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tellerluna-stories · 1 year

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episode 06: the puppy-boy bites back!

CONTENTS: 01. 02. 03. 04. 05. 06. 07. m.list!

TW/CW: mentions of violence. manipulative and entitled behaviour but from neither of the main characters.

A/N: I have returned, with eyebags aplenty and an extra chapter for the readers who didn't give up on this fic for some reason. thank u for waiting :((

“What’s on your mind?”

Thoma mirrored your pose, resting his head on top of his desk and gazing at you with a sympathetic look in his eyes; as usual, his hair flopped to the side like a pair of puppy-dog ears, giving him the appearance of a lounging golden retriever.

“Nothing much.” A smile made its way to your face in spite of yourself— the effect of a puppy-boy, no less. “Just wondering why everyone has been looking at me funny. It’s been quite a while now.”

Perhaps it was because of the bandages that still adorned your arms, or the new rumours that now surrounded you wherever you went, but you now had the reputation of a cold-hearted delinquent who ruthlessly picked fights with anyone who dared challenge you. Some whispered that you had done so to valiantly protect the honour of Thoma, but all good intentions were easily washed away in the sea of misinformation that was a school campus.

Well, you had to admit it was better to be feared than to be ridiculed, because at least people gave you a wide berth in the hallways. Now you never had to worry about getting squished to death during the rush for freshly-baked bread in the cafeteria.

“They’re jealous of you, that’s what.” He whispered back, giving you a goofy smile. “Not everyone gets to sport the cool bandage look like you do.”

“I look like I have eighth-grader syndrome.”

“Well I think it’s cool.” Thoma declared with an air of finality as he reached for your hands. “And I also think they're looking a little loose, so let me check them for you.”

You reluctantly allowed him to take your hands in his, ignoring the chills that surged down your arms as his fingers ghosted over your bandages. They were already healing nicely, so why did he insist on checking them every day?

“Just as I suspected.” Your (very clueless) puppy-nurse clicked his tongue, shaking his head in disapproval. “I did tell you not to flail around too much— if you keep doing that they’re going to come off and leave the wounds exposed.”

“Well, what am I supposed to do? I hold a pencil and the whole thing falls off.”

“Then just hold still and let me fix it for you. I’ll keep fixing these no matter how many times it takes.”

Your traitorous heart jumped into your throat and nearly caused you to choke on your spit; it would be wise if someone told Thoma to not spew out such embarrassing lines out of the blue, because even the stoniest of hearts would quiver at such cheesy words.

(But in reality, you knew that it only had this effect on you because of the person who was saying it. Stupid puppy-boy.)

“Is Thoma here?”

Said an unfamiliar voice, causing everyone’s heads to snap to its source; a stranger hovered in the doorway, obstructing the path of practically everyone who might’ve wanted to enter the classroom. She was a fairly pretty girl, with shiny, well-kept hair and sparkling eyes— if you had actually remembered to pay attention to other people, you might’ve identified her as one of the more popular students in one of the other classes.

Her shining eyes fixated on the puppy-boy beside you, who was fiddling with your bandages with an adorable frown on his face; in turn, everyone’s gazes followed suit to stare at Thoma. The weight of their gazes made you squirm.

“Psst.” You nudged him with your foot. “Someone’s looking for you.”

“I’m almost done, wait…” He only scrunched up his face even further, practically burying his face into the palms of your hands as he tucked a loose end away. You almost died right then and there.

“Thoma, I don’t think she can wait.”

Meanwhile the girl had invited herself in, slipping between the rows of desks with a natural grace; silently she made her way to where you and Thoma sat… and then she proceeded to stand there, radiating the most intimidating aura that you’d ever seen a person emit.

“Thoma.” You hissed, nudging him even harder this time. “Hurry up.”

Something sharp and intense practically bored itself into the back of your head, and you looked up to see a pair of slightly puffy eyes looking down on you; somehow, it felt like she was looking down on you in more ways than one.

The girl rapped lightly on the top of Thoma’s desk, finally catching his attention. He looked up just in time for her to ask, “Could I speak to you after school?”

You nearly kicked Thoma from the sheer straightforwardness of her question.

Was this the famed after-school confession that you’d only heard about? Back when you had been counseling regularly, this method of confessing was one of the most preferred by your clients due to its convenience. There was less chance of getting interrupted by class activities or watchful teachers, and behind the football field was a popular place to confess to the one you admired.

(Hey, even if you hadn’t directly advised confessions, it was hard not to hear about all the romance-gossip that people liked to spew.)

“I- well…” Thoma’s eyes flickered briefly to meet yours, a faint shadow passing over his face.

“You don’t have to, but if you can…” The pretty girl’s voice faltered, and her fingers fidgeted with the edge of her uniform. “Please- please meet me behind the football field.”

Yep, it definitely was an after-school confession.

And on that note she left, leaving the classroom erupting in cheers as your classmates all congratulated Thoma.

But somehow you couldn’t shake the uneasiness that hung over you like a dark cloud, weighing over your shoulders like an anchor wrapped in chains. The unpleasant look she had given you was one thing you could easily brush aside, but as for Thoma…

He fidgeted uneasily in his seat, awkwardly smiling as he received congratulations all around. Surely it wasn’t the first time he had received such a request, so why did he look so… uncomfortable? Everyone seemed approving of the situation, and even you had to admit that he looked good together with that girl.

One of your seatmates shoved Thoma by the shoulder playfully, muffled cheers of both awe and jealousy echoing in your ears like a distant dream— it was then that the realisation hit you like a bolt from the blue.

It was as if everyone expected him to automatically accept the confession of a pretty girl simply because he was 'Everyone's Thoma', a pretty face who was destined for a stellar life. A perfect girl who was perfectly suited for a perfect boy, a perfect couple who were both absolutely ideal in every way possible.

(Ah, why did those words taste so bitter in your mouth?)

Anyway, it didn't matter whether Thoma wanted this path or not, because as long as he had the title worthy of a protagonist, everyone would be watching him… and just waiting to pounce on him once they deemed he had fallen from their good graces. He would be judged if he turned down a blessing such as this, and he would be judged if he accepted it.

“Thoma…” Subconsciously you reached out for his sleeve, but something stopped your fingers before they could— at this point, you weren’t even sure if you had the right to ask him if he was alright.

You weren’t someone who was blind to the hierarchy of this world; in terms of social standing, you were currently at the very bottom of the food chain. Perhaps a highschool match-maker would have had better chances of being viewed as an acceptable side character to Thoma’s role as protagonist, but a delinquent, on the other hand… who were you, to drag him down with you?

“Did you say something?” His gaze flicked to you; the way those angelic eyes lit up made you squirm with guilt. Maybe those people were right, after all.

“Nah, it wasn’t anything important.” Your fingers curled into a tight fist, digging into your palms and leaving crescent-moon marks of shame— greedy Icarus, to reach for the heavens. You of all people did not deserve to stand with the sun, no matter how much hope kindled in your heart for such a dream. “Are you going to go see her?”

A smile worked its way up Thoma’s face, but this one was different; it was not his usual honey-sweet smile, forged from gold and sunshine eternal. This smile was of bitter resignation, the realisation that he never would truly be free from the expectations weighing down on his shoulders. You wanted to wipe that bitter smile from his face in an instant, even if you had to use your very lips to do so.

Sorry, what? said the small, intrusive part of your brain. Didn’t hear that last part clearly.

No, you told yourself firmly. This sick, unpleasant feeling that twisted in your gut like an angry snake was certainly not jealousy, and you were not going to let this or your own personal feelings get to your head and possibly ruin your friendship with Thoma. You were going to be fine and wish him the best with a smile on your face, and whatever outcome he chose, you would support him— that was what Thoma needed right now, and that was all you were going to do.

“Oy, Thoma.” Your voice cracked slightly. “Don’t… don’t let yourself be a piece of bread anymore.”

He gave you a look, and you suddenly realised what you had just said.

Was that seriously the best you could do?! You screamed internally, suppressing the urge to bash your head against the nearest wall— not even something comprehensive, like ‘I support whatever decision you make’ or ‘Follow your heart’?

Emerald-green eyes stared at you unwaveringly for one heart-beat, two heart-beats… and then the bitterness in Thoma’s smile disappeared, melting away like a bad dream as he broke into a real smile. “Again with the bread?”

Heat flooded to your face. “I- Well, in my defense—“

“Don’t worry, I understand what you’re talking about.” For the first time, you noticed the faint dimples on his cheeks as Thoma grinned even wider. “But even if I’m not bread, I’m still a snack, right?”

“…Shut it.”

Your heart throbbed painfully as he laughed, and part of you wondered if you had done the right thing. Reminding him that he had the freedom to choose was one thing, but could you really support him if he chose something that you did not like? Were you selfish enough to turn away if he didn’t choose you? The rolling, unpleasant feeling from earlier returned, simmering in the pit of your stomach as you thought of that pretty girl and her shining, disdainful eyes— oh, how you desperately hoped that you would never have to suffer through the pain of making such a choice.

It wasn’t her fault she was pretty, nor was it your classmates fault for pairing her up with Thoma… but why did you feel this way?

You swallowed hard, devouring any feelings that might overstep the boundaries of your friendship; it wouldn’t matter if a garden flourished in your lungs from all the times you swallowed your blooming emotions. And he smiled away, oblivious to your inner turmoil.

“Well, I suppose I can’t run away from things forever.”

He leaned back in his chair and stretched, pushing his notebooks to where you could reach them. “I’ll just be out for a minute, but I’ll be back for you.”

I’ll be back for you…?

Before you knew it, a warm, ticklish sensation landed on the top of your head— Thoma’s eyes softened as he ruffled your hair, his fingers tracing briefly against the curve of your cheek as he pulled away all too soon. You could only stare mutely as he slipped out of the classroom, taking every colour in your world with him.

Time seemed to pass slowly without Thoma by your side.

The perfect-attendance student who never skipped a single class was missing from the classroom, with no hints as to where he had gone. From the reactions of everyone else in your class, they were just as equally in the dark about the matter as you were.

You told yourself it didn’t matter; it wasn’t like you weren’t used to being alone in the first place. You’d simply return to the same old routine as before.

But deep down you knew that it did matter to you.

Somehow your world had become muted, the colours dull and lifeless wherever you looked; everything was mechanically routine, a dull blur of ordinary life that felt so empty. Open your notebook, write down what the teacher was saying, then open your textbook to highlight the sections that were to be studied for today. Line up your pencils and pens into a straight line next to your eraser, with the ruler placed across the front of the desk like a nameplate. Your free periods were spent just as you had always wanted— in peace and quiet, and alone.

It was as if Thoma had never existed in your life in the first place; there were no conversations brimming with laughter during free period, no passing of little notes when the teacher’s back was turned. When lunchtime came, no-one came to drag you to the rooftop and feed you home-cooked food with his own chopsticks. Was this really what your life had been like before you met Thoma?

If so, how truly miserable, you thought ruefully. By the time the last bell rang, it had already sunk in how truly alone you were without him, and you loathed yourself for feeling that way. Somewhere along the line, that puppy-boy had wormed his way into your life and now you were left with an aching heart when he wasn’t around. How wonderfully pathetic.

Your grip tightened on the straps of your backpack as you marched out of the classroom, hyper-aware of all the eyes that followed you as you left. They all probably thought you were pathetic, too.

Where was he?

“Yo, have any of you seen where Thoma went?” One student asked loudly, intimidating everyone in the classroom with his extreme height and bright red eyeliner that was almost certainly against the dress-code. Next to him, a tall girl with dark bobbed hair tutted, smacking the top of his head with a rolled-up sheaf of papers. “Lower your voice, Crimson Idiot.”

“I didn’t ask you, Bird-brain.”

You ignored their squabbling and listened closely to the people around you, fishing for any info on where Thoma might’ve been. Seriously, how hard was it to find one puppy-boy?

“…Probably headed for behind the football field……”

“Isn’t that where people confess?”

“So that girl from earlier…”

Your gaze fixed on Thoma’s backpack, lying where he had left it. Perhaps you were just projecting, but it looked almost as lonely as you felt without him— and thus an idea sprung to mind.

Gritting your teeth, you swung what must have been at least fifty tons of overpriced educational material onto your back and stalked out of the classroom, ignoring the stares of your classmates. Get the backpack to Thoma, you chanted to yourself. Go behind the football field to see what’s really going on. But not because you were jealous or anything like that.

Find Thoma and bring him his backpack.

Go behind the football field and figure out what was happening.

FInd Thoma, because anything— anything would be better than this dull, lifeless world. Anything would be better than holding this ball of nauseating jealousy and insecurity in your stomach. For all you knew, he actually might’ve liked that girl, but- but…

You tightened your grip on his backpack straps, grounding your reality with the feeling of rough fabric against your trembling fingertips. It was time to get a move on.

Filled with a reckless bravery that was most unlike yourself, you had set off on another journey, similar to the journeys you had taken before. But this one was not a quest for delicious fresh-baked goods-- it was a quest to seek out a fair-haired prince who might or might not need rescuing.

Oh, and while lugging what must’ve been the world’s heaviest backpack in tow.

Flinging down the backpack with the last of your strength, you practically collapsed against the nearest wall and heaved for air— oxygen, sweet oxygen, don’t abandon this poor soul just yet.

You’d hauled Thoma’s bag all over the school as you checked all of the places he might’ve been, running upstairs and downstairs in search of one very elusive puppy-boy. Maybe it would’ve been wiser to just go straight to the football field and wait for him there, but there was no guarantee he was even going to be there if you had looked there first.

(And you had ended up dragging that bag everywhere only to end up at the final destination anyway— that is, behind the football field.)

Even if it was an inanimate object, the offending backpack was not spared from the venomous glare you shot its way; you made a mental note to teach Thoma a couple of things, such as packing light for school, or the magic of digital textbooks. Maybe you’d even teach him the forbidden knowledge of free textbook websites— anything just so that he’d stop hauling around the Library of Alexandria in his backpack.

“-excuse me, but…”

The faint sound of voices brought you out of your self-induced misery, hushed tones coming from right around the corner; one the soft notes of a girl’s voice, and the other a very, very familiar way of barking– speaking. You pressed close to the wall, straining your ears to catch any words that he might be saying.

“You’re the friend of the girl who came to my classroom the other day, right?” Yep, that voice was definitely a puppy-boy’s.

Your curiosity (nosiness) got the better of you, and you dove into a nearby bush in order to camouflage your presence. You couldn’t see much with all the branches in the way, but you could at least make out Thoma standing with his back to you, a slight slouch in his posture and his hands shoved in his pockets.

…Weird.

You frowned slightly; for as long as you had known him, he had always stood with perfectly upright posture wherever he went, even to the point of nagging you about your own horrendous slouch. Now seemed like an odd time to be hypocritical.

“Ah, yes, that’s me…” Slouch or no slouch, the girl still blushed at the sight of Thoma, fanning her face with one hand. “Thank you for meeting me out here today.”

"Is what she said true— that you have feelings for me?"

Your heart caught itself in your throat; even though you absolutely hated to admit it, they looked good together. Two upright main characters in a world of their own, the perfect confession scene set up and the sidekick (yours truly) sitting in the bushes till your legs cramped over to death. And of course she’d have feelings for him, too– even you weren't immune to his charms, something which still made you want to pull your hair out every time you thought of it.

She blushed even more and hid her face behind her hands, mumbling some response that you couldn't quite catch… but from her body language, the answer was most likely a yes. Of course it would be a yes.

“...I see.” His jaw tensed, and you suddenly noticed why he had been holding his hands in his pockets this whole time— for the entire conversation, Thoma had had his hands balled into fists.

What was going on here?

You clamped a hand over your mouth to suppress an ugly shriek— calm down, calm down, he didn’t seem to be postured to actually throw hands with some random girl. He wasn’t the type to start fights, anyway.

(All the same, you stole a guilty glance at your bandaged hands and mentally begged for forgiveness from his parents. Thoma was far too kind-hearted to actually hit someone, but still… sorry for being a bad influence on your son!)

Blissfully unaware, the girl coyly peeked through her fingers and smiled at him; it was clear that she was waiting for the “right” response to her confession, a perfect fairy-tale ending to this scene if this had been a rom-com film. But on the other hand, you weren’t so sure if Thoma was in the same genre…

His fist released slightly, the sound of a soft exhale barely audible over the background noise. “Frankly speaking, I…”

You waited with bated breath, every nerve tingling as Thoma paused to think over his next words. Your rival– er, the other girl also eagerly awaited his response, her eyes shining with anticipation through her fingers.

“...I’m not too fond of people who twist the truth for their own convenience.”

The blood chilled in your veins, freezing to a sudden stand-still from the sudden temperature drop.

At the same time, the smile froze onto the girl’s face. “Pardon?”

“Oh, I think that you and I both know what I’m talking about here. There have been some strange rumours flying around, and, well…” Thoma’s voice was light and easy-going once again, as if the sudden coldness had never existed in the first place. He very well could have been discussing what he had just had for lunch, or his plans for after school.

“...Well, rumours are just rumours, right?” She gave a nervous laugh, the sound of footsteps echoing against the asphalt as she stepped back. The branches rustled conspicuously as you squinted through the foliage– you couldn’t get a good view of the conversation if she kept fidgeting around and away from where you could see her.

“I certainly agree with that statement,” He replied. “But rumours cause more problems if they’re not taken care of– why, I heard that a fight broke out recently because of a small misunderstanding.”

“Oh, my. That- that sounds awful, really…”

“It really is! What a horrible incident, too.”

Thoma shook his head ruefully, crossing his arms in a less-than-friendly manner; the girl nearly stumbled as she backed away, her smile twisting as her nerves began to show through. “Someone I hold very dear to me got hurt because of this, and the worst thing is that I can’t even find out who spread such dreadful lies.”

Was Thoma still hung up on that? You frowned– you could’ve sworn that you told him to let it be. And he was the one telling you not to be offended by things on his behalf. Hypocrite.

“I don’t take very kindly to such things, especially when it involves the safety of the people I care about.” A beat, before he continued, “You understand what I mean, right?”

“...Yes.”

“Really? I’m so glad to hear that.” A light, airy chuckle fills the air. “In that case… why did you spread those rumours?”

Silence. Fabric rustled as Thoma shifted his weight back to presumably look her in the eye. You did not want to know what sort of face he was making (okay, maybe you did. But just a little bit.)

“Ah- I think… I think you may have misunderstood something here. You may have mistaken me for someone else—”

“Oh, but I happened to hear a different story.” He seethed— no, growled would have been a more fitting description, though by some miracle Thoma still barely managed to keep a semblance of politeness. “The chemistry club, the president of the astronomy club… even the head of the student council and Ms. Minci herself. They all heard someone going around telling people about poor, innocent Thoma being manipulated by some troublemaker who kept hanging around him. Does that sound familiar, by any chance?”

Dread and ill-omen rolled off of Thoma in waves; this… was no puppy-boy, you realised.

(At this point you took a moment to pause and contemplate your life choices, because seeing him all riled up was making your heart skip in weird ways that were probably mildly concerning.)

