if I cross the lines sometimes. I know I tease you but those are… I’m sorry if I’ve ever made you uncomfortable or have hurt you.”
“You are an idiot! Do you know that? You’ve never hurt me or made me uncomfortable. Now, get these stupid thoughts out of your little brain, and give me that devilishly charming smile of yours.”
Despite all her compliments, his eyes did not light up as they usually did.
“Are you sure?” He asked her.
“Absolutely!”
“You’ll tell me if you’re upset, won’t you? Promise me.”
He took note of how she licked her lips before nodding.
Something is not right.
“Come here,” he pulled her in his arms, and buried his face in the crook of her neck. “And I’m not an idiot. I am smart.”
---------------
The next few weeks turned out to be more and more challenging as the team was now hell-bent on getting them exposed. What made them so sure of their relationship was still a mystery to the couple.
“Are we that obvious?” (Y/N) asked Loki one day.
“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “It is said that it shows on the faces of those in love. So, I guess...”
The words, coming from him, filled her with warmth. If that be true, and if everyone could see that they were in love only by looking at them, then she’d happily trade their secrecy for more obviousness.
But every time they came close to taking the relationship to the next level, she would find Loki backing away. Every time they had the opportunity to reveal their beautiful secret to the team, he would quickly shield both of them.
Why, Loki? Do you not want us?
---------------
It was a rainy evening when Tony had gathered everyone in the living room. At first (Y/N) thought that it was an urgent meeting for a new mission. But when she knew the actual reason behind it, she couldn’t prevent the snort that escaped her.
“Excuse me?” Tony pointed at her. “You got some problem, princess?”
“Truth or dare? Like, how old are we? Twelve?”
Tony spread his arms as if to silently make a point. “Since when did you start categorizing fun into ages? Ever since you started dating Rock of Ages?”
“Hey!” Loki made a tiny protest at his nickname.
“We are not dating,” (Y/N) deadpanned.
“And there goes my question,” Wanda sighed from across the room.
In response, (Y/N) simply rolled her eyes, and grumbled, “Kids!”
Once the game started, the team wasted no time in getting to the point: (Y/N) and Loki.
The first one to get attacked was Loki.
“No, no truth for you,” Sam chimed in just as Loki sucked in a breath to choose “truth”.
“He’s the God of Lies!” Sam announced, “He can easily slip away with any lie!”
“The bird’s got a point!” Tony agreed, followed by everyone else. “‘Dare’ for you!”
“This is not how it works,” Loki protested.
“Did you play this on Asgard? Thor?”
“No, we had never even heard of it until we came here,” the big brother responded.
“But-”
“Nah-ah!” Tony didn’t let him finish. “This is exactly how it is played. Who wants to give the God of Mischief a mischievous dare?”
(Y/N) wanted to protest; she wanted to tell Tony that he was bending the rules to get to them. But any word of support would further corner them both. All she could do was play along.
“Kiss (Y/N). And you know where I mean.”
Nat’s voice yanked her out of her thoughts. She watched in horror as Loki’s expressions changed from shock to anger while the entire team cheered.
“Nat!” (Y/N) jumped up from her seat, “do you even hear yourself? He’s my best friend! We can’t just...”
“Why not?” Sam questioned with a smirk. “You seemed to be enjoying it when I was asked to kiss Buck. He’s my best buddy.”
“Speak for yourself,” Bucky mumbled.
“C’mon, it’s just a game! Don’t be a spoilsport.”
Steve?? Et tu?
Rubbing her eyes, (Y/N) tried to find a way out of it. She knew well that if Loki kissed her, she’d melt into it. Everything would become obvious.
No, no, no!! This can’t be. They can’t just expose us like this. Loki would be so....
Wait, why isn’t he saying anything?
She opened her eyes to see Loki standing. His expression was unfathomable.
Oh no! Is he going to…
“This is outrageous!” Loki snapped and turned on his heels to walk out of the room.
Oh!
