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lazycats-stuff · 5 months ago

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Hi idk if you're taking requests rn but can you please do if possible batfamily x male reader who's younger than dick but older than jason and he is really shy around batfamily because he came to the family after damian idk if this makes sense and while out on patrol an enemy injects him something that turned him into a toddler but he still has all his memory the rest is up to you im sorry if this doesn't make sense😭

It's fine, it makes perfect sense, don't worry my dear anon. I know exactly what you mean. Did I use this GIF before? Yes. Does it work in this context? Yes. And did I use this GIF for a story before where I also wrote about a shy reader? Yes.

Summary: (Y/N) is shy around his family. That is until he is turned into a toddler.

Warnings: shy (Y/N), (Y/N) is turned into a toddler, not a lot of bad warnings, besides mentioning Bruce being stabbed for the purpose of this one shot.

(Y/N) was always shy, even before Bruce adopted him. But that shyness completely intensified when he was adopted into the family. He was younger than Dick, but older than Jason, which would put him somewhere in the middle. If only he didn't come after Damian came into the family, it might have been easier.

Coming into a new family where there are already four siblings and you are the fifth one... It's not easy to say the very least. Meeting new people is not easy and (Y/N) always struggled with being shy and just over all... A bit overwhelmed. More often than not, (Y/N) could be found with a blush on his cheeks. Very quiet too... Feeling self conscious more often than not.

Bruce tried to make his son more comfortable. So did the other boys. All of them in their own ways. Bruce talked to (Y/N) about becoming a vigilante. Which (Y/N) thought was a good idea. But due to his shyness... (Y/N) was very hesitant to do so. He didn't want to impede anyone due to his shyness.

Bruce promised him that they could work on it and at the same time train to go out on patrol. Bruce wanted to make sure that (Y/N) is fully prepared to go out. Sometimes, (Y/N) could overthink a lot of things and Bruce wanted (Y/N) to just trust his gut feeling. Go with your gut, trust yourself.

Of course, an overthinker overthinks everything and that sometimes makes it a bit more difficult to function. Of course, overthinking for a while when it's your first few times being on patrol is normal, you are trying to get into your rhythm and to get the initial nerves out. But the problem is that (Y/N) is a chronical overthinker. So Bruce made sure to shadow (Y/N) all the time.

Bruce made sure to instruct his sons to do the same. To make sure that they shadowed (Y/N), just for his safety. (Y/N) didn't mind it, but he would like to have a tiny bit of autonomy and a little bit of confidence in himself.

His brothers were sympathetic to that, but Bruce's orders were still standing. And Bruce did know that (Y/N) was getting a bit restless and annoyed as he couldn't have some independence. But Bruce wanted to be sure that (Y/N) could take care of himself if he was alone. And after numerous conversations with Bruce, Bruce relented and (/YN) was happy to have a little bit more autonomy.

Bruce was still worried of course, but knew that (Y/N) could take care of himself. Just like all of his children could. But Bruce is always worried about all of his children. So, he made sure to put a tracker in (Y/N)'s suit.

Just in case, Bruce told himself, trying to ease his guilt of doing this.

He knows that he couldn't tell (Y/N) because he would freak out at Bruce. Where's the autonomy if you have a tracker? And (Y/N) was happy to be trusted enough to go on his own...

Bruce was caught in the middle.

Bruce was sitting in the Batcave, taking a night off due to a stab wound. And Alfred might have threatened him with certain things if he even thought about going out on patrol. So Bruce decided to be on the Bat computer, offering support for his kids and for them to go out on patrol alone, without him as physical backup.

It was all going good, but it was a full moon. And far too quiet. And Bruce knew that something was bound to happen. And he was right. But he expected one of his kids to be hurt. Maybe something broken.

Not (Y/N) being turned into a toddler. Bruce nearly fell out of his chair once he got told what happened. It was an up and coming villain, one that Bruce didn't want to see in Gotham city. He didn't know that the enemy was dabbling into stuff like that. He stood in shock as Dick was holding a little toddler, wrapped in Damian's cloak, since the suit was far too big on him now. The suit was in Damian's hands.

" Is (Y/N) okay? Do you know what his cognition levels are? Toddler or what? "

" I'm still a teen in my mind. " (Y/N) said quietly and Bruce sighed in relief. He didn't know how he would feel if he had an actual toddler in here. He has no experience in raising one and Bruce didn't think that he could even handle on. Bruce gently walked forward and took (Y/N) into his arms, trying to calm down his nerves.

(Y/N) was okay. That's what Bruce wanted to hear. He's okay. Not dead. Not harmed... Bruce sighed in relief as he held his son close to him. His shyest son, the one who overthinks everything, the one who often blushes...

" Are you okay? Are you hurt anywhere? " Bruce asked softly and (Y/N) nodded, seemingly not wanting to talk. Bruce didn't mind it. He could work with nods and shakes.

" Alright, lets find some clothes for you and then Alfred will feed you and then off to bed. " Bruce said to (Y/N), who nodded, happy to eat something.

Alfred watched in silence, still shocked, but soon recovered from it.

" I'll make you your favorite master (Y/N). Come on, lets go. " Bruce put (Y/N) down and (Y/N) walked over to Alfred, reaching for his hand. Alfred smiled as he led (Y/N) up to eat something.

Bruce then turned to his sons.

" Did you manage to catch the guy? " Bruce asked and everyone shook their heads.

" He got away. He was just within my reach. " Jason crossed his arms, looking pissed.

" It's okay Jason, don't blame yourself. Once I'm fully healed, I'll help you two. For now, we need to locate the enemy and ask him for how to reverse the affects. But for now... I'll enjoy this time. I've never had a chance to raise any of you as toddlers, " Bruce confessed and everyone chuckled.

That much was true, they were all older and no one came in when they were toddlers, they were more closer to teenage years. So Bruce would really like to enjoy this period.

Can anyone blame him?

And that's what they all did. They enjoyed this time with (Y/N), Bruce more than the others. Bruce enjoyed how much smaller (Y/N) was and the fact that he could carry him in his arms. Thank God for Bruce's workout plan. And the money to get all the things necessary. Thank God for that.

(Y/N) became a bit compact with the transformation so whenever he got nightmares or got scared in general. Bruce seemed to notice that fear intensified. More often than not, (Y/N) would climb into bed, seeking comfort in his dad. Bruce never minded. How could he? No one else minded either.

It was oddly nice to have a toddler in the home. And while yes, (Y/N) still has his memories as a teen and is not as whiny as a toddler would be so it's not a fair comparison per se, but still. They liked it. Jason loved teasing more than anything in the world. (Y/N) hated it and often whined about it like a toddler would and it made Jason even more amused.

Dick enjoyed this stage too. It's nice to have someone so small around here for some reason. Tim simply buried himself into work to find the enemy. Damian didn't know where to stand on this issue. While he loved his brother even before this, although never showed it outwardly, he wanted his older brother back.

Because this messes with your mind. You have an older brother who was got turned into a toddler. It messes with your perception too. Damian was a little bit freaked out a little bit by it. Okay, not a little, but still.

And yes, (Y/N) was annoyed being a toddler. Being too small to reach anything, Jason teasing him, everyone treating him like a baby... He's had enough of it. He wanted to get out of this little body as soon as possible.

He wanted to be back to him old self.

And that wish was granted when he has seen Bruce smiling after patrol, showing him a serum.

" This will bring you back to your old self. "

(Y/N) sighed in relief. Thank God.

#dc comics #dc x male reader #x male reader #batfamily #bruce wayne x male reader #batman x male reader #jason todd x male reader #red hood x male reader #dick grayson x male reader #nightwing x male reader #tim drake x male reader #red robin x male reader #damian wayne x male reader #robin x male reader

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bumblesimagines · 5 months ago

Text

War Between Kin

Request: Yes or No

Summary: When Rhaenyra Targaryen takes her throne back, she ensures to take care of the remaining Greens in the Keep. Jacaerys attempts to figure out the whereabouts of the Usurper King Aegon by questioning his younger sister.

Pronouns: She/Her/Hers, F!Reader

CW/TW: Typical GoT/HOTD warnings, AU where what happened in the Gullet does not occur, for plot purposes Jace and Baela are not engaged, potential spoilers for S3/events in the books, mentions of Targcest, brief mention of arranged marriage, bastardphobia,