This was a fully-grown, trained guard dog equipped with the knowledge of hunting and military training, and he was angry; the girl who stood so tall and proud only a few moments before now looked like a mouse cowering before a predator, looking for a way to run. You suddenly came to the bone-chilling realisation of how intimidating of an opponent Thoma actually was, considering the vast amount of connections he had and what sort of information — or favours — he managed to earn with the sheer power of puppy-politeness… all while he was still a student.

It was enough for you to consider turning tail and fleeing, and you weren’t even the target of his anger— and it didn’t help that you were also pretty sure he was holding back.

(Wait, surely this couldn't be your fault, right? You had told him to let him live for himself, but then again you'd expected something like ‘Hey, please don't do that anymore, thanks’ and not… whatever this was. No amount of heart-racing could justify you being a bad influence, no matter how handsome he looked when absolutely royally pissed off.)

“Like you said, rumours are just rumours. By themselves they don’t necessarily cause trouble, which really makes me curious…” Thoma’s voice dropped, lowering to a tone which you might’ve mistaken for almost friendly if you hadn’t known him better. “Do you mind telling me what you said to your friend that made her start a fight?”

“I… I didn’t tell her to do anything for me. She was the one who–”

“But I’m sure you knew that she would do that for you if you were really that close with her, right? If you fed her just the right information, she would go ballistic for you just because you’re her friend.”

Silence once again, and Thoma clicked his tongue ruefully. “She might be a little hot-headed, but she’s certainly a loyal friend. You should treasure the friends you have while you still have them.”

“Thoma, please- please understand… I...” She stammered out. “I was- My friend made a mistake! She gets mixed up sometimes, it’s really not–“

“I’m really not the person you should be explaining that to.” His voice was dangerously soft. “I’m not the one who was directly affected by your actions.”

Now there was really no way for this girl to escape, now that all of her plans had been exposed– after manipulating the people around her with her words and throwing her classmate under the bus, you could only wonder: just how far was she willing to go for this? How low was she willing to sink for a stranger who she probably barely knew?

“Why do you care so much?” She spat; now she was changing tactics, going from blame-shifting to being defensive. You had to admit that in spite of the amount of secondhand embarrassment this was giving you, it was somewhat fascinating to witness such a fine example of how the human mind works when put in difficult situations— but also unfortunately for you, the secondhand embarrassment was far from over.

“Because it's not right. I…” A sigh of frustration, a rustle as Thoma reached up to rub his temples. “Look, it’s really that simple. You just need to apologise and stop doing what you’re doing right now. Can’t you see that people are suffering because of your actions?”

“Why should I? I didn’t do anything wrong.”

A tiny ladybug crawled past on a nearby branch, slowing as it drew nearer to you. It probably was wondering what was happening; it was unusual to find three strange humans here, two of whom were having a telenovela-worthy quarrel outside while the third crouched in the bushes to eavesdrop.

It gave you a questioning look, to which you responded with a shrug. Don’t look at me, I’m just the eavesdropping sidekick here.

“I was just expressing my concern for you, that’s all! I know you have a tendency to be taken advantage of—”

“You don’t know me.” Thoma’s voice became only quieter, barely above a murmur at this point. “You hardly know anything about me.”

Ooh, ouch.

Both you and the ladybug flinched on her behalf; true, she was acting weirdly entitled to him, but still… hearing that from him would sting, and not just a little bit.

(On another note, at least you knew that Thoma was definitely someone straight out of a telenovela— maybe a heartthrob-student-by-day, mafia-boss-by-night type of main character? Either way, you really should've brought popcorn for this.)

“I’m sure you’re a nice person, really… but we hardly know each other enough to warrant this sort of behaviour from you. If you were my friend or my classmate, perhaps, but…”

“So what?” She snapped. “Why does it matter who likes you? Is it so wrong for me to do that?”

“That is not what I said.”

“But why is it okay for that little friend of yours to cling to you like a leech?” A harsh, disbelieving laugh fills the air. “What, don’t tell me you have a crush on that- that—“

The girl continued laughing, but Thoma remained oddly quiet. Something twisted in your gut like a knife– she was referring to you, like it was some sort of joke that he would ever like you. A part of you wanted to agree with her.

“...Yeah, I do.”

He paused a beat. “Why do you say it like it’s a bad thing?”

You nearly face-planted into the dirt as you clapped both hands over your mouth, just barely suppressing the unseemly shriek that you almost let out.

No, you couldn’t possibly have misheard him this time. You’d heard him loud and clear.

“...What?”

“You heard me the first time.” His voice was clear and firm. “I wasn’t lying when I said that, so why do you look like you don’t believe me?”

“You- you’re kidding, right? Very funny, Thoma, but–”

“I wouldn’t joke about such a thing. That’s just cruel.”

Meanwhile, you were very close to becoming the person to ever successfully shapeshift into an earthworm and bury yourself in the ground while those two were duking it out. The ladybug watched as you went through the five stages of grief in under a minute, offering its silent support in your hour of suffering– at least, you assumed it was offering its support. For all you knew, it might’ve found it enjoyable to watch your emotional turmoil for the sheer drama.

“Liar!” Her voice was sharp, the faintest hint of tears showing its edge through her words. “You just feel sorry for that loner, right? Thoma, I know you can do so much better than that—”

(In the midst of your agony, your eye twitched– oh, for goodness’ sake, this one was even more delusional than her best friend Panda-Eyes. Where had they even gotten the idea that they knew what was best for Thoma despite barely knowing him? And to top it all off, she sounded so desperately sure of herself that it made you want to melt into compost right then and there.)

“Thank you for having my best interests in mind, but I think I do a better job of deciding what’s best for me.” Thoma cut her off firmly, leaving no room for argument.

Thick, heavy silence settled over like a dismal fog; neither party wanted to speak. Until…

“It’s not fair…” You caught a glimpse of shine as her shoes shuffled forward, her voice eerily quiet. “It’s not fair at all.”

“...Pardon?”

“What did I do?” Thoma was shoved backwards, and those shiny patent shoes continued marching towards him. “Tell me, where did I go wrong?”

“I don’t know—”

“Tell me!” The girl nearly shouted, her voice cracking and breaking down. “I was the one who cared ever since the beginning, Thoma. I was the one who took on all sorts of tasks so that you wouldn’t suffer so much. So why… why isn’t it me?”

You held your breath, hardly daring to move a muscle.

“Why is it some nobody who won’t even notice you until it’s too late?” She murmured– an unpleasant chill went down your spine when you realised she was talking about you. “I did everything, but…”

Even in the heat of your anger, there came a fleeting moment when you almost felt sorry for her in this pathetic state; from all of your counselling, you knew how difficult it was to muster the courage to stand before the person you liked.

No, you corrected yourself. That wasn't quite right, because it wasn’t just from your counselling— you now had firsthand experience thanks to Thoma. To like someone so much that you started to behave irrationally, to leave your comfort zone and cross over into unknown territory just so you could walk their path with them— there were many beautiful, colourful memories that you had gained just from staying by his side. It was only natural that this girl would want to experience that too, even if she went about the wrong way to try and achieve it.

(Now, since when did you ever become this empathetic?)

For a moment, you wondered if you'd have done the same thing if you had been in her place; in a twisted sense, the two of you had been two sides of the same coin, both yearning for the same person in different ways. You knew nothing about who she was or what she did, but for a moment— just this moment — you pitied her.

A loud, hiccuping sob interrupted your train of thought; the girl raised her head unsteadily, covering her face with one hand. The other hand raised itself in the air to harshly shove Thoma backwards, his shoes scraping against the ground as he tried to steady himself.

Did she just…?

That white-hot sensation from the other day reappeared, searing even brighter right behind your eyeballs and burning any semblance of pity you might’ve had for her; unconsciously, your bandaged hands curled into fists once again.

“Hey– wait just a second here.” Thoma’s voice sounded strained. “You don’t look so good. Are you–”

“Don’t touch me!” You flinched at the sharp sound of skin hitting skin, and once again he stumbled backwards. Through the leaves you could barely make out her silhouette as she raised her hand ready to strike again— and suddenly everything seared blinding white.

“Enough.”

Leaves rustled and scattered about you, the afternoon sunlight flashing in your eyes enough to leave you dazzled– in a blur, you barely registered the gaping looks of shock that met your gaze. Something warm struggled in your grasp, your nails digging into the unidentified object by instinct; apparently you had launched yourself out of the bushes and caught her hand just as it was about to hit his face, a flurry of leaves and flower petals showering around you in a horribly dramatic entrance.

Your first realisation was that you were very glad nobody else was around, or else you might’ve had the unfortunate experience of having your dramatic entrance caught on video. The second realisation was that you were very displeased with the idea that someone had actually just tried to hit Thoma— not on your watch, not now and not ever.

All the bitterness seeped into your voice and turned your words into a frigid cold. "If you have such a problem with me, then face me instead of taking it out on someone else like a coward."

Two pairs of eyes stared at you, completely stunned– Thoma could only gape at you in shock as you trudged forward to plant yourself in between him and the other party, a grumpy look on your face as you crossed your arms. Meanwhile, the offender in question stared at you with frightened, wary eyes, tears still dripping down her face like a leaking faucet.

“You…”

“Yep. It’s definitely me.” You replied, eye twitching as you desperately tried to restrain yourself from jumping her. If she was so keen on painting you as a violent delinquent, then congratulations! She was about to get her wish.

“Why– why are you here?” Thoma choked out, his jaw hanging slack as he gaped at you in shock— well, to be fair, you had literally just launched out of the shrubbery like some sort of vegan jack-in-the-box. You couldn't really blame him for staring.

“Oh, I was just passing by and saw something going on. Thought it looked like some fun violent activity that a troublemaker would enjoy.” You managed to muster the most bubblegum-flavoured, saccharine-sweet voice that your raging temper could allow, allowing yourself to give a side-eye to the girl in front of you. Look, you could only pity her so much— you could understand where she was coming from, but that didn't mean you agreed with what she was doing right now.

“You.”

She jumped nearly a foot in the air.

"What kind of head do you have screwed on your shoulders, huh?" You asked, the bitter edge of a taunt revealing itself through your words. "'I did everything for him, so only I have the right to monopolise his feelings.' It doesn't matter how Thoma feels about the matter— no, no, it's all about you and how you feel."

Sick satisfaction washed over your senses as her lower lip began to tremble once more, tears welling up in her shiny eyes— but then again, it was best to nip feelings like that in the bud. It was never good to attempt to resolve conflict by viewing the other party as your enemy, and from the beginning your goal had never been to hurt this girl.

Restrain yourself, said the slightly more rational part of your brain. Do not hold back on your honesty, but if only for Thoma’s sake, no more and no less than that.

For Thoma’s sake, you begrudgingly agreed. Even if you were reasonably pissed and just wanted to go home in peace.

“I– look.” You pinched the bridge of your nose and sighed, wondering where to even begin. “"You might not see it now, but what you’re doing is hurting him more than anyone else. Can’t you see that?"

The girl’s eyes wavered, teary pools of resentment and anger glaring at you hard enough to bury you six feet under. You hesitated for a minute— you had so many things to say to her, so much advice to give from all your experience as a bonafide relationship counselor. But would she even receive it from you?

But once again– for Thoma’s sake and his alone, you gritted your teeth and continued anyway. If doing this would ensure him a better future where he didn’t have to worry about his boundaries, then so be it.

"Why don’t you believe him?” You ask bluntly. “Has Thoma ever given anyone in this school any reason to doubt him?”

“Never!” She shot back.

“Then why don’t you trust him?” The back of your eyes sear white as you try to keep your cool, your grip instinctively tightening over Thoma’s hand. “The entire conversation you had just now was just you calling him a liar or trying to prove him wrong. If you like him so much, then why don’t you believe in him?”

She opened her mouth, but no response came out.

It was a tough lesson for her to learn, but putting down other people and trampling on their lives was never going to win over someone's heart. No matter how good your intentions were or how earnest your feelings were, if the recipient was not ready or willing to accept your feelings, then it would never work out.

“Trust is an important part of every relationship, but if you can’t even believe him when he clearly states his boundaries, then you’re already setting yourself up for failure.” For the first time that day, your logic returned to you as you switched to counselor mode. “If you really cared for him like you said, then you wouldn’t have to pull strings on the people around him so that he’d come to you like a dog on a leash.”

You must’ve rattled on and on as you listed down everything she did wrong, from using her friend like a pawn and throwing her under the bus, to disrespecting Thoma’s choices and treating him like a trophy instead of seeing him as a person with thoughts and feelings, to using her influence for ill-intent instead of trying to win him over with honesty and sincerity. You kept going even though you were pretty sure her eyes had glazed ten times over and she had already cried multiple times, because one thing was certain; what this girl was doing was not out of love.

You knew this because love felt like… love was…

Suddenly a soft warmth gently pried your clenched fist open, encircling your fingers with a sense of safety— you looked up to see Thoma mouth, ‘I’ll take it from here.’

As your gaze locked with his, everything clicked into place like a jigsaw puzzle, the picture becoming perfectly crystal-clear to your eyes.

Love is patient, and love is kind.

Love is forgiving and welcoming, even at the times you felt dirtiest and most unlovable. It went beyond infatuation, which felt like a swarm of nervous butterflies that played push and pull with your emotions with hormone-infused strings— no, love felt safe and warm, like a fire crackling on the hearth of a home. To be loved and to love was to protect and to trust, to hope and persevere for the other person. Things that you and Thoma had already been doing for each other long before you had ever come to this conclusion.

And it scared you.

The weight, the seriousness of it all… it terrified you to no end, because it meant that perhaps you were wrong about yourself. Perhaps you had been wrong all along and that you really were capable of experiencing love and romance— perhaps it had never been a question of if, but when.

“…Thank you for asking to meet me here today.” Thoma’s voice was quiet but serious, and the girl flinched a little at the sudden change in atmosphere. “I’m sorry I can’t do anything more for you, but I hope you’ve fully grasped the situation now. Please don’t do this ever again.”

The finality of his tone was enough to get the point across.

Now stripped of her fangs, she nodded mutely, her eyes furtively glancing between the two of you— you still couldn’t entirely reconcile yourself with her actions, but at least she had the grace to accept the outcome without fuss. In the end, she was still just a girl with a broken heart.

“I… I’m sorry for the trouble I’ve caused you. I really am.” The girl mumbled, giving a slight bow in apology. You watched as she walked away, the faint sound of her sniffling fading into the distance.

As soon as she was out of sight, his shoulders slumped; Thoma’s eyes slid wearily shut, his entire body deflating like a balloon as he practically leaned on you for support. Any traces of anger disappeared completely, slipping off his shoulders like water on a duck’s back.

He looked so… young. Vulnerable.

With the way he was completely drained of energy after today’s events, you began to wonder if being angry was entirely out of his comfort zone– no, maybe that wasn’t the case. Maybe he wasn’t used to being angry for himself.

“...Should we report her to the teachers?”

“Maybe. I don’t know anymore.” He answered, leaning only further into you. “I’m just so… tired.”

The urge to reach for him returned, even stronger than before. Your fingers twitched and burned to nestle themselves in his soft, fluffy hair, to return the comfort that he always gave to you so freely. But like the coward you were, you didn’t dare– instead, you settled for giving his hand a tentative squeeze in reassurance.

Wait, his hand?!

Let’s try to recap! shouted the overly enthusiastic part of your brain. We managed to remove the problem of your rumours and confirm that Thoma does not like that girl! And we also managed to accomplish 10,000 steps in a day AND do some weight training, just by hauling his backpack all over the school! And in a surprise accomplishment, we also managed to confirm that Thoma…

That he… that he…

You gaped at your intertwined fingers and looked back up at him, every nerve ending short-circuiting into a miniature fireworks shower as you struggled to process what had just happened. And judging from how a certain puppy-boy’s eyes had just snapped wide open to stare at you, he had also happened to arrive at the same conclusion you did.

“How long were you hiding in there?” Thoma’s face flushed tomato-red, his green eyes filled with something like panic or— gah, you couldn’t tell anymore. How could you tell what other people were feeling if you couldn’t even figure out your own problems? “No, wait— how much did you hear?”

“Well I… I, uh–”

You took one look at his pleading, anxious puppy-dog eyes, and at that point your brain broke from the strain. And so once again, you did the only thing you knew best when it came to situations like this: you ran away.

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practically-an-x-man · 2 months

Text

Whatever Keeps You Around (Rick Flag x Eris)

Summary: Based on this prompt, Eris runs into an immortal surprise in a very mundane place. (Title from First Time by Hozier)

Word Count: 2.1k

Tags: Mild jealousy, mild possessive themes, some mentions of violence.

____

"Go see if they have any bread you like, hon."

Eris nodded, ducking past him and half-jogging up to the shelf of artisanal bread in the corner of the store. This was why he'd picked this store, even though it was small and pricey and overly-organic: Eris claimed it was the only place in New Orleans that made bread the right way, whatever they in their mind deemed the right way.

All Rick knew was that it cost about eight dollars a pop and was loaded with spices he couldn't identify, and that Eris could go through three loaves a week if he let them. Usually he did. The one perk to working for Amanda Waller was the paycheck, and that allowed him at least enough wiggle room to buy the right kind of bread.

She jogged back up to him, two loaves wrapped in paper in her arms, just as Rick had finished thanking the deli clerk for his cold cuts and cheeses. Eris tucked the bread into the shopping cart almost delicately and promptly plucked the deli bags from his hands to inspect his selections.

"Oven-roasted turkey? Not the herb kind?"

"Outta stock. I've got thyme and stuff back at the house if it really bothers you," Rick replied, "What kind of bread did you pick out?"

"Honey-rosemary and something they call rustic medley," Eris muttered, "I'll be the judge of that."

"Sounds pretty good," he agreed, "Maybe we can make butter to go with it."

Eris tilted his head, something Rick stupidly misinterpreted as a lack of understanding.

"I saw it online, you just put heavy cream and a little salt in a mason jar, shake it u-"

"I'd be willing to bet I'm more familiar with making butter than you are, Flag." Eris cut him off, sharp as always, "But why?"

"I dunno. Seems like fun."

"You have a real strange idea of fun. And this is coming from someone who lived through tapestry being the popular hobby." they jeered, but tossed a carton of heavy cream into the cart as they passed the dairy case. Rick tried to hide his smile. If anyone was the definition of 'actions speak louder than words', it was Eris.

He stayed close to Rick's side as they wandered the store, occasionally tossing things into the cart on what looked like pure whim. Cans of tomato soup, the ones Rick remembered mentioning were his favorite because they reminded him of his childhood, made their way in alongside pretzels and peanut butter and bars of high-cacao baking chocolate. It was far too bitter for his tastes, at least in anything other than baked goods, but Eris could snack on it like a Hershey bar. She liked it for the same reason she liked the artisanal bread, he thought. Nostalgia, or the closest thing to nostalgia they could find.

"Lasagna tonight? Or should we just find something to stick in the oven?" Rick asked, frowning at the prices of the pasta boxes on the shelves. Eris was back at his side in a moment, moving so quickly and silently that he would have jumped if he wasn't used to it.

"Hm. Neither. Make your pot pie." he decided, and Rick felt him lean in against his side, "I have a taste for it."

