#if i want to love someone more than my own mother and be pathetic while doing it i'll definitely make it a fictional character instead

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Hiyori Reader and please? She’s Qin Shi Huang, Hades, Hercules and Apollo’s wife and has just as much confidence and authority as an Empress/Queen as well as for being the Daughter of a Shogun, her father Oden, espite that she’s actually a caring, kind and gentle woman with her Husband, the man who won over her heart (As he didn’t see her as an object but instead a person)

Reader is good friends with Aphrodite and loves to play her music for Shiva as he became a fan of her father’s and likes to dance to her music

She and (Love) keep their marriage a secret as they don’t want attention

However when an arrogant god has been abusing others, mainly humans, well as repeatedly tried to hit on her for her beauty and trying to make her marry him, she’s had enough especially when he insulted her father Oden for being a ‘Fool’ and harmed him with a divine tool and after she slapped him

“I’m the Shogun’s Daughter, I am Y/N, when you speak to me, mind your tongue!! Even when I was starving, even when I was dressed in rags, I carried with me the honor that my father brought to our name! You have never been a proper god a day in your life! You’re nothing but a thief! An imposter! You’re a lowly worm and a coward!! And the longer you live your pathetic excuse of a life the more innocent people die!!”

I love how much of a queen Hiyori is and her speech to Orochi gave me CHILLS

-You were a stunning beauty- one that so many in Valhalla admired and worshipped- your stunning beauty and grace was known to rival even Aphrodite’s- who wasn’t bothered, as she was a good friend of yours.

-Your beauty was something natural, your parents blessing you with your mother’s looks, but your father’s heart- as you were a proud woman, always willing to help those who needed it the most.

-That’s another reason so many admired you- for your kind and gentle heart- you were especially popular with the kids, who loved to come and see you, listening to your music or watching you dance.

-You had many friends in Valhalla, not just Aphrodite, many warriors found themselves drawn to you- they could sense you were more powerful than you let on, but you were very careful not to reveal any of your secrets.

-Shiva and Rudra loved to listen to your music, as they would dance, showing you unique dancing that you had never seen, and in exchange you would show them and others in the Hindu Pantheon your own dancing, which was something they had yet to experience, but they loved it.

-While adored and loved by all, but when others would come confessing their love to you- you would tell them that you were already married, and happily so. Many were distraught to learn this, but you never said to who.

-Only a small handful of people knew who you were married to- as you and (Love) kept it quiet, mainly because the two of you didn’t want to deal with the headaches, as he was also highly desired by others in Valhalla.

-The way you carried yourself was a good hint, as you carried yourself like an empress, someone of great power- but that was only part of it- as you were the daughter of a Shogun, and you wouldn’t let anyone forget it.

-You were at a party in the Hindu Pantheon, your husband was there as well, as it was a gathering of humans and gods- the warriors from Ragnarok. Shiva had asked you to play some of your music, which you were happy to do.

-Your angelic smile caught the attention of many as you played, putting your heart and soul into your music, something that (Love) couldn’t help but smile over- you were so passionate.

-When you were done playing for the moment, so you could take a small break and get something to drink, you flashed a small smile towards (Love) who was across the room.

-You then heard a familiar voice, and you groaned softly internally, hearing the voice of Kand, a cocky god who wasn’t taking your rejections with grace- he didn’t believe that you were married, thinking you were just saying that to keep others away, and that you were just shy!

-He quickly approached, asking you, loudly, to marry him again. Everything went silent- seeing the proposal and Shiva sent a worried glance over at (Love), as he was one of the few who knew who you were married to- he was all for brawls- but he didn’t really want one at today’s party.

-Your voice was firm, as were your eyes, “I am not interested.” Your constant rejections were annoying him- he was willing to give you a chance, because you were a human, because you were beautiful- but you were being so stuck up about it!!

-He glared hard, “Get off your high horse Y/N- you’re nobody special so I don’t know why you are walking around here like you own the place- that loser of a father of yours lost his title when he was killed so you can just-”

-The moment he mentioned your father, you saw red and SLAP!!!!

-The slap echoed around the party, stunning everyone into silence again as he was sent spinning before falling to his knees, his ears ringing as you glared harshly down at him, “I am the Shogun’s daughter- I am Y/N! When you speak to me, mind your tongue! Even when I was starving, even when I was dressed in rags, I carried with me the honor that my father brought to our name! You have never been a proper god a day in your life! You’re nothing but a thief! An imposter! You’re a lowly worm and a coward!! And the longer you live your pathetic excuse of a life- the more innocent people die!!”

-Your speech was so passionate that so many were staring at you in awe as he finally managed to stand, furious that you had struck him, “How dare you-”

-He was cut off when you took a step forward, then another, “Don’t like it- then cut me down! I won’t stop when I know I am right- I am a samurai’s daughter. I will not live in disgrace!”