I'm about to fill up the fucking tag because of this man. Super short but here you go for my fem readers!

~~~

"Where is Aegon Targaryen?"

"I've already told you, I do not know."

Jace had long grown tired of repeating himself, and he knew for certain his aunt had grown tired of the questioning the first time he asked. A rough near twenty minutes had passed since he'd first entered the bedchambers she'd been confined to when his mother returned to her rightful home, and he'd learned nothing new about the whereabouts of his missing uncle nor who could have had a hand in smuggling the usurper out of King's Landing.

Truthfully, Jace's patience always had a tendency to run out. He certainly felt it reaching the end of its line as he bounced his knee and laced his fingers over his stomach, eyes tracking his aunt as she paced the room back and forth clad in that godsforsaken shade of green Dowager Queen Alicent often wore. His legs ached just watching her continuously move, although he suspected if she stopped and sat across from him as he'd asked her to numerous times, she'd likely strike at him until someone tore her off him.

"He is your eldest brother, is he not?" Jace spoke through near-gritted teeth, the bouncing of his leg intensifying with each passing second.

The longer they went without locating Aegon Targaryen, the longer his mother went without rest. He remained a threat to them all, even in his battered and ruined state. Half his body burnt, they'd said, and hardly able to walk by himself without help. Jace hardly understood why anyone would desire someone in his state on the throne.

"I am not my brother's keeper." (Y/N) seethed lowly, voice laced with irritation and legs continuing to move back and forth across the room. Her hands tightly clutched the skirt of her dress, keeping it barely lifted to avoid tripping over it.

Despite the rather eyesore of a color reminding Jace of her traitorous family, he'd be a fool to deny it wasn't a beautiful dress that suited her well. She looked regal, if not incredibly furious with him and the rest of his family. It'd been expected after all the fighting and bloodshed between their families even before the war began.

"Do not lie to me, Aunt." Jace scoffed, bracing his arms against the table before him. "All my life, you've always been the watcher amongst your siblings. I doubt not a single thing happened in this castle, in this city, without you learning of it. You must tell me where your brother has fled before Daemon's patience with your stubbornness runs thin. He will not be as kind as I have been."

(Y/N) scowled at him and finally ceased her mindless pacing, her back turning to him and hands raising to her face. In all the years Jace had known the beautiful woman before him, he'd only ever seen her lose her icy demeanor once when Aemond's eye was taken and she'd bitten the skin around her nails until they were raw. He disliked it. He much preferred her snarky attitude over her anxious habits unbefitting of a lady such as her.

"What of Helaena?" She questioned abruptly, her dress swishing when she spun around to face him and her eyes squinting with an unspoken accusation. "You have kept your dogs at bay, have you not? She is not of sound mind."

"Helaena is the most innocent out of the lot of you! Her Grace would never bring harm upon Helaena, of all possible people." Utterly absurd! Jace hardly believed his ears, hardly found it within himself not to snap at her and remind her it'd been her brother who'd killed Luke mercilessly. Still, (Y/N) released a dry laugh, her shoes smacking against the ground as she stormed up to the table.

"Do pray tell, Nephew," She spat the word venomously, as if it were full of filth. "What were Rhaenyra's intentions when she hired those animals who forced Helaena to choose between her sons? What were Rhaenyra's intentions when those animals killed my nephew before his siblings, mother, and grandmother? Helaena has lost her mind. She relives that night every waking moment. A son for a son, they claimed, justice on behalf of Rhaenyra the Cruel."

Jace shot up from his seat, nearly knocking the chair back from sheer force, and slammed his palms against the table with his lips pulled back into a snarl. "Her Grace did not order the death of any of Helaena's sons!"

"Oh, even better, she cannot keep a leash on her own people, then?" (Y/N) laughed again, dry and bitter. "Let us pray Aemond and Daeron arrive quickly with their army, shall we? At least then we will be spared the reign of a queen who cannot control her own allies. It's pathetic, Jacaerys, utterly pathetic. Even if the Realm allows a queen to sit the throne, they will never accept a bastard."

"Mind your tongue, Princess, before I-"

"Before you what?" (Y/N) rounded the table swiftly, gliding along the floor until she reached his side. He managed to turn sideways to face before their chests pressed together, their faces mere inches apart and noses threatening to brush against each other. Jace stiffened, his hands rolling into tightly clenched fists and eyes struggling to remain focused on the lilac of her irises. "Before you cut my tongue out as your grandfather once threatened? Do it, then. Cut my tongue out, here and now, and show your subjects you will not be a king of words alone."

Jace remained silent, his nostrils flaring with his deep inhale and jaw clenching. A challenge, a rather blatant one from his aunt of all people. His cheeks warmed against his will, the embarrassment trickling in because he'd never dare to lay a threatening finger on a lady, much less a beloved princess of the Realm. Jace stared into her eyes and swallowed, his mind searching for words he could shoot back at her.

"A bastard and a coward, then? You will be the end of our dynasty with your tainted blood." She hissed lowly, her breath fanning against his face. "The Gullet did not make you a warrior, did it? Not when you had to be dragged out of the waters full of arrows by another bastard."

"You-"

The sound of a sword unsheathing filled his ears and made his blood bubble with dread, unable to do anything else when she stepped back and pressed the tip of his sword against his throat. Jace's head instinctively tilted up, his heart beginning to drum against his ribcage when his adams apple dragged along the sharp blade threatening to cut his skin. Her lips curled up cruelly and she shook her head slowly, her earrings swaying with her movements.

"The Realm will never a bastard such as yourself to sit the Iron Throne. It'd be an insult to each of the Great Houses. I could end this pathetic display of a boy pretending to be man right here... but your inheritance would fall on the shoulders of young Joffery, and Gods know what Daemon would do to that boy with the line of succession so close to reaching his own sons. I would rather witness Daemon stew in his desperate desire to see his own blood on the throne than offer him up a child on a platter. Unlike your mother, I am not that cruel."

"Daemon knows his place." Nobody would ever believe those words, not even Jace himself. "He is King Consort. He's achieved what he's always desired."

"Has he?" (Y/N) slowly retracted the sword from his throat and tossed it onto the table with a clatter. "Or is he merely lying in wait as he's done time and time again? When he was refused the throne, he waited for the opportunity to arise to bring humiliation on your mother. When he was exiled, he waited for Ser Laenor to be no more so he could take the heir for himself. You are not his son, Jacaerys. You are an obstacle, and Daemon obviously despises obstacles. It will only be a matter of time before he realizes if something were to occur to your mother, he would rule as regent, and as regent, he'd do whatever he desired."

(Y/N) turned away from him once more, her skirt dragging along the stone floor as she walked toward her open window and stopped by it, staring out into the long expense of ocean. Jace took his sword and slid it into his sheath again, internally scolding himself for having grown distracted before he approached his aunt, his steps slow and cautious.

"Rhaenyra should have never been named heir." (Y/N) murmured, and Jace's eyes fell down to her hands, watching her scrape her nails along the skin of her fingers. Her eyes danced, never focusing on one thing for longer than a second as her mind continued working with thoughts and ideas Jace surprisingly longed to hear.

"And yet, she is the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms... and by late morrow she expects you to bend the knee publicly before the court."

"Or what? She shall behead me as she did my grandsire? I hear the executions have become a daily occurrence. Rhaenyra the Cruel's bloody reign, they shall call it. You will see in due time that we would have all been better for it if she had accepted the terms for peace. Your brother may have yet lived, and you would not have nearly met the Stranger in the Gullet."

"We are still at war, Princess, and we'd be fools to keep traitors in our midst," Jace spoke, but he could not stop the tremor in his voice. It'd been satisfying at first when they spilled the blood of Otto Hightower and his son, as well as the Small Council members who'd so openly opposed his mother. But then, blood continued to be spilled, and neither Rhaenyra nor Daemon would stop to hear of it. "It is... for the good of the Realm."

(Y/N) shook her head but otherwise remained silent, the fury she'd contained in her body dissolving. She continued watching the distant waves in the water, her nails only digging harder and harder into her skin until they threatened to break through to her flesh and blood. Unable to help himself, Jace clasped his hand over hers to stop the constant scratching, his lips pressing together and a quiet sigh escaping him.

"I am here to question you about Aegon Targaryen's whereabouts... but I suppose I should also inform you that your mother has made a proposal in an attempt to stop the bloodshed and put an end to the war. She's offered up a betrothal between you and I so that both sides may come together in marriage. Her Grace agreed to some of the terms that came with the proposal, among them a promise to not bring harm upon Helaena, Jaehaera, or Ser Daeron if he bends the knee. She will have the heads of Aegon and Aemond regardless."

His aunt stared at him for a good long while, her body eventually tilting to face him fully. Her arms dropped down to her sides, forcing Jace to drop his hand as well. She wet her lips and turned her gaze away, the news finally beginning to settle into her body. She opened her mouth, looking back at him: "I would rather fling myself from this window than marry a bastard and further tie myself to a hopeless cause."

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redroomreflections · 4 months ago

Text

Just Once More

Natasha Romanoff xFem!Reader

Missed Connections Universe - you can read here.

Summary: Princess Natasha of Russia, is to be wed to Prince Amir of Senoria, the only problem is his younger sister catches her eye.

This installment: Natasha is lonely while Prince Amir is away.

Warnings: Cunnilingus, fingering, nipple play, virginity loss

Note: Another contribution to society. It was in my drafts and I left it here to rot like all my other drafts. Then I picked it up because I was inspired by kinktober.

w/c: 6.3k

The heavy silk sheets felt more like a cage than a comfort. Natasha turned onto her side for what felt like the hundredth time that night, her restless body unable to find peace. Her eyes remained wide open, staring at the ceiling, while her mind raced with thoughts she couldn’t quiet.

The palace was silent. Too silent.

She could hear the ticking of the clock on the wall, each second pulling her further from any chance of sleep. The bed, grand and soft, offered no relief from the gnawing ache in her chest. The emptiness beside her, Amir’s absence, was supposed to be a reprieve. But all it did was remind her of how far apart they had grown—how hollow everything between them had become. She supposed they had a good marriage so far. They barely bickered, hung out often, and had a lot of fun together. He simply didn't feel like a husband. She didn't love him. Not in the romantic sense at least.

She exhaled sharply, frustration building as she twisted the sheets around her fingers. She thought she’d be better at this by now—this life of royalty, this performance. But the truth lingered just below the surface: no title, no crown could cover the fact that she couldn’t give him what he needed. What they expected.

An heir.

The word itself made her feel sick.

Natasha's jaw tightened as she turned over again, her back now facing the wide, empty room. The weight of it all pressed down on her, a constant, heavy reminder of her failure. It wasn't just Amir. It was the whispers in the halls, the subtle looks from the court, and the cold distance that had grown between her and the man she had promised to stand beside.

She couldn’t do it anymore. Not tonight. In the darkness, Natasha pushed the covers off her, the chill of the night air hitting her bare skin. She moved with quiet determination, slipping out of bed and reaching for the robe draped over a nearby chair. As she tied it around her waist, her heart pounded—not from fear, but from the desperate need for something real, something she hadn’t felt in far too long.

Her feet moved before she could think to stop them, carrying her toward the door. She didn’t need to think. She knew where she was going. Natasha glanced down the hall, ensuring it was empty before slipping out of her room. The palace was asleep, its inhabitants tucked away in their rooms, none the wiser to her midnight escape.

The sound of her bare feet against the cold marble floor echoed softly as she made her way to your bed chambers. It was quiet on the trek from her sleeping quarters.

Your room was closer to the guest wing than hers. A benefit of being a royal sibling, she thought, as opposed to the consort of one. The palace had never felt quite like home to her, and her husband never like a husband.

But you? You were something else entirely.

Natasha was used to the feeling of loneliness, but somehow it had intensified over the past six months, growing heavier as time went on. In the midst of it, you were the bright spot in her otherwise monotonous life.

Your friendship came as a surprise. Natasha had always been the odd one out, an outsider, someone to observe rather than befriend. She found that you were the total opposite of your brother. While he was all business and formal, you were warmth and at ease. Where Amir’s touch was distant, and calculated, yours was always genuine, whether a brush of fingers in passing or a comforting hand on her arm when she needed it most. It wasn’t supposed to mean anything—it couldn’t. But the line between what was and what wasn’t had blurred long ago, and tonight, it had all become too much to ignore.

Natasha slowed her steps as she neared your door, her heart pounding louder than the soft footfalls on the marble behind her. She pressed her hand to the cool wood, hesitating for a brief moment. What was she doing? She wasn’t supposed to be here, not like this, and certainly not while Amir was away. But the ache in her chest, the unbearable weight of everything she couldn’t say, pushed her forward.

You were the only one who made her feel like herself again, the only one who didn’t look at her and see a crown, or a title, or a failure. She'd kept her promise not to tell your secret. You had intentionally kept your distance because of it. Though she couldn't figure out why. Her hand came to the door in rapid succession. One. Two. Three.

There was no turning back now.

She listened intently, her head cocked slightly as she tried to make out any signs of movement from inside. A faint rustling sound caught her attention, and she took it as an invitation to push open the door.

"Y/n?" She asked softly.

"Who is it?" Your voice sounded, a bit confused. "Natasha? Is that you?"

"Yes. May I enter?"

"Of course."

You had been in bed when she'd knocked, your feet propped up against the pillows as you read a book. You sat up in bed, the delicate fabric of your nightgown shifting as you moved. It was a simple slip dress, made of soft, lightweight material that clung loosely to your form, falling just below your knees. The top was sleeveless, dipping low between your breasts, the neckline accented with a fine lace trim.

You placed your book down, sliding off the edge of the bed and walking towards the door.

"Is everything alright?" You asked. "It's a little late."

"I know," Natasha sighed. "I just..."

You opened the door wider, a soft smile gracing your lips as you stepped aside.

"Come in."

Natasha looked around. It's the first time she's been in your bedroom. Natasha hesitated for a moment, her eyes scanning the space before stepping inside. The room was cozy, far more inviting than her chambers. A soft glow emanated from the single lantern on your nightstand, casting warm shadows across the walls. The scent of lavender lingered in the air, likely from the small bundle of dried flowers near the window. It was a different than the cold, impersonal decor of her room, which always felt more like a gilded cage than a sanctuary.

She lingered by the door, her fingers brushing the smooth wood as she took it all in. Everything about the space felt more... you. The personal touches, the lived-in comfort, the warmth—it made her realize how lonely she felt in the stark emptiness of her quarters.

“This is... nice,” Natasha said, her voice quiet, almost as if she didn’t want to disturb the peace of the room.

You closed the door behind her, the soft click cutting through the silence. “It’s nothing special, really,” you shrugged. “Just a place to sleep.”

Natasha's eyes flickered to the bed, where you’d just been lounging, the impression of your body still visible in the rumpled sheets. For a moment, she was tempted to tell you why she was there—how the weight of her title, her inability to provide an heir, and the growing distance between her and Amir were suffocating her. But the words lodged themselves in her throat, heavy with the burden of expectation.

"Ah, missing my brother aren't you?" You guessed.

"Yes," she nodded, not bothering to hide the lie.

"That's why you're here?"

"Yes."

"Oh." You looked away for a moment, clearing your throat before meeting her gaze. There was a brief silence as the weight of your words hung in the air. Natasha could see the flicker of disappointment in your eyes, though you tried to mask it with a soft smile. It made her chest tighten, a pang of guilt twisting in her stomach. She hadn’t come here to talk about Amir, but how could she explain that without unraveling everything?

You gestured towards the bed, inviting her to sit. Natasha perched on the edge of the mattress, the soft comforter a stark contrast to the stiff, unwelcoming sheets in her room. She ran her fingers over the fabric, letting herself get lost in the simple act of touch.

You walked over to the nightstand, the floor cold against your bare feet. You turned back to Natasha, a playful glint in your eye. “Would you like to play a game?” You opened your nightstand drawer and pulled out a well-worn deck of playing cards, the corners slightly frayed from use.

“I thought you might be missing my brother,” you teased, fanning the cards out in your hand. “But maybe you just need someone to play with.”

Natasha’s lips curved into a faint smile, the weight of her worries momentarily lifted by the simple gesture. “What do you have in mind?”

You grinned, shuffling the cards with a practiced hand. “How about a classic game of Rummy? Or we could play a round of Blackjack—unless you’re feeling lucky.”

“Blackjack sounds good,” she replied, her eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief.

As you both settled onto the edge of the bed, the tension in the air faded, replaced by a comfortable camaraderie. You dealt the cards, the quiet shuffle and snap of the deck punctuating the stillness of the night.

You slid the deck over, and she took it. She dealt out the rest of the cards, taking a moment to glance at her hand.

"So, how's life as Princess Consort of Senoria soon to be future Queen," You asked.

Natasha frowned slightly, her fingers tapping idly on the cards in her hand. "It's been good."

"Just good?" You arched an eyebrow.

Natasha shrugged, the question weighing on her mind. It was the first time she'd been asked that question, and it wasn't one she had an answer to. "I think things are going well."

"You mean my brother hasn't been showing you a good time?"

Natasha shook her head. "No. No, no. We've just been busy. There's a lot of things going on and we've had our projects."

You smirked. "Well, if you ever want a better tour, I'd be more than happy to oblige."

"When you're not avoiding me?" Natasha blurted.

You stopped, surprised at the sudden candor. You hadn't expected her to be so direct, especially not about that. You paused, a guilty expression washing over your features.

"I wasn't..." You shook your head. "I have my own life to live."

"And yet, here you are," she pointed out.

"In my bedroom yes," You nodded. "It's usually where I am at this hour."

Natasha pursed her lips. She didn't believe you, and from the way you averted your gaze, neither did you. You hadn't seen each other outside of public events since the wedding. You liked it that way. Less room for confusion.

"Something's bothering you," You guessed as you played your hand.

"How would you know?" She shot back, her eyes narrowing slightly.

"Well, I haven't seen you in months, so..."

Natasha's gaze fell, her hand hovering over the cards. She didn't know if she could trust you. You tilted your head, studying her expression closely. “You know, if you wanted to talk about it…” You began, trailing off as Natasha shifted uncomfortably.

“I’m fine,” she insisted, but the tightness around her eyes betrayed her.

“Are you?” You pressed gently, your curiosity piqued. “It’s been six months, and I can’t help but notice how you light up around others, but you seem… different around Amir.”

Natasha sighed, her gaze dropping to the cards in her hand. “It’s just… there’s a lot of pressure,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “Everyone expects me to provide an heir, and it feels like every day that passes just adds to that weight.”

You nodded, absorbing her words. “That’s a heavy burden to carry,” you said softly. “Have you talked to Amir about how you feel?”

“He’s… focused on his duties,” She answered a hint of sadness in her tone. “I don’t want to add to his stress. He has so much to manage already.”

“But you matter too, Natasha,” You urged, your brow furrowing. “You’re more than just a title. You deserve to be happy, to feel supported.”

A flicker of vulnerability crossed her face. “I don’t know if he sees me that way,” she admitted, her voice trembling slightly. “Sometimes I wonder if he even notices I’m struggling.”

You squeezed her hand gently, determined to show her that she was not alone. “He should,” you said firmly. “You’re not just a consort; you’re a partner. He needs to know how you’re feeling.”

Natasha met your gaze, a mixture of gratitude and uncertainty in her eyes. “You make it sound so easy,” she replied, a small smile breaking through her sadness. “But it’s not.”

“Maybe not easy,” You agreed. "I know my brother." There was a pause.

"Can I ask you a question?" Natasha asked. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear nervously.

"Shoot." You said as you reached over for a sip of water.

"How much do you know about sex?"

You choked on the sip of water, trying to cover up the cough. "Not a lot."

"You seem very informed," Natasha countered.

"I've read a few books." You set down your goblet. "Listened to stories as you have done. I think you'd know more than me. Seeing as you've done it and all."

"Not willingly." She muttered and your eyes widened. "I don't mean he's hurt me. I just...it's not exciting. I used to hear the handmaidens talk back in the palace at home. They would describe it with such passion and emotion."

"And you're not getting that?" You cringed. Hearing of your brother and Natasha in bed was the last thing you needed.

"I don't even think we're having sex," she admitted. "He's good to me. He's gentle. I feel things but..."

You let out a groan. "God, you are my sister now and I never needed to hear this."

"I'm sorry," She frowned. "I have no one to speak of this with."

"Why not your mother? Surely she can help."

"My mother?" She blanched. "No. Absolutely not. She's more old-fashioned. She thinks I should fulfill my duties and that's it. What if things we are doing currently is what prevents us from having an heir? What if I'm not doing something right?"

You shifted a bit. "I don't know if I'm the person to ask about this."

"Please," she begged. "You're the only one I can trust."

"Alright, alright." You sighed. "Look, you just need to focus on the act and not what happens after."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, enjoy yourself. Do what feels good, not what Amir wants."

"He's my husband," Natasha blinked.

"Exactly."

"So, I should do what makes me happy?"

"Exactly," You repeated. "Do something for yourself. I think he would enjoy it." You would need to wash your brain after this conversation.

Natasha bit her bottom lip, considering the idea. Maybe you were right. Maybe she did need to take control of the situation, rather than let Amir lead. Maybe if she tried something different, she would feel more connected to him.

She took a deep breath. "Is that what you do?"

"What?"

"Do you do what feels good for yourself?"

You stared at her for a moment. "That's not appropriate."

"Why?"

"Because I'm not married," You countered. "It's different."

"How?"

"It's just not the same," You shook your head.

"But..." Natasha paused. "Are you not satisfied either?"

You blinked. "Natasha, it's not about satisfaction."

"So, you are?"

"This is not the conversation I was expecting to have with you," You mumbled, your cheeks heating up. Natasha deflated. It seems she would be getting nowhere. Not that it was any of her business.

"I'm sorry," She muttered.

"It's alright."

"No, it's not."

"Hey," You took her hand. "If you're not happy then do something about it."

"What if I'm not supposed to be happy?"