His mother's recipe, the one he'd tried so hard to get right after her death, now lived on as a favorite in the mind of a centuries-old metahuman.

That one made him feel good.

He knew Eris wasn't one for public affection, but he still couldn't resist wrapping his arm around their shoulders and pressing a kiss to the top of their head. He pulled back quickly, before Eris could wriggle away or complain about looking soft, and waved a hand at the produce aisle they'd left in their wake.

"Go grab me a bag of baby carrots and some green beans, then," he said, then paused and corrected, "In a bag. Not just loose green beans."

"I know that, smartass." Eris huffed, rolling her eyes at him as she walked away. Rick suppressed a chuckle.

There was someone else in the produce aisle, apparently trying to decide between a starfruit and a cherimoya. They were half a head taller than Eris, with wavy brown hair halfway down their back and a flowing blue sundress swishing around their knees.

Rick didn't pay them much mind, and was about to turn and grab a can of biscuits when Eris froze in his tracks.

"Julius?"

The taller figure whipped around so fast it must have given them whiplash, and their eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. Rick could see, even from afar, that their features had the same strangely archaic look as Eris' own, though perhaps a continent and a few centuries apart.

"Oh my- Eris?" they stammered, then gestured vaguely at themself, "And it's- er, Wisteria now. Wisty."

"Wisty." Eris repeated, as if testing out the name, "You're... very not dead, for someone three hundred years old."

"Made a deal with a witch a while back. And you're... very tame for how I remember you."

That made a grin flash across Eris' face, quick and sharp and promising only dark things.

"Try me."

But Wisty didn't flinch. She just smiled right back, though this one was nostalgic, almost soft.

The thought struck Rick like a bolt of lightning.

Eris had a type.

Underneath the flowing fabric of her dress, Wisty had to be at least as tall as Rick himself was, and just as stacked with muscle. Old scars littered what bare skin was visible around her clothing, like she'd been a fighter in a past life- or perhaps still was. And she knew not to flinch at those shark-smiles Eris threw at her. Just like Rick did.

The thought made something strange bubble up inside him. He wasn't sure he liked it. As strange and twisted as Eris' affections could be, he'd never before had competition for those affections. It was actually one of the best things about being with them, knowing they'd always drift back to him at the end of all the chaos.

It wasn't Wisteria's arrival alone that had him so tense. What really got him was the set of Eris' posture as he spoke to her: leaned back slightly on his heels, shoulders loose, head tilted ever-so-slightly in curiosity. Casual. Relaxed. The only time he'd ever seen Eris truly relaxed was when they were alone with him.

"We should catch back up." Wisty decided, a smile slowly growing on her face, "Go... spar like the old times or something. I'm a lot tougher than I used to be."

"I don't doubt it." Eris said, their spine automatically straightening at the promise of a good challenge.

He deserved this, Rick thought. This was some sort of cosmic payback for those two years he spent pushing her aside in favor of June, for snapping at all the times they suggested making him into a metahuman like them - it was all to keep him safe, to keep him around.

Well, here was someone who'd stuck around. Who'd played the long game, the centuries-long game, the way Rick was always so afraid to commit to. Who could hold their own against Eris, when she still had to pull her punches against him.

"What do you think? My lance and your spear, or hand-to-hand?" Wisty asked, playfully throwing up her fists with a broad grin. Eris returned the gesture, bouncing on his toes a little.

It was like he'd forgotten Rick was there, just ten feet back. And even as much as he wanted to call out, to remind them... he couldn't move. All he could do was watch it all unravel before him, the can of biscuits still held tight in one hand. Suddenly his mom's old recipe didn't seem to matter much.

"It'll be like before. You and me," Wisty said, "The old war god and the king's footsoldier."

Then there was a different kind of tension in Eris' posture. The shift was sudden, her chin lifted and her shoulders drawn back, all joviality transformed into something more guarded.

"I'm with someone." he said, each word crisply spaced, and brushed past Wisty with smooth, disciplined steps. They grabbed a plastic bag and shoved a handful of green beans into it, pausing only to pluck a few wrinkled and undesirable vegetables from the lot and toss them back. Wisteria turned, fixing them with a tilted expression.

"You told me you wouldn't love another. You told me love was too painful. You told me... that I was the last one."

Eris snatched a bag of baby carrots, holding them tight in her hand as she turned.

"I was wrong." they said, chin set and eyes blazing, "And if you do a damn thing to him, if you hurt him thinking that'll bring me back to you, I'll kill you where you stand. And I will feel no remorse."

With that, he stormed his way back to Rick and tossed the vegetables into the shopping cart.

"You were staring." they muttered, taking the can of biscuits from his hand and dropping it into the cart alongside the rest of the groceries. Then, to his surprise, they folded their fingers into his own. For Eris, that was the equivalent of a public strip tease. Rick gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

"Yeah, I know. Couldn't help it." he admitted, knowing better than to try and duck around it, "First time I've ever seen one of your old friends. Didn't realize there was anyone else... like me."

"She wasn't like you." Eris huffed, ducking around his arm to give the cart a brisk shove, "Nobody's like you."

"It's alright if she was." Rick argued, "I know I'm not the only person you've loved, doll. That's okay."

Eris opened his mouth to respond, then reconsidered and shook his head. It must've been a lot to explain, or something they couldn't bear to speak in such public company. Their posture was still tense, shoulders stony, and they didn't spare so much as a single glance back at the produce aisle.

"Nobody's like you." she just repeated, even more set and sullen. Rick decided there were two ways he could take that: a sign that this love was real, or a sign that the pattern would end up repeating itself in a few years. He decided to take it as the former. The latter, true as it might be, felt far too pessimistic.

"Rome!" a voice called from behind them, and finally Eris turned. Wisteria had caught up, and fire a glance between the two of them. Rick met her eyes calmly, and found something strange swimming there. She returned her gaze to Eris, unflinching. "A hundred years. Rome. Then we'll have our fight."

Rick could hear the other half of her words: because he won't be around by then. Maybe he should have been offended by the implications. He didn't bother. He'd always known there would be someone after him. He didn't expect to meet that someone, but... this was life with Eris. He'd learned to get used to things like this.

"Fine." Eris agreed, though the firm look never left her eyes, "I will meet you on the steps of the Colosseum in one hundred years exactly. We will have our fight."

Their grip tightened on his hand unexpectedly, right on the verge of being painful. Wisteria's eyes fell straight to it, and she frowned a little. Eris must not have been any more affectionate in their prior life.

"But you will get no love from me then." they concluded, "They will bury my heart when they bury him."

Rick saw hurt bloom across Wisty's face, a shocked and helpless sort of pain, but Eris just spun and gave the cart another brutal shove towards the checkout lanes. Rick found himself pausing an extra moment, looking into Wisty's shockingly crestfallen eyes and debating an apology.

In the end, he just shut his mouth and trailed after Eris, leaving Wisty where she stood. He had a sense that speaking to her would only make things worse. It was better just for him to be, in her mind, some speechless nameless thing at Eris' heels. It was probably safer for the both of them.

He caught up to Eris just shy of the checkout lanes, right as they set a rotisserie chicken in the front basket of the cart. She glanced up at him as he approached and offered him something like a smile. It was a little pointed, a little irritated, but he didn't mind that too much.

"You're mine." she muttered, possessive like a wolf to its mate, "Until they put you in the ground, you're mine."

"I love you too, wartime."

#my ocs #oc eris #my writing #oneshot #shortfic #the suicide squad #rick flag #oc x canon #light angst #happy ending

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kittenwalker · 2 years

Note

hi there! i was wondering if you also accept requests, if so please could you write kit walker stepping in and taking the blame for something wrong the reader did inside the asylum to protect her from sister jude? thanks a lot either way.

yes, I accept requests so if anyone wants any you can just text them to me and I would gladly write them!

You were slowly feeling insane the more you were here. You were here for about 6 months already because you murdered your baby brother out of rage as he wasn’t cooperating with you. You couldn't remember anything from that day though as if your mind just blocked it out. You weren't sure if you did murder your baby brother but how could you? You adored him so much.

Hearing a click snapped you out of your daze.

" Your move darlin' "

Looking at the board, you moved one of your bishop killing Kit's rook. Kit was the reason why you kept your sanity in this filthy place. He had a similar reason why he was admitted here, also not being able to remember what happened on that day. Kit was always so nice to you, playing chess with you and even stealing things with you. Honestly, you were falling for him.

" Checkmate," you said victory lacing your voice

" I can never win with ya can I? " Kit said defeated

" Nope," you said shaking your head

You looked up at the clock and realized it was time for your bakery shift. You quickly said goodbye to Kit and ran off to the bakery. Kneading the dough over and over again, making your arms sore. This sucks without Kit, you thought to yourself.

Rolling the dough into balls and slapping them onto the tray. You pop the trays of dough into the oven and waited for it to bake. You were thinking about stuffing a few pieces of bread into your pockets as the food they served was awful and not fulfilling.

As the timer dinged, you took out the tray being careful not to drop it. Looking around to see if anyone was near you, then you sneakily filled your pockets with bread. Running out of the bakery as your shift was over, you saw Kit going down as he had one last shift before the day ended. You walked back into your cell and went into a corner to munch on the stolen bread before going to sleep.

Waking up to the sound of metal squeaking, you figured someone has entered your cell. You looked up to see Sister Jude pulling you up by the shoulder. You were following Sister Jude, already knowing where this is headed. This path was leading to her office, she probably found out you stole her bread and was going to punish you.

Walking into her office, you saw Kit leaning over her table. Instantly you knew what was happening, Kit took the blame for you as his shift was the last and it was most likely he stole it.

" Y/n do you know why you are here " Sister Jude questioned, raising her eyebrows.

You slightly shook your head, acting as if you haven't already known.

" Well, when I was counting the number of bread yesterday "

" 3 pieces of bread were missing, " She said emphasising the word missing

" I told you it was me Sista'! " Kit screamed

" No, you keep your mouth shut! I wanna hear it come out of her lips "

You looked at kit, his face was pleading for you not to confess that it was you. So you went along with it.

" I didn't steal anything Sister " You felt a pang of guilt wash over you as soon as you said it.

Sister Jude's smirk fell upon hearing the confession but she had another idea to possibly make you break.

" Alright I take you for your word, but if you didn't do it then you wouldn't mind staying here and watching Kit get his 15 lashes right? " There was always a twist in the nun's games but you couldn't give in now.

" Sure I'm going to watch it with delight " You could already feel the tears welling up in your eyes, careful to not let them spill out.

Sister Jude started with one then followed by another. Stopping every whip so the pain can soak into Kit. Kit would slightly jump every lash, hearing him wince was not making it easier for you to watch.

The nun hoped that after every whip you would blurt out the sin you've committed, but as the number of lashes lowered her hope faded away. Soon the torture was over and both of you were dismissed.

As soon as you walked out of the office you fell into Kit's chest sobbing uncontrollably. After what he has done for you this is how you repaid him.

" I-I'm sorry it was my fault, I'm sorr- " you were interrupted by Kit shushing you.

" Hey it's alright I wanted to do it "

" How can I repay you? "

He stayed quiet, thinking of all the possibilities but he only wanted one thing. Kit slowly leaned into your face, holding your cheek, and kissed you. You felt his soft lips pressed against yours as both your lips were dancing together. You pulled away so you could catch some air, you felt shocked and speechless so you just stared into his eyes. He smirked and said.

" This was worth getting punished "

#kit walker x reader #kit walker #kit walker one shot #kit walker imagine #kit walker smut #kit walker fluff #kit #kit walker x you #ahs asylum #ahs #ahs smut #ahs fluff #american horror story #evan peters #tate langdon #kyle spencer #jimmy darling #james patrick march #kai anderson

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scourge-lover · 1 year

Text

Love is in the Air

Even undead monsters can find love.

Father of the year award will sadly go to someone else, though.

***

One time, Bolvar warned. This one time would he be allowed out with only Sapphire as his companion. If she sensed any trouble from him, he would be ceremoniously dragged back to the Citadel. Bolvar wouldn’t risk a single mortal’s life for this frivolous venture. Good behavior would determine the next steps.

Here Arthas stood, under a dim streetlight in the Mage District. Windows were lit up as families started dinner or were relaxing after working all day. Some mages might be doing homework or writing up a new spell they invented. Very few people were outside. A guard dozed near the Mage Tower, head tilted forward. Should he really want to, Arthas could have caused any amount of damage he desired before anyone could remotely try to stop him.

The crickets were starting to sing in the night air. The early spring air had a slight sting of cold, but not too much. He might could have smelled the local tavern’s fresh baked bread, but all he could smell was the perfume he’d laboriously bathed in. It was not just smell he had changed about himself. His hair had been laboriously doused in shampoo for volume and brushed to perfection. He wore the finest tailored clothes he could find in such short notice. A simple gold chain hung from his neck.

A little cough behind him caused Arthas to look back at Sapphire. “Are you really sure about this?”

His daughter looked up with bright eyes and bared her tiny teeth into a smile. Her recently grown snaggletooth gleamed.

“Of course! I researched it. It’s supposed to be very romantic. You toss a pebble or stick up at his window, he’ll open it and you read him the poem you made, and he’ll be yours forever!”

Arthas curled his lip up. “I don’t think so.”

“Books don’t lie!” Sapphire said confidently.

Arthas was not about to get into an argument with a child over a fictional book trope. Everything about this seemed a mistake.

Sapphire jumped ahead of him and trotted to the apartment building where Lethumo lived. She then scrounged around to pick up acorns and pinecones.

“Which of these should we use?”

Arthas rushed over to stop her, suddenly self-conscious. “There is no we! I’m doing this and you will be silent and invisible.” After glancing around, he saw a neatly trimmed hedges along the stone walls. He pointed commandingly. Sapphire pouted. Arthas did not relent.

“Go on. If you keep quiet, I won’t drown you in a canal.”

Sapphire let out a frustrated noise, but obediently went to the shrubbery. She noisily rummaged around leaves and branches. Her dainty antlers comically stood out amongst the leaves, but less observant mortals would just see some odd branches if they had looked.

Arthas stood alone in the dark street. Music drifted out of the tavern down a few blocks and crickets sang, but otherwise it was serenely quiet for Stormwind.

He looked up toward Lethumo’s apartment. Its window shone like a star in the sky. Arthas picked up one of the pinecones Sapphire had offered. He pulled his arm back to throw it but thought better of it. Breaking Lethumo’s window would not endear the bard over to him. He tossed it underhandedly. The pinecone missed the window and fell straight down near the hedges.

This was his chance. He could just walk away. Go home and forget about this farce. Sapphire would be annoying, but when wasn’t she?

Arthas picked up another cone and this time did not hesitate to toss it a little harder and higher. This time, the pinecone hit the window with a click. To be sure he was heard, Arthas got another to toss.

He saw a shadow moving across the lighted window. The third pine cone nailed its target as well, making a louder noise. The shadow grew darker and bigger. Arthas watched the latch undo. If he still possessed a heart, it would have leapt into his throat.

Lethumo opened the window. He looked just like Arthas remembered. The elf seemed to have planned to retire early, since he wore soft night clothes. He looked around curiously up near the window, then looked down below at the ground. His eyes widened. The elf took on the appearance of a tense cat.

“Ar-...Andrew. What are you doing here?”

Suddenly, Arthas forgot how to speak. Opening his mouth became as difficult as climbing a mountain. He cleared his throat.

“Greetings fair bard! I have come to romance you with the words of...my heart.”

If Tirion Fordring came upon him at that moment, Arthas would have begged for a violent, painful death. Anything but this humilating experience.

For Lethumo’s part, he looked completely taken aback by this declaration.

“Are you okay? Did you hit your head? Where’s Sapphire?”

Sapphire, upon hearing her name, enthusiastically rose from her hedge spot, but Arthas violently propelled her back down among the leaves.

“Ow!”

He spoke quickly, wanting to get this over with. “Alive and well. She’s not here at the moment!” His voice rose an octave at the end, glancing toward the bush angrily.

Lethumo had seen the entire interaction, with a dour look on his face. “I see.”

Arthas brushed some loose leaves off of his mussed clothes. It was now or never. The paper carefully folded in a pocket was ready to make its appearance. An entire night of work. Childhood memories of poetry lessons had long been cast aside. He only hoped it was not terrible.

Before Lethumo could interrupt him, Arthas let it out. His cold demeanor fell slightly as he let himself become vulnerable.

I melt when you smile.

I can't breathe when you speak.

Everything else fades away when you touch me.

I think I might fly when you kiss me.

All I know when you're around is I love you.

Lethumo had leaned over the windowsill and cupped his chin with one hand.

“That was....quite sincere,” He finally said, voice trembling slightly.

He fell into silence, and let the empty night come back. Crickets sang in response to him, but he didn’t want to hear from them.

Arthas felt like he stood on a thin slice of ice. Any moment it would crack and nothing would prevent Arthas from falling.

The elf gave Arthas a small smile. “I definitely have...notes, but I appreciate the sentiment. This was quite romantic. I did not expect something like this from you of all people,” He stopped for a brief pause, and then waved toward himself.

“I don’t suppose you would want to come upstairs for a glass of wine? I remember you once telling me you prefer dessert wine.”

Arthas took a second to react. He forced himself to nod. “Yes, that would be nice.”

Lethumo started to close the window, but then looked back out with a smirk.

“Don’t leave Sapphire in the bushes. Let her come up too.” He relatched the window and brushed the curtains back into place.

Sapphire slumped out of the shrubs and quickly hopped to her feet.

“Can I have some wine too?”

Arthas shoved her back into the bush. “No.”

He heard her claw her way back out, but he didn’t wait on her. Arthas ascended up to the apartment, still feeling like he stood on dangerous ground. The door stood open.

Two glasses of wine stood out on the kitchen counter. The open wine bottle sat next to them. Lethumo was leaned over his cold storage bin. Arthas gently lifted the wine to his lips.

“I appreciate you uh, letting me in,” Arthas said. Lethumo pulled out some cheese and sausages and started organizing them on a wooden board. He gave Arthas a smile.

“How could I refuse such a grandiose display! I’m still shaking a little,” The bard said, pressing one hand to his chest dramatically.

Arthas cleared his throat. “I meant every word.”

Their eyes met briefly. This was his moment, Arthas felt. He started to lean forward. Lethumo didn’t pull away.

Sapphire came in, and immediately Lethumo’s attention turned to her.

“Oh saber cub! Not a day has passed when I haven’t thought of you!” The elf snatched her up and squeezed her against his chest. He then planted his lips against her cheek. Arthas scowled. Sapphire looked pretty smug. He shoved her onto a kitchen stool and slid the cheese and meat over.

“Eat up little baby! You’re just as thin as the last time I saw you. Does your father ever feed you!!!”

A flit of jealously rushed over Arthas. This is why he hadn’t even wanted Sapphire to come with him! Why did she have to mess up everything?

Lethumo leaned by Arthas briefly to get her some fresh bread from a shelf. Before he pulled away completely, Lethumo turned just enough to plant a kiss on Arthas’s cheek.