-A hand clapped down on your shoulder, and you turned to see (Love) there, looking quite unlike himself, as he was furious looking, making Kand fold in on himself, before he spoke, “I don’t take kindly to others speaking so rudely to my wife- worm. Get lost.”

-Many were surprised that (Love) outed the two of you as a couple, but you weren’t bothered, you were going to stand by your husband’s decision as the two of you looked like such a power couple together as Kand was quick to rush out of the party.

-Everything was silent for a moment, before loud cheers filled the room, surprising you as Shiva cheered, happy that you two finally announced yourselves publicly.

-You smiled demurely, cupping your cheek as the party got started again.

-He turned to you, taking your hand in his own, making sure you didn’t hurt yourself with such a powerful slap, “Are you alright, Y/N?” you just smiled, taking your hand back, not looking at all bothered, “I am- it hurts but I am not bothered.” He smiled softly, seeing your strength as he pecked your forehead softly- he knew that you could handle yourself with ease.

            -Hercules and Hades

-Held your hand softly, massaging it once the two of you were sitting again, “I can’t believe that bastard tried to take you away from me!” you just laughed softly, seeing him jealous as you reached up, cupping his cheek gently, “He would never have me- not while you still live. And even then- I would chose death first before being with such a man.” He beamed at your praise, pecking your cheek softly, making you smile.

            -Qin Shi Huang and Apollo

[maddy-ferguson]

Stanning celebrities or popular people is always lame i am sorry but they are just all rich people lol then receiving some criticism aint gonna be the end of the world.

i know and seeing people talk about being disappointed reminds me of when taylor swift dated matty healy and i saw tumblr swifties be like oh my god my whole identity is tied to this woman how do i deal with this i have to choose between being okay with this and taking her off the pedestal i put her on years ago and like her less. and they tried to be like oh my good taylor how could you do this to us #tayloreducateyourself #themanyouredatingsaidthisandthis and it was actually pathetic witnessing grown adults acting like this. they were like idk if i can support this this is actually unforgivable they changed their urls for two weeks and guess what? when they broke up they went back to talking about her 24/7 lmao. i would say it's performative but i don't even think that's it, it's just hard to LET GO after years of centering someone in your life but you'll pretty much always be disappointed and you'll always have to let go so idk. maybe i'm just being cynical but i distinctly remember being 15-16, one direction were broken up, i still liked a few celebrities but it wasn't directioner level and cancel culture was on the rise right. i remember being like is it worth it? do i want to make loving someone i don't know so much my personality when i don't even know if i can trust them to be a good person by my standards? and the answer was no! because i don't know them. and also i grew up and i know not everyone who's a big fan of a celebrity is 15 or under but i really just grew out of it like i was never gonna love people the way i loved one direction and everyone else i loved at that time in my life yk. i think it's always nice to give people the benefit of the doubt obviously but when people are like they don't know any better they're just not educated it's always like. how naive can you possibly be. you just have to decide if whatever you decided wasn't okay is okay if the person you like does it and if it's not it's not. they're not your friend, they're not your family, you're not gonna get to them and educate them via instagram comments. and it's exhausting because fans have always done this, i was a directioner as i just said and when the fans are 13 and immensely disappointed because zayn and louis were smoking weed...when they were like omg zayn how could you think of your future all because he was smoking cigarettes...you get why celebrities don't always want to listen to their fans like who wants to be told how to live their life by people who are still in middle school? but now the things that lead to disappointment are mostly political and i think it's great that people want to do good in the world and want the people they admire to not do harmful things and to agree with them on the topics that matter to them like it's pretty noble in theory to want them to be a good person but it's also...again, pretty naive, you're most likely not gonna change their mind because you don't know them. "they're ignorant they just need to be educated" is also so patronizing and when it's an 18-year-old saying this about someone who's twice their age it's like. just accept that they probably don't agree with you. you can choose to be okay with it or you can decide to like them less.

[wlntrsldler]

shades of cool | luke castellan

part two to how to disappear

a/n: happy endings don't exist on this page.

i. and when he calls, he calls for me and not for you; he lives for love, he loves his drugs, he loves his baby too.