"Then make the most of what you have." You offered her a kind smile. "There's more to life than just a marriage, Nat."

She returned the smile, grateful for your friendship. Maybe things weren't so hopeless after all. Maybe she could find a way to make things work with Amir. And maybe, just maybe, she could be happy.

"I don't want to go back to my room," Natasha said. "It's lonely."

"Do you want to stay here?"

"Really?" Her eyes lit up, a look of excitement flashing across her features.

"Of course," You nodded. "I mean, I'd feel bad kicking you out."

"Thank you," She smiled. "I'll be gone in the morning. You won't even know I was here."

"Oh, I'll know," You chuckled.

"Well, then maybe we'll have breakfast together," She suggested. "Would that be alright?"

"I would love that," You grinned. "But I need to get some sleep. I have a busy day tomorrow." You returned the deck of cards to your nightstand. You reach over to turn off the lantern.

Natasha's expression fell, a slight pout forming on her lips. She stood, turning away from you, to take off her robe and drape it over a nearby chair. As Natasha moved away to remove her robe, you felt an unexpected flutter of nerves in your stomach. It was one thing to share a space with her while playing cards, the tension between you eased by laughter and light conversation. But now, as the soft fabric slipped from her shoulders and hung over the chair, the atmosphere shifted.

You swallowed hard, trying to focus on anything other than the way her silhouette contrasted against the dim light. The way she carried herself was both confident and delicate, a combination that left you feeling unsteady.

Your heart raced as you considered the implications of her staying the night. It was thrilling, yet terrifying. The very idea sent a rush of warmth through you, mixed with the fear of crossing an unspoken boundary. What if she misread your kindness? What if this moment changed everything between you?

“I—uh, I’ll just,” you stammered, trying to regain your composure. You busied yourself straightening the covers on the bed, your hands fidgeting nervously as you avoided looking directly at her. “I’ll get you some blankets.” You said, inadvertently referring to the way her nipples hardened at the slightest bit of cool air.

“Hey,” Natasha said softly, her voice cutting through your internal disorder. She folded her arms over her chest. You finally met her gaze, and the warmth in her eyes made your heart skip. “You don’t have to worry about that. I’m fine.”

Her reassurance did little to calm your nerves. You could feel the weight of the silence stretching between you, thick with unsaid words and unacknowledged feelings. “It’s just… I want you to be comfortable,” you managed, trying to maintain a casual tone while your heart raced.

“Trust me, I am,” she said, took a step closer on her side of the bed, she smiled.

You took a breath. She was right. It was just a friendly gesture. There was nothing more to it. You were just being polite. You forced a smile and climbed into the bed, slipping beneath the sheets. Natasha hesitated a moment, then joined you.

She rested her head on the pillow, lying on her back. You matched her position. She could barely make out your features in the dim light.

"So, you are to marry Hosi of Wakanda?" She asked.

"I guess so," You sighed.

"I'm sure he will treat you well."

"Do you know him?"

"Only by reputation."

"Which is?"

"He's a good man."

"That might be the problem," You muttered. "He's a man."

Natasha's brow furrowed slightly, catching the hint of your reluctance. “What do you mean?”

You shrugged, trying to brush off the weight of your thoughts, but the truth lingered in the air between you. “It’s just… I’m not really into men, you know? Hosi might be a good man, but he’s still a man.”

A flicker of understanding crossed Natasha’s face, and she leaned back against the bed, her expression softening. “I see.”

“It’s complicated,” you continued, your voice dropping to a whisper as if saying it out loud might somehow make it more real. “I’ve known for a long time that I’m attracted to women, but it doesn’t matter. In this world, it’s expected that I marry a man. That I produce heirs. That I fulfill my duty.”

“Doesn’t sound like a life you want for yourself,” Natasha observed gently.

You looked away, the flickering candlelight casting shadows on the walls. “It’s not. But what choice do I have? I can’t just defy my family. I can’t risk their wrath. And besides,” you sighed, forcing a laugh that didn’t quite reach your eyes, “who would want me? A woman who loves women? That’s not exactly what the kingdom needs.”

Natasha regarded you with a seriousness that made your heart race. “You deserve to be happy, regardless of what anyone else thinks. You shouldn’t have to sacrifice your desires for the sake of duty.”

Her words hung in the air, heavy and profound, as you wrestled with the truth in them. You wanted to believe it, to embrace the idea that your happiness mattered. But the constraints of your reality weighed heavily on you, and fear clawed at your throat.

"If you could marry anyone and be anywhere what would your wife be like?"

"She'd be someone who understands me."

"Who's that?"

"I don't know." You answered honestly. "She'd be kind. She'd be fierce."

"And?"

"Smart, strong." You sighed. "It doesn't matter."

"It does matter," She assured you. "It matters to you."

"I don't have the luxury of choosing." You sighed. "I just wish I'd taken the chance to lie with Akira before this marriage."

"Akira?"

"The woman from the ball in your kingdom. The handmaiden," You reminded her.

"Did you have feelings for her?"

"No," You admitted. It wasn’t entirely the truth. She didn’t need to hear it. "I didn't. It was just physical."

"Ah," Natasha nodded. "How do you imagine it would be with a woman?"

"You ask a lot of questions, Princess," You teased.

"Well, you're my friend. I want to know what makes you happy," She answered earnestly.

"I suppose it would be tender," You pondered. "Caring, passionate."

"And how would you imagine the act itself?"

You paused. The question had thrown you. You had never spoken of sex, or pleasure, in such detail with anyone before. And now, here you were, lying in bed with your brother's wife, discussing intimacy.

"I'm not sure," You replied carefully, uncertain how to respond.

"You've never pleasured yourself?"

"Of course, I have," You laughed, hoping to dispel the sudden tension. "That's the question you've been trying to get me to answer all night."

"How do you touch yourself?"

"Are you sure you want to know the answer?" You quirked an eyebrow. "You're a married woman now, remember?"

Natasha blushed. "It's not a sin to be curious."

You rolled onto your side, propping yourself up on one elbow, facing her. "Well, when I'm alone and there's no one to interrupt, I start by undressing. I let my hands wander over my body, feeling the warmth of my skin."

"And then?"

"I imagine what it would feel like if it was someone else touching me." You continued, your voice dropping to a low whisper. "I close my eyes and pretend that it's a lover's hands on my skin, caressing me, bringing me pleasure."

Natasha's eyes flickered with something you couldn't quite place.

"Do you think of a specific person?" She asked.

"Sometimes."

"Who is it, usually?"

"It's not always the same person," You answered, evading her question.

"So, it's not the same person each time?"

"No," You replied, your breath catching as Natasha's hand brushed against yours.

"So, it changes."

"Yes." You closed your eyes. Her hands rest on your, encircling your wrist. Your skin is hypersensitive to her touch as she strokes your inner wrist. "You are my brother's wife."

"And that bothers you."

"It shouldn't."

"But it does."

"Can we not do this?"

"Do what?"

"This," You gestured between the two of you. "Don't do something you are going to regret. "

"Do you think I'm not going to regret this?"

"Regret what, exactly?"

"You and me, lying in this bed together, talking about these things."

"I'm unsure," You furrowed your brow.

"What do you want, Y/N?"

"I shouldn't have brought you here."

"But you did. Why?"

"You said you were lonely," You answered. "I didn't want you to feel that way."

"I appreciate the sentiment," She replied.

"I didn't want you to sleep alone, and I didn't want to wake my servant."

"That's not an answer."

"What do you want from me?" You questioned. "What are we doing?"

"We're just talking."

"About sex."

"About pleasure."

"You're my sister-in-law."

"That doesn't mean we can't talk about it."

"We can't go down this path," You sighed. "I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because," You struggled to find the words. Before you could silence the thoughts racing through your mind, Natasha leaned forward and kissed you. It wasn't passionate or life-changing. It was a simple pressing of lips. It ignited a fire deep within your belly. You could taste the remnants of wine on her lips.

She pulled away, a hint of nervousness in her eyes. "Is that not okay?"

"You're my brother's wife," You repeated, almost as if reminding yourself.

"It doesn't have to mean anything," Natasha whispered, her lips mere inches from yours.

"This is dangerous," You warned, your resolve crumbling.

"Only if we let it be," She murmured, closing the distance between you once again. This time, the kiss was deeper, more intense. Her lips were soft and warm, sending shivers of pleasure through you.

As the kiss deepened, the air between you crackled with tension and desire. You could feel the heat rising in your body, the need for more consuming you. You let out a moan as Natasha's tongue danced with yours. Her hands were on your skin, exploring, caressing, bringing you closer to her.

You broke the kiss, gasping for air, your heart racing. You knew that if you kept going, there would be no turning back. But the look in Natasha's eyes was enough to convince you that you didn't want to turn back.

"Natasha, are you sure about this?" You whispered your voice husky with need.

"I want this," She answered, her eyes dark with lust. "Do you?"

"Yes," You breathed, losing yourself in the moment.

You surrendered to her, giving in to the passion that had been simmering beneath the surface. You gripped the fabric of her dress as you kissed her. Your tongues danced, sending waves of pleasure through your body. Natasha's hands were everywhere, touching, caressing, teasing.

The heat between you was intoxicating. You could feel her body pressed against yours, the heat of her skin searing into yours. You wanted more. You needed more.

You pulled her dress off and tossed it aside. You couldn't get enough of her. Her skin was soft and warm, and the feeling of her body against yours was exhilarating.

Natasha's hands explored your body, tracing the contours of your curves. Her touch was electric, sending jolts of pleasure through you. You moaned as her fingers trailed over your breasts, teasing the sensitive flesh. She swirled her thumb over your nipple, toying with it through the fabric.

"Has anyone ever touched you like this before?" She asked. Her question was met with a quiet whimper. She leaned forward and caught the hardening bud between her lips. You gasped as she suckled it, sending bolts of pleasure through you.

"Never," You breathed, the word coming out as a moan. Of course, you'd come close to this but you never allowed anyone to touch you so intimately. There had been quick fumbling and the ghost of fingers along your body but nothing like this. Natasha's mouth was talented, so wet and warm. It took everything you had not to come from the stimulation.

"You're sensitive," She hummed, moving her attention to the other side. "It feels good, doesn't it?"

"Yes," You moaned as you rested a hand on the back of her head. "Don't stop."

"I won't," She promised.

You let yourself sink into the sensation, the feeling of her lips on your skin, her tongue swirling around your nipple, her hands caressing your body. You knew it was wrong to be here with her like this. You'd hate yourself in the morning. But right now, all you could focus on was the pleasure, the exquisite feeling of her touch.

Natasha kissed a path down your body, her tongue tracing a trail along your skin.

"Take this off," You muttered to her as you pushed at her shift. You needed some form of control in this situation. If you let her take charge, there would be no stopping this.

Natasha obliged and tossed the garment aside. She resumed her exploration of your body, her lips trailing lower and lower. She tugged at yours too, pushing it over your head.

She returned to her position at your chest. She nipped at the sensitive skin of your stomach. You shuddered and arched into her, craving more contact. Her hands skimmed up the length of your thighs, pushing them apart. She settled herself between your legs, her breath hot against your skin.

You watched her with bated breath as she moved her mouth to the apex of your thighs.

"Fuck," You swore as her tongue traced a path along your inner thigh.

"Does that feel good?" She asked, a smirk tugging at her lips.

"Yes," You breathed. "Don't stop."

Natasha chuckled softly, the vibrations sending waves of pleasure through you. She resumed her exploration, her lips moving closer and closer to your core. She'd never done this before. Neither had you. You'd had lovers but they'd never gotten this far. It had always been hurried, awkward encounters that had left you wanting. But Natasha... Natasha knew exactly what she was doing.

She kissed your mound. Your legs trembled, and you fought to keep them open. You wanted to give her access to everything. Her tongue traced a line along the seam of your pussy, teasing and tasting. You whimpered, unable to hold back. Natasha seemed to like the taste of you as she licked again.

"I thought you didn't know about this," You muttered as a curse formed on the tip of your tongue. "Where did you learn?"

"I've read a few books too," She answered, her voice thick with desire.

"And books taught you how to do this?"

"I like to learn new things," She smirked before flicking her tongue against your clit.

Your body tensed, and you gasped, the sensation so intense.

"Natasha, fuck."

She hummed in response, the vibrations driving you wild.

You reached out and buried your fingers in her hair, needing something to ground you.

"Who knew the princess knew such colorful words," She teased as she pressed her lips to the sensitive bud.

"Shut up and keep going," You growled, pulling her back to you.

Natasha chuckled but complied, her tongue exploring the length of your sex. She teased and tasted, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. You could feel the pleasure building inside you, the tension coiling in your core.

She lapped at your clit, drawing the sensitive bud into her mouth. You moaned, the sound reverberating off the walls. She looked up, her green eyes meeting yours, and you felt the coil in your belly tighten.

"I want to make you feel good," She whispered, her voice husky with desire. "I want to watch you fall apart."

"Keep doing what you're doing," You breathed.

Natasha smiled and dipped her tongue into your folds, fucking you with her tongue.

You cried out, the pleasure almost too much to bear.

"Natasha, I'm going to-"

She didn't let you finish. She slid a finger inside you, curling it, stroking that perfect spot. The slight pain of being penetrated for the first time caught you off guard. You tightened your legs around her head, and Natasha groaned against you. The sensation drove you over the edge, and you came hard, crying out as the pleasure washed over you.

Natasha rode out the waves of your orgasm, her tongue lapping at your juices.

You fell back against the pillows, panting, the aftershocks rippling through your body.

"That was... incredible," You gasped, the words barely audible.

Natasha chuckled and crawled up beside you, her fingers still slick with your arousal.

"I hope that was okay," Natasha said shyly.

"That was... better than okay," You sighed, the pleasure still lingering. You quite enjoyed the ache between your thighs.

"So, that was your first time?"

"It was," You confirmed. "And you? You've never done this before?"

"No," She shook her head. "You were the first woman I've been with."

"So, how did you know what to do?"

"I told you," She replied, a smirk on her face. "I like to read."

"Books don't teach you how to do that," You insisted, shaking your head.

"I'm naturally gifted then," She shrugged.

"You're insufferable," You rolled your eyes, despite the smile tugging at your lips.

"I'm not the one who's insufferable," She grinned, leaning in for a kiss. You could taste yourself on her lips. It was erotic and intoxicating. You wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her closer.

"I want to pleasure you too," You whispered against her lips. "Of the two of us, you're the one who hasn't had an orgasm before."

"Is that what it's called? What just happened to you at the end?" Natasha asked.

"That was an orgasm," You nodded.

"That's a strange name for it," She chuckled.

"Well, that's what it's called," You shrugged. "What would you call it?"

"I'm not sure," She said thoughtfully. "Something nicer than an orgasm."

"An 'orgasm' is a perfectly fine word," You laughed.

"It's not," She shook her head.

"What books have you been reading?" You asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Oh, the usual," She shrugged, feigning innocence. "Poetry. The Bible."

"You've been reading erotic poetry," You laughed.

"Perhaps," She winked.

"Then it's only fair that I should return the favor," You replied, leaning in for another kiss.

"I'd like that," She murmured.

You rolled her onto her back, taking the opportunity to explore her body.

Her skin was soft and warm, and she squirmed beneath your touch.

You trailed your fingers over her breasts, teasing her nipples. She gasped, arching into your touch.

"Do you like that?" You whispered.

"Yes," She breathed, her voice thick with desire.

You bent your head, capturing a nipple between your lips. You sucked gently, swirling your tongue around the hardened bud. Natasha moaned, her fingers clutching the sheets beneath her.

"Fuck," She swore, her voice cracking.

"Good girl," You smirked, the praise escaping your lips before you could stop it. Your fingers trailed a path down her body. She was soft to the touch, her body trembling under yours.

"Y/N, please," She begged, the desire in her voice evident.

"I've got you," You soothed, your hand moving between her thighs. You felt around the soft curls of her pussy,

"Fuck," Natasha gasped as your fingers brushed against her folds. You dipped a finger inside, finding her soaked with desire.

"I'm going to make you feel so good," You whispered, your voice full of promise.

"Please," She breathed.

You slid a finger inside her, and she moaned, the sound sending a shiver of pleasure through you.

"That's a good girl," You cooed, her pussy clenching around your finger.

"It feels good," She whimpered, her hips bucking.

"I know, sweet girl," You soothed.

You added a second finger, curling them, stroking that perfect spot. Natasha cried out, the sound echoing off the walls. You could tell she was close, her body trembling beneath yours. You kissed her quickly, swallowing her moans, hoping that one of the guards wouldn't come to investigate.

"I want you to come for me," You whispered, the words coming out as a command.

Natasha cried out, her orgasm hitting her hard. You rode out the waves, continuing to stroke her, drawing out her pleasure.

"Good girl," You praised, pulling her into a deep kiss.

"That was amazing," She gasped, the words barely audible. "Are you sure this was your first time doing that?"

"It was my first time doing it to someone else," You reminded her. "Though I'm sure you wouldn't like to hear about me and Akira."

"No," Natasha shook her head.

"Well, now we're even," You smiled.

"Thank you," She murmured, snuggling closer to you.

"I didn't do it for thanks," You replied, stroking her hair.

"Can we do it again?" She asked.

"Natasha," You began. You didn't want to disappoint her. She was still your brother's wife.

"Please, just once more," She begged, her eyes pleading.

"Just once more," You relented, unable to deny her.

"Good," She smiled, capturing your lips in a kiss.

"And after that?" You asked, breaking the kiss.

"We'll see where the night takes us," She replied, her eyes full of mischief.

You surrendered to her, losing yourself in the pleasure and the sin.

#natasha romanoff #black reader #natasha x reader #black widow x reader #black widow x female reader #natasha romanov #natasha x you #natasha romanoff smut #minors dni

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endless-ineffabilities · 5 months ago

Text

Chemical Override (bonus chapter 4) - Above The Gods Eye

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

a/n: I had envisioned bonus chapters as not too integral to the main plot (as in, you will be able to follow the story without reading them), but this one... this one might just count.

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

A series of moments from the vault, occurring in part eight of the story, now yours to enjoy. 🤍

The one with the second sons…

The photoshoot has wrapped, and the cast of House of the Dragon has drifted into all corners of the set, exchanging laughs in between much-needed sips of caffeine. The next item on Entertainment Weekly’s agenda is the video segment recordings, pairing cast members for various games and interviews.

Fabien and Freddie finished their narrative recap of season 2, with more jokes than actual informative recaps. Harry and Bethany played a game where they guessed whether the line is from House of the Dragon or Game of Thrones. Tom and Emma played a ‘which sibling' game, leaning into the dynamic between Aegon and Rhaenyra that clearly should have been explored in previous seasons.

As it happens, Matt and Ewan are paired up for an Aemond or Daemon game, meant to give the audiences a glimpse of what to look forward to. Their notorious rivalry, culminating in a battle that will be their last.

The two film their segment in Studio E, the set consisting of the great cellar of the Red Keep where Balerion’s massive skull looms on a pedestal. The dozens of candles surrounding it have been lit, casting dramatic shadows as they take their seats, facing each other in what could easily be mistaken for the start of a duel.

“My name is Ewan Mitchell and I play Aemond Targaryen,” Ewan starts.

“And I’m Matt and I play the Daemon Targaryen,” Matt follows. “And we’re about to play Second Sons: Aemond vs Daemon.”

“Let’s go,” Ewan rolls his shoulders, his sense of competitiveness all fired up, intensified by the fact that the man in front of him potentially could become his rival off-screen. That is, when it concerns the battle for your affections.

He can still hear it ringing in his ears, the sound of your laughter in the background, distracting him during the photoshoot. That laugh, so addictive, so yours, was a melody he could listen to forever - except when it’s Matt Smith who’s the culprit.

The lads take their cue to read the first prompt displayed on a screen above the camera. The game begins.

“Who is the better swordsman?” Matt reads aloud with a smirk. “Well, that’s obviously Daemon, mate. He’s older - ”

“Age doesn’t always mean better,” Ewan counters smoothly.

“Ah, but he’s battle-tested. He fought in the Stepstones, and was the Commander of the City Watch, for heaven’s sake. What’s Aemond got?”

“Aemond spent years and years training with Criston Cole in the Red Keep yard, honing his skill,” Ewan argues. “He clearly has the dedication. He’s disciplined.”

“Training,” Matt scoffs, turning to the camera as if sharing an inside joke. “Put Aemond out there in a real battle, then we’ll talk.”

“Alright, alright,” Ewan concedes, biting his cheek to keep from saying more. “Next one. Who’s the better dancer at the royal ball?”

Matt can’t help but chuckle, “Neither of us are inclined to - ”

“Yeah, I don’t know.”

“But if we had to pick, then I'd say Daemon. We saw him dancing in the first season, didn’t we?”

“I don’t think Aemond would be much of a dancer,” Ewan says, before adding with a smirk to the camera, “unless it’s with Vhagar.”

“Oh, yeah?” Matt asks him. “Short of dancing partners, is he? Can’t say I’ve got that problem. I’ve got Rhaenyra, I’ve got my daughters, and of course, the lovely Alyna.” His voice drops at the mention of your character, and he notices a telling flicker in Ewan’s expression. The younger boy latches on to it, hook, line and sinker.

Ewan’s brows scrunch, not missing the bait. “Oh, she wouldn’t dance with you,” flies out of his mouth before he can stop himself.

“Alyna wouldn’t?” Matt tilts his head, feigning hurt.

“She’s… she’s too busy fighting the war,” Ewan quickly musters. “She’s got better things to do.”

“Mate, I think we all are. But that wasn’t the question.”

“I just don’t think she - ”

“She’ll dance with Daemon,” Matt says confidently. “Once she realises how good he is, then it’s game over.”

“I disagree,” Ewan easily says to the camera, willing the viewers to side with him.

“Next,” Matt continues, “Who’s more likely to get into a fight at the tavern? Is this… so far, it's been all Daemon! This one too.”

Ewan nods, but adds slyly, “Aemond’s not one to waste his time at the tavern, no.” His answer is an apparent concession to Daemon, until he adds, “which is why Alyna would prefer to spend her time with him. He’s calmer… more reliable… no unnecessary tavern brawls or anything…”

“Calmer, mate?” Matt rolls his eyes, chuckling to himself. “Come off it, yeah?”

“Compared to Daemon, he clearly is.”

“He killed Luke and Rhaenys!”

“That was an accident,” Ewan shrugs. “He feels bad for it.”

“Alyna better steer clear,” Matt points to the camera, making his point.

Ewan shakes his head in protest, “I don’t agree.”

“So, for this one, again, it’s Daemon,” Matt finishes.

Ewan lets it go, the Alyna comment lingering in the back of his mind. It didn’t seem like an Alyna reference; it felt like a message to you. His stomach twists, suspicious of the other game Matt seems to be playing at. Turning to the prompter, Ewan reads, “Who’s got… the better hair care routine? Oh wow.”

“Daemon’s been at some dingy castle,” Matt says, “clearly no showers there. Forget it.”

“Aemond’s got this locked down,” Ewan grins.