#love is in the air #valentine's day #AO3 fanfic #fanfic #short story #Arthas Menethil #OC #oc x canon

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i-can-even-burn-salad · 2 years

Text

Part 4

Fancy Boots

Warnings: None

Previous | Masterlist | Next

This was ridiculous. Riordan paced in a circle at the far end of the road. At one point of his restless round, he could make out the fence surrounding the garden of the little house his legs refused to carry him to. He couldn’t believe he was doing this. Having dinner with a wanted man, instead of handing him over to the authorities, like it was his duty.

Was it still his duty, though? All such obligations he had left behind when he had quit his service in Caldeia and joined the Order of Fire instead. Now it was his duty to protect their members, and preserve knowledge — neither of which was in any danger due to this Damien, that much was certain.

That didn’t mean it wasn’t the worst fucking idea he had ever had.

He had joked about this woman poisoning him, but after a restless night, it didn’t seem that much of a joke to him. Riordan hadn’t told anyone what he was doing, where he was going. Perhaps he should have. There was only one problem with that idea. Well, two problems, really. One problem was that there was no one who would give a fuck about where he was going. He’d only been here for a couple of days and knew no one. The second problem was that there really was no innocuous way to put it.

“I’m meeting some friends for dinner tonight, but if I don’t come back, try to find my dead body.”

Too late he realized that he had mumbled these words under his breath. Luckily he was alone. Another round, another glimpse at the fence, and Riordan forced himself to stop. This was pointless. Might as well get it over with. Nervously fidgeting with the side of his belt where the scabbard of his blade was missing — by the Seven, why had he decided on being polite and left it at home — he started to walk down the street.

Before following the path around the house, to reach the back door they had used on the previous day, he paused in front of the large window. Those colorful things behind it were intriguing and totally not a way to stall for a bit of time. There were bowls and lanterns on the shelves, and baubles and stars and birds, hanging from the ceiling. Some of them were moving slightly, perhaps set in motion by whatever breeze might waft through a house people were living in. Where the light of the setting sun fell onto them, they sparkled and glittered and it looked so fucking pretty and peaceful, Riordan could almost forget the dread in his stomach.

He remembered it when he started to walk, finally reaching the back door and raising his hand to knock. The door opened, and whatever he had expected, it wasn’t… that.

The man standing in front of him, wearing a colorful apron dusted with flour, was the absolutely least threatening thing Riordan had ever seen.

“Come in,” Damien said, taking a step aside.

Riordan did, stepping into the smell of freshly baked bread and roasted onions. It made his mouth water. If he was going to be poisoned, this would definitely be one of the better ways to go about it.

The woman was just finishing setting the table, and the glance she cast in his direction… well he wouldn’t go as far as to call it friendly, but at least she didn’t seem to consider murdering him straight away anymore, which was definitely an improvement.

“Hello,” Riordan said.

Very eloquent, he had to give himself that. But what the fuck was he supposed to say? Thanking them for the invitation would seem like mockery, and he hadn’t brought any gifts. He should have, shouldn’t he?

“Hello.” Her posture was as stiff as her tone, but not openly hostile. She gestured at the chair he had sat in the previous day. “Have a seat.”

Riordan followed her invitation, sitting down and staring at the plate in front of him. Pristine white with a fine blue pattern around the edge. He raised his head as the two started to walk back and forth between the counter and the table, placing down the food. A woven basket with slices of freshly baked bread, an earthen casserole dish, still steaming hot, and bowls of various sizes.

Damien placed down the last thing — a plate with a golden block of butter — and sat down on the bench.

“Wasn’t sure if you only avoid meat, or animal products in general, so the butter is on the side, as is the sauce,” he said, pointing to a second bowl.

“Only meat,” Riordan replied, finding his voice strangely weak.

“Go ahead, help yourself, then.” Damien gestured across the table.

Merridy had already grabbed a piece of bread and was now spreading butter on it, while Damien apparently waited for him to start. It would be awkward not to, so Riordan reached for the spoon in one of the bowls, piling some of the roast vegetables on his plate. Next he cut off a piece of the brown loaf in the casserole dish, eyeing it curiously as soon as he had maneuvered it next to the vegetables. He could make out the shape of various legumes, glazed onions and little brown strips he couldn’t identify.

Too curious to wait any longer, he picked one up with his fork, noticing from the corner of his eye how Damien started to serve both himself and Merridy. Riordan almost hated himself for the fleeting thought that it was reassuring, seeing him use the same utensils, taking from the same bowls. Finally raising the fork to his mouth, Riordan found the taste unfamiliar, but the texture of the little brown thing that of some kind of mushroom. Fuck, it was good. He took another bite, a proper fork full this time, before he remembered to take some of the rest of the food. The sauce, which — if the smell was any indication — contained cheese, as well as some potatoes and a slice of bread.

“This is really good.”

There was a small smile on Damien’s face. The way it didn’t quite reach his eyes made Riordan lower his head, look at his plate instead. For a while, the sound of silverware on dishes was the only thing that could be heard. Whatever questions he had brought with him, they were forgotten over how delicious everything was. This was absolutely not what he would have expected. He was used to picking scraps of meat out of a stew on the days where his traveling company was too lazy to fulfill even the tiniest request of putting it in later.

And here he was, sitting at the kitchen table of two people who had every reason to hate him, and yet they had made sure to cook specifically for him. He cast careful glances around, more thoroughly than the previous day, where he had been almost fully focused on the people in this room. Everything looked so cozy. There was no other way to put it. The curtains and the towels, colorful scraps of cloth. The polished, worn countertops, little bushels of dried herbs and clay pots with fresh ones. Somehow even the pile of split wood next to the oven managed to look perfectly placed.

This wasn’t a trick, no careful deception. They really did live like that, in this sleepy town. Gardening and cooking and doing whatever else normal people who didn’t live with a sword in hand did. He really couldn’t ruin that, could he?

Still, he also couldn’t forget who this man had been, what he had done. As likely as it seemed, he had to make absolutely sure the days of the Nightmare were over. Riordan wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he let Damien go and later learned that he had hurt someone. He just had to figure out how to best accomplish that.

It was Damien who started to speak, while Riordan still tried to put his questions into words.

“So, what brings you here?”

“I’m with the Order of Fire now,” Riordan said. “Going out with their researchers to keep them safe while they stick their noses where they don’t belong. My current employer is in this citadel for a week or two, and I have little to do while he’s stuck in meetings all day.”

He could have used the chance to take a portal and spend a couple of days in any major city, but that had lost its appeal a while ago.

“Really? From squad leader to babysitting scholars?” Damien sounded amused. It almost seemed like a normal conversation between acquaintances; it was dangerously easy to believe it was.

“Wouldn’t call it babysitting.” Riordan hesitated for only one moment, then he dared to take another piece of the bean dish, as well as a second slice of bread. “Babies get in less trouble than those guys. And they grow out of it.” He grinned.

“What kind of trouble?”

Damien leaned back as he asked this question, obviously done eating. Merridy’s plate was empty as well, except for a slice of bread she was steadily ripping into smaller pieces.

“Oh, you have no idea. One time…” Riordan almost forgot to eat as he started to tell of some of the more hilarious ideas the little rat man had gotten into his head. From wandering into a bear cave to get his hands on a bunch of rare fungi, over taking flowers straight out of peoples’ gardens, to making him climb trees to harvest some moss that was growing on the highest branches.

By the time he had finished telling of the one time the nyvi had tried to get a sample of a kalani, it had become dark outside the windows. The leftover food had long grown cold, and it was clear that this was an excellent moment to bid his farewell.

“Now we talked about me all evening,” he said, wondering briefly if it had been on purpose. It hadn’t seemed that way. “There were… some questions I had.” Questions he wouldn’t be able to ask right now, because he still hadn’t figured out how to phrase them. “Would you mind if I come back tomorrow? Perhaps in the afternoon.”

As much as he had enjoyed this dinner, it would be unfair to make them cater to him again. Now that he was reasonably sure he had not been poisoned, and he probably also wouldn’t get stabbed in the back and buried under something that wasn’t lavender, it might be easier for him to think about what he wanted to ask.

“Sure.”

Riordan wasn’t oblivious enough to not notice the strained tone of Damien’s voice. He opted to ignore it. One more evening, and they’d be rid of him for good. That really wasn’t too much to ask for his silence, was it?

Well, if Merridy’s gaze was any indication, it was. Riordan decided to ignore it as well as he pushed his chair back to get up.

“Thank you. The food was excellent. I’ll come by tomorrow sometime after noon.”

He walked to the door, half expecting at least one of them to accompany him there, perhaps to make sure he’d actually leave. But neither got up. Merridy was sitting at the edge of her chair, leaning in Damien’s direction. When Riordan turned around with a nod, to open the door, his gaze fell on a bowl of glass shards, sitting on a shelf next to it. How curious.

“Good night,” he said, suddenly overly aware that he had overstayed his welcome. He avoided looking back, even as he turned around one last time to pull the door closed behind him.

Hands buried in his pockets and staring at the ground in front of his feet, he had a lot of things to think about on his way back to the citadel.

[ID: The banner shows the feet of two people wearing boots, sitting next to each other in the grass. The title fancy boots is written next to them in a fancy looking, curly font in a bright green to yellow gradient. All other images are purely ornamental lines. End ID.]

Tagging: @teamwhump @dont-touch-my-soup @whump-in-the-moonlight

#Glass Shards #Fancy Boots #whump #fantasy whump #my writing

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ohgodsalazarwhy · 2 years

Text

Spending my evening thinking about one of the worst cakes I’ve ever made in my life. A birthday cake for my Mom.

Because I like to bake and I’ve made a lot of cakes over the years my family will sometimes conscript me to be In Charge of the birthday cakes (for some reason this stopped when I had to cut wheat out of my diet. Weird.). Several years ago I got the idea of making my Mom something a little fancier than my usual (delicious, fluffy, perfect) white cake. I’d make her a spice cake, and I’d do some fancy piping with the buttercream.

I pulled a spice cake recipe off the internet and followed it. Something went wrong. Horribly, terribly wrong. The cake was dense. I cannot adequately describe to you the sheer density of this cake. This cake looked like bread without any yeast. This cake weighed 30 lbs out of the oven. This cake had so little air in it that it actively lowered the oxygen levels of the nearby atmosphere.

Lowered oxygen levels are about all I can use to explain what I did next, which was to cover the entire thing in piped spikes of buttercream. The effect was less “fancy piping” and more “dense cluster of pimples”. I didn’t color it either, so the end result was a cake that weighed a ton and was the color of a faded photograph of a white person’s home from the 70′s with the texture of a shag rug made stiff from years of orgies.

I knew. I knew it was bad. But I had no more ingredients or time to do another one, I was bringing the cake to my Mom’s birthday dinner in just a couple hours. I was resigned to teasing from my family, and I knew my Mom would be nice because she loved me but we’d all laugh about it and whatever.

What I didn’t know was that Mom had invited many friends to her birthday dinner. It wasn’t just family. And I didn’t know until I was up the stairs and the entire table of middle aged women were looking at me.

I apologized profusely for the cake. It’s ugly, it’s dense, I’m so sorry. Oh god no one has to eat it. But I had to sit there, sweating pure humiliation as Mom and all her friends ate my terrible fucking cake and cooed and complimented it and said what a lovely cake, oh such a delicious cake and I just wanted to sink through the floor and cease existing because THEY knew it was terrible and I knew it was terrible but good manners prevented anyone from saying that.

And I think about it all the time. This fucking cake haunts me. It’s like a screensaver memory for some reason. I’ll be minding my own business and my brain will be like “remember the time you made Mom and all her nice friends eat a brick?”

YES. I REMEMBER. THANKS.

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razieltwelve · 2 years

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Career Change (RWBY AU Snippet)

Death appeared before Bureaucracy in all of her terrible splendour. A cloak as red as blood billowed around her, and a scythe blacker than the dead of night rested upon her shoulder. Within her hood, twin pinpoints of silver light gleamed with all the radiance of every star in Creation.

“Weiss,” Ruby whined. “I think I need a career change.”

Weiss blinked and looked up from the application in front of her. Apparently, the dinosaurs on planet Earth had found out about the whole ‘asteroid from space plan’ and were lobbying hard to get an extension, moving their eventual extinction from the end of the Jurassic to the end of the Cretaceous. Assuming Weiss approved the move, they would undoubtedly file another application as the Cretaceous drew to a close.

Oh well. She didn’t see the harm in approving the application and revisiting the issue again in a hundred million years or so. They must have managed to contact one of the other dimensions in which the dinosaurs had survived. Those velociraptor wizards of theirs were surprisingly good at dimensional magic.

“What do you mean a career change?” Weiss asked.

“I don’t know if I want to be Death anymore,” Ruby said. “Everybody is scared of me, and I have to keep reaping people’s souls.” She huffed. “I had to reap a puppy’s soul today, Weiss. Do you know how bad it feels to explain to a puppy that, no, there won’t be any more walks or belly rubs because they got hit by a car?”

Weiss sighed. “It must be awful, Ruby, but somebody has to be Death. Remember what happened when you went on holiday and we forgot to have someone fill in for you?”

Ruby huffed and nodded. “I guess that was pretty bad...”

It had been an absolute catastrophe. There were people wandering around without their heads, zombies wondering if their jobs as the go-to undead minions were safe, and that wasn’t even touching on the whole ‘people for whom death would have been a mercy’ thing.

Yeah.

There was a reason the other gods had asked Ruby to create the Grim Reaper Corps. The GRC had done a wonderful job on the few holidays Ruby had taken since then, but the fact was that they simply couldn’t replace her full-time. Ruby wasn’t a god who handled death. She was Death. With a Capital D. In fact, that’s what her subordinates called her, Capital D. Well, some of them wanted to call her Big D, but that just sounded weird.

“Look,” Weiss said. “I can’t approve any change of career for you, but how about expanding your career? You’re certainly powerful enough to expand your portfolio. Look at Nora. She was originally goddess of storms and natural disasters, and only a few aeons ago, I approved her application to be made goddess of hammers too.”

“I guess she didn’t like it when someone asked her if she was the goddess of hammers because of how much she liked her hammer,” Ruby said. “Although I get why she likes her hammer. It is a pretty great hammer. Perfect for smiting people.” She patted her scythe. “But not as good as my scythe.”

“So...” Weiss said. “If you were to expand your portfolio what were you thinking? I could make you the goddess of healers and apothecaries. They pray to you more than almost anyone else. Or how about the goddess of vultures? People associate them with you all the time.”

Ruby made a face. “I was thinking of something a little bit different...”

“Oh?” Weiss leaned forward. “What did you have in mind?”

X X X

The baker clasped his hands together in prayer. Today, he was attempting to bake the ultimate cookie, a cookie so awesome he had only ever dreamed of it. If he succeeded, he would be the talk of bakers for centuries to come. He would go straight into the bakery hall of fame with other immortals like the woman who’d invented scones and the guy who’d invented sliced bread.

Yet as he prayed with all his might, he felt a change in the air. Yes! His prayers had been answered. The blessings of the god of bakers were upon him! True, he didn’t know that there was a god of bakers, but the feeling inside his soul was too strong to be denied. Someone had heard his prayers.

He opened his eyes and then reeled back.

“Ah!” he screamed, raising his hands in a plea for mercy. “Please, don't reap my soul!”

Death stood before him in all her solemn glory. She gazed down at him with those inscrutable, indescribable eyes of hers and then took a step forward. “Why would I reap your soul?”

“Because you’re Death!” the baker wailed. “That’s what you do!”

“What? Oh.” Death laughed. Her cloak and scythe vanished, and she was instead dressed in a simple set of clothes that included a hooded apron that somehow managed to conceal everything except for the fact that she had dark hair and silver eyes. “That’s better.”

“Huh?”

“Well,” Death said. “I decided it was time to expand my horizons. As of this morning, I officially became the god of bakers too!”

“Right...” The baker blinked. “So... you’re not here to take my soul?”

“Nope. I’m here to lend you my support as you make the most awesome cookies ever!”

The baker slowly got to his feet. “I see. In that case, I’d best get to work.”

X X X

Author’s Notes

Death!Ruby is always up for expanding her horizons, and what better way to do that than by becoming god of bakers too? Sure, it’s not as prestigious a title as Death, but it does come with more cookies. Also, will the dinosaurs manage to get an extension at the end of the Cretaceous, or are they destined to be wiped out by an asteroid? Find out in the next thrilling episode of Bureaucracy: Weiss vs Dinosaurs!

#rwby #fanfiction #ruby rose #weiss schnee

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superaznchick · 2 years

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life update #12

hi void i am back for another free therapy session

today i wanted to talk about some things i've spent a lot of time reflecting about over the last two-ish weeks so today's content is gonna be a mish mash of different things

a deep, swelling void inside of me that's been there for as long as i remember - i think i just hate people. but i love them at the same time. let me explain.

growing up i was actually very much extraverted. i was so chatty, i loved talking to people, i loved making jokes and making other people laugh. i used to yell and scream and be loud. and then, i moved to america. i was around 5-6 around the time. i didnt know the language, but i could read expressions and hear the tones - people didn't like me. i was odd, and i looked different. suddenly, i felt as if my mouth had been sewn shut. i couldn't open my mouth and make any noise without feeling like a fool. i couldn't finish assignments because i didn't know, i didn't understand anything. and this, this was the first time that i developed such an affliction for other human beings.

because do you know what kids do to people that are different and odd? kids don't have empathy. there was a wall there where true connections should have been formed. but what about the adults? who, my immigrant mom and her parents that she felt was a good idea to bring along with her? the ones that also didn't speak the language and were emotionally constipated, abusive, and trapped in their own world? another wall. my immigrant dad that couldn't get a job, couldn't secure an america visa, tried again in canada and started an affair even when he had a wife and child waiting for him? another wall.

everywhere i looked: wall. wall, wall, wall wall wall. and me - listen, to be honest at this point i don't actually truly believe anything was ever wrong with me. i mean look at me - i busted out here with 10 fingers and 10 toes, tall and sturdy. i even have some nice traits, like nice boobs! and a tenacity for life, an absolute rejection of failure kicking and screaming. i fought for my life back then. i really did.

so what happened? everywhere i looked i was rejected, shot down. i felt like a little god sometimes, looking around my house. i thought: "did anyone SEE that? look! it happened again! why is no one else seeing what i'm seeing?" i saw everything and understood everything, but it seemed like the adults couldn't see anything. i saw myself crying so hard that i would sleep and wake up with my eyes swollen. i saw myself shutting the fuck up in a room full of kids. i saw my parents screaming at each other. it seemed like no one else could see what i saw back then.

so why do i hate people now? i hate them because they cause me pain. every glance, touch, exchange of words is no longer a shower of candy on christmas morning. people are a void. would you toss your car keys into a void? how about all the money in your pocket? would you throw your jacket, your shoes, your jewelry, your hand into the void? would you throw your time and love and patience and empathy and kindness into a void? a void is a void, like a tree is a tree and a rock is a rock. and people are all, all voids.

so why do i love people? i don't know, why do you love air? like i said - i don't believe anything was ever wrong with me to begin with. i think i believed something was wrong because there was something wrong, but just not with me. i still want to be your neighbor. i still want to bake you banana bread and share it with you on your porch. i want to go to target with you and hold you when you need to be held. i was born like this, and this has never changed.

but the thing that is so hard to get other people to understand is that they are all hurting me - to an unimaginable degree. it feels like i'm losing air every minute i spend with anyone, friend coworker acquaintence whatever. i suffer so much, but i fight tooth and nail for you because i love you. i can't get to everyone. sometimes you'll leave thinking that i'm standoffish and can't hold a conversation. but for one or two of you, i can be a little more than that. i wish it could be fair, but i have to pick the ones that are more kind, empathetic, and understanding to min/max my efforts. i wish i had more room for all of you, i really do, but i don't have the capacity.

does anyone understand? i just don't want to keep living with all this guilt and shame. i'm out here begging to hang out but i'm completely shut down after like two hours. and yeah i can go to your meeting and i can do this task and i can look into this problem for you, but like ... you're on thin fucking ice buddy. no you didn't do anything wrong but i hate working with you because you clearly don't know what i'm going through right now but i still have to put on this face like everything is good and right. no hate -- but hate. you know what i mean?

i can't fight that i'm growing up anymore. every time i'm confronted with my growth i cry inside because it feels like a death. it's like the child inside me is dying but i never even got a chance to be a child. it feels unfair, like why do i have to grow up now? are you telling me that that's IT? like, finally i have some money and mobility and autonomy and now you're telling me "time to hand in your keys the lease is up" like?? come ON dude.

i think that's what i've been feeling lately - a mourning. i'm mourning the death of the me that once was. and i'm genuinely really sad that she didn't live a good life. i've carried her for so long that she felt like a friend, chiming in and commenting on every major life milestone. but she doesn't belong here anymore. she's dying. and i have to let her go.

before she goes i feel like she deserves one more little celebration. i feel like i've been pretty down and negative lately, thinking about all the bad things that happened to me. maybe i would feel better if i took the time to celebrate all the brilliant things about me that survived instead of resenting the parts that were burned away. she was incredible, to be quite honest. no one knows about what she's done, the times she picked herself up and moved forward into darkness and voids. she threw everything into the void, even herself. that is a kind of courage that i don't think i could even muster up today. she did well. really well. and she deserves to rest in peace.

i feel like i was born into this world thinking that true empathy grew on trees, and everyone was getting it except for me. i don't believe this is true anymore. i think some people are just less sensitive than others, and for them their cup already runneth over. but other people like me are just bottomless pits.

doing things - this, living, breathing, working, hoping, wondering, wishing - makes me feel like a baby crying into the void, hoping, wishing someone would come pick me up. sometimes, no one comes. so i continue crying and hoping and wishing.