“hermes is angry.” 

you knew it was your mother before you even saw her. the two, white doves cooing in the middle of downtown berkeley gave her away. although you hadn’t spoken to her in months, too afraid and too upset to put your faith in the hands of the gods since the night at the pier, your mother tried to get your attention every day. the flowers bloomed like clockwork. on your way to class, red and orange bunches sprouted from the corner of your eye. the once welcome reminder of luke turned bitter and painful. it was as if your mother was mocking you for losing him, for losing love. you felt as if you disappointed her, the daughter of the goddess of love, unable to experience it for herself. it was pathetic, really. 

you tucked your hair behind your ears, suddenly feeling self-conscious with aphrodite’s eyes on you. she was your mother, sure, and she’d been a better parent to you than most, but she was still a goddess– the goddess of beauty at that. your arms were crossed over your chest, eyebrows furrowed, “why?” 

she didn’t answer your question just yet, but she studied your face, eyes scrutinizing the marks of imperfections. she reached over to run her thumb across the bags under your eyes. “you’ve aged, my child.” 

you fought the urge to roll your eyes. this was normal with your mother. she made these snide comments about your appearance, but her comments to you were not nearly as bad as what she said to your siblings, and especially not as bad as what other godly parents put their kids through. you could handle a few jabs here and there. you shrugged, “not all of us have the power of eternal youth.” 

she nodded, pulling her thumb away, “we have not talked in a while.” 

“been busy,” you lied, chewing on your bottom lip. you tugged on the scarf around your neck, wanting to keep your hand occupied as you avoided her gaze. you wondered if your mother missed you, if she actually cared about you. in the weird way that gods do, you suppose that she did care, but you wondered if she cared about you the way a mother would; worry about your safety when you went out at night, worry if you were wearing enough layers in the winter, mundane things like that. “college and stuff, you know.” 

“hmm,” she hummed, unconvinced. she motioned for the two doves perched on the tree branch to fly away. they obeyed her, circling around each other in a dance, before flying away in separate directions, away from the both of you. “how many more years do you have left?” 

“another two after this and then i’m done.” it was odd talking to her like this, in her human form, like she was a normal mother who was just curious about college and her daughter’s future. maybe she even sounded a little bit proud of you; a child of aphrodite, making a name for herself outside of the life she was dealt. “hopefully, i’ll make it to graduate school.” 

a heavy tension hung in the air as your words echoed. aphrodite’s eyes narrowed, thinking. she looked up at the sky, before repeating herself. “hermes is angry.”

you stared at her, waiting for her to continue. there was an unreadable expression on her face, somewhere between anger, pain, and desperation, but it wasn’t her own emotions that she carried. she was mirroring someone, as if their pain was so unbearable, aphrodite herself had to shoulder some of it to save them. the gods were selfish. most of the time, they thought of nobody but themselves, but there were some moments when they showed compassion, when they showed mercy to mortals and demigods alike.

“his son resents him,” she continued, eyes closing like she was picturing it in her mind. “he is angry at me because his son prays to me instead of him.” 

“mom, i don’t want to hear this,” you sighed, anger rising in your system. you knew she knew how you felt about the situation. you’d ignored her attempts to talk frequently. “he made his decision. he’s betrayed us all.” 

“i cannot ignore him, don’t you understand?” she looked at you, eyes glossed over in a pleading manner. she looked too human. it was unsettling. “his love is loud. he is desperate. i am the goddess of love and i cannot ignore him while he suffers, even if he makes me his enemy.”

“the other gods listen to his prayers to me because i can no longer carry the burden on my own. it is too much, my child,” she shuddered, “all he talks of is you.” 

you stared at her, internalizing her words. a shiver went down your spine as you looked at her, “i don’t understand why you’re telling me this.” 

“i have tried to tell you, but you’ve been stubborn,” aphrodite frowned, “you do not pray, you do not make your offerings. you have not spoken to your siblings since that night. you have disappeared from this life as if you were not part of it at all.” 

“because i didn’t ask for this!” you screamed. “i don’t want anything to do with this, mom. losing luke… it killed me. you know this. i can’t go back there and i can’t make offerings to you or the gods when you all are the reason why he did what he did!” 

since that night, you began to question your blind faith in the gods. you’d been taught to worship them and you did because you had to. you were luckier than most, being the favorite of your mother, so you never went against the gods. you thought you had no reason to, until luke began talking to you. he planted seeds of distrust for the gods in you, learning about thalia, meeting annabeth and learning her story from luke, what luke had to go through during his quest. how did the gods sit back and leave their children for dead? but you always believed there was a purpose for all of this, and it provided you with some misguided comfort. then, luke left everyone who’d ever loved him because the anger in his soul won against all odds, and you knew there was no reason to trust them anymore. 

if the gods were all-mighty and all-powerful, how could they let him grow so angry and accept this fate? how dare they ignore him and ruin him? he was kind. he was patient. he was luke. he deserved more than what they gave him. all of you do. aphrodite blinked, trying to understand you. a look of panic flashed across her features, her human form slowly peeling away, but you could see her pulling back. 

“i’m not saying i’m joining him,” you sighed, rubbing your face with your hands, “i’m just saying what he said to percy made sense. luke had a point. the gods were horrible to him and to all demigods. hermes has no right to be angry with you, or with luke. he should be angry at himself. all of you should be.” 