“Has he? Alright then,” Matt responds, amused. “He does have that pin-straight hair, doesn’t he? It’s almost like… well it’s almost like it’s a bloody wig!” He laughs, and some of the onlookers behind the camera mirror the sentiment.

“I did read somewhere about Aemond having a 20-step hair care routine… ”

“20 steps? Blimey, mate. I’m surprised he even makes it out the door,” Matt says. “Would you say he’s got better hair than the women on the show? Than Alicent or Alyna maybe?”

“Oh,” Ewan leans back, mulling it over. How to one-up Matt without making it seem too obvious? He’s about to respond, when he hears some soft giggling in the corner. It appears that you’ve made your way into Studio E with Phia and Liv. The sound came from Phia, who gives him a thumbs up when she notices his diverted attention.

Matt notices your presence too, and when the director waves a hand for them to carry on, he answers for Ewan, “We could say Aemond has the better hair. Alyna’s way too busy training with Daemon anyway. We do tend to get into that rough and tumble during our sword fights.”

“Mmm,” Ewan narrows his eyes. He then ignores or conveniently forgets the fact that it’s Matt's turn to read the next question. “Who’s more likely to fight a dragon for their lover?”

The two men lock eyes, the air between them charged, more so due to your appearance. If a rivalry is what the viewers expect, then that is what they’ll get.

Matt puts a hand up. “I think Daemon’s the one with the guts to fight a bloody dragon. Daemon will stand against anything and anyone. Without a doubt.”

“It’s different with him, though, isn’t it?” Ewan responds. “Daemon would be doing it for the glory. He’d be doing it for himself. Whereas Aemond… he’d be doing it out of pure devotion.”

“Are you talking about the same devotion he had for his brother? I’d say he’s more likely to burn his lover to a crisp, than fight a dragon for her.”

“There is a completely different dynamic with his brother,” Ewan explains. “I think that when Aemond falls in love, there is nothing at all that he wouldn’t do for them. In season 2, we already kind of saw him leaning into this reputation of being the most wanted man in the realm. So… he’d fight anything for his lover, that’s for sure. He’d burn the seven kingdoms down if necessary.” He turns to look at the camera, but he catches your eye instead. You’re shaking your head slightly at his answer, but the small smile that graces your lips tells him that you enjoyed it.

He simpers at your apparent show of approval, but Matt cuts the shared moment short.

“I think Aemond’s a young buck,” Matt says, “who’s desperate to make his mark. He wouldn’t know the first thing about devotion. But Daemon… that’s been his internal struggle this whole time. He’s proven that he stands behind his brother and Rhaenyra, no matter how much he tries to act to the contrary. But yeah, we’re going a bit off track here. What was the question? Who’d fight a dragon… ”

“For their lover,” Ewan finishes. “I would still say Aemond. Daemon is too unpredictable.”

“Of course you’d say that,” Matt wags his eyebrows at him. “But I’m standing by my answer. We clearly saw Daemon basically pledge himself to Rhaenyra in the last episode. What more proof do you need?”

“Aemond’s got something up his sleeve,” Ewan says. “He just wants to be loved, that’s it, and when he finds that, there’ll be no question of what he’s capable of doing for Al - ” He catches himself at the last second, before he fully lets slip your character’s name. “I mean - ”

Matt’s eyes light up, sensing an opportunity. “For Alys, you mean?” To the camera, he adds, “spoiler alert, everyone.”

“Right,” Ewan lets out a breath, “Of course.”

“Can’t be anyone else,” Matt challenges him.

“I don’t know for now,” Ewan tries to keep up.

“You currently have a bit of a lack in the lover department,” Matt smirks.

Ewan narrows his eyes at the apparent insinuation. He better be referring to the show. “Fine, then, we can give this one to Daemon. But as to their real-life counterparts,” he locks eyes with you again, “who’s to say? I bet I have this in the bag.”

Matt follows his line of sight, pleased when your attention switches to him. “I think that’s yet to be decided.”

“Alright, we’ve got some more,” Ewan quickly says, in an attempt to divert Matt’s gaze from you.

Matt reads, “Who’s more likely to maintain a good social media presence? Oh, bloody hell, we’re crossing over into uncharted territory with this one.”

“That’s interesting.”

“I’ve never touched it myself,” Matt shrugs. “I’m not on anything, only Facebook for a moment ages ago, but I did not have any desire in going back. Oh wait, we’re meant to answer for our characters. Apologies.”

“Hmm,” Ewan nods. “I don’t know if Aemond would be on social media, no.”

“Yeah, this is a weird question,” Matt says. “Maybe Daemon then? But only to post pictures of Caraxes or something. What do you think?”

“Yeah, Daemon can take this one,” Ewan replies. “Personally, I’m not on social media too much - ”

“But didn’t you jump into the fray recently? With… which one was it?”

“Instagram? Yeah, yeah, that was something.” His mind flashes back to the pictures he had up, both attesting to his love for you. But you had asked him to take the latest one down, which led him to deactivate the account altogether. Temporarily. If the fans assumed that the action was meant to symbolise an end of his involvement with you, then now would be the perfect opportunity to prove them wrong. “I did have to take a step back, because it was kind of overwhelming. I just needed to take some proper time off.”

“Oh really? I wouldn’t know,” Matt says. “Did you actually share some photos there?”

Ewan smiles, pleased at being able to answer this question. “Yeah, I shared a few of my most treasured ones. They were some great pictures, but I’ve got loads more of the same in my phone, and I - ” He throws a warning glance to the camera “ - I think I’ll be keeping those to myself for now.”

Matt, oblivious as to what he’s hinting at, reads the next one. “Who’s the better brother?”

“Aemond for sure.”

“Clearly Daemon.”

And so the banter continues for a couple more prompts, sharp yet flowing naturally, foreshadowing the frenzied fan reactions when the segment is shared online for all to see.

The one where Ewan needs his cowgirl…

Ewan paces around his dressing room, settling into his outfit, awaiting his cue from set. The outfit is a bold mix of traditional Western elements and high fashion: a tailored deep brown leather jacket with intricate embroidery, a crisp white shirt with ruffled cuffs, fitted trousers, and a wide-brimmed cowboy hat. His boots click against the wooden floor as he moves. He’s nervous but determined to impress you, even though it’s always been you with a knack for making his heart race.

After a while, he makes his way out of the dressing room and into the bustling set. The set is decked out to the theme. The director and crew are scattered all around, but Ewan focuses solely on finding you.

When he finally does, his world seems to slow down. You are standing near a vintage saddle, dressed in your own Western-inspired attire. Your smile is radiant as you speak to your assistant, and the way your eyes light up when you see him makes his heart skip a beat. No, it never gets old, he realises, you will always have a maddening effect on him.

He takes a deep breath, squaring his shoulders, and saunters over with as much swagger as he could muster. “Howdy, darling,” he greets in his best cowboy lilt.

You look him up and down with a smile. “Why, hello, good sir,” you say, even doing a playful curtsy.

“Ready to give them a show?” he asks, gesturing to the expanse of the set. Ready to be my cowgirl, darling? He wants to ask instead.

You hum a response. “As I’ll ever be. I’d say you’re a natural at this whole cowboy thing.”

“Oh, darling,” he smirks, “you’d be surprised by what I can do with my lasso.”

“Down, Mitchell.”

“Whatever you want, my cowgirl.”

The atmosphere is electric throughout the shoot, with Ewan constantly leaning down to whisper suggestive lines in your ear.

He finds himself getting lost in the intensity of the shoot, but his focus remains on you. It isn’t as if you are making it easy on him, with your lingering touches and flirtatious remarks.

The camera's shutter clicks away, and Ewan and you pose for one perfect shot after another. The set is alive with activity, but he only sees you, the lighting casting a warm glow on your rouge-stained cheeks. Forgetting where he is for a moment, his hand reaches up to caress your face, and he leans in slightly.

You pose accordingly, likely thinking that he’s just giving the shoot what it demands.

“What was that you were saying about a lasso?” you smirk, in an attempt to diffuse the tension, but it only spurs him on.

“Care for a demonstration?” he shoots back.

“Why not?” you reply easily, adjusting your stance.

“We may need a more intimate setting for that, darling.”

“More intimate than this?” you laugh breathlessly, the warmth of it fanning his face. He’s close enough that the tip of his nose brushes against yours.

He smiles, deaf to the low warning that escapes your lips when he leans in for a kiss on instinct.

Just as his lips are about to graze yours, the director’s voice cuts through the charged silence.

“Cut! Break, everyone!”

The spell is broken instantly. Ewan pulls back, his expression shifting from one of intense concentration to surprise and a hint of frustration.

You stand facing each other, flustered and left wanting. Ewan wants nothing more than to just reach for you and pull you in a closet, and show just how well he can use that bloody lasso. If you want him to. But he forces himself to croak, “To be continued, darling?”

You mirror his heated gaze, nodding once, before turning on your heel and heading to the break room.

When the set is mostly emptied, Ewan picks up the hefty lasso that’s been put aside. With a determined look on his face, he swings it expertly through the air, causing a resounding thwack. The movement is deliberate, a release of his frustrations about you. About Matt. About everything.

But it doesn’t quite bring him the relief he needs, because only you can offer that.

It’s only ever been you.

The one with the first date…

You glance at your phone to check the time, heart fluttering with anticipation. Matt had promised to pick you up at 2, and it is only a minute past, but you’re already standing nervously in your living room. Not a moment too soon, your buzzer alerts you of his arrival, and you press the button to allow him upstairs.

You sneak one more glance at the mirror, smoothing a hand over your t-shirt and jeans. You opted for a casual look, dressed up with some jewelry and heeled boots.

Finally, there’s a knock at the door and you grab your purse as you walk up to meet your awaited visitor.

There he is, standing in the doorway, as impossibly charming as ever. Matt’s dressed in a perfectly fitted black shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing strong forearms, paired with staple dark jeans. His tousled hair looks like he ran a hand through it on his way over, and his signature mischievous grin plays at the corners of his mouth as he takes you in.

“Hello there,” he greets cheerfully.

“Hey, Smithy,” you blush under his gaze.

“You look absolutely incredible,” he says, his gaze sweeping appreciatively over you, “As can be expected. You are my Alyna, after all.”

“Thanks,” you manage to say, your voice soft, almost breathless. “You don’t look too bad yourself.”

“Glad to hear it. I was worried I’d underdressed,” he teases, though the way he carries himself shows that he knows exactly how good he looks. He steps a little closer, his hand lightly grazing your arm as he does.

“You ready to go?” he asks, his voice just a shade deeper, his eyes locked on yours with an intensity that still catches you off guard, no matter how exposed you have been to his charms.

“Yeah,” you nod, suddenly aware of how close you’re standing, the air between you thick with tension. “Let’s do this.”

The late afternoon air is crisp as you walk with Matt down a quiet street near Hyde Park. The anticipation from earlier has settled into something more relaxed, yet there’s still an undercurrent of excitement, an unspoken awareness of the new territory you’re both navigating.

Matt leads you to a small café tucked away from the bustle of the city. It’s quaint, with ivy creeping up the walls and soft lights glowing through the windows. As you step inside, the rich aroma of coffee and freshly baked pastries envelops you, and you can’t help but smile. The interior is just as charming as the exterior, and a few patrons sit scattered throughout, each absorbed in their own worlds. Too absorbed to notice two somewhat renowned actors entering the premises.

“Pick a spot,” Matt says, his hand gently brushing the small of your back. The touch is fleeting, but it’s enough to send a warm tingle up your spine.

You choose the table with a view of the park just beyond the glass. Ever the gentleman, Matt pulls out a chair for you before settling into the one across from you.

“Hope you like this place,” he says, his tone easy and genuine. “It’s one of my favourites. Feels like a bit of an escape from everything, you know?”

“It’s perfect,” you reply, taking in the cozy atmosphere. “I can see why you come here.”

A waitress comes over to take your order, and Matt gives you his recommendations which you happily go along with. The familiar way with which she addresses him as Mr. Smith confirms his frequent visits. Once she leaves, you lean back in your chair, letting yourself relax into the moment, though you are aware of his eyes watching you the entire time.

“So, how are you finding the city? It’s different from set life, that’s for sure.” Matt asks, his eyes studying you with a mix of curiosity and something deeper. Something you can’t pinpoint just yet, though it’s not unfamiliar. You’ve seen that look before. From Ewan. The sudden thought of him drives a wedge in your focus, and you have to shake it off before you answer.

“It’s been great,” you say, smiling. “It’s nice to be able to explore it more this time around, since I've got some downtime. And, of course, the company’s been pretty good too.” You add the last part with a playful tone, which makes him chuckle.

“Oh, I’m sure it has,” he replies, a teasing glint in his eye. “But don’t let Ewan monopolise all your time. I’m around if you ever need a break from him.”

The mention of Ewan brings a subtle shift in the conversation. It’s light, but there’s a hint of something more - an awareness of the connection you share with Ewan that both complicates what you have, or what you could have, with Matt.

“You’re a good friend, Matt,” you say, your tone still light but more sincere. “I appreciate that.”

He nods, a small smile playing on his lips, though there’s a flicker of something in his eyes. “Friend, sure,” he says, his voice low and smooth. “But, just so you know… I’m here, if you ever want more than that.”

It’s a simple statement, but the weight of it hangs in the air between you. He’s not pressing, not trying to make you uncomfortable, but it’s clear that he’s laying his cards on the table. Matt’s always had a way of being direct without being pushy, and this moment is no different.

You meet his gaze, feeling the sincerity behind his words. There’s a part of you that’s tempted, drawn in by the way he makes you laugh and feel seen. But there’s something - someone - holding you back.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you reply, smiling softly.

Matt nods again, his smile resurfaces, as sure as the sun rising. “That’s all I ask.”

The waitress returns with your coffee and pastries, breaking the tension with the clink of cups and the sweet scent of buttery croissants.

After a moment, Matt takes a sip from his own cup and raises an eyebrow. “You know, I heard that drinking coffee in a café like this can increase your charm significantly. I think it’s working, do you?”

You play along, pretending to consider this. “Hmm, I don’t think you need help in that department. But… I’ll still be careful. Just in case you charm me into agreeing to a second date.”

Matt leans closer with a grin. “Second date? Love, if I’m being honest, I’m already planning our third date.”

The conversation shifts back to lighter topics - your favourite places in the city, funny stories from the set, and his many revealing anecdotes about Fabien. Like the one where he got properly sloshed after a night out at the pub, so much so that he stuck some croissants in his washing machine thinking it was the oven.

“To his defense,” Matt exclaims as you giggle uncontrollably, “the two appliances are similarly shaped!”

As the date progresses, you feel undeniably warm and comfortable in Matt’s presence, but you also can’t ignore the lingering thoughts of Ewan. Your phone had buzzed at some point, and when you snuck a glance at the screen, it lit up to reveal three missed calls from Ewan One-Eye. He knows you’re on a date, so he must be interrupting on purpose. Thankfully, Matt’s enthusiastic regaling keeps you from lingering on Ewan - from worrying about him, missing him… from wishing that he could freely allow himself to take you on a date just like this.

As you and Matt stroll back to your apartment, the city lights cast a warm glow on the pavement, creating a magical backdrop for the end of your evening. His arm around your shoulders brings you a sense of ease, and you no longer feel that nervous flush as earlier.

He walks with you inside your building, and when you reach the door to your apartment, Matt pauses by the entrance, turning to face you with a gentle smile. “Well, this has been quite the evening,” he says. “I’m really glad we got to do this.”

You return his smile. “Me too. It’s been a lovely night.”

There’s a moment of hesitation, a shared look that speaks volumes without words.

“Well, I - ” you swallow, your nerves returning, “I better head inside.”

As you reach for your keys, Matt’s hand gently wraps around yours, causing a jolt of electricity to travel up your arm. “Before you do,” he says, his voice dropping to a husky whisper, “there’s something I’ve been wanting to do all night.”

You look up at him. Screw your newfound sense of ease. Your heartbeat now pounds in your ears like an erratic drum. “Oh? And what’s that?” But something tells you that you know just what he means.

Without breaking eye contact, Matt leans in slowly, his face drifting closer.

“This,” he mumbles the word as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. And then his lips touch yours.

Taglist: @namelesslosers @skymoonandstardust @valyrianflower @luckyfirebasement @omgsuperstarg @elissanatok @callsignwidow @sinistersnakey49 @darkwriteracademia @yyrzmomo @queenofshinigamis @luvaerina @shamelessblazecrown @mirandastuckinthe80s @elleinex0x0 @pierrotlu @aegonswife @strangersunghoon @lunampacheco @writer-ann-artist @gaiaea @of-swords-and-words @ateliefloresdaprimavera @m00n5t0n3 @helaenaluvr @peachysunrize @annie-ruk @luvly-writer @ananas26t @athenafaes @lovelyteenagebeard @mamawiggers1980 @moongirl27 @katherine93 @barnes70stark @justbelljust @cloudroomblog @somestufftoday @esposadomd @girl-in-the-chairs-void @insideyourimagination @vyctorya @wildrangers @onlyrealjoy @hotdismylife @thepurplecrown @just-fics-station @clarkysblog @urmomsgirlfriend1 @misfitbimbosblog (continued in comments ... )

Some notes in the margins...

This poll caused quite the stir amongst yous, I see. Consider me amused. Since part 9 isn't out yet, and my mind isn't set either - if you've got something to let off your chest, some supporting arguments, you've got one more chance to let me know below (or let each other know) 😉 I always read all your opinions, and they are properly taken into account. What did you think of Matty after this?

When Ewan called her at the end of part eight, do you think she had company? Anyway, something sweet is coming in part nine with Ewan and his darling!

To those who are seriously worried about the outcome, note that is and always has been a Ewan x reader fic. I am a Ewan girl just like yous. Hold fast and have fun on the wild ride, darlings 💙

#chemical override #ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell x reader #ewan mitchell imagine #house of the dragon #hotd #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #matt smith #matt smith x reader #daemon targaryen

440 notes · View notes

vampsywrites · 2 years ago

Text

lawnol a mì te’lan.

synopsis: after assisting lo'ak in meeting up with payakan, neteyam discovers your involvement and confronts both of you. emotions escalate, leading to neteyam lashing out on you and a fight breaking out between him and Lo'ak. however, he would soon come to regret this as a cruel twist of fate takes you away.

word count: 4.8k | author's note: i recommend listening to the songcord when the funeral scene comes up

tags: DEATH, ANGST, FEM! OMATICAYA READER, grieving, blood, gunshot wounds, sibling arguments, lo'ak and neteyam's tense situation, fighting, mentions of punching, funeral, established relationships, flashbacks, war

Syulang - Na'vi; Flower

The smell of incense wafted through the pod, mingling with the pungent scent of medicinal paste and herbs. The room was dimly lit, filled with a hushed tension that seemed to permeate the air. Tucked in the far corner of the room, you were busy patching Lo'ak up, applying a cool creamy paste onto his battered body.

As you began to soothe a bruise on his arm, Neteyam stormed into the room, frustration evident on his face. His steps pounded against the woven floors, sending a trickle of fear up your spine.

"What were you thinking Lo'ak? Meeting up with that killer tulkun, again!" He hisses, roughly pushing at his younger brother's head. "Why do you have to make things so difficult?"

"Neteyam," you soothed, moving to stand before him, "Your brother is actually seriously injured. Can we please have this conversation another time?"

"My brother wouldn't be injured if he didn't go past the reefs again. My brother wouldn't be injured if you didn't help him sneak out," Neteyam seethed, towering over you as his golden eyes burned with a blend of anger and disappointment.

Under his intense gaze, you curled into yourself, ears pinning back. You knew what you did was wrong, but you had never seen Lo'ak connect so deeply with someone before.

"Payakan is Lo'ak's spirit brother," you hushed softly, arms and tail wrapping around yourself as you tried to explain yourself to Neteyam, "Outcast or not…They are spirit brothers, Neteyam."

Neteyam clicked his tongue and threw his head back in frustration. Your name then escaped his lips, laced with cold disdain, "I would have expected this from him, but I never imagined you would actively go out of your way to assist him. You were trained to be Tsahìk, and I trusted you to act responsibly."

He took a moment to breathe, his pause magnifying the weight of the situation. "I couldn't be more wrong."

The walls of the room seemed to close in, suffocating you, as his words pierced your heart. Shame washed over you, causing your body to tremble as you grappled with your emotions.

"Neteyam, I…" you tried to speak up once more, but your mouth ran dry, throat shutting close.

"I…I'm sorry, sir," you force out, voice quivering.

Lo'ak's gaze intensifies, and a surge of protective rage surges through him. He swiftly moves to your defense, shoving Neteyam away, a low hiss rumbling from his chest. "Y/N did what she thought was right. We're all responsible for our own actions. Don't you dare lay this shit on her for something I did."

Neteyam's lips were pulled back into a snarl as he pushed Lo'ak back, his voice laced with bitter sarcasm. "Responsible for our own actions? That's rich coming from you considering how much you just love to start shit."

Lo'ak growled before he moved to grapple Neteyam, forcefully pinning the older boy against the pod's walls. The impact caused the wall to shake, knocking a few bottles of herbs from the shelves, which tumbled and clattered onto the woven floors.

"Lo'ak—!" you gasped out seeing the boy draw his hand back, knocking his fist into Neteyam's face.

Neteyam staggered backward, colliding with the wall, as the force of the blow resounded with a heavy thunk. Momentarily dazed, he blinked and glanced up at Lo'ak, his hand instinctively reaching to his throbbing jaw.

“You skxáwng,” he growls.

"Yep. That’s me," Lo'ak quipped, his grin transforming into a menacing sneer. "Your disappointment of a brother. The fucking outcast of the family here."

Neteyam scoffs, wrenching himself off the wall, stomping forward until he was in front of Lo'ak. "What was the one thing dad asked for? Not to cause any trouble, right?" Neteyam huffs. "I'm just looking out for you! We are brothers, Lo'ak. Sully's stick together"

Lo'ak bares his teeth then, a growl ripping from his throat.

"You are not my brother."

Before you could process it, Neteyam's knuckles, flesh and bone, connected hard with Lo'ak's nose. The sound of the impact echoed through the pod, a sharp crack that filled the air. Your eyes widened as you watched Lo'ak reel backward, his body colliding forcefully with a wooden pane. The sudden eruption of violence from the normally composed Neteyam shattered the silence that had settled in the pod.

Lo'ak's snarl shifted into a pained grimace as he clutched his nose, blood streaming between his fingers. The pod fell into an eerie stillness, the air heavy with tension.

You stepped forward, a mix of fear and concern driving you. "Stop! This won't solve anything," you implored, reaching out to Lo'ak with a gentle touch.

Neteyam watched as you fretted over his younger brother, a burning mix of guilt and resentment bubbling up in his gut.

Lo'ak stared up at Neteyam, his anger wavering, replaced by a mixture of hurt and disbelief. His eyes searched desperately for a hint of remorse, a glimmer of understanding. But the older boy just stood there, his jaw clenched.

Shaking his head in frustration, Neteyam turned towards the chamber's entrance. His gaze lingered on Lo'ak, expression hardened with resolve.

"No flying or diving for a month," he declared, his voice carrying a note of finality.

With that, he strode out of the room, leaving behind a tense silence.

Lo'ak clicked his tongue before turning to you, concern etched on his face. He sent a cautious look your way, his voice filled with compassion. "You alright? That was rough back there. His words, I mean."