#personal #life update

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peachysunrize · 1 month

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Lemon Tart ⥃ Prince! Aemond (p.1)

Summary: after six years of searching for his lover, Aemond comes across her bakery in Flea Bottom with his betrothed.

Warnings: 18+ mdni! Smut, p in v, royalty x commoner, infidelity, Alicent’s a bit more uptight here, angst angst angst, oral (M! Receiving), mentions of war, they lost their virginity at 16, English isn’t my first language<3

Word count: 5.2k

a/n: hi!! I had to re-edit this and post it, I just had to lol. But given the circumstances, I hope you’ll ignore this if it isn’t your cup of tea. Do not make fun of my english please I’m not a native speaker🩷 reblog and comments are most appreciated<3

Shoutout to my girl, @namelesslosers , for beta reading my work🥹🫂

It disgusted Aemond to no end that King’s Landing’s streets smelt this horrible, and having his betrothed by his side, walking among the commoners only added to his unmanageable frustration.

Cassandra Baratheon was as tolerating as a Baratheon could be; exceptionally loud and obnoxious, clingy and always cheerful, and totally the opposite of Aemond. And when she set her mind on something, there was no way she would accept anything but whatever she desired.

That’s why Aemond found himself glaring at anyone who dared cross their path. He had to put up with his betrothed obsession as she stopped at every shop she could find, buying unnecessary things to waste his money on and be happy so he could do his duty without her nose sticking into his business.

He was cautious as they neared a bakery in the dark corner of the alley. Guardsmen were ready to slaughter whoever they thought was a threat to Prince and his beloved wife-to-be.

Cassandra approached the shop, looking at different pastries, cakes, loaves of bread, and little desserts that were freshly baked.

“Aemond we have to buy some!” She whined like she always did when she wanted something. And he was sick of hearing that damned nose again for the millionth time that day.

“Of course,” he replied coldly. He gave her another bag of gold and ushered her closer to the bakery. He watched as people left the bakery as soon as they got closer, afraid of the One-eyed prince.

Cassandra stood behind the stool, watching as the baker – you – ran around the little shop with haste to get every order done. She cleared her throat, head held high as she glared at your back for not answering her.

“When a Princess is standing in your presence, you will bow and do as she says,” she whines again, trying to push past the wooden stool to get into your shop.

“You are yet to be a princess,” Aemond caught her arm, pulling her back harshly as he kept his face emotionless.

You froze, turning towards the royal couple standing in front of your bakery. The white hair, violet eye, and leather eyepatch; you remembered him so well. Every second you had spent together was playing in front of you, and all of a sudden you felt as if the walls of the bakery were falling on you, but you had to appear strong, after all, you left everything behind and moved on.

“My prince,” you said with a shaky voice, “My lady, how may I help you on this fine morning?” You smiled at them, swallowing harshly as you tried to avoid Aemond’s gaze as he stared at you.

Maybe he didn’t remember you, but how much a person could change in six years? You looked the same, a bit more mature. You could see how he was fighting the urge to keep staring at you and figuring you out. You prayed to the old gods that he didn’t recognize you, you were nowhere ready to experience his famous wrath and cruelty.

“Finally,” The lady huffed, “a loaf of your freshest bread and three strawberry cakes. They look delicious, don’t they, Aem?”

Your heart dropped when you heard her calling him by the nickname he only allowed you to call him. Maybe they were closer than you thought, but at that moment Aemond proved you wrong.

“Don’t ever call me that again, do you understand?” He warned her, his eye boring into hers as he frowned down at her. She nodded immediately, looking at her joined hands in front of her.

“Anything for you, my prince?” Finally, you regarded him. You couldn’t breathe when his eye locked with yours. You didn’t know how to feel, fear? Yearning? Pain? Love? You just stood there, staring into each other’s eyes. His gaze was intense like it had always been – since his childhood to now, he liked to look through everything and everyone, and then, he wanted to figure you out.

You wished for nothing but to melt away from his heated gaze as you waited for him to reply. He still had that effect on you which you became easily flustered around him, and it gave him a sense of power he had always craved.

“Lemon tart,”

You nodded and turned around quickly, not wishing to look upon his face anymore. He remembered everything, and he showed it with two simple words. You wanted to sob right there, but you had a job, and angering the prince of the realm and his future lady wife would be the last thing you needed.

You massaged your neck slowly as you walked to where you kept the sweets and cakes. The lady’s order was ready and you went to grab the latest lemon tart you had baked; lemon tart with sugar powder on top and slices of lemon and different berries – just how he liked. You could remember exactly from the day you opened your bakery this particular dessert was everyone’s favorite, and whenever you baked, it reminded you of how he would assist you.

Shaking your head to get rid of the beautiful memories, you put the cake inside the box and handed them all to the guards that were standing there.

“Is there anything else that you wish for?” you asked politely, looking at Cassandra, not Aemond.

“No,” He said curtly, grabbing the bag of gold from his betrothed and dropping it on the stool in front of you before he turned his back and left without another word being said. You thanked him quietly, watching him distance himself.

Why did it hurt to watch him leave? It shouldn't have hurt you at least, because you did the same thing, but never allowed him to watch you leave. You were just…gone from his life one day and he couldn’t do anything. Perhaps the gods deemed fit to punish you for your past actions, and years ago you had made your peace with it. But why did it feel like an arrow to your chest as you stared at his white hair that fell around his shoulders like moonlight waterfalls?

—-------

A few weeks passed and every day a royal guard would come to your bakery to order a lemon tart for his highness. You felt dreadful when you had to pack yet another box for The prince and all whilst you had to wipe the tears from your eyes.

You didn’t get a blink of sleep because your mind was too occupied with Aemond Targaryen. You spent days crying and begging for the gods to take your life over the past six years but they didn’t. You were sure they wanted to see how you’d crumble to your feet and about the one that got away. The taste of happiness had been long gone from your life ever since you were forced to leave the castle; you had left your two loved ones behind.

One evening, you closed the bakery sooner, even though the guard didn’t come that day. The orange lights of the fireplace gave some sort of life to the dull room with all the scented candles you had lightened a few minutes ago.

A knock on your door brought you out of your train of thought. You were basically lonely in this neighborhood, just a few older shopkeepers who worked nearby, even your regular customers didn’t know you lived upstairs.

Aemond Targaryen was standing outside your door, with a brown bag in his hand.

“My Prince, I-” You didn’t know how to react. You were confused, shocked, and a little flustered.

“Can I come in?” He asked for permission, looking over your shoulder to see your home.

“Yes, oh, sure,” You stood aside, opening the door for him to walk in.

He was silent as he observed his surroundings. Your home was welcoming even though it was much smaller than his chambers, it still felt livelier than anywhere he had set foot in.

“I beg your pardon, this is not a place befitting you, my prince-”

“Nonsense, this is quite alright,” he replied hurriedly.

He was anxious; the feared one-eyed prince was anxious about meeting his past friend – lover – and he couldn’t hide it. When he was near her, his emotions were all over the place. It felt right to tell her everything, he felt safe with her even after being apart for years.

“How can I help you then, my prince?” you asked, biting your lip in anticipation.

You couldn’t see his face, but you were aware of how tense his shoulders would get whenever you called him by his title. He had never been the prince for you, even when you were kids.

“Stop,” he inhaled, “stop calling me that.”

“I can’t, my price-”

“Yes, you can!” suddenly he raised his voice, making you flinch away from him, “Aemond is fine.” he continued with a hushed voice after how you retreated from him.

“I brought a few things,” He handed you the bag, finally having time to look at you thoroughly; your hair was down, you were wearing a simple loose dress that fell on your knees, and you were bare feet. You looked just as he remembered, so simple and gentle as if the gods had made you for him. Back then he thought you were sent from heaven, and now you looked even more beautiful with how mature you had grown.

“Eggs and milk?” you smiled at him, hesitant to know the reason.

“I thought perhaps we could bake a lemon tart together.” His words were rushed. He was scared of your rejection and you caught on to it quickly.

“Sure,” you replied, walking towards the little kitchen you had, “I know there isn’t much space…”

“It is enough for both of us,”

“Alright, then let’s start, Aemond.”

You missed the weight of his name on your tongue, how you used to say it with joy and laughter, how you used to moan in it when your bodies molded together perfectly. And he missed hearing it from you. His name never felt the same after you left, not even when his sister said it.

You both started working in sync like old times when you’d sneak him into the castle’s kitchen and teach him how to bake different breads and pastries but Lemon tart was always his favorite — you had brought a piece of it for him after he lost his eye.

He remembered how you both would mess up the large kitchen at midnight with flour and fruit juices as you started baking together ever since the incident. Every night he’d meet you in the hallway near the maids’ rooms and you tiptoe towards the kitchen while giggling all the way.

You made him smile even at his lowest.

You started with pouring the milk and him taking care of the eggs, your bodies close to each other after years of running towards each other without ever reaching the destination.

You watched as he took off his leather coat and rolled up his sleeves, grabbing the flour he had found in one of your cabinets. You mixed as you observed his hands; rough cuts of sword swinging and dragon riding on them, and you saw the little mark of the place he had burnt himself while you were in the kitchen together.

You felt the heat of his body on your back while you were mixing the ingredients. He was close, so close that his hot breath was on your neck, his hands caging your body as soon as you tried to move away from him. He came there with purpose, and he wouldn’t back down until he got what he needed.

“Aemond,”

He quickly retreated from you, snatching the bowl out of your hands. You walked to the fireplace immediately, not daring to look at him. Both of you were on edge, you desired the closeness but the fear pushed everything down the cliff. You knew he wasn’t there just for a lemon tart, he was there for answers that you had buried deep down.

You had no idea how long it passed while you stared at the flames, but it had to be a solid two hours of silence when he came back with two plates and a lemon tart with sugar powder and chopped fruits on top – just how he liked it.

You put a piece on his plate and sat down as you stared at the tart in yours. It had been so long since you had been with him in a room, or baked with him. It felt strange yet so nostalgic. He sat next to you as he ate in silence, not once meeting your eyes but you knew his eyes were scanning you from head to toe.

The first bite melted on your tongue, the sweet and sour flavors were always your favorite combinations. You smiled, remembering how much Aemond loved to add more lemon to the mix just to see how your face scrunched as you ate it.

“It tastes delicious. Thank you,” you said, finally looking up from your plate to see him already looking at you with wide eyes.

He was always hard to read with all the walls he had built around himself. There were rare occasions that he’d smile or even laugh when you were around after the loss of his eyes. Eventually, he grew more comfortable around you, sometimes the little Aemond joked and tried to make you laugh.

He was a prince, and you were a maid’s daughter; you couldn’t be seen with each other, hence the reputation he had to uphold because of his title. At that time when you were both eleven, you found it funny how he couldn’t join you for meals, or how he talked when he was with his grandsire.

But as you grew up, the feelings that had been planted since your childhood bloomed and they became complicated and hard to ignore. You watched him in balls and gatherings on the king’s behalf, he dressed so well and you found your eyes following his every move. He danced with highborn ladies, who he told you were forced to do so, and you just stood in the corner of the hall.

Your worlds were so different, he had a bright future ahead of him with his future lady wife and you? You had no idea what you wanted to do.

“Do you still bake in the castle?” You asked with a hushed voice.

“No,” it was curt, and you nodded your head in acknowledgment. After all, it wasn’t easy to talk about this particular issue.

“I am not keen on wasting my time, but I have a question that has been left unanswered for six fucking years.”

Aemond Targaryen was a man of honor and dignity. He held his chin high and burnt everyone by looking at them like the dragon he truly was — and he never cussed. Your eyes widened at how miserable he looked.

“Why did you leave?” His eye bore into yours as he glared at you.

You were scared, you wanted to run away again, and you did — you stood up and tried to walk to the kitchen, but Aemond was fast on his feet and grabbed your elbow before you could make it past him.

“Don’t,” he warned you, and you had no choice but to oblige as he pointed at your bed in the corner of the room.

“Sit and give me an explanation for keeping me in the dark for six years.” He stood in front of you, holding his hands behind his back.

“Why did you leave?”

Your eyes watered, you couldn’t even form a word as you remembered how you left him. But he was in your house again, perhaps it could be your last chance to show him how much you loved him by explaining everything about your departure.

~ It happened so fast, Queen Alicent had come to the maids’ area with Ser Cole on the toe as they searched for her son who had missed breakfast. If it wasn’t for the girls who had talked about the noises they heard last night, she wouldn’t be able to find him.

She didn’t need to ask anyone to know which maid she should search for. She knew you and his son were friends, and as much as she disapproved you made Aemond happy, by just being his friend and nothing more.

You were awake, doing your morning duties in the kitchen. You hummed and baked the sweets Princess Heleana asked you to while you thought about your night with the prince. You smiled to yourself sheepishly remembering he was still sleeping naked in your not-so-comfortable bed. The night was full of intimate moments, and he took his time with you; memorizing every curve of your body, every scratch. He kissed your scars and caressed the soft skin of your hips as he desired.

Sixteen and in love, what a blissful life.

Queen Alicent interrupted your daydreaming when she appeared in the kitchen, demanding the other maids to leave you alone. All the girls rushed out without glancing your way, too scared to even breathe as they filled out the kitchen.

You bowed, keeping your gaze on your feet as she glanced around herself. Never did you think you would see the queen in the kitchen, but there you were, and it could only mean one thing.

“Losing your virtue to the prince of the realm must be your highest achievement, Y/N.” Your heart dropped, sweat beading on your palms as you kept your head bowed down. You were caught, and all the punishment and consequences of your teenage sins would fall upon you — after all, no one dared to say an ill word towards Aemond Targaryen under his mother’s watch.

“At least now you can keep your mouth shut,” she sighed, pacing with her hands behind her back, “your lewd sounds were heard by the other girls. I know my son, he wouldn’t stoop this low to warm a maid’s bed. How did you trick him into this?”

You didn’t — couldn’t — say a word. Your mind was blank, the queen’s harsh words cut deep and you took the blow every time she spoke. She shouldn’t know it was Aemond’s idea, even if you told her, she wouldn’t believe you.

“Look at me,” she grabbed your chin, yanking your face upwards with her fingers digging into your cheeks. Tears streamed down your face as you looked into Alicent’s eyes.

“I love him,”

A simple confession that led you and Aemond to the current situation. He was the one to barge into your room and said those three words, and you followed him. He was your childhood friend, your baking partner, and he became your lover last night.

“Oh, so you love him. Well, if you truly love my son, you will leave the castle and stay as far away as you can from him. He has a future ahead of him, a duty to fulfill and you only drag him down to the mud with your filthy hands.”

She looked into your teary eyes, no sympathy in her voice as she gestured to Cole to escort you to your room. You couldn’t defend yourself, you were no one in her eyes, or anyone for that matter. Your only solace was Aemond, not the passionate lover nor the prince, just your friend, and then you were leaving him.

Cole waited outside as you gathered your clothes and found a little bag you found under the same bed Aemond was sleeping on. Quietly, you walked towards him, pushing a few of the strands of his hair out of his face. He stirred slightly but didn’t wake up. You pressed one last peck on his forehead and scar before you left him for good.~

Aemond stood in front of your bed, watching you sob as you told him what had truly happened that day. His face was emotionless, but you were good at reading him ever since you had spent nearly every day together. He clenched his fist, taking a shaky breath in while he listened to you.

Everything started to make sense when he was reminded of his mother’s words after he left your room to find you but he saw The Queen in the kitchen. She told him you left him with no remorse, you just took what you wanted from your Targaryen prince and left the castle wishing for his child to take — and he believed it.

But there you were; sitting on your bed, body shaking with sobs and tears, and no sign of a child around you. He had been fooled for years. He had been searching the entire city and couldn’t find you because of his mother and the City Watch.

He knelt on the floor, his eye telling you every word he couldn’t utter. You knew him like the back of your hand; he wasn’t good with words, and he was in disbelief at what you had told him.

You did what you had wanted to do for so long; you fell limp into his arms, hugging him close as your sobbing grew louder. The smell of sandalwood and leather was calming, the scent was a nice reminder of what it felt like to be close to him.

He wrapped his arms around you instantly, pulling your body impossibly close to his. He had to remind himself it was real that you were with him again and the agony of not seeing you was over.

He kissed your exposed shoulder like he always did when he tried to calm you down, and you melted within his arms. None of you dared to say a word, too afraid of breaking this blissful spell you had created.

You pulled back a little to take a good look at his handsome face. His jaw had become a bit sharper, he looked more mature and gorgeous than you remembered. He looked like those princes from fantasy books who’d save you from a curse just by kissing you.