For reasons she did not want to explore then, (Y/N)’s heart dropped several feet. She was expecting a similar reaction from him but wasn’t hoping for it.
Quickly gravitating back to the situation in hand, she stammered an excuse or two for his behaviour, and followed his tracks to check on him.
Once both of them were out of earshot, Tony leaned towards the group, “Did we save it or kill it.”
“Looks like we killed it,” Sam sighed.
“Trust me,” Wanda smiled, “we saved it.”
“Vision? What do you think?”
“I still do not understand why you have to torment them like this. Let them come out when they want to. It’s-”
“Okay!” Tony interrupted him. “Sorry I asked! My bad!”
The door to Loki’s room was half open when (Y/N) arrived. Gingerly, she admitted herself inside.
Loki was standing at the window, with his back towards her. His head was bowed but his hands were curled into fists on both sides of his body.
“Loki?”
The name came out so softly that she couldn’t be sure if he had heard it, given that he did not move at all.
But before she could call him again, he spoke.
“I did not want this to happen,” his voice bore that particular kind of seriousness that usually preceded an unwanted or unhappy revelation.
What?
“I am sorry, (Y/N).” He turned towards her, and she realised in an instant that he wasn’t fooling around.
“What are you talking about, Loki? What did you not want to happen?”
Her chest felt tighter with every passing second.
Please, not what I’m fearing.
“This,” his hand vaguely gestured towards the hallway. “Whatever happened just now. I knew they would come down to this one day. I never wanted-”
“It’s okay,” she interjected. “I did not like that either. Although they meant no harm. It was just for fun… And I understand if you're having second thoughts. This entire thing between us was just something… y’know, a spur of the moment kind of thing. I totally understand if-"
"(Y/N)! Where is this coming from? What are you even talking about?"
She couldn’t make herself look at him, for if she did, he could clearly see the moisture pooling in her eyes. She needed to appear strong.
“Loki, you’ve always been my best friend. And I’ve loved that. You know it. And it’s okay if this new turn in our relationship does not turn out to be something that you had hoped for. It happens. It’s okay-”
“It’s not okay for me,” Loki grasped her hands. “What are you saying? Why? A-are you not happy with me? Have I done something wrong? Did I offend you in any way?”
What is he saying? I thought…
As she looked up at him, a couple of drops ran down her cheeks and on her shirt.
“(Y/N), please tell me. You had promised to tell me anything and everything that upsets you. So, tell me what happened. Why do you speak of our relationship as if it was a mistake?”
“It never was a mistake for me,” she breathed, “I thought you felt...I thought you...”
“What?”
The shaky way in which the question came out of him stung her more than any thought of Loki not wanting this relationship. It was then that she realised how badly she had hurt him.
He never wanted to leave! He always wanted me? Us?
She didn’t know what to say.
“I’m sorry,” she finally managed. “I thought that you...didn’t want...this. Us. I-”
“Why would you even think so? Why would you bear such thoughts when I love you with every fiber of my being?”
Her head snapped up.
“You love me?” Her own voice became shaky.
“Of course, I do,” he gently placed a hand on her cheek, “always have. At first I thought it was a love for friends until that night, when I realised that I wanted to be more than just friends with you.”
More tears fell down her cheek as she rejoiced in the moment. Loki wiped them all, and placed soft kisses on each cheek.
“And all this time, I was afraid that you’re having second thoughts,” she confessed.
“And why is that?”
“Because...”
How do I say that it’s because you haven’t kissed me yet? And ran away from the one moment we had today, albeit in a not-so-comfortable situation?
“Because I haven’t kissed you yet?” Loki asked her.
Her heart beat so violently, she could have sworn that Loki could hear it. Her tongue felt too heavy to speak.
“I didn’t think you were ready,” he admitted. “That is the reason why I did not dance with you in the club either. I was teasing you, yes, but when you responded I was definitely taken aback. I wasn’t sure if it was you or the ambience talking. So…
You have always shied away from any comments that I make, and...I did not want to push anything on you.”