You mustered a watery smile, trying to brush off the events that just transpired.

"You're the one injured here, I should be asking you that. Plus, I'm used to it," you replied, your voice tinged with the slightest hint of amusement. Lo'ak attempted to speak up once more, but you swiftly redirected the conversation, your hands already reaching for the healing paste.

"Come, let's fix you up."

The recent days had become a harrowing blur, with a sense of impending doom hanging heavily in the air. Throughout the village, warriors hastily armed themselves, and healers busied themselves with gathering herbs, all while a dark storm loomed ominously above.

It was undeniable—the sky demons had returned.

In the midst of the mounting turmoil, you found yourself travelling through the waters with your friends, following Lo'ak after he abruptly plunged into the depths of the ocean, navigating past the reefs with his ilu.

The salty air clung to your senses as you leaned forward, desperation lacing your voice.

"Lo'ak! Where are you going?!" you cried out, tightly grasping Neteyam's waist as you both pursued him on the back of an ilu.

Lo'ak remained eerily silent, his focus fixated on the abyssal strength of the wavves before him. With an alarming agility, Lo'ak dove down, the sleek figure of his ilu slicing through the water with ease. Gripped by fear and worry, you turned to your beloved, seeking solace and answers.

"Nete—" you began, but your words were swallowed by Neteyam's grim interruption.

"He's going after Payakan," Neteyam replied curtly, his teeth clenched. Gripping your thigh tight, he positioned himself with a firm hold on the ilu's saddle. "Hold on tightly."

With a commanding click, Neteyam directed the ilu to dive down, plunging deeper into the unknown depths.

Then, as you emerged from the depths, you found yourself in the middle of the battle. Crashes of boats and metal birds floating all about you.

As you surveyed the battlefieds, you froze, heart sinking at the sight of Lo'ak perched atop a familiar tulkun, desperately attempting to remove the tracking device cruelly embedded in Payakan's flesh.

Without a second thought, you propelled yourself forward, driven by a surge of adrenaline, disregarding Neteyam's frantic shouts as you rushed to aid Lo'ak in freeing his spirit brother.

The others, recognizing the gravity of the situation, quickly rallied to your aid. Hands reached out, working in unison, as you all grappled with the device, pulling, tugging, and knocking against it in a desperate attempt to break its grip.

"Pull!"

Each moment felt like an eternity but with a final surge of combined effort, the tracking device relinquished its hold, tearing free from the tulkun's skin. A collective breath escaped your lips, mingling with the creature's relieved exhalation.

However, any semblance of relief quickly dissipated when Jake's voice pierced through Neteyam's communication device.

"Boy? Are you there?" Jake's voice quivered with anxiety, instantly sending a shiver of panic down your spine. The sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach intensified as you strained to listen to every word exchanged.

Neteyam swallowed, his throat constricting, before he mustered the courage to respond, "Yeah. I'm here, sir. What's wrong?"

The tense silence hung heavy in the air as you all held your breath, anticipating Jake's next words.

"Is your mate there?" Jake's voice crackled with urgency, the weight of his inquiry sinking into your bones, evoking a gnawing sense of apprehension.

Neteyam hesitated, his eyes briefly meeting yours, before he replied, his voice tinged with unease, "Yes. Yes, she is here—"

Before he could finish, Jake interrupted, his tone laden with concern, "There's been a report that a female na'vi was spotted on the docks of the boat. Are your sisters there?"

The weight of those words hit you like a thunderbolt.

"Shit," you cursed under your breath, running a hand through your braids.

"No, sir. Both Tuk and Kiri are not here," Neteyam replied, his voice laden with dismay.

Jake's voice crackled through the communication device once again, the urgency palpable in his words. "Stay vigilant, Neteyam. We can't afford any risks."

Neteyam nodded, his expression grim and resolute. "Understood, sir. We'll stay on high alert."

As the connection ended, Neteyam immediately began to issue orders, his voice firm and commanding.

"Ao'nung, take Roxto and Tsireya away from here. The open waters are too dangerous. We'll regroup by the rock outcrops," Neteyam directed, his tone brooking no argument.

The metkaniyan nodded, a stony frown etched on his face as he hurriedly ushered his sister and friend away from the immediate vicinity, their ilus awaiting them nearby. Neteyam watched them depart, his gaze lingering for a moment, before he turned his attention back to you and Lo'ak.

"That means you two as well."

"No, Neteyam, no," you protested vehemently. The mere thought of leaving him alone in the face of the approaching war was unbearable to you. "I am not leaving you."

Your plea hung in the air, thick with emotion. It made Neteyam take a moment to pause before he reached for you. An arm curled around your waist as he pulled you close, pressing a searing kiss against your lips.

Then, with a heavy sigh, he drew back, his brows furrowed as anguish swam around his sharp eyes. His gaze shifted to Lo'ak, a silent understanding passing between them. Neteyam's voice was strained but resolute as he addressed his brother, "Go. Now."

The weight of his decision lingered in the air, and you pleaded desperately, your voice wavering, "Neteyam…"

But his mind was made up. Casting one final, heart-wrenching look back at you, he rushed away, vanishing into the crashing waves.

Frantically, you turned to Lo'ak, and it only took one look for you to know that he shared your thoughts.

"We're going after him," he declared, his voice echoing your own desire.

Without wasting another moment, you set off, running towards the crashing waves, adrenaline surging through your veins.

The open waters beckoned, their depths mocking with unseen perils, but you refused to be deterred. The clicks of your ilu's came close and you both made haste, clambering atop the creatures as you dived towards the boat.

By the time you had arrived, half of the vessel was already submerged in the water, and you and Lo'ak quickly scaled its metallic walls, scrambling across the deck.

As you scanned the surroundings, your gaze locked onto three familiar figures at the edge. Kiri is the first to meet your eye and she starts shouting for you to take cover.

The echoes of gunshots reverberated through the air, jolting you into immediate action. You and Lo'ak swiftly slid down towards the figures, engaging in a fierce struggle as you pushed aside soldiers in your path.

Lo'ak managed to snatch a gun along the way, arming himself for the impending confrontation.

"Y/N!" Tuk called out for you as you ran to their position.

Reacting swiftly, you scooped the young girl into your protective embrace, shielding her from the bloodshed unfolding around you. Meanwhile, Lo'ak urgently guided Kiri to safety behind a nearby wall, ensuring she was out of harm's way and sheltered from the relentless barrage of bullets.

In the midst of the pandemonium, Neteyam retrieved the gun from Lo'ak, his movements experienced. He positioned himself around the corner, using it as cover, and unleashed a volley of return fire at your assailants.

"Y/N! Move them out!" Neteyam's cry echoes through the chaos, his voice strained as a bullet narrowly misses his skull.

"Yes, sir!" Reacting swiftly, your instincts kick in without hesitation. Grasping Tuk's hand tightly, you forcefully propel her forward alongside Lo'ak and Kiri, sprinting towards safety.

A sudden prickling sensation on the back of your neck momentarily distracts you, but the rush of adrenaline surging through your veins pushes it aside.

Neteyam, ever vigilant, stays close behind, providing cover fire to protect you all as you navigate through the perilous terrain. With every beat of your heart echoing in your chest, you reach the edge and, without pausing to think, leap over the railing, plunging into the water below.

As the shock of hitting the water subsides, you gasp for air, determined to stay afloat. Despite the biting cold and the sharp tremors running through your body, you maintain a firm grip on Tuk's hand, ensuring she resurfaces beside you.

That was when you realized something was wrong.

The hollers and war-cries of your friends echo in the distance but all you could focus on was the searing hot pain burning up on your neck. The wild waves toss and rock your aching body, carrying you further away from the safety of the group.

"Y/N? Are you alright?" Tuk questioned, immediately taking notice of how pale your face had gotten. The girl paddled closer to you, a shrill scream ripping out of her throat once she saw the murky red waters around you.

The others reacted with alarm, rushing over to you. Choking and gasping for air, you felt your head sink beneath the waves, saltwater filling your lungs.

Fortunately, before you could drown, a pair of strong arms encircled your middle, pulling you up from the depths. As you were turned around, you found yourself face to face with Neteyam, his expression panicked while his mouth opened and closed, searching for the right words as he took in your pale face.

"Syulang—" he began, his voice choked with urgency.

"Bro! What are you waiting for? Get her on!" Lo'ak's voice interrupted, snapping Neteyam out of his trance. His gaze shifted to Lo'ak and Kiri as they guided an ilu towards you. He hastily moved to lift you atop the saddles, before clambering up to sit behind you. After making tsahelyu, he instructed the creature to move, making sure to swim above the waters due to your injury.

Heaving, you felt blood seep from your mouth as you curled onto Neteyam's chest. His normally steady heartbeat was frantic, a panicked endless thrum that seemed to almost blend into one. His lips were pressed tight against your temple as his fervent prayers seeped against your burning skin.

"Stray strong. I need you to stay strong," Neteyam's voiced hushed.

In the distance, he spotted a rocky outcrop where his parents stood, urgently waving them over. Lo'ak followed closely behind, his voice trembling as he called out to them. "Dad! Mom! It's Y/N!"

Working together, both Lo'ak and Neteyam carefully lifted your body onto the rocky stump, surrounded by Neteyam's family. Your breaths now came in short, labored heaves, your chest rising and falling rapidly as it struggled to draw in enough oxygen.

Jake stepped forward, his hands pressing against your shoulders as he gently rolled you over to examine your wound. A sinking dread settled in his chest as he saw the gaping exit wound at the base of your nape.

Neteyam stood by his father's side, his hands trembling with panic. "Sir? What's wrong?"

"Pressure. Put pressure," Jake's voice came out monotonous which sent a strike of fear through Neteyam. Immediately, the boy did as told, his large hands pressing onto your frail neck. Your eyes darted frantically across the faces gathered around you, wild and unfocused, until they finally settled shakily on Neteyam.

"Sir, I—" you gasped, more blood slipping from your lips as you inadvertently bit down on your tongue in pain. Neteyam quickly hushed you, his frown deepening at the militaristic term you had used. "Sir, I'm sor—"

Then, the pain began to dull and a sense of impending finality washed over you. Heaving, you allowed yourself to lower your façade of strength and embrace your vulnerability in what could be your last moments. With a trembling hand, you reached up and pressed it against Neteyam's cheek, tears welling in your eyes as you took in the sharp features of his face.

"I'm scared," you winced, feeling small and lost, like a frightened child. "Ma'Neteyam… I am so scared."

Grief and anguish filled Neteyam's expression as he reached for your hand, pressing his lips gently upon it.

"I know, syulang. I know. I'm sorry," he murmured, a pool of guilt building up in his stomach as he recalled his last conversation with you and Lo'ak. "You'll be alright, okay? You have a strong heart."

As he looked into your wide, fearful eyes, Neteyam felt a surge of emotions wash over him, carrying him back to the vivid memories of your childhood.

The scenes played out in his mind like a reel of nostalgia, as if he were standing once again among the towering, thick trees of Omaticaya. He could almost hear the laughter that had filled the air as you both explored the wonders of the forest together, the exhilaration of climbing the sturdy branches, and the shared secrets whispered under the shelter of rocky caves.

"Neteyam… I'm scared," you whimpered, your heart throbbing in your chest as you felt the coarse texture of the sturdy tree trunk pressing against your back.

Both of you were out playing in the forests and had lost track of time. It was way past eclipse now.

The dense forest was sprawled out before you, engulfing everything before you in an ominous shroud. The fading light of the setting sun cast elongated, eerie shadows that danced amidst the towering trees.

A young Neteyam stood in front of you, his hands gently cupping your tear-streaked cheeks, tenderly wiping away the droplets. Then, the warrior boy radiated a warm smile at you. "I'll keep you safe, syulang."

The air resonated with unsettling growls and haunting howls. Amidst the gloom, pairs of luminous eyes glimmered from hidden crevices behind the trees, concealed beasts lying in wait. Though fear still lingered within you, you summoned the courage to step into his awaiting embrace, seeking solace and security in his arms.

"Do you promise?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

"I promise."

"I'll keep you safe, syulang," Neteyam hushed, his voice filled with desperation, as he leaned in to press a kiss against your cracked and bloodied lips. The taste of iron flooded his mouth, but the concern for your well-being eclipsed any discomfort he felt.

Drawing closer, his forehead gently touched yours, causing his tears to mingle with yours as they cascaded onto your cheek. "I promise."

Neteyam's trembling fingers delicately brushed against your neck, seeking the faint and weakening pulse that throbbed beneath your clammy skin. Your breathing, labored and high-pitched, struggled to utter his name, "Neteyam—"

"Nete...I," Then, in an agonizing moment, your eyes dulled, your body going limp as you gasped out your last breath. Neteyam froze, his heart pounding in his chest as he withdrew from you, his movements graceless. "Syulang?"

"Neteyam… I," Lo'ak croaked out, his voice laden with guilt as he moved closer, attempting to offer comfort to his brother. "I'm sorr—"

His well-intentioned gesture was abruptly met with a forceful push, as Neteyam's frantic state escalated. Disregarding the presence of the others, he gathered your lifeless body into his trembling arms, holding you close as he began to hyperventilate. "No, no, no, no—"

Lo'ak stood motionless, his gaze fixed upon the devastating scene unfolding before him. Blood stained the younger brother's hands, a haunting reminder of his involvement, the guilt and remorse etched deep within him. Kiri pressed herself against his side, offering what little solace she could.

Tears streamed down Neteyam's face in an unrelenting wave as he shook vehemently, his grip on your lifeless form tight. Every breath he managed to take came in ragged gasps, his chest heaving with profound anguish as his quivering lips whispered a fervent prayer to Eywa.

"Great Mother, I beg of you, please don't take her away from me. It's not her time. Please, I can't bear to lose her," the words tore from his throat, strained and desperate, a raw and hoarse plea echoing through the air.

But the silence that followed was deafening, and the universe remained indifferent to his anguished pleas. Fate had dealt her cruel hand and there was no reversing what has happened. A despondent hush settled upon Neteyam as he cradled your cold body, his fingers trembling as he traced the contours of your face, desperately clinging to your fading warmth.

'All energy is only borrowed, and one day you have to give it back.'

These were the words that had been etched into Neteyam's consciousness since his earliest memories, told to him when he was a mere babe. Through the years, those words had taken root in his heart, their significance growing with each passing day. They held a bittersweet reminder of the transient nature of a Na'vi's existence, an understanding that all things, no matter how great or powerful, would eventually fade away.

And now, as he stood amidst the darkest hour of his life, pushing a leaf which cradled your lifeless body along the gentle waves, the weight of his mother's words pressed upon him with a poignant intensity. They whispered to him the solemn truth of loss, the inevitable fate that even the brightest and most vibrant blooms would eventually wither away.

Far off by the shores, the Metkayina clan were gathered together to honor your death. Soft songs were sun by artisans in the distance while warriors surrounded the waters, ready to assist your grieving mate in anyway.

The ebb and flow of the waves embraced your body, as Neteyam delicately allowed you to be immersed in the water. Neytiri and Jake moved to swim towards him, their concern evident in their eyes, but he shook his head, a silent request for solitude as he embarked on the final journey with you alone.

Silently nodding, they swam away and watched from a distance, their hearts heavy with grief for their son as Neteyam held you close, whispering words of love onto your cold lips.

Taking you into his arms once more, Neteyam took a deep breath, and with a graceful dive, immersed himself into the depths of the ocean.

In this underwater sanctuary, time seemed to stand still as he held his breath, allowing the weight of his emotions to wash over him. The silence enveloped him, broken only by the gentle lullaby of the underwater currents. His tears, blending seamlessly with the surrounding currents, were carried away into the vast expanse of the sea.

With a heavy heart, Neteyam loosened his grip, letting you go and releasing you into the gentle caress of the water. As your curled up form sank slowly towards the ocean bed, soft hues of blue and green cradled you in their hold, painting the scene with a poignant melancholy, as if the ocean itself mourned your passing.

A soft glow of bioluminescent algae adorned the waters, casting a mesmerizing luminescence upon the solemn setting. Each flickering glow, like a delicate farewell kiss.

Neteyam watched on as the golden tendrils engulfed you in its shimmering embrace. Then, finally, glowing like a chorus of tiny stars, the algae weaved their radiant tendrils around you, a final act of nature as Eywa took you in.

Ngaru irayo seiyi ayo,

Srrìri tìreyä,

Ma Eywa, ma Eywa.

Neteyam swam before the tree of ancestors, his heart heavy with a mix of anticipation and sorrow. His hands grasped onto his queue tightly, feeling the sacred bond beneath his battle-hardened palms. Just beside him, Tsireya floated along the deep waves with a heaviness in her gaze, her eyes downcast as she shakily signed to him, her hands trembling with emotion, 'Are you ready?'

Both of them had embarked on this solemn journey together, a quest to connect with the Metkaniyan spirit tree, seeking solace from your spirit and Eywa herself.

Neteyam had requested Tsireya's presence, knowing the sisterly bond that had blossomed between the two of you over the months. He understood that she, too, carried the weight of grief for your loss.

He nodded, a bit more frantic than he'd like. Tsireya smiled at his eagerness, her eyes shimmering with shared anticipation, her hands signing once more, 'Is there a specific memory you'd like to see?'

Neteyam paused, his mind drifting through the vast ocean of memories that he held of you, each one precious and poignant.

A minute passes, and finally, with a gentle nod, he signed his answer.

Neteyam found himself standing amidst the lush foliage of the Hometree, bathed in the soft glow of the sun. The vibrant colors of the forest danced around him, creating a tranquil backdrop for his restless heart. With each purposeful step, he moved stealthily through the forest. And then, his eyes locked onto a familiar sight—a burrowed cave where you often retreated to immerse yourself in craftwork.

His heart quickened with anticipation as he approached, his hand reaching for the necklace that hung around his neck, feeling the smooth beads under his fingertips. Then, in a single, fluid motion, he unclasped it and dropped it to the ground.

The remnants of this memory came rushing back, the echoes of your shared past resurfacing with vivid clarity. As he drew nearer, your teenage form seemed to flicker and shift, transforming before his eyes into your adult self. The passage of time etched upon your face, mirroring the weight and wisdom you accumulated over the years.

Time seemed to stand still as your gazes locked, a magnetic force pulling Neteyam closer to you. Emotions swelled within him, a blend of joy, sorrow, and a deep yearning to bridge the gap that separated you both.

"Hey," he smiled tearfully, his voice filled with a mixture of tenderness and vulnerability, "What are you doing, syulang?"

Your face lit up, a radiant smile gracing your lips as you gestured for him to come closer.

"I just finished weaving something. It's for you," you exclaimed, your excitement palpable. "Come, let me put it on."

Neteyam eagerly obeyed, lowering himself before you, allowing you to clasp the necklace around his neck.

"My mighty warrior, it suits you," you remarked, your voice filled with warmth as you beheld the necklace settled atop his chest.

Neteyam huffed out a bittersweet laugh as tears streamed down his cheeks. "It does."

Concern then etched across your face.

"Ma'Teyam," you murmured softly, your touch soothing as you gently ran your hands through his braids. Neteyam's tears continued to flow, an outpouring of emotions that spoke volumes of his love and longing. You furrowed your brows, tilting your head to the side.

"Why do you cry, Nete?"

"I'm just…" Neteyam took a moment to steady his breath, his voice a tender reflection of his inner turmoil. A mixture of joy and sorrow lingered in his words. "I'm happy to see you."

Your laughter, a melodic and breathless symphony, filled the forest with its warmth. It wrapped around Neteyam's heart, offering a fleeting respite from the weight of your loss.

"Oh," you replied, your voice tinged with affection, "I am happy to see you too, Nete."

Tsireya stood from afar, allowing Neteyam to meet you in spirit alone. She watched over him as his form drifted, a gentle smile gracing her lips.

Her heart then swelled with warmth as she witnessed his lips curve into a genuine grin, seeing his once stern expression melt away into a state of serene contentment.

Lawnol a mì te’lan.

1K notes · View notes

waynes-multiverse · 1 month ago

Text

The Exit Strategy – Part 1

Summary: Russell is ready to hang it all up and retire, open up a brewery, and enjoy the rest of his civilian life. However, there's one important thing missing before he can take the big plunge. Luckily, he knows just the right person to help him find it.

Pairing: Russell Shaw x Female!Reader

Warnings: +18, language, mystery, a tinge of angst, humor & brotherly banter, one tiny surprise 🤓

Word Count: 5.8k

A/N: Happy holidays, guys! Enjoy 🎄❤️

Main Masterlist || Series Masterlist || Tag List

Part 1: This Is Not a Pipe

The heavy truck door slammed shut behind him as Russell slid into the passenger seat with an exhaustive sigh. Colter’s big pickup was parked right next to his beautiful Chevelle in that same old motel parking lot in Virginia.

Russell hadn’t moved – yet. Well, sort of. He’d been away on assignment in some frosty region for a couple of weeks. He wasn’t allowed to say where exactly he’d been, and he knew better than to put it into writing, so let’s just agree he was at the North Pole looking for Santa Claus.

He could’ve ended up anywhere he wanted once he touched ground in the States again, but a very appreciated phone call from a former colleague made the decision for him. Besides, Russell knew this particular motel well. The coffee was more than decent and got the job done, the owner and employees were nice, comforting, and, most of all, trustworthy, and there were always fresh towels.

“Extra fluffy for you, Mr. Russell,” Rosa, the maid, would say every morning with the brightest smile.

Oh, and they had a hot tub in the back…

“Thanks for coming, man,” Russell extended his greeting without glancing at his younger brother once. He could feel Colter’s scrutinizing eyes on him, though, drilling for answers. Granted, his request had been rather unusual, so Russell understood where his younger brother’s ever-frozen furrowed brow stemmed from.

Providing answers didn’t come easy for the older Shaw, however. In fact, it had always been sort of a problem for him – even in the past. Especially in the past. Russell never lied, but he did omit things. Important things. On purpose.

“Yeah, uh, sure,” Colter replied with a polite smile as he started the car and rolled out of the lot.

Ah, yes, politeness…

That was what they were at, although it was progressively improving. It was only the third time the brothers were seeing each other since they had reconnected. And while the last two encounters had given the Shaws some well-needed time to talk things out and build trust, Colter was still naturally wary of his estranged sibling. As was Russell.

“So, what’s this about? You were pretty vague on the phone. You in trouble?”

That finally caught Russell’s full attention. He quickly shook his head, causing his hair to fall into his face. “What? No! No… No trouble,” he swiftly assuaged his brother with a dismissive hand gesture and a lighthearted chuckle. “Just need your help tracking down an old friend of mine, is all.”

Colter quirked an eyebrow at that. “Another Army buddy of yours?”

“Uh, something like that, yeah,” Russell replied rather mysteriously and didn’t even try to conceal the fact that he was hiding something more behind his ambiguous answer. But Colter only intensified his stare at him and wouldn’t let go that easily. Russell knew that. After all, they were related.