At that moment, all you wanted was to taste him. And taste him you did.

He met you halfway, his lips touching yours slowly. You moved together, chasing each other’s taste as you poured all the unsaid words into the kiss. The sugary taste of the desert you had was a cherry on top when his tongue met yours.

There was no rush, but the amount of lost time made you both hungry for each other.

You pulled his clothes off, latching your lips to his exposed neck. Aemond couldn’t care less about his betrothed, he had you in his arms, and being in an arranged engagement with the woman he had no feelings for was the last of his worries.

He stripped you out of your dress, his fingers brushing over your hardened nipples. He missed the way you sighed when you were content, and he wanted to make sure that he would create a wonderful night for you.

He sat on the bed with you straddling him, whimpering when you grind yourself down on his bulge. You kissed down his neck while he was kneading your breasts, pinching and squeezing the soft flesh here and there.

“Lay down, Aem.” You commanded gently, pushing him on his back while you sat on your knees between his legs, “I have a lot to make up for.”

His breathing became irregular as you kissed down his chest, hands roaming his toned body as you made your way down to his pants. You undid the laces and pulled the fabric down. He helped you take them off completely, leaving him fully naked to your lustful gaze.

His cock was already aching hard and you didn’t waste any more time before you grabbed him in your hands, stroking him gently. He looked at you through his hooded eye, watching you closely when you wrapped your lips around the tip. His head fell back on your pillow when you sucked on it a little.

It had been so long for both of you to be intimate with someone else that it left you both impatient and needy for more.

You twirled your tongue around him, taking him deeper into your hot mouth. He was breathless already, and he was having a very hard time not unleashing the beast and taking you as he desired. So before his self-control vanished, he pulled you up and smashed his lips to yours. He couldn’t take it anymore, he would go insane if he wasn’t inside you for a second longer.

You took your underwear off, feeling the wetness of your cunt dripping down your inner thighs a bit. Aemond helped you straddle him again with his hands guiding your hips back and forth on his cock as you rubbed your needy pussy on him.

You moaned — that sweet sound that he would burn the world for just to hear again. You kept yourself up by your hands on his chest as he helped you sit down on his cock, pushing him inside your welcoming hole with a whine.

You leaned down, pushing his eyepatch out of his face slowly, giving him enough time to stop you — but he never did. You looked at the scar that brought you to him, the sapphire that filled the socket glinted and you couldn’t help but press your lips to his eyelids as carefully as you could. He looked fragile beneath you, and you wanted to reassure him, to make him feel safe and wanted and loved again.

He stretched you out and filled you up perfectly. There was no pain, just a slight discomfort at first as you grew used to his size. Meanwhile, he thought he had died and he was in heaven. He had you on top of him — naked in all your glory — with his cock buried deep inside you.

“I missed you, Aem.” It came out as another moan when you rolled your hips.

You rode him for long minutes, kissed, and spent time in each other’s arms as he gave you the pleasure you craved for so long.

Aemond took you in different positions, he made love to you, fucked you at some point, and let you take control when he wanted to just worship your body. He would kiss wherever his lips could reach, and with each press on your skin, you felt fireworks throughout your body.

Your bodies molded together as you both came together; a long, heartwarming, and overwhelming release that you had been pathetically desiring for years.

You were so lost in pleasure that you didn’t notice when he cleaned both of you and laid next to you on your bed. There wasn’t much space for both of you, so Aemond laid you on his chest as he snuggled closer to you. He breathed you in, wishing for this moment to last until his last day alive.

You fell asleep immediately, and you hadn’t been able to do so because it was always him who pulled you into a deep slumber.

He felt safe enough to whisper his devotion into your ear while you slept in his arms. He hoped he could run away from the war and take you away on the dragon's back. He wanted to spend his days with you by his side, but he thanked the gods for this night even though he had not thought about what would be happening at dawn.

—————

The sun rose, and the first rays of sunshine hit Aemond’s face. He stirred a little, nuzzling his nose into your hair as he tried to fall asleep again. He didn’t want his time to end with you this soon before he was forced back to put on the mask again.

The sound of horses and a carriage approaching the bakery was enough to put him on edge. He gently let go of you, pulling the covers over your body before he put on his eyepatch, white undershirt, and pants. He didn’t care if any of the commoners saw him there, after all, he would visit the neighborhood more often from now on.

He came downstairs, his eyes meeting his mother’s eyes as soon as she stood in front of the bakery. How did she know you were there, moreover, how did she know he was there?

“Your future wife has a large mouth, son,” Alicent said, watching his every move.

“What do you want?”

He tried to control his temper when his mother chuckled at his little burst of anger.

“Why her?” She asked.

“Because she makes me feel loved.”

His answer was simple, and it made sense to the queen why he would choose you out of everyone. She remembered how you were always around Aemond when he was alone, you helped him with almost everything and never humiliated him, unlike his cousins and brother.

“She has to leave, Aemond—“

“You are not taking her away from me again!” He raised his voice, “Not when I have found the only source of the light in my miserable life. You will not sink your claws in her again, I will never allow you to ruin our chances of happiness.”

“We are at war, and you are promised to Lady Baratheon—“

“I do not care less about the names and titles,” he sighed, “not when she is who I have loved unconditionally for my whole life.”

Alicent walked closer to him until she could cuo his face.

“In the depth of war, love does not win, son. It is logic and pain and suffering that will bring us victory. We cannot fight against the wrath of Lord Baratheon when he hears of your affair.”

He was about to answer when you interrupted them.

“Her majesty is right, Aem.” You sounded so defeated and defenseless.

They both looked at you and for the second time in the time you had known Aemond, you saw him shed a tear.

Queen Alicent stood back, giving you enough space to talk to him.

You wrapped your arms around his torso, resting your head on his chest as you listened to his heartbeat.

“I have to leave, for the safety of our love.” You said, pecking his lips gently. He kissed back immediately, giving you a final kiss before you vanished from his life again.

“Avy jorrāelan,” I love you.

“I love you, too, Aem. I love you so much.” You kissed him again hurriedly, and he kept you close, not wanting to let you go.

“I hope your seed takes this time so I can have you with myself wherever I go,” you whispered in his ear, “come find us after the war, so we can bake lemon tarts for our silver-haired kids.”

You broke apart and followed Ser Cole to the carriage they had prepared for you after you bowed to the queen.

You left him again with an oath he had to fulfill; he would come to find you when the time was right.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #rue:smut #rue:angst #aemond one eye #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen angst #aemond targaryen smut #prince aemond #prince aemond targaryen

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nimblermortal · 5 months

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I don't think I'm going to like this enough to post it... but I watched Shadow and Bone while traveling for work, and I had something to get out of my system, and Tea challenged me to break up canon couples for 2024, so:

Mal, Alina, and Jesper get together to be really, really bad at cooking.

"Saints, Alina, no one needs to hear how the Sun Summoner, beloved of all, doesn't get a personal caterer who is also in love with her!" Jesper exclaimed.

“I don’t require -“ Alina said defensively, before remembering who she was talking to and sighing. “I forgot. You’re never serious.”

“Hey,” said Mal, in a tone that Alina had heard end many fights, “He can be plenty serious.”

“I’m sorry, I -“ Alina’s eyes narrowed and she gestured indignantly at Jesper. “You’re rubbing off on him.”

“Every chance I get,” said Jesper cheerfully. Alina sighed.

“Can we just read this recipe?” she asked. “You’re the one who wanted to be able to cook for him. Preheat a cast iron skillet.” They looked dubiously at the frying pan. “I still don’t see why I had to throw it,” said Jesper.

“Because you’re the Dur -“

“I mean, why did it have to be thrown at all?”

“That’s what it says in the recipe,” Alina said doggedly. “Cast. Iron. Skillet.”

“Maybe the lard was supposed to go in before you cast it,” said Mal. “To spread it around.”

They contemplated this. Mal was, after all, the best cook of the three, even if his usual repertoire was confined to things you could spear on a stick and hold over a campfire.

“That would have made more sense,” said Jesper. “I could throw it again.”

“No, it says preheat an already cast iron skillet,” said Alina. She set the skillet on the hearth and, with a few movements and some concentration, focused light on it. “How hot did it say?”

“Four hundred… We should have brought Wylan,” said Jesper. “I don’t know how to measure heat.”

“You’re the Durast,” said Alina with exasperation. “Isn’t that what you do?”

“Not generally,” said Jesper. “I sort of, you know…” He slipped his gun out of its holster, spun it round a finger, and slotted it back in.

“Unhelpful,” said Mal unhelpfully. Alina looked at him pleadingly.

“Well, I think paper burns around that temperature, so if we just crumple some paper up, you could heat it until the paper catches fire.”

“Brilliant,” said Alina. “Pass me that map, I was going to scrap it anyway. All right, preheat skillet, we’re on to the next step.”

“Combine corn meal, flour, baking powder, salt… what are these, Alina’s boyfriends?” Jesper asked. Mal squinted over his shoulder.

“No,” he said. “Alina has more than four boyfriends. Which we fully support, men are great and Alina’s taste is terrible.”

“They’re not boyfriends,” said Alina. “They’re…” She searched for the word.

“Fuckboys,” said Jesper. “Which, as established, we fully support; men are great and Alina’s taste is terrible. Don’t argue, you’re the one who put yourself under a ban on long-term relationships.”

“I chose the literal Darkling and…” Alina gestured at Mal.

“Your weirdly co-dependent foster brother?”

“I thought it would be helpful to have some perspective before the next time I dived into something.”

“And I’m grateful that you did,” said Jesper.

“I keep saying you ought to get a Crown-sponsored courtesan,” Mal grumbled. “Just pay someone, you can afford it.” Alina ignored this with the ease of long practice.

“Says the man who put himself under a hundred year relationship ban,” she told Jesper.

“Three hundred,” Jesper corrected. “And, take it from me, not worthwhile.”

“I thought we were making corned bread,” said Mal. “Is anyone still making corned bread? What do we do after combining Alina’s boyfriends?”

“Combine her girlfriends,” said Jesper. “Milk, eggs, oil. The wet ones. In the same bowl.”

“That will be some party,” said Mal. “Who do you think is the e -“

“I’m right here,” said Alina, cracking the eggs into the bowl.

“And?” Jesper asked, drawing the syllable out.

“…and it’s Nadia,” said Alina.

Jesper burst out laughing and it was up to Mal and Alina to mix the batter and pour it into the hot pan. Mal burned himself twice and Alina stared at the bubbling mixture at the edges.

“Is it supposed to do that?” she asked, reaching out a finger to poke it and then remembering that Mal had just burnt himself. Mal shrugged. Jesper recovered himself and peered at it as the bubbling died away.

“I don’t know,” he said, “but I don’t think it was supposed to smoke.”

“It only smoked for a little bit!” Alina protested. She put her foot over the batter that had leapt back out of the pan and landed on the hearth. “And we have it in front of the chimney, so the smoke will probably go outside. Probably.”

“I don’t think it went outside,” said Jesper. Mal crossed the room.

“I can smell it from over here,” he called. Alina scowled.

“Okay, but are we done?” she asked. “This was supposed to be an easy recipe.”

“I don’t know, how hot is the pan?” asked Jesper.

“I thought we established that we don’t know,” Alina responded. She picked up a scrap of the burnt map and touched it to the side. “Colder than before.”

“Well get waving then, sun-lady, it’s supposed to be three hundred and seventy-five!” said Jesper. Alina sighed and put her hands together again.

“For how long?” she asked. Jesper peered back at the paper, his lips moving rapidly as he scanned.

“Twenty minutes,” he said.

“Twenty minutes?” Alina protested. “I’m supposed to stand here and keep this at a specific temperature that we don’t know for twenty minutes?”

“We’ll keep you entertained!” Jesper promised. “Why, did I ever tell you how we abducted you from the Little Palace?”

“You didn’t abduct me,” said Alina. “I climbed into your carriage.”

“Yes, but before that,” said Jesper. “Kaz came up with this great plan to…”

Mal eased over to Alina to whisper in her ear as Jesper performed. “You shouldn’t let him get such a run-up,” he said. “You’ll notice Inej and Kaz never do.”

“I don’t notice you stepping in,” said Alina.

“Well,” said Mal, shrugging, “I like it. And if he makes me corned bread, I’ll like that too.”

“Saints preserve me from boys in love,” Alina growled, her motions growing sharper.

“And don’t burn the bread,” Mal finished.

#food #it's an excuse to put my cornbread recipe on AO3

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palavrasdeputaria · 2 years

Text

I can feel the rain today

It's too early again, I seem to lose more and more sleep everyday

I had a dream about working at Trader Joe's which hasn't happened in a long time.

Very often I still remember that during the height of the pandemic, while most of the world was baking bread and staving off boredom I woke up every single day at 3am and went to work.

We were told we weren't allowed to wear masks and gloves at first

Then eventually they let us, then eventually we were required to if we wanted to work

You know that wearing a mask a glasses reduces your field of vision and can cause you have panic attacks? So you have to go to the doctor and get on medications to manage your anxiety so you can keep going to work.

I spent days arguing with my manager and the company, lost a promotion, which in the long run was better. Staged a sit in on my day off and got written up the next day. Got everyone in the company free lunches for 8 months.

Beyond all of that what really changed my life, possibly forever, was spending over a year asking myself one question

"Is today the day I get Covid and then I will die?"

Did that customer get too close? Did I remember to wash my hands? Did I just touch my face? How do I step away without them getting mad? Do I have the energy to be called a stupid bitch today? I wonder if they'll spit on me? I wonder if they'll throw something? I also worried about my girlfriend at home and there were many days that I sat in my car and cried before coming home. I was terrified I would get her sick and she didn't have insurance like I did.

All of which happened multiple times.

I knew if I got Covid I would die, because I am a fat latinx person who smokes and doesn't have class privilege. I would die, I would be left to die.

I really let go of a lot of dreams of a future because I was sure I was going to die.

Eventually I had to carry a piece of paper that said I was allowed to leave my house and I heard helicopters constantly and planes and i saw police lights everywhere when I went to work alone in the morning.

That opened so many different fears. Fears of being taken away by the police, generational fears of just being disappeared. Fears of being beaten by them after watching anyone in my neighborhood that happened to be on a sidewalk at the right moment become a punching bag.

When I was a child I used to have dreams that the military was going to come and take me away. I think in my child mild, hearing about the dictatorship in hushed tones from other people eventually made my think that when my brothers got deported they had been disappeared. Which I guess I wasn't completely wrong, but at least we knew where they were.

I also suffered an injury that I think has left me disabled. That's a whole other thing I need to unpack though, even as I've cried multiple times this week because I can't get my laundry out of the washer. I spent a lot of money buying a nice washer and dryer because they were really important to me and I can't even use them. Oh the irony? Tragedy? misery?

Eventually I was able to leave that job and immediately I was so afraid to leave the house. All of that fear that had been sitting, festering, growing just consumed me. I didn't want to go ANYWHERE. I wanted to finally have the pandemic experience that everyone else had. I wanted to not fear for my life or the life of the woman I loved. I wanted to binge watch all the shows and take up a hobby.

You kept asking me to go places and I just wasn't ready. I was not ready. I needed time to be, but I guess that wasn't very fun for you.

I spent way too much money on food delivery because going into grocery stores sent me into a panic. Still does in fact.

I have to go shopping for food soon and I don't know if I can do it alone. I also haven't been able to get anyone to go with me so I'll have to figure it out. I just don't know if I've seen anyone really explicitly say "I lived in fear for my life for over a year and I cannot seem to shake that now"

I’ve lived in fear for my safety and my life in so many ways over my existence, but this was too much added on top. At that time I really wanted to live too. I had just left an abusive marriage, I was in a really fulfilling relationship, I saw a future for myself for once. I really did see something that could have been happy and beautiful and real.

I lost that, slowly, over a year of being terrified always. I remember my therapist telling me, I think almost as a joke, that my trauma made me particularly suited to be able to go through this. Like my disassociation was a good skill.

I thought you saw all of that because you were there, but I forget that I'm very good at hiding things until I'm not.

I also stopped masking, stopped stopping myself from expressing or existing how I really was. I’ve tried a couple of times to put myself back in that box and it’s very hard. I think I may have used my lifetime supply. I always imagined myself as a little stuffed animal, maybe a squirrel or a chipmunk, that keeps putting things into it's mouth and pretending it's not all protruding in a messy way. I keep moving and functioning like it's not absolutely obvious that I am filled to the brim and burdened.

Eventually something pushes it over the top and I bust at the seams releasing all of my insides. Then I spend a while healing enough to be able to crawl around and start shoving everything back in. When I finally got Covid it wasn't as scary, by that time I had been double vaxxed and double boosted. But it did still open a serious well of fear in me, a lot of fear came spilling out. All kinds of fear. The kinds of fear I'm never supposed to share with anyone.

#exhausted #tired #heartbreak #fear #to the moon and back #missingmimi #essential #afraid

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ninjagofanclub · 2 years

Text

this is sorta a part two to my last post kinda? Well it's more of a head canon, scenario thing with Y/N and the ninja so enjoy!! (I wrote this at 2 am so please excuse any mistakes)

There was a time when Lloyd was still physically a child that the ninja just dropped him off in your porch one night, you woke up the next day to see him in a box asleep. Let's just say you were very confused. "Lloyd what in garlic bread are you doing on my front porch" "uhhh, something something mission, something something dangerous" you then proceeded to pull the box in your house, turn on the TV, call the ninja, AND YELL AT THEM. You were pretty pissed but they agreed that they would pay you. That payment never happened. Once Lloyd turned older you kinda felt bad for him, to you he's still just a kid who had to grow up to soon. (Literally)

Before Nya became the elemental master of water you two would have a girls night every month, she would catch you up with ninja stuff, and since she was usually helping them, you would catch her up with the news around ninjago city. Eventually the ninja caught up with this, and BEGGED you two to join you. You both eventually agreed and now it's just a huge slumber party where you all talk about stuff. But because the ninja are always busy you all don't get to do that as often anymore.

Jay would always talk to you and ask you about love advice. (Even though you've never been on a date with anyone, or have had a crush) He would ask you about what girls like. "So like, how do I make a girl fall for me" "you push her or something, why would you want that in the first place?" "NO I MEAN FALL IN LOVE" "OHHH, PFT I DUNNO WHY ARE YOU ASKING ME?" It took you a long time to figure out that him and Nya were dating. He would also ask you for help on his inventions which if you didn't have work, you would accept. You two were working on this huge invention and were very excited to finish it, sadly you never did.

You aren't a cook, but you always loved baking, and eventually friends had asked you to bake for events. Being the worried you called the best cake tester/lover you knew. "Y/N it's literally 2 am what is it?" "Cake" ".... WhAt?" You sighed thinking that just saying cake would summon him, sadly you were wrong. "I'M MAKING A CAKE FOR MY FRIEND'S BIRTHDAY AND I NEED IT TO BE PERFECT, SO I NEED A TASTE TESTER" .... "I'll be there in 10" For the rest of the night you baked, Cole helped taste test, and eventually you had made the perfect cake. You two were very sleep deprived but it was worth it since your friend LOVED it. Because of work though, you and to give up on baking for a while.