“Oh, Loki!”
She hugged him so hard that even the Asgardian had to take two steps back to balance himself.
“I’m so, so sorry,” she wept into his shirt. “I misunderstood your actions for… I pushed you away. I thought you weren’t ready for this relationship. I’m sorry!”
Tears of both apology and relief flooded her. He tried to sush her as he rocked her slowly from side to side.
After taking a moment to compose herself, she stood straight. Loki looked at her red-eyed, tear-stained face and tutted.
“Doesn’t suit you, darling. Show me your crazy, grinning face.”
With a chuckle, she gave him a funny face-splitting smile, making both of them laugh.
“(Y/N), I didn’t want to kiss you because of a game or under the watchful eyes of that insufferable bunch of imbeciles. But if you will allow me now, I-”
“Just stop being so polite for a change, and kiss me,” she tugged at the collars of his shirt.
Loki didn’t need to be asked twice.
---------------
In the hall, the Avengers were busy speculating the outcome of their little plan, when the couple in discussion walked in. Hand in hand.
“Yes, we had changed our relationship status around six months ago,” (Y/N) announced to a stunned audience.
“And yes, we kissed. Just now. And I hope you know where I mean,” Loki added before dragging his love away towards the elevator.
“What was that?” She whispered as she was being whisked away.
“What?” Loki asked innocently, although his eyes stated otherwise.
“You didn’t need to declare that we just kissed!” She laughed as the doors of the elevator closed.
He shrugged while jabbing at a button. “They wanted us to kiss anyway. So, I gave them the satisfaction of knowledge. Besides, they need to know who you belong to now.”
“Aha! Possessive?”
“No! I also made it clear who I belong to now.”
He smiled as the doors opened to the hallway that led to his room. And once again, his words had rendered her speechless.
Silver tongue!
***
-----------------------------------------------
You can read the backstory here.
And here's a song to sing along and keep the mood floating...
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early20sfailingplenty · 3 years ago
Text
A moment like this // Vincent Sinclair x GN!Reader (’you’ used).
After today’s conversation with @imbleedin-out​, I got inspired to write out the daydream I had last night while I was falling asleep as an expansion on what we talked about!🥰💞 I’ve never written for Vincent before, this is my first time. I’d like to thank Lily profusely for inadvertently teaching me so much of what I know about all three Sinclair brothers, for being so kind and lovely, warm and welcoming, and I hope you like this!!!💖🙏
General note: This is pure self-indulgent fluff, sorry not sorry. I’ve tried to keep Vinny as in character as possible, but please be aware that I’ve only seen HOW once and everything else is based off of all the beautiful fics I’ve read over the last few weeks; so apologies for any acts out of character!🌸 There are also Bo and Lester mentions in here because 🥺 and I’m sorry if they’re out of character too oml ~ 😩 As far as I know, there’s no coded language!!! I’m always very vague about physical descriptions of Y/N, to be as inclusive as possible!💗
I don’t think there are any content warnings but if you see something I’ve missed, please let me know!💜 I’m happy to tag, make corrections, etc.🥰💞 There is some darkness right at the end! He is a Sinclair!💖
Summary: After a long, hard day, you’re lying on the twin bed down in Vincent’s workspace and like the call of a siren is he lured into joining you. Neither of you want to be anywhere other than here, in each other’s minds and hearts. What are the long days for, if not for nights like this?
Word count: 982.
(His mocking (curious?) head tilts please I beg😩 He’s so beautiful it hurts😩 Wanna climb into his lap and give him lots of kisses🥺💖).
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You groaned in appreciation as you allowed yourself to flop down on the twin bed in Vincent’s workspace. There was no dignity in the way you let gravity take control of your body, but you were too tired to care about how you may have looked. Between running around Ambrose doing odd jobs which Bo had mentioned offhandedly, going into the next town over to carry out some essential errands with Lester (you needed a ride and he loved spending time with you so it was a win-win, though he was also your only insurance out of Ambrose, or Bo wouldn’t let you leave), your own responsibilities, the dinner you had cooked, the kitchen you had cleaned... you were exhausted.