Persistence was a Shaw family trait. Another survival skill, if you will.

But this time, Russell wasn’t hiding a big government secret (or maybe he was). No lives depended on this particular mission (or so he thought). He wasn’t protecting a client, a company, or even his dubious employer (but someone else). He wasn’t choked by an NDA or about to save someone in grave danger (as far as he knew).

No, if anything, it was the fact that Russell didn’t know how much he could or should share with his brother. They were related, yes. But, technically, they hadn’t seen each other in decades, so they weren’t just considered merely estranged but strangers. Russell had always been aware of that fact, and Colter was beginning to catch on.

Especially during this mission.

See, once upon a time, the two hadn’t been just brothers. After moving to the cabin, societal contacts became scarce for the siblings. All they had was them. They were friends. Best friends. Always competitive, but friends nonetheless.

How much did they really know about each other now, though? How much of the old was still there?

“So, who are we looking for? What’s the guy’s name?” Colter asked, suddenly eager as he jumped into gear. He had always been restless, even as a kid, which fondly reminded Russell of their childhood.

But how much was he still the Russell that Colter once knew?

Well, Russell, on the other hand, remained calm and ruffled a casual hand through his beard. “Well, she’s, uh–”

Eyebrow cocked, Colter snapped his head to the passenger seat where his brother started to squirm. “Oh… Oh, so it’s a she,” he emphasized with a small grin. “Now I think I get it.”

There it is. I knew it, Russell thought with an internal sigh. In order for this mission to work, he knew he had to reveal some things. Private things. Things about himself and his life. Going in, Russell knew he couldn’t ask Colter for help without giving him something.

Their father had loved tests (and so did you – but that’s another story…). Russell always thought it had been the professor in him. So, Russell saw this as a test as well.

Could he trust Colter? And more pressingly, considering some long held accusations of murder, did Colter trust him?

A clear of Russell’s throat cut right through Colter’s chuckle. And then, the eldest tried his best to give no reaction at all. “Yes, she’s a… woman, but hold your horses. It’s not what you think, okay?” Colter lifted his eyebrow once more, causing Russell to heave another exhaustive sigh. “Fine, alright? It’s exactly what you think.”

Well, close enough, Russell thought. He knew Colter couldn’t even possibly imagine the reality in his wildest dreams.

Usually, Russell was an expert in avoiding uncomfortable questions. He was a pro at ditching answers and keeping secrets, even under torture and duress. However, there was just something entirely unique about dodging questions posed by little brothers.

And Russell saw it as a perfect bonding opportunity. He wanted to fill the chasm between them that their father’s death had caused – once and for all. But he couldn’t lie and say he wasn’t walking around on eggshells most of the time – something that reminded him of you again.

Learning from past mistakes, Russell wanted Colter to experience the fun side of him. The one that brewed his own beer, cared too much about his car, and had weird tastes in food. He chose to leave out the rest – the dark stuff and the very best stuff, too.

After all, Russell was good at omitting things.

Colter chuckled triumphantly. “Does this mean you’re finally giving up on Reenie?”

Amused, Russell let out a snort. “Ha! You wish… First things first, alright? Let’s just see how this thing pans out. It’s kind of a long shot. You know that exit plan I told you about?”

“Yeah, you wanna open your own brewery, right?”

“Yeah, well, let’s just say in an ideal world this, uh, woman would be part of that exit,” Russell said and sounded purposely casual as if he didn’t care the mission was successful or not in the end, omitting yet another thing – he did care.

He cared a fucking lot.

“Really? Okay.” Colter scratched his jaw and gave his words some thought. Then he offered a small, yet kind, smile. Honestly, Russell didn’t know what he had expected. “But, you know, if you want me to find the future Mrs. Shaw, I’m gonna need more information to go on. A name, last address, or a-, uh, a picture, maybe?”

“Well, name’s not gonna help you much in this case.” Your first name might’ve been shareable intel, but your last name was of the highest classification. “Her last address that I know of was in Berlin. And while I do have one photo of her, it’s not meant for your eyes, brother,” Russell said with a firmly territorial look that still carried a mischievous twinkle, revealing the exact nature of the photograph to be indeed inappropriate.

Russell had one naughty photo, yes. But he had a whole giant box of others, too.

Colter’s eyebrows met above his nose as he licked his lips. Customarily, people gave him more details when they needed him to find someone. But then again, those people usually weren’t his brother. “Do you know anything about this woman? How long have you two dated?”

“Uhm… not that long,” Russell supplied with a clear of his throat before mumbling the rest of his answer, hoping his beard would swallow most of his words. “Ten years. Give or take…”

What is time anyway if nothing but a concept, right?

Colter blinked at him and almost steered the vehicle off-road before gripping the wheel a little tighter. “I’m sorry… Did you just say ten years?”

“Well, might be more like twelve,” he admitted finally. “Well, anyways, saw her last three years ago.”

“Wow, okay, uhm…” Colter became quiet for a moment, speechless probably, the tiny bits of information running on a loop through his mind. He figured his brother still had lived a life while they hadn’t been speaking. Of course he had. He just never thought about what that life might have entailed, aside from classified military operations. “So, you’ve dated a woman for twelve years…”

“Fourteen.”

“…haven’t seen her in three, and know basically nothing about her?”

Russell snorted a laugh. “Yeah, I know. Ridiculous… Not even sure the name she did give me was her real one,” he said. It was a joke. He did know the name. He knew everything there was to know about you. So, maybe he did lie – sometimes. “But it’s the job, you know? It’s-, uh, it’s complicated.”

That part was true. Truer than he could ever possibly describe in words.

“I guess so…” Colter sighed, and Russell could hear the growing frustration. “So, she does what you do?”

Russell nodded. “In a way, yeah…” And Colter knew what that answer meant – he couldn’t say more. Again. “But don’t worry. We won’t have to turn over every stone on the face of this planet. I have a general idea of where she lives these days,” Russell provided. “One of my, uh, associates was working a job with her not that long ago. That’s how I found out she’s back in the States.”

Colter nodded in acceptance, knowing it was no use to try and prod more answers out of his brother. “Alright. Guess that’s something. So, where are we headed to?”

Russell then flashed him a grin with newfound determination sparkling in his green eyes. “Falls Church.”

The short drive had remained quiet for the most part. Colter refrained from asking more questions, knowing he wouldn’t be able to get straight answers out of his older brother in one form or the other. To accentuate Colter’s assumption of receiving non-answers, Russell mostly stared out the window with an intensity that had Colter believe his brother was counting trees when, in fact, Russell was pondering what he would, could, or should tell Colter.

Of course, Colter could also always ask more questions about their elusive father, but he didn’t do that either. Sure, one could say he was curious. More than that even.

What did Russell really know about his death? Their mother? Their family? Their work?

Another time, he kept telling himself throughout whenever he stole glances at his long-lost sibling. It was too soon. What was the point when Russell was so clearly reluctant to share anything at all?

Thus, there was nothing left but silence among peaceful woods and dense foliage till Colter pulled his truck over curbside in the idyllic town center of Falls Church.

Patiently, he waited a moment for Russell to open the floor and tell them their next logical steps. He tapped his fingers against the steering wheel, blew raspberries, clicked his tongue, and waited and waited and waited…

Nothing.

If Colter didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought someone carved a lifeless wax statue out of his brother and planted it on his passenger seat. Russell’s entire body stood motionless, only a set of green eyes flickered alive every once in a while and swayed out the windshield in search of something – or someone.

“So, what’s the plan here?” Colter asked with a clear of his throat. “You just wanna stay here and wait till she accidentally runs across the street?” It was meant as a joke, but to Colter’s dismay, Russell remained dead serious.

“That’s exactly what we’re doing,” the older Shaw confirmed and squinted his eyes at the busy street. Again, he had omitted a few things. In his mind, Colter didn’t need to know why Russell knew to be in front of the post office at exactly 15:03 (UTC–4) on a Tuesday.

Colter snorted a laugh. “What? C’mon, that can’t be the plan… Do you know how many people live in Falls Church? Or in the general Washington metropolitan area? We could be here for days. Weeks even…” The younger Shaw then switched fully into work mode, grabbing his phone from the Bluetooth car mount. “We’re never gonna find her like this. You got a phone number, maybe?” But before Russell could answer, Colter replied himself, shaking his head at his own silliness. “What am I even asking? Of course you don’t.”

Russell only smirked at that. Restless, he thought again.

“What about an old one? Maybe even that would help. I could call Bobby, Reenie… You got anything? Nothing?” But the younger Shaw’s questions apparently stumbled upon deaf ears. “Russell? Russ? Are you even listening to me? I’m trying to help you here. You could at least–”

“Found her!”

Russell almost jumped out of the car as his voice rang with sheer excitement. His heart was beating a mile a minute when his emerald eyes landed on the target. It felt like the very first time all over again.

Granted, the first meeting didn’t go so smoothly – there had definitely been some bumps (all on his part). Then again, he expected this next meeting to go a little roughly too (again, all on him).

“Wait, what?!”

Russell downright beamed. “Told you this would work.”

Colter only scoffed under his breath, the familiar competitiveness crawling back to the surface. “Yeah, well, beginner’s luck, okay?”

One boot had nearly touched asphalt before Russell remembered this wasn’t a situation that required him to storm in guns a-blazing – not even covert. Gentle hands, he reminded himself and swiftly closed the car door again, falling back into his seat. His lungs deflated.

Colter, on the other hand, was more confused than ever. “What-, uh, what are you doing?” Half-amused, his brow furrowed a bit more. “If you’ve found her, go talk to her. Where is she? Who is it?”

Curiosity could only be contained for so long. Colter wanted to know who had been a part of his brother’s life for almost as long as he had. He felt this was a key piece of information that would cause the first domino to fall. And then, revelation after revelation about Russell’s past would unravel.

Basically, Colter was waiting for the big epiphany. No pressure.

Russell vehemently shook his head. “Can’t. At least not like this. I need more intel first. You need to find out her name, and then we need your guy Bobby to get onto this.”

And yet again, guess what? Yes, Russell was, indeed, omitting things.

“Me? Why me?” Colter blinked at him. Surprise, surprise…

“‘Cause, obviously, she’d recognize me,” Russell pointed out. Again, omission. Like he had explained earlier, it was a real problem…

Colter exhaled a deep sigh. “Okay, and I’m guessing you’re still not gonna tell me why we’re doing all of this, right?”

“Nope.”

“Yup, thought so.” Still not convinced, Colter narrowed his eyes at his clearly paranoid brother. Maybe paranoia ran in the family. Not to point fingers – he recognized it in himself, too. “Do we really need to go through all that trouble? I mean, you’ve known that woman for, what, fourteen years, you said? Isn’t that a little extreme… even for you?”

Fifteen, Russell corrected in his mind. Close to sixteen. Nineteen max.

“Just trust me, okay? It’s necessary,” Russell reassured, knowing those words bore some weight. Hurriedly (he was getting antsy – this was a time-sensitive issue), he pointed a finger out the window to the sidewalk across the street. “You see that woman walking into the post office? That’s her.”

“What, the brunette in the flowery dress with the golden cross necklace? That’s her?”

“Yup.”

“Wow, okay…” Surprised didn’t come close to explain how Colter felt. He had expected… different. His brow almost met his hairline, but he still tried his best to conceal his wonder – to no avail.

Suspiciously, Russell leaned back in his seat and assessed his brother’s demeanor with a small glare. “What?”

“Nothing.” Colter threw his hands up in surrender, swallowing. “Just… She doesn’t really seem like your type.”

Amused, Russell stifled a chuckle. “And what exactly do you think is my type, little brother?”

“I don’t know…”

“What, you think some nice Christian girl is too good for me?” Russell deadpanned. Admittedly, he enjoyed bantering with his little brother. It reminded him of what he had missed out on for years. This was what he had wanted and longed for since he had left the family at eighteen.

Well, “left” wasn’t really the right word for it now, was it? It implied a voluntary act, and his leaving wasn’t so voluntary.

“That is exactly what I’m saying,” Colter countered, laughing. “It’s just, you know… dental hygienist in a motel hot tub springs to mind.”

“Okay, alright… You done?” Russell huffed, shaking his head. He refrained from showing his honest amusement. “You’re gonna follow her in or not?”

“Alright, I’ll go,” Colter finally agreed somewhat enthusiastically and jumped out of the car, swiftly following the woman inside. After all, he was curiouser and curiouser…

Russell kept his eyes trained on his younger brother until Colter vanished inside the post office. Now, it was out of his hands, only hoping his little brother wouldn’t blow it. Chances were high he would. Not that Russell didn’t have some faith.

He just had more faith in you.

Colter spotted you picking up mail from a PO box and decided on a plan of action in a matter of seconds. After all, he was quick thinking on his feet and the best at what he did. That’s why he was here. That’s why Russell had picked him for the job, right?

As you made your way back to the door, Colter eloquently intercepted you without disturbing the crowd. Another thing he had learned from his father.

He bumped straight into your shoulder and almost tackled you to the ground by the sheer force of his sneak attack. The mail in your hands scattered to the tiled floor like autumn leaves, and as Colter bent down to help you pick it up, he took a peek at your name on a postcard.

“Oh my God, would you look at that… I’m so sorry, Miss–,” the younger Shaw apologized clumsily, “Nora Laurier.” He uttered your name with a suave smile as he handed you back your pile of letters. The flirt in his eyes, however, he only added for Russell as revenge for Reenie. “Beautiful name.”

Your hands lingered on the letters between you for a moment as you took in his features and tall stature. It left you with a strange haunting of familiarity.

“Thank you,” you finally said with a hint of a smile as he let go of the mail. “Be more careful next time.”

“I will. Sorry again.” Colter chuckled with blushed cheeks and watched you leave. He waited till you had passed the row of windows before exiting himself.

He was a good actor, too.

Antsy, Russell almost bit his lip bloody as he stared the post office down till a migraine began to form. God, what he wouldn’t pay for some X-ray vision and super-hearing. He could be downright Superman with that – and the hero always got the girl.

His heart dithered anew with longing as you walked out – it took his breath away. You always did that, and you did it well. But then, you stopped short for a mere second, which wouldn’t have caused a civilian to raise a single brow. But Russell did.

“Shit…” he mumbled in the silence of the truck and lowered himself down to the dashboard. He watched you reach for your phone in your purse and call someone as you headed down the street.

Eventually, you stopped three houses east and finished your call in the shade of a tree next to a busy (and noisy) bus station. Russell caught your eyes drifting back to the doors of the post office, though, just as his little brother walked out and jogged towards the car.

“Shit, shit, shit!” Russell ducked even further down, hitting his head in several places. “What did that knucklehead do?”

The driver’s door opened as Colter casually slipped inside. “Got a name,” he announced victoriously. Part of his happiness emanated from gathering yet another puzzle piece of his mysterious brother – meeting you. “She goes by Nora Laurier now… And she seems nice. Way too nice for you, actually…” As he drifted off, his eyes searched for the elder one before finding him almost kissing the floor mat. “Russ, uh… What-, uh, what are you doing down there?”

“What the hell did you do?” Russell’s tone was both snappy and frustrated.

“Whoa, what d’you mean what did I do?” Colter waved off defensively. “I did what you told me to do!”

“She made you!”

“She did not make me,” Colter brushed off with a laugh, quite confident of his own skill set. They’d had the same teacher. He would know if you had suspected anything.

“Then why did she wait and look after you, huh?” Russell pointed out in annoyance.

Colter’s lips itched to break a smile. He couldn’t help it. It was the perfect opportunity to teach his flirt of a brother a well-needed lesson. “Well, maybe I caught her eye… piqued her interest, you know?”

Russell cocked a brow from below, his stare lethal. “Did you flirt with her?”

Colter hesitated for a moment. Mostly for dramatic effect. “I-, uh… You told me to get her name. ‘Sides, I told you Reenie was off limits.”

“Oh, so this is about revenge? Very mature.” Russell frowned. “She still there?”

“Where?” Colter stretched himself a bit as he looked out the windshield.

“Tree. Bus station.”

An amused smile formed on Colter’s lips as he spotted you. “Oh, yeah. I see her. I don’t think she suspects anything. She’s not even loo-… No, uh, wait… Yup.”

“What?” Russell’s brows drew together as he rose a little from his crouched position.

“Yeah, she’s definitely looking over here.”

“Well, stop looking down,” Russell hissed through gritted teeth. After a deep breath, he spoke in a calmer, more advising tone, “Pretend I’m not here.”

“Trying to, trust me… Should I wave at her? Smile?”

“Are you nuts?! Just look ahead. Pretend you’re getting a phone call.”

Colter did as he was told and held his phone to his ear. “She’s still looking,” he informed with a pressed smile, barely moving his mouth when he spoke.

“Okay, what’s she doing now?”

“There’s a-, uh, there’s a car coming and pulling over by the bus station. Dark gray Audi A6. Virginia Plates. Yankee-Papa-Charlie-5824,” Colter said as Russell hauled a pen from his pocket and began to jot down the plate numbers on his left palm.

“Copy that.”

He’d memorize them anyway, but one could never be too safe. He could get a concussion in the next hour or so (most likely because of you), and then what?

“Okay, she’s getting in,” Colter narrated. “Driver’s in his late-thirties. Male. Glasses. Medium height. Medium build… I think you could take him,” he added with a teasing grin.

“Shut up,” Russell retorted. “Are they gone now?”

“Pulling away from the curb and… Yep, they’re gone. Headed south down the road,” Colter affirmed.

“Alright.” Russell popped back into his seat with a sigh and some sore muscles. He had been sure he’d heard a few bones crack while he’d been cowering down there. He might be finally getting too old for these missions. But that was part of the reason why he was here in the first place – retirement was calling. And Russell wanted to fill the chair next to him on the porch.

“You good?” Colter checked and choked the small laugh that wanted to escape upon the ruffled sight of his older brother.

“Yeah, go ahead and follow them. Just keep a low profile,” Russell instructed. “On our way, you might wanna call your op analyst, too. See what he can find out.”

“Alright,” Colter agreed somewhat reluctantly but still tailed the sedan. “You sure this is a good idea?”

“What d’you mean?” Russell said mindlessly, keeping his eyes focused on the target vehicle.

“Us… stalking your ex-girlfriend?” Colter noted with a cocked brow. “And her potentially new boyfriend?”

Russell only laughed at that. “We’re good. Trust me.”

Admittedly, though, a small part of him wondered (and worried) if this was all real. Maybe Nora Laurier wasn’t your real name, but it might be your actual new one – one you’d adopted as a safety precaution after you’d left it all behind. Maybe you had finally done it and retired, found a perfectly normal guy, and settled down – just without him.

Or:

Maybe you were still in the game, after all.

Russell was hoping it was the latter. Otherwise, he could probably expect a hefty restraining order in his future, but he wasn’t about to tell Colter that. Not until he knew for sure.

The Audi parked in front of an organic grocery store a few blocks down. Colter chose a spot across the parking lot, keeping a reasonable distance with the perfect view. Russell watched as you and Unnamed Man #1 sauntered into the store, an arm slung tightly around your waist and a smile on your face.

While on the phone with Bobby, Colter could tell that the sight of you in another man’s arms stung. “Okay, uh, thanks, Bobby.”

“What’d he say?” Russell fired as soon as Colter had removed the phone even just an inch from his ear.

“Uh, well, there’s some bad news,” Colter revealed hesitantly and licked his lips, not knowing how he was supposed to break his brother’s heart. “Bobby ran the plate number through the DMV. It’s registered to an Aiden Laurier.”

“Laurier?” Undeniably, Russell’s heart flinched at the connection. “Maybe a brother. Cousin…”

Or a colleague, Russell’s mind stubbornly added.

Colter bit his lower lip hard before he spoke, “They’ve been married for two years. I’m sorry, Russ.”

A hand comfortingly patted Russell’s shoulder. A part of him wanted to scream heavenward, but something else inside was gnawing on him.

He clicked his tongue. “No… No.” Sure, one could argue that denial was always the first step of grief. “No. No way she married sweater-vest John Mulaney over there.”

“I’m pretty sure she did. Bobby sent me the marriage certificate,” Colter countered and showed him the screenshot on his phone.

Russell glanced at it for a short second, not even bothering to waste more time on fake news. He shook his head. He knew better.

“Nah. I’m not buying it. You need to go in there and tell me what you see.” He sealed his words with an encouraging pat on the shoulder.

Colter exhaled deeply. “Russ, I-, uh, I think you need to let this go, man. You’re starting to… Never mind.”

“No. Go ahead. Say it,” Russell prompted with some thunder in his voice. “I’m reminding you of Dad, don’t I?”

Colter only twitched his shoulders. “I mean, yeah. A little.”

Russell’s head bobbed in thought before he met his little brother’s eyes. “You really don’t see it?”

“See what?”

“The post office, the road crew over there, the-, the fake documents?”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“C’mon… Just think about everything Dad taught us, huh?”

Was Colter really not getting it? Russell found that quite hard to believe. He had known his little brother to be as sharp as a whip. While Russell didn’t always have the nicest things to say about their father, he could admit the old man had prepared them well for life. Well, one life at least. This one.

The nomad life, the odd jobs that required them to have a particular set of skills like Liam Neeson.

Colter shook his head. “I have no clue what you’re talking about, Russell.”

Russell let out a sigh and leaned back in his seat. “Alright, if you don’t see it, you don’t see it.” A smirk twitched in the corners of his lips. “It’s your funeral, brother…”

With narrowed eyes, Colter pursed his lips. “Alright, just tell me one thing, okay?”

“You know I can’t tell you anything,” Russell reiterated and brushed his beard.

“I know. I know… It’s not that kinda question,” the younger Shaw reassured.

“Go ahead,” Russell relented and curiously looked at his brother.

Within a second, Russell could think of a million questions Colter might want to ask him, but this hadn’t been one of them:

“In the past three years, how many times have you thought about her? And I don’t just mean ‘crossed your mind’ every couple of months. I mean ‘seriously thought’ about her?”

“Hmm.” Russell pondered for a moment before replying, “Every damn day.”

It wasn’t a lie, no omission of anything, and Colter could tell. You were the first thought that popped into Russell’s still groggy mind when he woke up and the last one every night that fluttered across his weary eyelids. Obviously, he didn’t give Colter the soppy answer, though.

“Fine. I’ll go,” Colter softened his stance. “You owe me,” he added with a pointed finger before setting foot outside the car.

“I do owe you. Anything you want, brother,” Russell agreed with a broad grin. “How about we start with a full case of my homebrew, huh?”

Colter danced gracefully through the aisles, spying through canned goods and boxes of cereal. He watched you carefully select fruit with your husband, move through the dairy talking about “organic” and “locally sourced” till you landed on a few choices of toothpaste and finally strolled to the cash register.

Everything seemed boringly normal and ordinary. You chatted with the cashier. They handed you a coupon, which you slipped into your purse. Your husband paid with his credit card (which carried the same name matching the DMV records), and both of you left the store with two paper bags in your arms.