You knew a good amount about cutting hair so Kai would just appear on your doorstep randomly. "Can you give me a haircut?" "Bro, it's 6 am in THE FUCKING MORNING" "HEY YOU SAID WE CAN'T CURSE" "IS LLOYD BEHIND YOU OR SOMETHING? BECAUSE IF NOT THEN I'LL CURSE WHENEVER I WANT TO BITCH" "JUST GIVE ME A HAIRCUT" You did end up giving him his hair cut. "Oh my god, it looks amazing thanks Y/N" "wait, wait, rewind, ARE YOU BEING NICE? KAI DO YOU KNOW WHAT THIS MEANS?" "WHAT" "YOU WENT THROUGH CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT REMEMBER WHEN WE HATED EACH OTHER OH MY GOSH" you were literally crying while hugging him, and your a strong hugger. "Y/N! A-AIR! I CAN'T B-BREATH" you eventually let him go then kicked him out of your house after he paid, he cursed you out. Some things really don't ever change, at least you thought so.

Your a very curious person so once you found out that Zane was a ninjaroid you had many questions. "Wait so when you eat what happens to the food-WAIT HOW DO YOU USE THE BATHROOM?" "UHHHH" You two agreed to never speak of that again. You once saw him meditating on the kitchen table. "This place is weird" you spoke while walking away. You as many others were a HUGE fan of his cooking. "I think I just died and came back" You had asked him to cook for your birthday and he had agreed, you tried to pay him but he just wouldn't take your money. "ZANE TAKE THE DAMN CASH" "NEVER" You did eventually sneak in and put the money under his bed. That's the day he was convinced that the tooth fairy does indeed exist.

You always were good at sneaking around, running, and you had an amazing aim. Of course like everyone you had your weaknesses, for example you're a horrible swimmer, aren't that strong, and your bad at parkour. So when the ninja asked you to join their team and help them with missions you were honered, but didn't know if it was what you wanted. On the bright side you would get to hang out with the closet thing you have to family, you all would see each other more often. You would finally be happy, and you'd make sure to keep an eye on all of them. On the other hand you'd be leaving ninjago city, it was your home, all you've ever known as a home, you also had other friends. Plus you would have to be worried every time the ninja would go on a mission of course when your with them you would make sure they didn't say or do anything stupid, your weren't any where as strong as them physically, but mentally, that's a different story. And you weren't sure if you'd be able to handle threats like Garamadon. Let's just say you're conflicted.

#ninjago #reader #platonic reader #ninjago x reader #ninjago cole #ninjago nya #ninjago jay #kai ninjago #lloyd ninjago #cole ninjago #jay ninjago #ninjago zane #part two i guess #ninjago x reader platonic

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shiftingparadise · 2 years

Note

hey Author-chan could get an imagine/one Levi x fem!reader cannonverse inspired in photograph by Ed Sheeran,please?

I loved writing something based on a song. I never did before, but I felt so sad while writing this lol. I'm sorry if my mood reflects the mood of my stories :') Anyway, I hope you like this one!

Word count: 2501

‘Hi kid’ Levi sat down on the green grass, ‘Hange’s been experimenting with Eren …again’, Levi chuckled, ‘You should’ve seen her today, she almost killed the kid, asking Moblit to draw sketches while Eren’s face was torn off... She’s something else. Oh-‘, Levi carefully picked up the flowers he brought for you, ‘I almost forgot, I think you’re going to love these. Remember how happy you were when I came back from another mission, and I gave these to you? You almost broke my back with how tight you wrapped your arms around me‘.

‘Oi Captain’. Levi looked up from the ground, he could see Jean walking towards him, ‘What are you doing here?’, Levi looked confused, ‘I’ve never seen you here before’. A sad smile appeared on Jean’s face, ‘I often come here to talk to him.. or her’, Jean gestured to another one of the tombstones, ‘Like you were doing’, Jean scratched the back of his neck. ‘Hm’, Levi’s arms were resting on his knees, back pressed against your gravestone. ‘I’m sorry’, Jean looked at the ground, ‘I didn’t mean to interrupt you’, he started walking towards Marco’s grave, ‘I miss her too Captain’, Jean said softly, ‘I told her yesterday how much I wish she would be here with us’.

Levi closed his eyes, head bent towards the ground, teeth firmly pressed against each other. He tried so hard not to cry. Levi knew you didn’t want this, he knew you would’ve wanted him to be happy, to move on… But how could he? He wanted to hold you, to smell your scent, to look into your eyes again, to see that spark again. No one could ever compare to you, no one could make him feel like you did. You made him a better person, you made him break down his walls. Because of you he felt alive again, he could love again, you taught him that it was okay to not be okay, that he didn’t need to act cold or distant to protect himself from all the pain.

---

‘Levi!’, you yelled at him with a smile on your face, ‘Look!’, you ran towards him through the crowd. Levi started to smile when he could see how happy you were. ‘Look! Look!’, you were holding Jean’s wrist, pulling him behind you. ‘Y/N’, Jean desperately tried to slow you down, but it was no use.

‘Look!’, you pointed at Jean’s hand, sweat dripping from your forehead. ‘What’s that?’, Levi tilted his head. ‘Th-there’s someone on the corner of the street that draws a portrait of you’, Jean replied. ‘Oh please Levi’, you begged him, ‘I want one of us!!’. You could already see him rolling his eyes, ‘Please’, you looked at your boyfriend with puppy eyes. ‘Tch, fine’, Levi carefully grabbed your hand, ‘You’re lucky that I love you so much’, Levi placed a swift kiss on your lips.

‘Kid, he’s still there, you don’t need to run so fast’, Levi tried to calm you down, but he knew it was futile. You could get so enthusiastic sometimes.

Every time you were like this, Levi’s heart skipped a beat. Not because of how pretty you looked when you were smiling like this, but because he never met anyone who could get so happy about something so small, like a seeing your favorite flower next to the road, or smelling the scent of freshly baked bread, seeing the sun rising every morning,… He loved everything about you, but seeing you like this… Realizing you were his and his alone, made him the happiest man alive.

---

‘Here you go’, the older man handed you the piece of paper.

It was an identical portrait of the two of you. The artist had drawn Levi’s hand behind your back, his crescent-shaped eyes looking at you with a soft smile, you beaming with joy, eyes looking up at him. The drawing captured the energy between you two perfectly.

‘It’s beautiful’, you softly replied while looking at the drawing, ‘Thank you so much!’, you smiled at the man, grabbing your wallet. Levi quickly raised his hand, ‘I told you so many times I don’t want you to pay for anything’, he looked at you. ‘Please, it’s a gift’, the man smiled at the two of you, ‘You two made my day just by looking at each other’, the man looked at the ground. There was a nostalgic smile on his face, ‘You remind me of my wife’, he looked at you, ‘She had the same smile on her face’. ‘What happened?’, you held the drawing close to you, ‘She got sick’. ‘I’m sorry’, you looked at the ground, ‘I can’t imagine what it must feel like to lose someone so close’. ‘Oh don’t worry’, the man replied, ‘I’ve drawn many portraits of her… She’s not completely gone’. ‘Here, take it, please’, Levi held out his hand. You could see it was a lot of money for just a drawing. The man stubbornly shook his head, ‘Fine’, Levi replied. ‘Thank you’, you smiled at the man, ‘Don’t worry, take care of each other’, the man kindly smiled at the two of you.

‘Where did you put the money?’, you smirked at Levi. ‘What do you mean?’, Levi smiled at you, ‘I know you would never leave without paying him’. ‘Tch’, Levi placed his arm behind your back, ‘I placed it in his jacket that was hanging on his chair’, Levi placed a small kiss on your cheek.

---

‘I dreamt about you tonight’, Levi sighed while standing in front of your grave again, ‘I dreamt I was sitting behind my desk in my office. You knocked on my door, like you did every morning. You brought me my tea before walking behind my chair, hugging me from behind, telling me how much you loved me’, another tear streamed down his cheek. ‘I wish I didn’t wake up, I wish I would’ve died with that dream’, Levi threw the flowers he brought on the ground. ‘I can’t do this without you, I can’t Y/N. I miss you more than I can take’, Levi fell on his knees, ‘I know you never wanted this, I know you told me to be strong, to live a happy life, but how am I supposed to do that when you were my happiness? When you were the one that kept me going, that kept me strong’, Levi couldn’t stop himself from crying. Suddenly, he felt a hand on his shoulder, ‘Look Levi’, it was Hange’s voice.

Levi didn’t respond, he kept looking at the ground. He hated that someone saw him like this.

‘Isn’t that her favorite bird?’, Hange softly pinched Levi’s shoulder. Levi looked up at your grave, he could see a robin sitting on it, tilting his head at different angles, looking at him. ‘Tch’, Levi closed his eyes, crying even harder. ‘It’s okay Levi’, Hange sat down next to him, her arm wrapped around Levi’s shoulder, ‘She’s still here with you’, Hange smiled sadly at the bird, ‘She’s still here with us’.

---

‘Are you still looking at that drawing?’, Levi walked towards you. You were already in bed, ready to go to sleep. ‘Ai’, you smiled at the drawing before looking at him, ‘L-levi I… I can’t imagine living without you’. ‘You don’t have to’, Levi smiled before crawling onto the bed, placing a soft kiss on your forehead, ‘I would never leave you’. ‘B-but what if something happens when we're on a mission?’, you could feel a lump in your throat, ‘What if-‘, ‘I know kid’, Levi sighed, ‘I worry about you all the time too’. ‘What if we leave Levi? What if we leave the Corps, get a nice home, and live a peaceful, quiet life? One where we can grow old together, maybe start a family…’, you whispered while looking at him. ‘You know I can’t do that Y/N’, Levi looked down at his hands, ‘You know the Corps needs me’. ‘You’re right’, you quickly pulled yourself together, ‘World’s strongest soldier’, you smiled before laying down on his lap, ‘I love you, Levi’. Levi started stroking through your hair, ‘I love you too kid’.

---

‘Y/N?’, Levi grunted while searching for you in his bed, ‘Where are you kid? It’s the middle of the ni-‘, Levi stopped talking. ‘Right’, he sighed, ‘You’re not here anymore, are you?’, he rolled over to his side, looking at the drawing that he had framed.

He had placed it on his nightstand before going to sleep. During the day, he would take it with him into his office, placing it on his desk. Levi was afraid, more than anything, to forget your face, the way you looked at him, the way you smiled at him… He already had started to forget your voice, to forget the way you smelled...

‘I wish I said yes to your question. I wish we left the Corps’, Levi closed his eyes again, ‘Maybe you would still be here, with me…’.

---

‘Captain!’, Levi could hear Jean yelling while swinging towards him, ‘I-it’s Y/N!’. Levi could see you hanging on Jean’s back, your arms weakly wrapped around him. ‘W-what?’, Levi could feel his heart clenching, ‘What happened?’, he started running towards his cadet. Jean carefully laid you on down on the cold tiles of the roof Levi was standing on. ‘T-the blast when the Colossal Titan transformed… S-she was too close’, Jean’s voice was shaking.

You were more than just a squad leader to your cadets. You were their friend, always making sure they were doing alright, talking to them when you noticed something was wrong. Jean even told you about Mikasa, and how much it hurt him when she ignored him. Connie talked to you about the Titan that looked like his mother, Armin about how bad he wanted to see the outside world,… You loved every one of your cadets.

‘Y/N?’, Levi quickly sat down on his knees beside you, scanning your body for injuries. ‘L-levi?’, you looked at the blue sky above you. ‘Ssh, stay still, please’, Levi signaled Jean to give him something to stop the bleeding on your chest. ‘The sky..It looks so pretty’, you tried to keep your eyes open, to keep the darkness away. ‘Try to look at me’, Levi’s voice was shaking, ‘You’re going to see it many times more’. ‘I-I don’t think so’, you could taste blood on your tongue, ‘B-but you’re prettier than the sky anyway’, you looked at Levi, carefully placing your hand on his arm that was pressing down on your wound, ‘It’s fine Levi’, you whispered. Levi’s gaze was fixed on your wound, eyes filling with tears, ‘You can’t leave me Y/N, you can’t’, he whispered. ‘J-jean?’, you looked at your cadet, ‘M-make sure Hange and Erwin take care of him’. ‘Y/N, y-you’re going to be fine, you can take care of him yourself’, you could see he was in shock. ‘Levi please’, you smiled at him, ‘I don’t want you to remember me like this’, Levi looked at you, tears streaming down his cheek. ‘When I’m gone’, ‘You’re going to be fine Y/N!’, Levi raised his voice, ‘Stop saying shit like that’. ‘When I’m gone, I want you to be happy, okay? I don’t-‘, you could feel it was getting harder to breathe, your vision was getting blurred, ‘I don’t want you to live a miserable life, I need you to live for me, okay?’, you started to cry too.

You could feel you weren’t going to make it. You were scared you would never see him again, that you would never hear his voice again.

‘Y/N please’, Levi begged you, ‘I can’t live without you’. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll always be with you’, you could see a robin sitting down on Levi’s shoulder. ‘Hi there’, you smiled, ‘Here to take me with you, aren’t you?’. ‘H-huh?’, you could hear Jean’s confused voice. ‘Y/N?’, Levi widened his eyes, ‘Stay with me, keep looking at me’, Levi desperately placed both hands on your shoulder. ‘C-can’t you see the robin on Levi’s shoulder Jean?’, you smiled. You could see the bird flying away, ‘Wait for me’, you whispered while looking at the bird into the sky, ‘I want to go home with you’. ‘Y/N, no, look at me-‘, ‘I love you Levi’, you whispered before taking your last breath.

‘Y/N!’, Levi started shaking you, ‘Y/N wake up please’, Levi cried out, ‘No, please’. Levi placed his arm behind your back, placing you on his lap, ‘We can leave the Corps Y/N, we can start a family, like you wanted.. You just, you need to wake up’, Levi looked down at you. He could see there was no life left in your eyes. ‘C-captain?’, Jean was still standing there, hands shaking, looking in shock at Levi holding your lifeless body, ‘I-is she…’.

Levi didn’t respond. He couldn’t say it, he didn’t want to. Because when he acknowledged it, it would become a reality, and he couldn’t live without you.

Jean sat down next to Levi, tears streaming down his face. Jean couldn’t talk, he kept looking straight in front of him.

The two of them sat there until Hange and the other cadets found them. They hadn’t moved a single muscle. Everyone was in shock when they heard you’d died. They knew nothing would ever be the same. The Corps would feel empty without you. No one could replicate your energy, no one could make them smile as you did. You were always so positive, so kind, caring… Always beaming with joy, always looking at everyone with that spark in your eyes,…

---

‘Hi kid’, Levi once again sat down against your gravestone, ‘It’s our anniversary today’, he smiled, ‘Remember how drunk we were after dinner on our last anniversary? How we were walking across town… How you asked me to kiss you under the lamppost at the corner of that street?’, Levi looked at the sky. ‘Sasha made me smile today’, he chuckled, ‘That brat punched me, can you believe that? All because the Corps was given some meat… I’m not joking when I tell you I had to tie her up’, Levi let out a soft laugh.

‘H-huh?’, he widened his eyes when he could see a small bird landing in front of him. Levi smiled when he saw it was the same bird as yesterday,, Levi tucked his knees into his chest, ‘Can you tell Erwin and Farlan to take care of you? And say hello to Isabelle for me too’, Levi whispered to the bird, ‘Tell them to wait for me to come home too’.

And just like that, the bird flew away.

‘Guess you’re here with us after all’, Levi smiled before taking the frame with the drawing out of his bag, ‘I can’t wait to see you smile at me like that again’.

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donutloverxo · 3 years

Text

Good little girl

*gif is not mine*

Note - Requested by @holacia2 and a part two to good little wife. And special thanks to @gotnofucks for all her help! I'm so overwhelmed with all the love that fic got I hope y'all like this little follow up as well❤❤

Dividers by @firefly-graphics.

Summary - Married life isn't always easy. Will you be able to solve your problems?

Warnings - 18+ only explicit sexual content, younger woman/older man, daddy kink, soft dark!Andy, SO MUCH MISOGYNY, housewife kink, innocence kink, (accusations of) cheating, arranged/forced marriage, spanking, possessive Andy.

Pairing - Mob!Andy Barber x reader

Word count - 4.9k

Masterlist is linked in the bio and the pinned post!

You handed your mother the brownies you had baked, she thanked you, telling you how it was so unnecessary, before Andy placed the wine you had gotten on the way over on the kitchen counter.

“Why don’t you go keep your father in law company, Andrew?” your mom told him. He only nodded before making way to his boss.

“So? How are things going with him?” she asked. “You are positively glowing honey! Do you have any good news yet?”

“Mom!” you gasped.

Over the past seven months you had only seen your mother a handful of times. You were still a bit upset with her for marrying you off to an older man you barely knew, a man who you thought despised you so much he refused to even touch you.

You knew she didn’t really have a say in it. Your father never really valued her opinion, there was no way she would’ve been able to stop it but she hadn’t even so much as tried.

“No, I don’t. And I won’t any time soon,” you huffed.

While being a mother was something you’d like to experience someday, you didn’t know if you were quite ready for it yet. Which was good because Andy didn’t want kids for the next few years either, he had taken you to a doctor to get you on birth control as soon as the holidays were over.

He stated that he wasn’t ready to share you just yet. That he wasn’t sure he wants his kids to be a part of the mob, which you didn’t want either.

“Oh, but you have to, cookie. I need a distraction. Being a mom is all I’ve ever known and ever since you left the house has been so empty.”

“Well, what about daddy?” you frowned. He had never really liked spending time with your siblings or your mother, but to leave her be on her own like that.

“He’s always with Charlotte,” she rolled her eyes. “I would’ve been fine with it, he’s always been like that, can’t expect him to change now, but he brought her here, now, to a family dinner.” She sighed in resignation.

You had heard a familiar high pitched annoying laugh upon coming home, but you thought that to be one of your brothers floozies.

Charlotte, or Cherry, used to be a good friend of yours in college. Before you brought her home for the holidays of your freshman year and she decided to shack up with your married father, who was almost thrice her age. You lost touch with her after that.

“I’m telling you, honey, a kid is a good way of securing your marriage and starting a family. You are young now... but you will grow old someday. Andrew’s a good man... but he is still a man at the end of the day.”

You scoffed at that, “I won’t have you talking that way about my husband! We are already a family, we’re in love each other and he’s nothing like dad.”

She gave you a teary smile, “Young love--is just so innocent and beautiful. You always see the best in people, cookie. I hope I’m wrong about this. Any man would be an idiot to not appreciate you.”

“Andy does appreciate me. And take good care of me, ma...” you trailed off.

He did take good care of you. After the night you consummated your marriage he brought you breakfast in bed. He hadn’t kept his hands off of you for the past few weeks, doting on you any chance he could get, telling you he loved you every chance he got.

But you wondered... did he love you?