You thought you heard a quiet muffled huff of amusement from the man sculpting at the table several feet away from you, and a small, soft smile spread across your face even as your eyes fluttered closed and your body melted into the mattress. Oh, how you loved him. Vincent hadn’t looked at you when you had come in, but you knew that he was aware of every breath, every movement, every sigh... his every nerve was wired to you, and it was only a testament of how well you knew him that you were aware of that one simple fact: Vincent was always aware of you. Most especially when you thought he wasn’t.
He always found you at your most beautiful when you didn’t know he was watching you.
You felt uncomfortable in the way you had landed, so you rolled onto your back, one hand resting on your stomach and the other arm outstretched into the vacant space beside you. The classical music which Vincent was listening to was on low (pre-emptively had he turned it down upon hearing you descend the stairs, so aware was he of his surroundings) and the various candles scattered around cast a low light across the room. Shadows danced across the walls and the orange glow was so soft that you felt yourself growing sleepier as the moments passed, marked only by your own breathing and the faint sounds of Vincent’s own. 
You were lulled into your threshold consciousness and there did you remain until a shadow fell over your body. You opened your eyes to see Vincent stood at the foot of his bed, his head tilted and his long dark hair hanging across his masked face as he gazed at you. You smiled at the sight of him, your heart squeezing so hard in your chest that it hurt in the best way, and wiggled the fingers dangling gracefully over the bed.
Join me?
Vincent looked at you for a few seconds longer and you could hear his question as surely as if he had spoken it verbally. You had more to say, but you were so tired that you could only find the energy to say, “c’mere”. Your eyes slipped closed as you felt Vincent move (for you were just as aware of him as he was of you) and then the mattress beside you dipped as he eased himself down beside you. Slowly, slowly, did he lower his head to rest upon your outstretched arm. He hesitated for reasons you weren’t fully aware of, though you suspected it was because you were his first romantic experience (and his last, if either of you got your way), though by no means was he innocent despite his clear uncertainty. The detailing on his sculptures of the female form could attest to that. You smiled once again. All you ever seemed to do was smile when you were around Vincent, as if his very existence was the string attached to each corner of your lips. 
You curled your hand up so that you could play with his hair. It was badly tangled, the tips crusty and dry with wax which had clumped up as he had worked, and though you weren’t stroking the roots of his dark hair, you knew that they were greasy. He was in desperate need of a shower, but that could be your mission for later on. For right now, you only wanted to bask in the love which you shared. Indeed, he loved you just as much, and the pleased hum you heard from behind the mask as you continued to stroke his hair told you just as much, as did the way his arm wound around your waist, like a boa constrictor could he be. Vincent tugged himself closer to you, wanting more of everything. Your touch, your scent, your voice... Vincent always wanted more of you, addicted to you was he. Even when he had you, he wanted more.
“‘Love you, Vinny,” Your voice was thick with sleep and both of you were aware that you wouldn’t be awake for much longer. The hour was late, your energy levels were about as depleted as you could handle, and even Vincent was feeling a bone deep weariness to match the time of night.
Vincent didn’t verbally answer you. He only nuzzled into your hold, your fingers sinking deeper into his hair, and you did your best to get even closer to him. You were constantly seeking contact with one another; touch-starved and love-starved. The way he pressed himself into you told you that he loved you too, and you allowed him to maneuver you any way he wanted to, stilling in your movements so that you didn’t accidentally yank at his hair, though you kept your fingers where they were. You ended up crushed into his side, his face burrowed in the warm crook of your neck, his legs tangled up in your own, and his arms wrapped around you securely. Vincent’s embrace was the safest cage you had ever known, though you could only hope he never offered you the key. 
You wouldn’t survive taking it.
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