Once through the sliding glass doors, you stopped and turned to your husband. “Darn, honey, I think we forgot the milk.”

“You want me to grab it?”

“No, I’ll do it.”

“Okay, I’ll wait by the car and load the rest of the groceries.”

Now, Colter found that odd. He had watched you spent at least five minutes in the dairy aisle. How could you forget something as basic as milk?

As you hushed inside, your husband sauntered back to the car, and Colter followed you back in. You passed right by the dairy and, with a few looks that resembled a scan of your surroundings, you slipped past the door that led to the restrooms.

Waiting a beat, Colter went in after you. But you were long gone – just not to the restroom. An ‘Employee Only’ door that led to a dumpster alley outside was just falling shut.

Granted, Colter had a bad feeling about this. It was the same feeling he always got shortly before walking into a trap. In his defense, though, you were not a seven-foot-tall, 300-pound kind of guy. He wasn’t about to be ambushed by Shaquille O’Neal, which is probably why Colter didn’t find it necessary to pull his gun.

In hindsight, he should have.

The narrow alley was quiet and empty, except for some trash littering the ground around the dumpsters. It was closed-off, too, wedged between buildings with no view to the parking lot or nearby streets.

And then, something hit him. Or better yet: You hit him. With an elbow to the face and a stiff, flat palm to his throat, Colter stumbled forward before you gave him the final blow and knocked him off balance, tackling him to the ground.

Pressing his cheek into the rough and unforgiving surface of the asphalt, you jumped on him and restrained his arms tightly behind his back. While he squirmed to get out of your hold, he didn’t use as much brutal force as you expected he would.

“Shit,” he muttered below you, his voice muffled by the gravel. A light chuckle escaped him. “Okay, you got me.”

“Sounds about right,” you agreed with a smirk and tightened your grip on his arm.

Then, Colter heard a gun click above him. Hoping to see his brother, he looked up – only to find your husband with a weapon in hand as he stared down the barrel.

“Ah, I think you broke my nose,” the younger Shaw mumbled with a groan.

“Good. You’ve been following me. Why?” you prompted sternly. “Who are you? Who are you working for? Jafari? Mueller?”

��Listen, I-I think you’ve got the wrong idea. I’m not who you think I am,” Colter argued with a strained voice. What the hell had Russell gotten him into? “This is just a big misunderstanding.”

“Uh-huh.” You could only roll your eyes at that. How many times had you heard that line before?

“Let’s hood him. Get him to the Market,” your partner suggested. “We’ll see if he talks then.”

“No, really,” Colter insisted, growing a bit more uneasy. He had no idea what the Market was, but it didn’t sound pleasant. “You know my brother.”

“Who’s your brother?” With your elbow, you put more pressure on his back.

“Ow, alright…” Colter groaned once more as the pain intensified. “Looks kinda like me. Think two decades younger. He was in the Army, so probably didn’t have long hair and a beard. Uh, kind… green eyes? No? Doesn’t ring a bell?”

Colter watched your brow furrow in his periphery as he squinted upwards. He could see the gears starting to turn in your head. You just needed one final push to put all the puzzle pieces together.

“If it helps, my name is Colter. Colter Sh–”

“Shaw,” you shot like a missile. Your jaw plummeted to the ground, your heart springing right out with it. Your grip on the man caught between your thighs loosened, hearing Colter’s sigh of relief before you heard his voice.

“Hiya, sweetheart.”

Your head darted up, the man beneath you long forgotten. You swallowed as your eyes landed on an all too familiar face – even when it was covered by a bunch of hair that had never been there before. The heart-crushing smile was still the same as if it had been ripped straight from an old photograph you had of him.

“Russell?!”

Part 2: This Is a Russell Mission

Quite the entrance! Writing Russell reminded me somewhat of Plastic Hearts Dean (minus the addiction problems unless you count lying) because of all the wild overthinking 😂

If you enjoyed this story, then I'll gladly keep working on its prequel. Was a bit nervous to post this since I filled in some family history gaps myself 😅 I also dove into the books a little and added some things that kinda fit their "show" personalities.

Please let me know what you think and if you'd be interested in a young soldier!Russell series 😉🤍

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#the exit strategy #russell shaw #russell shaw x reader #russell shaw x you #russell shaw series #tracker #tracker cbs

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girlactionfigure · 8 months ago

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THURSDAY HERO: Albert Goering

Hermann Goering was Hitler’s right-hand man and the founder of the Gestapo – may that monster suffer true justice for his deeds.

Albert Goering was Hermann’s younger brother. While his maniacal sibling was killing Jews, Albert worked tirelessly to save them.

The Goering brothers, only two years apart, grew up in a Bavarian castle. From an early age, the two were obviously different. Hermann was bold, confident and obsessed with war games; Albert was shy and thoughtful.

Later, Hermann would tell a psychiatrist from his Nuremberg cell, “Albert was always the antithesis of myself.”

In the 1930’s, ruthless Hermann rose in the ranks of the Nazi party to become Hitler’s top military commander.

Albert was strongly opposed to Nazism and left Germany in protest. He moved to Vienna, where he worked in the film industry and counted Jews among his closest friends.

As Hermann’s campaign against the Jews intensified, so did Albert’s determination to help them.

In Vienna, Albert once came upon a group of Nazi thugs, who had put a sign around an old woman’s neck proclaiming “I am a Jewish sow.” A crowd gathered to mock the woman.

Albert pushed through the mob, and punched two Gestapo officers to save the woman. His life might have ended right there, as the crowd turned on him. The SS men demanded to see his papers.

When they saw his name, they escorted him to safety in deference to Hermann.

When Albert’s Jewish friends in Vienna were arrested by the Nazis, Albert again used his unique position to save them.

He forged documents, using his brother’s name, to help longtime pal Jacques Benbassat escape to Switzerland, and used his influence to get his former boss Oskar Pilzer, and Pilzer’s entire family, freed. Again and again, he saved Jewish lives.

Whole families owe their present existence to Albert. He saved many Jews by sending trucks to Nazi concentration camps with requests for workers. Once aboard, the trucks would take them into a forest and allow them to escape.

After the war, Albert was imprisoned at Nuremberg and interrogated for fifteen months. Nobody believed his story until 34 Jews he’d rescued submitted sworn statements on his behalf.

He was freed, but soon found that his name made him an unemployable pariah. Albert sank into depression and alcoholism, surviving on a small government pension and food packages sent by Jews he had saved.

He died in obscurity in 1966.

Albert’s wartime heroism was unknown until documents were recently unearthed in British archives showing that he saved hundreds of Jews.

For proving that it is our choices that define us, and not our relatives, we honor Albert Goering as this week’s Thursday Hero.

#Thursday Hero

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teetkmost123 · 2 years ago

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Flower (sil): hey wake up, I need to ask you something

Me:

Flower *turn on light*:

Me:

Me: I love you sis, but what the fuck

Flower: Did you washed the dishes last night

Me: No, Yeah? I mean, technically it's was one in the morning today.

Flower: ...what

Me: Yeah, I went down stairs for some water and couldn't help myself, I think I was having an episode

#shitpost #lol #ttk #siblings #younger sibling intensified #siblings things #probably the brain spices #Flower is my big sister in everyway but blood #love the woman #she also thanked me for washing the dishes #pat me on the head #and give me money for bubbletea #and then turned off the light and walked out #she also ask me if I'm okay mentally #but that's irrelevant

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thinkingaboutbetterdays · 7 months ago

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secrets. ( justin russo x reader )

gif belongs to me

You were close to your cousin Zeke, more so than your older siblings, and while you were a year younger than him, he was the one who pulled you along to join him while your siblings often argued it 'wasn't cool' to hang around with their younger sister. Zeke was energetic, goofy and when you were having a bad day he was the only one who could make you laugh.

Due to how close you were with Zeke, you spent a lot of time with Justin who was your first crush and from the moment you met him you only fell more in love with him. When you entered the science fair, the duo helped you win first place, and while Zeke threw his hands in the air as he cheered, almost blurting out that you hadn't worked alone until Justin intervened, the older Russo had brought you into a brief hug, flashing a smile that made your heart pound so loud it drowned out the clapping and Zeke's cheering.

As you grew older you learned how to hide your feelings better, and what better way to do it than in plain sight? Justin was stunned the first time you flirted with him but as time went by it was typical of you both to flirt back and forth, while Zeke remained oblivious to the fact his best friend was falling for his cousin right in front of him.

"I think something is going on with Y/N." Zeke crossed his arms like a concerned parent and Justin halted his movements, looking at his friend.

Recently your cousin noticed the change in your behavior. You would get a call and leave the room he was in to answer it and hide your phone when you got certain text messages. You were working on homework you had set aside in favor of spending time with your boyfriend and after two weeks of your odd behavior, Zeke decided to get a second opinion, approaching where Justin was sweeping the floor.

He looked over at where you were writing an essay on a novel you had read for class, a small smile appearing on his lips briefly before he masked it, shrugging his shoulders as he turned to Zeke.

"She seems fine to me."

"She gets phone calls and texts and either leaves the room or hides the messages from me. I think she's seeing someone."

"What?" Justin scoffed, "That's crazy. Y/N dating someone? She would've said something. Has she said something?" Justin stammered, failing to appear nonchalant.

Zeke shook his head, "But I know her. She's definitely hiding something. A boyfriend. She's got a secret boyfriend."

Justin let his jaw drop, looking at his friend with a stunned expression. "Well - that - she has - wow!"

"We tell each other everything. Why does she feel like she needed to hide this from me?" Zeke frowned, oblivious to his best friend's poor acting skills.

"Maybe she didn't want to make things awkward," Justin replied. It was one of the reasons you had both agreed to keep your relationship a secret until you tested the waters with no outside influence. That way if things fizzled out on their own, Zeke wouldn't feel caught in the middle between his cousin and his best friend, but Justin only felt the heat intensify.

He looked over at where you were texting on your cell phone. He really needed to talk to you about that. Did you feel the same way? Or were your feelings fizzling out? And if so, what could he do to change your mind? Damn it, he really needed to get you alone.

"Don't say anything to her, will you? I don't want her to know that we know." Zeke joined the table where you were sitting and Justin took out his phone, sending you a text message before going outside. You looked at your phone, holding it so Zeke couldn't read the message. Your eyebrows furrowed when you saw Justin's text and slid out of the booth, standing up.

"I'll be right back."

"Cool cool cool." Zeke rambled and you looked at him worriedly before heading outside, looking around for Justin who took your hand and pulled you out of sight of the windows.

"What -"

"He knows," He said. "Well, he doesn't know who you are dating but he knows that you are dating someone."

"That's why he's acting so weird. Correction: weirder than usual." You sighed, a frown forming on your lips.

"We agreed not to tell him until we spend some time together as a couple. That we would break up, no fuss, if things fizzled out."

Your frown deepened, "You want to break up?"

"No!" He exclaimed, "No, no, no. I am very pro-staying together. I just wanted to know how you felt."

A smile formed on your lips as you stepped forward, placing a hand on his chest as you kissed him tenderly. Justin closed his eyes, his hands rising to your arms, as his lips moulded with yours.

"Oh, my god!" You broke apart when you heard Zeke's voice, turning to face your shocked cousin with wide eyes and faded lipstick on your lips.

You looked at Justin who breathlessly called Zeke's name, frozen in place. You gestured to his lips and he shook his head.

"I can't, I'm too freaked out."

You looked at your cousin when he repeated the same three words over and over again, following each step as he paced back and forth.

"Y-You a-a-nd h-him?" Zeke stammered, waggling a finger between you and Justin.

"We didn't tell you because we didn't want to make things awkward between us." You explained gently, "It's always been the three of us and if things didn't work out I didn't want you to feel stuck in the middle."

Zeke looked at Justin, his stunned expression becoming unnervingly serious, "Why would you break up with her?" Before Justin could answer, he continued, "What? She's not good enough for you?"

"No!" Justin shot down, holding his hands up, stuttering as he attempted to elaborate when Zeke raised an eyebrow, walking towards him. "No, I'm not breaking up with her! I'm in love with her!"

You looked at your boyfriend in surprise at his admission, "You're in love with me?"

Justin met your gaze, nodding. "How could I not be? You're perfect."

You smiled and he mirrored it. "I love you too."

Before you could step towards him, Zeke held you back and the smile forming on Justin's lips dropped. "I love you both but I'm not ready to see you kissing again yet."

Justin's shoulders slouched in relief, while you turned to your cousin with a smile. "You're really cool with this?"

"Yeah, the coolest." Zeke grinned down at you before looking at Justin with a serious expression, "Seriously no kissing for at least a month. I'm traumatized."

Justin nodded, immediately agreeing and he held his hand out, thanking Zeke who pulled him into a hug, patting each other on the back before stepping away.

Zeke headed inside the substation and you watched him go with a smile before turning to Justin, tilting your head up when he stood closer than you expected. Your smile grew when he kissed you, placing your hands on his forearms while his hands rested on your cheeks.

"Say it again." He murmured as he broke the kiss.

"I love you. I love you. I love you. I love y-" You trailed off with a giggle as he reignited your kiss.

#justin russo #justin russo x reader #wizards of waverly place

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in1-nutshell · 1 year ago

Note

I’m not sure if you’re accepting requests or not right now or not so if you’re busy or requests are closed you can ignore this sorry for the trouble.

But if you are accepting requests I have a fun lil idea with a bot buddy with a chihuahua alt mode, or is a Predacon that’s like a chihuahua, and this could be in the Transformers Prime universe or the Transformers Animated universe, or whichever of the Transformers universes you think will suit lil chihuahua buddy, all up to you! I hope you have a nice week and things are going well with you! 👁️〰️👁️👍✨

Ooooooh! Never seen a chihuahua bot yet, so let do this!

I randomly picked the continuity for this one along with its characters.

Hope you enjoy!

Bot Buddy with an alt mode of a Chihuahua with Optimus Prime, Bumblebee, and Thrash

SFW, Platonic, Cybertroanian reader

TFE

Buddy knew their alt mode wasn’t the most common.

They meant to scan an electric scooter, but they accidentally scanned the small dog that walked in front of it.

Sure, it took some getting used but Buddy made it work. Buddy mainly hung out in the GHOST bases since they could exactly go out on patrol in more populated places.

Being the teams medic and having fiery outbursts from time to time is quite a combination to have.

Optimus Prime

Buddy was one of Prime’s longest team members.

They greatly supported him in building new relations with the humans once Megatron surrendered.

As acting medic for now (where is Ratchet) Buddy had their servos occupied with Prime and the rest of the Cybertronains living on Earth.

Buddy wielding Optimus new patch job.

“I swear Prime… You must be more careful! What were you thinking when you decided to go up against Soundwave and the mini’s, at once!”--Buddy

“All is fine—”--Optimus

“Oh no, you don’t get to give me that speech again! What do you think Ratchet would do if he heard about this?”--Buddy

“… The wrenches?”--Optimus

“The wrenches. Now hold still.”--Buddy

When Optimus brings Buddy out for patrol, Buddy is in his trailer waiting till it’s okay to come out.

Being a smaller bot, Buddy helps the Prime when things are a bit too small for him to grasp.

If Buddy’s temper gets a bit out of hand, the Prime will simply pick them up and tuck them in his arms.

“Prime! Let me go!”--Buddy

“Not now.”--Optimus

“Let me go!”--Buddy

“No.”--Optimus

“Prime!”--Buddy

“Would you prefer to have Megatron handle you?”--Optimus

“…Fine.”--Buddy

“I feel like I should feel offended.”—Megatron

He just hopes now that Buddy doesn’t find out about Bumblebee or the Terrans yet. They have a reputation of coming off as overprotective, especially of younger bots.

Buddy going through Teletran -1’s data base trying to look for more of Ratchet’s doctor notes.

Finds file named Terrans.

“What’s a Terran?”--Buddy

Buddy looks and finds out about the Terrans, the Maltos home, and Bumblebee.

“What! When did he come out of hiding! When did we get sparklings!”--Buddy

Buddy ran out the base to go see the sparklings themselves.

Meanwhile with Optimus…

“Prime?”—Elita-One

“Something just happened.”--Optimus

“What do you mean Prime.”--Megatron

“I feel as if I made a mistake. A terrible mistake…”--Optimus

Bumblebee

Older sibling and little sibling relationship.

Guess who the oldest.

Buddy was one of the last bots he saw before he went into hiding.

Due to strict communication lines, Buddy and Bee couldn’t talk the entire time.

When Buddy caught wind that Bumblebee was in the area, teaching these ‘Terrans’ and had the audacity to not say hello?

Buddy was already out the door.

“Megatron?”--Optimus

“Prime?”--Megatron

“Have you seen Buddy? They are usually in the console room, but they aren’t there.”--Optimus

“Strange. Lets check the CCT footage.”--Megatron

Video showing Buddy in their alt mode running out of one of the bases entrances and out into the woods.

“…”—Megatron and Optimus

Transforming noises intensifies.

Bee was outside with Thrash and Mo that morning. He wanted to do a one-on-one training lesson with them seeing as they were having trouble keeping up with the others.

Meanwhile in the Maltos house.

“Today we are going to learn about how to dodge.”--Bumblebee

“Dog!”--Thrash

“Umm. I think the word your looking for is ‘dodge’.--Mo

“No ‘dog’!”--Thrash

Buddy jumping on Bumblebee’s helm making him yelp and fall down.

“HOW DARE YOU! YOU HAD THE AUDACITY TO COME OUT OF HIDING AND NOT TELL ME!”--Buddy

“Is that a chihuahua?”--Mo

“Robo chihuahua!”--Thrash

Buddy looks at Terrans and kids then smacks Bee in the horns.

“AND YOU DIDN’T TELL THAT THERE ARE SPARKLINGS HERE!? YOU ARE SO LUCKY I FOUND OUT AND NOT RATCHET!”--Buddy

Through the yelling and all Bumblebee managed to pry Buddy off his face plate to give them a proper hug.

Buddy, while they were still miffed about the whole situation, couldn’t deny their friend a hug.

It truly had been such a long time without communication and they both just missed each other.

“Aww! Bumblebee has a dog!”--Mo

“Excuse me?”--Buddy

“Thrash, Mo this is Buddy. No they are not my pet, they are a good friend of mine.”--Bumblebee

“A friend that you forgot to message when you’d be back.”--Buddy

“Listen I was busy!”--Bumblebee

“You didn’t tell me about the sparklings! Put me down I want to take a look!”--Buddy

“No.”--Bumblebee

“Don’t pull a Prime on me Bumblebee!”--Buddy

Thrash

Thrash was so excited to see Buddy.

Buddy is smaller than Twitch!

Buddy is going into nurse mode trying to check if Thrash and Mo are okay.

Some things are said that make Buddy consider contacting Ratchet for help.

“All right everything seems goo—By the heights of Vos!”--Buddy

“What!?”--Bumblebee

“Where’s your energon levels? How are you even standing?!”--Buddy

“Buddy! There don’t run on energon!”--Bumblebee

“…What…”--Buddy

“Yeah, we drink cave water.”--Thrash

“… cave water”--Buddy

“Its kind of a long story.”--Mo

“And I will hear about this in a bit. Now, Thrash make sure you stretch those joints a bit more often. Mo—”--Buddy

“You scanned Mo?”--Thrash

“You scanned me?”--Mo

“Yes, we’ve been partnering up with humans for a while now, thought it would be beneficial to study a bit about them. Anyways, Mo you might want to start eating more greens.”--Buddy

“Blegh.”--Mo

“Hahaha! Guess your going to have to eat Robbie’s greens to make up for it.”--Thrash

“Robbie?”--Buddy

Bumblebee mouthing ‘No’ to Thrash.

“Yeah! He’s my brother! He is with our other sibling in the dug out right now.”--Mo

“More humans?”--Buddy

“Yes—”--Bumblebee

“Mom, Dad and Robbie are humans. Twitch, Hashtag, Jawbreaker, and Nightshade are Terrans like me!”--Thrash

“…”--Buddy

“Umm, Buddy?”--Thrash

Buddy faints.

After nearly having a spark attack, Buddy decides to talk to them for a bit after Bumblebee suddenly had to step aside for a second to pick up his comms.

Talking to the two was a breath of fresh air for Buddy. Instead of focusing on logistical things and worrying about supplies, Buddy just got to answer simpler questions with the kids.

Buddy has already made a silent vow to protect these two and the other kids they have yet to meet.

#transformers x reader #maccadam #bot buddy #tf earthspark #tfe optimus prime #tfe bumblebee #tfe thrash #tfe x platonic reader

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myprincejacaerys · 7 months ago

Text

The instant Aegon laid eyes upon him, staring down at his crippled form with that cold, expressionless face of his, panic surged through him like wildfire, setting his body ablaze with terror. His younger brother’s calm efforts to hush him only fanned the flames, intensifying his distress.

“What do you remember?”

After a few laboured breaths, Aegon managed to answer.

“Nothing”

The stone mask was completely unreadable, and Aegon found himself gasping in agony as his brother gently enlaced their fingers before pushing something into the most damaged section of his burns.

Aemond leaned over him, daring to come even closer than the apparition had only moments prior, taking no notice of his brother’s anguished whimpers of pain caused by his mockery display of affection.

“You challenged Meleys”

He couldn’t breathe. His surroundings blurred into indistinguishable blobs of light and darkness swirled together as his tormentor refused to let up.

“It was foolish”

The words were dripping with saddened sympathy, and had it been anyone else, it would sound like a younger brother grieving the horrific injuries inflicted upon his beloved sibling.

But Aegon wasn’t just anyone else. Aegon knew his brother better than anyone, even more than their dear mother. Whilst that knowledge had failed to shield him from the unseen danger Aemond posed to him before, it now allowed him to see the stark absence of anything genuine in his brother’s expression.

“I remember nothing”

The words seared his throat like acid as Aegon forced them out of his throat. It was far too early for him to even attempt speaking, but somewhere in his milk-addled mind, he understood exactly how dangerous this situation was.

The outcome of this exchange would dictate his survival.

At least for now.

Aegon's capacity to discern his brother's true intentions was not a one-sided affair. His initial reaction had already betrayed him, meaning Aemond now knew for certain that Aegon has recollection of what truly transpired at Rook's Rest—the real reason he had come so close to being slain.

However-

If Aegon could demonstrate his understanding of this delicate situation, if he could persuade Aemond that he posed no threat, then perhaps his brother might be inclined to spare him.

After a moment, it seemed that Aemond was satisfied with his response. His brother placed a gentle hand above his head, a subtle yet threatening reminder of their power imbalance. Aegon closed his eyes, waiting for the inevitable pain as his brother drew even closer to him.

But it never came. Instead, he felt the press of a soft kiss above his injured brow.

Aegon had never been more afraid of anyone in all his life.

- The Art of Betrayal, Chapter 2

#hotd season 2 #house of the dragon episode 6 #house of the dragon #house of the dragon season 2 #a song of ice and fire #aegon ii targaryen #aemond targaryen #aegond #aegon x aemond #jacaerys velaryon #jacegon #jace x aegon #angst

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dancinglikebutterflywings · 8 months ago

Text

Siblings | Hwang Hyunjin

-> Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin x Sister!Reader

-> Request: from @kayleefriedchicken. Sorry this took so long.

-> Summary: Hyunjin becomes a little jealous of the attention his sister is giving the other.

-> Warnings: pouty Hyunjin. Brother/sister dynamics.

-> Word Count: 507

-> Requests: Open until 31st June.