The kind of love you’d only ever read about in classical novels. The kind of love you’d dreamt of having ever since you could remember, the kind you thought you once had with someone, but didn’t. You didn’t love Alex the way you love Andy. You were in love with the idea of Alex. You knew Andy now. You knew how kind, passionate and fierce he was, your love for him consumed every single part of you. Where you would literally die for him.

But did he love you for you. Or was he just lonely because it was Christmas. You had avoided taking the tree and the decorations down, begging him, even dropping to your knees and making love to him with your mouth, you didn’t know much but Cherry had taught you that you could get men to do anything for you just by kneeling before them.

While he was very obviously pleased with your passion, returning the favor tenfold, till your thighs burned from his bread and you were shouting for him to stop, he still took the decorations down. He said he wanted to start anew this year. He made a resolution to be the best husband he could.

But you were going to protect your heart this time, hope for the best but still prepare for the worst.

Unfortunately, you had been seated next to Cherry. You found out that your father was living with her now and that while she had hoped he’d leave his wife for her there, but apparently there was no such luck.

“They never leave their wives do they,” she shook her head. “Oh I’m sorry! I shouldn’t be saying these things to you...”

“Its alright,” you shrugged. It would be hard to see your mother be unhappy but there was never any love between your parents. Your mother had learned to live without him and find happiness in other things, and other people, she was just a bit more sneaky about it.

“Well...” you hesitated “how do you keep a man?”

“What kind of question is that?” she giggled. “There are many ways to keep a man but you’ll have to be a bit more specific...”

You ended up changing the subject. The kind of questions you wanted to ask were not suitable for the dinner table, and you didn’t like the way Andy was staring daggers at the pair of you, almost displeased with the two of you chatting.

***

You smiled at him from the passenger seat when he put his hand on your knee, giving it a light squeeze. He had been quite the whole ride home so you decided to speak first.

“Can’t believe Cherry’s like my... step mom.” You laughed out loud at such a ridiculous notion.

“Step mom?” he furrowed his brows, turning his head to look at you.

“Oh I’m just joking,” you waved him off. “Dad would never leave my ma. He’ll move on to another one soon enough.”

He hummed, nodding, “Alright. I was just worried she was troubling you at dinner.”

“What would you have done if she was? Would you swop in like a knight in shining armor and save me from the big meanie?”

“You know I would,” he smiled.

You had asked for a piggy back ride from Andy from the garage to your home, he rolled his eyes and tried to say no but then gave in when you used your princess eyes on him.

He placed you on top of your bed, kissing the tip of your nose, he started unbuttoning his shirt to get ready for bed.

“Andy... um... Daddy?” you corrected yourself instantly.

He liked you addressing him as that whenever you both were alone, he had warned you that you would receive a punishment if you ever failed to comply.

You didn’t know what his punishment would be and you didn’t plan on finding out anytime soon. You’d withhold all affection from him if he ever dared take away the platinum card from you, or lower your allowance as your father had told him to at the dinner, ‘to tame you' supposedly.

But that wasn’t a very good plan... what if he just looked for love elsewhere.

“What is it, honey?” he asked.

“Um... do you think... you would ever take a mistress?” you gulped and prepared yourself for his answer.

“I wouldn’t...” you sighed in relief, “one woman is enough trouble.” he said flatly.

“Daddy!!” you whined, stomping your foot on the floor and folding your hands over your chest.

And he had the audacity to laugh. His laughter at your expense only fuelled your anger. “Do you want to sleep on the couch tonight?”

He finally stopped laughing, “Look at you being a big girl,” he tried to pinch your cheek but you swatted his hand away. “You don’t wanna be daddy’s little girl anymore?” he pouted.

“No... no I do!” you answered all too eager. “I’m sorry...”

“I’m sorry too, honey. I shouldn’t be making fun of you.”

“No, you shouldn’t,” you hugged his hard stomach, rubbing your cheek against his undershirt. “It’s mean, and you promised not to be mean to me.”

“I was just teasing,” he cooed, stroking your hair. And while you knew that and secretly enjoyed it even, you still wanted a serious answer out of him.

“I intend to keep my vows forever. There is just no way I could ever want anyone who’s not you.”

“Really?” you propped your chin on his abdomen, looking up at him through your lashes.

“Promise.”

***

“Um... I’m here to see Andy,” you told the lady sitting outside of, what you had been told was Andy’s office, you assumed her to be his secretary Erica.

You always packed a lunchbox for Andy, always remembering to leave a sweet note for him and he would always call you to thank you for it. You also made sure to have dinner ready before he got home on the nights he wasn’t taking you out on the town. It was just your duty as a good wife.

But Andy had been working way too much the past couple of weeks. Where he would be gone before you wake up and be back when you were already in bed. You knew his job was demanding, working for your father and being a partner in a law firm, the job was like a mistress, stealing your man away...

So you simply decided to make his favorite, food pack it up and come to him to eat it together.

“Mrs Barber! It’s so nice to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you,” she gave you a toothy smile, shaking your hand.

You would’ve been happy, elated that Andy talks so much about you at work. If you hadn’t smelled her perfume. So familiar... you couldn’t quite place it at first but then you remembered.

The night you had slaved away, hoping to profess your love to your husband, when he had rejected you and smelled of chanel.

“That’s a nice scent...” you wondered out loud.

“Oh thank you! I love it as well,” she said, taking in a whiff of the inside of her wrist. “It’s the new chanel one!”

“Hmm....”

You almost didn’t hear Andy calling for you. “What a nice surprise.” He kissed your cheek.

You set the food before him, thinking of telling him what was on your mind.

Was he really so cliché to have an affair with his secretary?

Could you really blame him though? Although you had been married for almost seven months, you were strangers living under the same roof for the majority of them. He wasn’t really cheating... but what if he was still doing it?

“Honey,” he shook you to get your attention. “What’s up with you today? I have a meeting in a few minutes.”

“You’re always working.” You complained.

“Well...” he grinned, grabbing at your thighs and pulling you on his lap, “I have to. If I had the choice I would never come into work, I would stay home forever, between your legs, right... here,” he snaked a hand up your leg and stroked the inside of your thigh. “You would like that wouldn’t you?”

You nodded, “I’ve been so lonely without you.”

He hummed, biting the shell of your ear before speaking into it, “I know, honey. I miss you too. But you do still remember the number one rule right?”

“Yes, daddy. Never touch myself without your permission.”

“And why is that?”

You whined, to embarrassed to say the words, “Because... it’s your... pussy.” You replied in a small shy voice.

“That’s right, sweetheart. It’s mine to do whatever I want with,” he cupped your mould, just to demonstrate what he meant but then frowned when he felt your soft curls and wet slick against his palm.

“You’re not wearing any panties, sweetheart.” He noted, surprised to your boldness.

“Um... I must’ve forgot.”

So maybe you had ulterior motives behind coming here. Your body was used to be doted on everyday now, and to not have his touch for so long was agonising. You had hoped to maybe bend down to pick up a napkin that fell ever so conveniently and flash him, it would work, he would be driven mad.

“Forgot huh?” You nodded in reply as he gathered your slick in his fingers, tracing your labia with them. “That’s too bad, If you had left them on purpose I would’ve cancelled my meeting and fucked you right here. But since it was just an innocent mistake I wouldn’t do that,” he retreated his hand, placing a soft kiss on your hair. “Thanks for lunch.”

***

You were determined to prove your worth to Andy. If he did have a mistress, whether it be his secretary or any other woman, he would forget all about her when he saw how you could do everything for him.

You had went all out today, baking a pie and a four course meal from scratch, lighting up candles, the pink babydoll that Andy had gifted you was under your dress.

He was as always exhausted when he got home, his face visibly lighting up upon seeing you, you took his hand in yours taking him to the couch and making him a glass of whiskey, you handed it to him before kneeling on the soft rug.

“You work so hard, daddy,” you murmured as your fingers worked on unzipping his pants.

He looked at you in confusion, shaking his head, “You don’t have to do that, honey,” cupping your cheek in his plan, stroking your cheekbone with his thumb.

“But I want to make you feel good,” you blinked at him.

He groaned, unable to say no when you looked so willing to please him, but at the same time he wanted to do more with you. To cuddle and watch a movie and talk, it felt as if he hadn’t in ages.

“Very well,” he nodded.

With the green signal from him, you licked your lips, tasting some of your minty gloss, taking his length out of the confines of his underwear, you took a minute to simply marvel at the sheer size and beauty of it.

You licked a stripe up the underside of it, suckling at the crown, you remembered that he liked that the best, at least from the way he twisted his hand in your hair, pulling at it till it caused a slight burn to your scalp.

You slurped his precum up before he pushed his hips up till his tip hit the back of your throat, causing you to gag around him, didn’t take him long to come down your throat.

His neck and cheek covered in a crimson blush, his chest heaving as he threw his head back against the couch.

“You did good, honey...” he rasped. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

He absolutely loved the dinner you had made for him. But when you subtly, because you were raised to be a good lady and wife, tried to coax him to make love to you before bed, he.... rejected you.

Sure, he was kind about it. He told you he was simply tired and would make it up to you. But it was still shocking how a man as insatiable as him would ever say no. You truly didn’t know what to make of it.

***

“Oh... I don’t know about this... it’s a bit too bold for me,” you bit your lip.

“Just try it on! You might end up liking it!” Cherry urged you, putting the bright red lipstick on you without waiting for an answer, “There is nothing more classic than a red lip. Or a red anything. Men go crazy for it.” She told you.

You simply hummed through closed lips as she put some finishing touches on it. “Doesn’t that look nice?” she asked, holding up a mirror before you.

You smiled, it did look different. Maybe different was what you needed. “It’s very pretty. It makes me feel... confident?” Which was strange. Because how could a simple lipstick make you feel confident?

“See! I told you. Confidence is the key to sexiness. Now, let’s talk lingerie.”

***

“Honey, I’ve been waiting for over fifteen minutes,” you heard Andy call out to you from the bedroom.

“Just a minute,” you said, perfecting your edges with a lip brush.

This was something you had never done before. You wore a lot of lingerie for Andy, but most of them were cute pastels or white nighties or babydolls. Nothing like what you were wearing right now...

A sheer black lacy body suit that clung to your body, leaving literally nothing to the imagination.

Top that off with your red lip... you looked like some kind of dominatrix. Cherry told you that most men secretly wish to be dominated. Although you highly doubted your daddy would want anything like that. Or would he?

“Alright, I’m coming out,” you announced, before shyly stepping out, your eyes trained on the floor as you twiddled with your fingers to maybe distract you from your nerves. “What do you think?”

He was speechless. His jaw almost dropping on the floor when he saw you like that. So far from his sweet girl. You were just as much beautiful and sexy, and while it wasn’t something he was used or prefer to he would welcome it if it was what you wanted.

He extended an arm to you, ready to tell you that you were sexy, that he wanted to spend hours worshipping every inch of your body, that he wanted his cock stained the shade of red you wore on your lips, that he was ready to make up for being away for weeks.

Until he saw... that.

He lowly growled your name, making your head snap up to look at him, “What did you do to your pussy?” Because from what he could see, through the sheer material, there was nothing where your pubic hair used to be.

“Uh... I uh... waxed it...” From the tone of his voice you could tell that he wasn’t too happy about it. “Do you not like it?”

“Like?” he scoffed, shaking his head. Taking a seat on the bedding, “C'mere, let me take a closer look.”

Hesitantly, you walked the few strides it took till you were standing before him.

He studied your mould, trying to take the fabric off so he could see it more properly and then tutting when he couldn’t even open the stupid thing.

“Wait, it um... opens here I think,” you interrupted his scrutiny, undoing the zipper that was on your side and taking the suit off of you.

He sighed in resignation when he saw what you had done, making you regret your ever spending so much money and going through all that pain.

He parted your lips apart, running his fingers along your vulva, acquainting himself with this new strange feel of you, “When did do this?” his blue eyes looked up at you.

“Just a couple of days ago. It’s just hair... it’ll grow back in like three weeks.”

“Three weeks?” he scoffed.

You could feel your eyes getting misty. You tried to go all out for him, to please him, be completely naked and vulnerable before him, only to have him get angry at you.

“You don’t like it,” you sniffled.

His furrowed brow softened when he saw you crying, pulling you down till you were straddling his lap, “The question isn’t whether I like it or not,” he explained, his thumb wiping your wet cheeks, “I could... maybe live with it. But I wouldn’t prefer it.”

“Okay,” you nodded.

“But for you to have done this,” he touched your newly waxed skin and almost winced at the smoothness, “You must’ve let someone else see you naked. See what belongs to me.”

“Bu - but they were all women...” you stammered, squirming in his lap as his fingers toyed with your clit.

“It doesn’t matter,” he tutted, pushing two fingers inside you, “Only I get to see you. This is MY pussy. Only I get to decide what to do with it. Do you understand?”

You nodded, holding onto his tshirt as he twisted his fingers inside you. “So-sorry, daddy.”

“No, honey, since you were bad you don’t get to call me daddy. For tonight you will address me as sir. And of course you’ll have to be punished.”

“Punished?” you pouted. “Can’t you just let me go since it was my first strike? I’ll be good from now on I promise!”

“No, you have to learn your lesson. Come on,” you yelped as he manhandled you so you were face down across his lap, “What is your safe word?”

“Unicorns” you giggled. You thought you were so witty for coming up with it. Since he for some reason was jealous of your unicorn stuffie.

He hummed, stroking the soft skin of your butt, “How does twenty sound?”

Your eyes went wide as you gasped, looking at him over your shoulder, “No!” you said.

He didn’t really plan on spanking you... did he? He liked swatting your ass here and there, and truth be told you liked it too. But you had never been spanked or even hit as a punishment.

“Well, if not this then maybe we can make you go a week without cumming.”

Your gasp was louder and even more incredulous this time. You could most definitely take twenty swats, but just the thought of not being able to finish, after knowing what an orgasm with Andy feels like, made you shiver.

“You will count each one, and then thank me for it. You are grateful I’m teaching you, aren’t you?”

“Yes, sir,” you nodded.

“Do you know how to count to twenty? Or would I have to teach you that too?” he asked ever so condescendingly as you huffed.

“Of course I do! I was just two semesters away from graduating college!” Never mind that you learned that in kindergarten.

“That’s good. Are you ready?” he asked, cracking his knuckles as he got in position.

With a nod from you he delivered the first slap to your right buttcheek, the sound of it reverberating in the room, his palm stinging slightly as he stroked the skin he had just punished, it was already warmer.

“One, sir. Thank you, sir,” you held onto a moan, it wasn’t half as bad as you thought it would be...

You jerked forward as he unceremoniously hit your other cheek, since you were unprepared for it, and he was much more brutal.

“Tw-two, sir,” you sniffled.

You considered throwing in the towel and saying your safe word by the time fifteen rolled around. Your behind was on fire, while you couldn’t see it, you just knew it was bruised. But you wanted to be good for Andy and it was wrong of you to do something that drastic without his permission.

“Sixteen...” you hiccupped. You could feel your slick running down your thighs but at this point... you just couldn’t bring yourself to care.

“Do you want a break?” he asked, taking pity on you.

You nodded frantically, “Yes please! Can you... can you touch me? Down there?” Since the pain in your throbbing pussy was unbearable. If you didn’t receive any attention, you might actually burst.

“Down where? Here?” He had the audacity to play down, while you were suffering, and touch the back of your knee to patronise you.

“No!” you whined.

“Well then you’ll have to be a bit more specific, princess.”

“In my... between my legs... my pussy...”

“Are you sure you deserve it though?” he asked.

You thought about it for a moment, before coming to the conclusion that, “No I don’t. Not until I finish my punishment.”

“That’s a good girl,” he praised, his hand massaging your raw ass as your heart swelled in pride.

“Nineteen, sir,” your mind was hazy. It didn’t even feel as if you were in your reality anymore... it was as if you were floating, while you could still hear and feel him spanking you, for some reason it wasn’t as painful anymore.

“The last one, doll, hang in there,” he said before delivering the last swat.

You whimpered, “Twenty, thank you, sir,” willing your nose with the back of your hand.

Andy collected your weak form in his big string arms, rocking you back and forth in his lap as he kept whispering soft praises in your hair, “My sweet beautiful doll,” he pecked you on your lips.

“Sorry about your pants, daddy...” you said when you realised what a wet mess you had made on him.

He shushed you, “Don’t you worry about that right now. Do you want to take a bath?”

You pouted, your red lip jutting out, “No.”

He chuckled, kissing your forehead, “Do you want daddy to fuck you?”

“Yes,” you nodded.

“We have to be careful about your butt, baby,” he said as he gently placed you on the mattress.

Your head on your pillow, besides your two most trusted stuffies--your unicorn and teddy. Andy only allowed you two in the bed after complaining they made it hard for him to cuddle you. You demanded he buy you a shelf to display them or you would go back to your old room. Which of course made him comply instantly.

You made grabby hands at him, impatient to have him closer to you, but then were glad he took the time to take off his tshirt so you could ogle the wide expanse of his chest, the light scattering of fuzzy hair over it, his numerous tattoos along with one of your name, which marked him as yours forever.

He took a hardened nipple in his mouth while his hand tweaked the other, nudging your legs apart to make room for him, he placed his length at your entrance.

Slowly pushing into you, letting you get accustomed to the size of him. Although your pussy was always so welcoming to him, he knew you often struggled to take him.

You whimpered at him, tears rolling off of your face. “What’s wrong, honey? Does it hurt?”

“No... it’s just so good,” you sniffled.

“Okay, just hold on,” you held onto his shoulders as he slowly fucked in to you.

Your pussy clamping around his length, the soles of your feet digging into his ass, “Can I come, daddy?”

“Of course, baby. You earned it.” He groaned, his hips hammering against yours as you bit his neck, letting out a muffled scream.

You hummed against his neck when you felt his warm release fill you up, he pulled out of you, frowning when he looked at your naked and hairless pussy, dripping with his cum.

“From now on I’ll be picking out your clothes,” he stated, rolling off of you and pulling you into his arms.

“Okay, daddy,” you hummed.

“And no more surprise bikini waxes.”

“Mmm...” If that’s what you had to do to get in trouble and be punished, then so be it. “We’ll see.”

***

Three days later

“Lotion time, doll,” Andy said, pausing the movie you were both watching to go get said lotion.

He had rubbed your lotion on your backside when he spanked you and decided that he wanted to be the one putting your body lotion on you from now on since he had too much fun doing it. He insisted on doing it twice everyday since it was still very cold.

You followed him to the bedroom, lying face down on the bed a he squeezed some on his palms, rubbing them together to warm them up.

You winced just a little, your skin still a bit sensitive, you even had to sit on a pillow the time.

“Will you be going back to work tomorrow?” you wanted to know.

He didn’t like the sadness in your voice, “Yes,” he sighed. He hated leaving you all by yourself.

“I’ll be all alone then.”

“Didn’t you want to go back to college?” He remembered you telling him that your parents forced you to drop out so that you would marry him.

“I do actually. Hate leaving things incomplete... maybe I can even go to a law school and become a lawyer like you!” you perked up.

“You’re not working for your father though, you’re too good for that world.”

“You’re too good for him too.” You said. “Maybe I can work with you.” And you and him could be like a power couple. It would be so exciting.

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