Hyunjin Masterlist | Tag List Sign-Up | Requesting Guidelines

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Y/N asks her younger brother, who's staring at her with the same pout he always given her from the time he was born. She knows that pout means she's done something he doesn't like. "Stop pouting."

"Stop flirting with my friends," Hyunjin counters, his pout turning into a glare.

"I'm not flirting with anyone," she frowns back at him. "I'm just being friendly," She defends herself, crossing her arms across her chest. "I thought it would be unfair if I only brought you food and not the others. You know we're all like family."

He rolls his eyes, his glare intensifying. "That's not the point. You came to spend time with me, not them. Is it because you like them better? I'm just your annoying little brother."

Her frown deepens, hurt by her brother's accusation. "Yes, you're my annoying little brother but that doesn't mean I like them better than you. I like them but I love you, babo."

He looks at her offended that she called him babo but ultimately chooses to ignore it.

"I didn't mean to make you feel left out or unimportant. I just wanted to show my appreciation for your friends too. I know how important they are to you. It doesn't mean I don't value our time together," she continues, reassuring him that he does come before his friends and will always come before them.

Hyunjin's glare softens slightly, but he remains skeptical. "But you always seem to have more fun with them. Sometimes I feel like I'm just in the background."

Her heart aches at his words. She pulls him in for a hug, which he surprisingly allows, "I'm sorry I made you feel that way. You're my brother, and spending time with you is always special to me. I'll make sure to prioritize our time together from now on."

He looks at her, his expression still guarded but lifts up his pinky, "Promise?"

She nods, her eyes filled with sincerity as she links her pinky with his, "I promise, Hyunnie."

"Okay, I believe you,” he says, a small smile tugs at the corners of his lips, and he finally let's go of his pout. "You know you don't have to try so hard with my friends, right? They already like you. Especially Felix. I don't know why. I think it’s because he just genuinely likes everyone."

She chuckles, relieved to see him starting to lighten up. "Well, that's good to know. Felix is such a sweetheart, it's hard not to like him.”

“That’s true,” he agrees.

“Did you want to come for dinner tonight, my partner is working so I’ll be home all by myself.”

“Let’s make it a movie night,” he says taking her up on her invitation.

“Only if you bring the snacks,” she smiles. “Now, go and enjoy the food before they eat it all. Tell them I’ll see them later.”

“I will,” he says bringing her in for another hug before going back inside the practice room.

TAG LIST: @staytiny2000 - @kpopmenace143 - @treehouse-mouse - @alexxavicry - @jedi-dreea

@rainydayteacups - @tinyelfperson - @yeonjunnie - @laylasbunbunny - @oddracha

@skz1-4-3 - @pinkies-things - @kayleefriedchicken - @everythingboutkpop - @kpopsstuffs

@instabull

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haitani-bruvz · 2 years ago

Text

FAMILY AFFAIRS

Chapter 3

First Meetings: Mikey

previous part

Shinichiro x Reader, Mikey x Reader, Izana x Reader

DARK CONTENT!!! MDNI READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.

Chapter preview: Introduction part 3 of 3. Reader's first time meeting Mikey.

Series TW: Yandere, smut, murder, noncon/dubcon, drugging, kidnapping, pseudo-incest (reader is considered a sibling but not blood-related), physical abuse, emotional abuse, mentions of child abuse and neglectful parents, ages of characters are shifted around a bit (Shin is younger)

July 25th, 1998 No amount of caution could have prepared you for the blazing fire that was Manjiro Sano.

The sun beamed down warmly as you found yourself once again at the local 7/11, a familiar destination since meeting Shinichiro just a couple of weeks prior. It had become a tradition of sorts, as he had been visiting almost every day, taking you out for various adventures, both alone and with Izana. In the past week, you had explored new places, shared laughter, and made memories you were sure would last forever. As you walked together, savoring the cold treats he purchased, a sense of anticipation filled your heart, wondering what exciting stories Shinichiro had in store for you this time.

His voice echoed in your mind as you recalled his stories, the teen often boasting about his remarkable fighting skills and the numerous bike enthusiasts who sought his expertise. While you weren't foolish enough to blindly believe his words, especially if the countless bruises littering his body and Izana's teasing callouts were anything to go by, you couldn't help but be captivated by his ambitions. He spoke with confidence, painting a picture of a future where he would open his own motorcycle shop- a place that would be a safe haven for delinquents and outcasts of every shape and form.

But despite the charm in his spirited narratives, a sense of unease crept into you.

Darkness was hidden beneath the surface, an unsettling feeling that lingered within. Shinichiro, who had always been accepting and kind, seemed to be holding back more and more with every interaction. There were moments when his eyes seemed distant, as if he was purposefully concealing certain details, hints of shadows lurking in his tales.

The very thought perplexed you, for he had always been open and forthcoming. Yet subtle clues in his demeanor whispered of secrets. Confusion washed over you as you questioned your own instincts. Why did you feel this discomfort, this uneasiness, when everything between the two of you had been nothing short of genuine warmth and friendship?

Being with the teen had Shadows dancing at the edge of your consciousness, teasing you with half-formed memories that refused to fully materialize. For instance, you had never touched a motorcycle before meeting Shin, let alone ridden one, so why did the weight of the helmet and the scent of the rubber feel so familiar? Why had you known exactly where to place your hands and feet?

And it wasn't like it was an isolated experience either- an invisible thread connected him and Izana, binding them together in shared secrets that eluded your grasp.

Since Shinichiro started visiting more frequently and your relationship grew, Izana's restlessness intensified. His already short temper seemed to shrink even further, lashing out at anyone within a 6-foot radius. Finding a mere five minutes of solitude became a rare luxury as Izana's grip tightened around your throat, dictating your every move with an iron hand. Even Kakucho, who was usually lax on the 'rules' when Izana wasn't around, took the new role of personal guardian extremely seriously. The only reason you found yourself on this ice cream outing today was because the tanned boy insisted on your absence from the orphanage, claiming that he had personal matters that he didn't want you in attendance for. Despite the challenges and secrecy that surrounded him, you couldn't help but love and be profoundly grateful for his presence in your life. Through it all, he had been a fiercely loyal and caring friend, offering protection and support when you needed it most.

You often speculated on what his life might have been like before the orphanage. Did his parents die like yours and Kaku's did? Was he abandoned like some of the other kids were? Whatever happened, you know his reluctance to speak about it only further fed into your belief that it was his pain that forged the protective shield around him. It was easy to convince yourself that his overbearing nature stemmed from a place of genuine concern and care. After all, it was only natural for someone who had experienced loss to be fiercely protective over those they held dear. With each passing day, you couldn't help but construct a narrative that lent understanding to Izana's behavior, almost as if his undisclosed past justified his actions in the present. In doing so, you unknowingly excused the uneasiness you sometimes felt, seeking solace in the belief that his intentions were pure and his overprotectiveness was a testament to his love for you.

Lost in thought, your attention only snaps back to reality when Shinichiro calls your name a second time. Raising your gaze, you become aware of how long you've been staring blankly at your spoon. Offering him an apologetic smile, you silently hope that he didn't catch onto your deep distraction.

"Sorry, what did you say?" You ask him, trying to sound as casual as possible.

A small smile tugged at the corners of Shinichiro's lips as he spoke, his eyes filled with anticipation. "Well, my birthday is coming up in a couple of days, and I wanted to know if you'd like to come over to my house for dinner. It's going to be a small gathering, just my grandpa and a few others," he explained, a hopeful tone in his voice.

You felt a flutter of excitement in your chest at the invitation, realizing that it would be your first time attending a real birthday party. It was a chance to be a part of Shinichiro's special day, to share in the warmth and celebration of his family, something you never got to experience in your own home.

"I'd love to come, Shin-nii! Thank you for inviting me," you replied, a huge smile brightening your face.

But then, Shinichiro's expression shifted slightly, a shadow of hesitance crossing his face. "There's something you should know, though," he said, his voice taking on a tone of concern. "Izana… well, I'm sure you've noticed that he's not very comfortable around people he doesn't know. It stresses him out, and I don't want him to feel uneasy during the meal." He paused for a moment, turning his gaze to search your expression before continuing, "That's why I think it's best if we keep it a secret from him."

Conflicting emotions stirred within you. On one hand, you understood where Shin was coming from. His genuine concern for Izana was apparent; He knew the boy much longer than you had, and you didn't want him to feel overwhelmed or forced into a situation that made him uncomfortable. But on the other hand, a small part of you questioned the true intentions behind Shinichiro's request. Was it solely for Izana's well-being, or was something else hidden beneath the surface? He never had seemed to have a problem bringing Izana around others before,so what made this time so different…?

Your mind raced with thoughts and doubts, unsure of the best course of action. You looked at Shinichiro, searching for answers in his face, but found only sympathy and determination.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" you hesitantly voiced your concerns. "I think Izana could relax and have fun if we were there with him. Me and Kaku could maybe help if…" you trailed off before speaking again, "I don't want him to think that he isn't fun to be around."

Shinichiro's eyes held yours, his gaze unwavering. "He has his own way of handling things, (Y/N). I just thought it would be better for everyone if we kept this separate from him. It's not that I don't want him to be there, but sometimes… sometimes it's easier to avoid unnecessary conflicts," he explained, his words carrying a weight you couldn't quite grasp.

You slowly nodded as you took in his words.

Gratefulness filled Shinichiro's smile as he responded, "Thank you, (Y/N). I knew I could count on you. It means a lot to me, and I promise you'll have a great time, my grandpa makes a mean Hayashi rice!."

August 1st, 1998

The days leading up to Shinichiro's birthday had flown by, and you had successfully kept the secret hidden from Izana and Kakucho. Surprisingly, it hadn't been as challenging as you had initially expected. Both boys were serving some form of punishment following your last outing with Shin, and the two were kept separate from the rest of the kids. You didn't know the specifics, but apparently, they had snuck out and gotten into some trouble with a few middle school kids.

As for Shinichiro, you hadn't seen much of him either since that eventful day. However, a brief encounter occurred when he visited the orphanage workers to discuss Izana's current situation. During that fleeting moment, Shinichiro approached you and explained that Izana and Kaku would be on what the orphanage referred to as 'isolation' for the next two weeks. Additionally, Shinichiro mentioned that he, too, wouldn't be around as frequently due to pressing matters that required his attention at home with his grandpa. Nevertheless, he reassured you that he would be present on his birthday to pick you up and take you to his house.

The news of Izana and Kaku's isolation, along with Shinichiro's temporary absence, left a void within the familiar dynamics of your interactions. The orphanage felt eerily quiet without their presence, and it made you realize just how much you had grown accustomed to their company. Though uncertain about the exact nature of their punishment, you couldn't help but hope that the two boys would learn and grow from this experience.

During these rare moments of solitude, you devoted yourself to creating a special gift for Shinichiro. It was a keychain with the letters "S&S" for Shinichiro Sano, messily intertwined with beads and string. You envisioned it as the emblem for his future motorcycle shop, hoping to tease him about how it was far cooler than the corny name he had initially chosen, "Black Dragon Bikes." A smirk tugged at the corners of your lips as you imagined his reaction to the playful jab.

As the day of Shinichiro's birthday arrived, a mix of anticipation and nervousness fluttered in your chest. You stood by the window, watching for his arrival. The gift was safely tucked away in your pocket, ready to be presented to him. Thoughts swirled through your mind, wondering if he would like it, if it would be meaningful enough.

Moments later, you saw Shinichiro approaching, a wide smile stretching across his face. He exuded an air of excitement, and your heart swelled in response. Stepping outside to greet him, you held out the carefully crafted keychain, the metal gleaming in the soft sunlight.

"Happy birthday, Shin-nii," your voice shyly uttered as you extended your hand, presenting the carefully crafted gift. "I made this for you. The 'S&S' can be a logo for your motorcycle shop, way cooler than 'Black Dragon Bikes,' don't you think?" A playful glimmer danced in your eyes as you teased him, awaiting his reaction to your light-hearted jab.

A wide smile spread across Shinichiro's face as he accepted the gift, his eyes lighting up with appreciation. "Thank you, (Y/N). This is amazing," he said, his voice filled with gratitude. "And hey, don't be too hard on Black Dragon Bikes. It has its own charm, you know?" He chuckled, gently nudging your shoulder playfully. "But you're right, 'S&S' has a certain ring to it. Maybe I should consider rebranding in the future."

The playful banter between you and Shinichiro always brought a sense of warmth and comfort. It was moments like these that reminded you of the genuine connection you shared. You couldn't help but feel a surge of happiness, knowing that your small gesture had brought him joy on his special day.

Just as you were about to climb onto his bike, a movement caught your eye. Glancing up towards the second-floor window of the orphanage, your heart skipped a beat. There, partially concealed behind the glass, was Kakucho's scarred eye, watching you intently. A jolt of unease ran down your spine as a wave of realization washed over you.

Your gazes met just as the engine roared to life, and in that fleeting moment, the weight of the secrets you were hiding from Izana and Kakucho crashed back into your consciousness. Doubts and questions flooded your mind, and a wave of guilt washed over you. Were you betraying the trust and bond you had with both Izana and Kakucho? The unspoken truth hung heavy in the air, and you couldn't shake the unease that settled within you.

Shinichiro, unaware of the silent exchange between you and Kakucho, revved the engine of his motorcycle, breaking the tension that had settled upon you. His voice carried a hint of excitement as he called out to you, "Ready to go?" Swallowing hard, you forced a smile and nodded. Pushing aside the unease that had taken hold of you, you climbed onto the back of the bike, wrapping your arms around Shinichiro's waist.

The ride to Shinichiro's house was a short one, lasting only about 30 minutes, but it felt much longer as your anxious thoughts consumed your mind. As the wind rushed past you, you couldn't help but wonder if Kakucho had somehow found out about your secret rendezvous with Shinichiro. What would he say to Izana? Would he be disappointed in you? And what about Izana himself? Would he be angry or hurt by your actions?

As Shinichiro and you arrived at his house, the motorcycle's engine cut off, casting a hush over the surroundings. Shinichiro took the lead, his steps confident and familiar, while you followed closely behind. Approaching the front door, subtle signs of a well-lived home caught your attention. Your gaze wandered, taking note of the pairs of shoes neatly arranged near the entrance. Among them were larger shoes that undoubtedly belonged to Shinichiro's grandpa, a reminder of the elder's presence in the household. But what caught your attention were the smaller pairs of shoes, seemingly for kids your age.

The weathered welcome mat greeted you as you crossed the threshold into Shinichiro's world. Guiding you inside, Shinichiro steered you through his living room, "Please have a seat on the couch," Shinichiro gestured, his voice warm and inviting. "I'll just park and lock my bike. I won't be long."

As you settled onto the couch, the tantalizing aroma of savory food wafted through the air, hinting at the delicious meal being prepared in the kitchen. However, your attention remained fixated on the impending conversation with Izana.

"I just hope he isn't mad at me," you thought, your fingers nervously tugging at the loose threads on your t-shirt. The uncertainty gnawed at your thoughts as you anxiously awaited Shinichiro's return from locking up his motorcycle. The seconds felt like an eternity as your mind raced with possibilities and apprehensions.

Interrupted by the sound of a throat being cleared, your attention snapped to the source of the disturbance.

Approaching you with a serious expression was a young boy, his short blonde hair contrasting with his striking black eyes that closely resembled Shinichiro's.

The boy wasted no time sizing you up, approaching you with a question that caught you off guard.

"You're new," he said, his tone challenging. "You here to fight me?"

Caught off guard by the unexpected question, you found yourself momentarily at a loss for words. People at the orphanage had often avoided you due to Izana's intimidating presence, so this direct interaction was unfamiliar territory.

Before you could respond, Shinichiro entered the room, swiftly diffusing the tension. "Hey, what did I tell you about picking fights with people?" he scolded the blonde boy, playfully tapping the back of his head. "This is YN, a friend from the orphanage. YN, this is my little brother, Manjiro."

The revelation that Shinichiro had an actual little brother left you momentarily stunned.

The blonde let out a hum, suddenly very invested in your presence.

'Orphanage?" he eyed you suspiciously before continuing, "So do you know Iz-",

Shinichiro quickly interrupted him, shooting him a warning look.

"Don't even start."

It sent a shiver down your spine, but Shinichiro quickly shifted his demeanor, offering you a reassuring smile. Manjiro pouted at the interruption but agreed to put the challenge aside. He extended his hand to you, addressing you as "yn-chan" and requesting you to call him Mikey instead.

He's always like that with new people," Shinichiro explained, ruffling your hair reassuringly. "Don't take it personally. Grandpa should be back with Emma soon, so why don't you two go play and get to know each other better? We'll have that Hayashi I promised when they're here."

With a nod of agreement, you allowed Mikey to drag you to his room. He informed you that Emma was their little sister and that although she was 'kind of a weirdo' (Mikey's words, not yours), she was cool. He enthusiastically shared stories about a toy plane Shinichiro had given him and his adventures with his friends, promising to introduce you to them in the future. While you were interested in meeting his friends, you weren't so sure about this Baji kid. Mikey's stories didn't paint him as the friendliest, and you had a feeling Izana wouldn't approve of you befriending someone who seemed to have an even shorter fuse than he had.

Mikey's enthusiasm was infectious as he bounced on his toes, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "Come on, YN! Let's have a little spar. I want to show you how strong I am and how I can protect you!" You hesitated, recalling Shinichiro's warning not to engage in any fights. Besides, you weren't exactly the most skilled fighter, and the idea of going up against someone as energetic as Mikey seemed daunting. "I don't know Mikey, Shinichiro said no fighting," you replied, trying to reason with him. But Mikey's persistence knew no bounds. He continued to urge you, his determination shining through. "Aw, come on! Just a friendly little match. It'll be fun, I promise!" he insisted.

Reluctantly, you gave in, unable to resist his infectious spirit. "Alright, just a friendly spar," you conceded, realizing that Mikey wouldn't let it go until you agreed.

The two of you found a suitable spot in his room, preparing yourselves for the impromptu match. You took a deep breath, trying to focus on your limited combat skills. However, before you even had a chance to gather your bearings, Mikey sprang into action. His speed was astonishing as he swiftly closed the distance between you. Within moments, he had pinned you down, his laughter filling the air. "Gotcha!" he exclaimed, his playful grin widening before suddenly stilling.

You couldn't help but laugh along with him, realizing just how quick and agile Mikey truly was. Despite being caught off guard, you couldn't deny the excitement of the friendly tussle. "Okay, okay, you win," you admitted, acknowledging his victory and waiting for him to move so you could get up.

A few tense moments lingered as Mikey continued to hold you down, his grip tightening with each passing second. You tried to break free by wiggling underneath him, hoping to alleviate the pressure but his hold remained strong.

"Okay, Mikey, you're strong," you uttered, your voice laced with a hint of desperation. "Now, let me up. I don't want to play this anymore."

But his gaze remained fixated, almost vacant, as if he couldn't hear your pleas. It sent a shiver down your spine, the fear slowly creeping in. You felt trapped, uncertain of what was happening and how to make it stop. Just as panic started to rise within you, you heard Shinichiro's voice calling from downstairs. "Mikey, YN, come down! Emma and Grandpa are here!"

The sound of Shinichiro's voice seemed to break the hold over Mikey. His expression shifted, returning to the mischievous boy you had come to know. He grinned and shrugged as if attempting to play off his previous behavior. "Heh, just messing with you, YN-chan. Let's go meet Emma and Grandpa!" he said, his voice lighthearted once again.

As the day progressed and you spent more time with Mikey, his company grew more enjoyable. His humor and kindness were endearing, and he proved himself to be a skilled teaser, constantly poking fun at Shinichiro just as much, if not more, than Izana did. The room was taken aback when he surprised everyone by offering you the last slice of cake, a gesture he had never made, according to their Grandpa.

Yet, beneath the surface of his cheerful demeanor, a nagging feeling tugged at the back of your mind. There was an underlying darkness, an unsettling presence that seemed to emanate from Mikey. While he assured you that the earlier sparring incident was all in good fun, a part of you couldn't shake off the fear it had instilled. It was as if he wasn't entirely himself during that moment, and it left you on edge.

Spending time with Mikey throughout the day, you couldn't help but draw comparisons between him and Izana. While Izana had an intimidating presence and a fierce determination to shield you from harm, Mikey possessed a different kind of charm. He shared the same striking black eyes as Shinichiro, which brought a sense of familiarity and comfort, but there was something in the depth of Mikey's gaze that reminded you of Izana. It was as if a flicker of intensity and underlying darkness lurked behind those eyes, hinting at a complexity that mirrored Izana's enigmatic persona.

It intrigued you how Mikey could possess Shinichiro's lightheartedness yet harbor a depth reminiscent of Izana. It was a unique blend of contrasting qualities that made him even more intriguing. His playful nature and mischievous spark were juxtaposed with the hint of an untamed spirit and an unwavering determination. It became evident that he was deeply connected to Shinichiro and, as his little brother, must have inherited some of the qualities that made Shinichiro so cool in your eyes. If Shinichiro trusted and cared for Mikey, perhaps befriending him wouldn't be a mistake. After all, Shinichiro had become a significant part of your life, and his judgment now held weight in your decision-making process. You found solace in the fact that Mikey, being related to Shinichiro, had the potential to be a reliable ally and friend.

As these thoughts swirled in your mind, you decided to give Mikey a chance. Despite the nagging feeling of something hidden beneath his cheerful facade, you acknowledged that everyone had their complexities. Just like Izana, Mikey might have his own struggles and dark moments, but that didn't mean he couldn't be a good person or a true friend.

If only you had realized that comparing others to Izana as a measure of goodness was a flawed approach, perhaps you could have protected yourself from the impending dangers that awaited you.

a/n: I hope you all enjoyed it! Sorry for the long wait, life has been so crazy lately. New chapter is already in the works so please wait for it <3

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