“i can’t forgive luke for what he did,” you whispered, voice calming after a rumble of thunder shook the ground. the gods were listening. “beth still wakes up screaming in the middle of the night. she writes to me every month. i haven’t written back because it hurts, mom. i keep thinking of luke. she reminds me so much of him and it kills me that i can’t do anything to help her. where do i even start? i can’t fulfill the hole he left in her life. nobody can.” 

your mother nodded, clearing her throat. “do consider returning to camp this summer. your siblings miss you and your sister is not doing well.” 

“piper?” 

“silena,” she replied. the doves returned to her. “it was lovely to see you, my child.” 

in a blink, she was gone. you wondered if she’d show her face again, but the rain fell from the sky soon after she left, and you realized you probably wouldn’t. 

ii. but you are unfixable, i can't break through your world.

“i’ll catch up with you guys in a second,” you motioned for your roommates to keep walking home without you. the two girls nodded, sending you a small wave of goodbye, before they turned the street corner. you began walking towards the entrance of the science building, towards the silhouette of a boy you could recognize in every life. 

luke’s jaw was clenched as you approached him. he was caught. luke knew that he shouldn't be here. he knew it was too dangerous, but he couldn't help himself; he had to see you. 

berkeley suited you. in college, you were a normal girl, stressed about finals and getting a summer internship. though luke had never seen you outside of camp before, he always imagined that you’d look even more beautiful when you didn’t have the stress of this life on your shoulders. it was weird seeing you out in the world like this. if he hadn’t known you, if he wasn’t already under your spell, he would undoubtedly fall to worship aphrodite’s favorite daughter.

your friends didn’t know who your mother was, but if they saw through the mist, if they knew the truth, it wouldn’t come as a surprise to them. you had an aura about you that was undeniable and for a minute, luke was jealous that these people around you could freely succumb to your pull, to allow themselves into your orbit, while all he could do was watch from afar. they didn’t realize how lucky they were to be around you, they would never fully understand. 

you looked happy in the bay area, free, like you weren’t a demigod, like you weren’t preparing for a war. a war that he knew he caused. 

he looked down at his feet before rising from the steps. he hadn't planned to speak to you. he’d been following you for weeks, from a distance, of course, he wasn’t going to test his luck any more than he already was, but then you approached him and luke knew there was no hiding anymore. 

truth be told, there was never any hiding from you in the first place. you knew him better than he knew himself. sometimes, it scared him, just how vulnerable he was with you. when he first realized how he felt about you, he wanted to squash the feeling between his fingers and make it disappear into thin air. he knew there was nothing good that could come out of it, but he couldn't help but hope. 

how could he not? how could he not hope that maybe, in some twisted way, he would be able to be with you? that one day, he could stop running, stop fighting, and just love you the way he wanted to. hope was a cruel thing, luke realized after the night on the pier. it makes him believe that there is good out there, somewhere in the future, daring him to hold on just a bit longer, only to leave him high and dry, an empty shell of who he once was. 

“what are you doing here?”

luke let the question linger between the both of you for a second. partly because he didn't know what he was doing here. i needed to see you didn't feel like enough. it barely scratched the surface of what he was feeling. luke was never a wizard with words, but he used to be able to at least say something. now, though, as you stood in front of him, his mind went blank. 

“what are you doing here?” you repeated. you had your arms wrapped around yourself to soothe your skin from the wind chills. luke didn't know it got this cold in california. “i’ve seen you a few times, and i thought you’d give it up, but it’s been weeks, luke. so tell me, what are you doing here?”

luke’s mouth was dry. he thought he was being careful, but he should’ve known better. you could always sense when he was around, just like how he knew whenever you were around. there’s something that shifts in the air, as if it gets lighter and it’s easier to breathe. luke wondered if it was still the same for you. 

“he's using me,” luke whispered, “like a stepping stone to gain power.” 

for a second, your face softened into a look that he knew too well. it was the same way you used to look at him when he talked about his nightmares or when he talked about his mom. a flicker of hope passed through luke’s mind, but he knew better now. he extinguished it before it got too comfortable. 

there was a hint of disbelief in your voice when you spoke again, “what did you think was going to happen?”

“i thought i was doing the right thing,” he felt small. “i thought he wanted to make things better for us. the gods, they’re terrible parents. you know this. what they did to thalia, to all of us, i-i just thought that he would make things better.”

you shook your head, “luke, you betrayed all of us. percy, annabeth– did you know that she cries at night over losing you? over losing her brother? she’s lost everyone luke! and you were supposed to stay. you were supposed to be there for her! i saw her last summer when i came back to camp. beth is so much like you.” 

“i know,” luke was crying. he was exhausted, both physically and mentally. kronos was taking over every part of him. he was there in every crevice of him, just waiting for the moment to drain him of everything he used to be. “gods, i know, angel. i just thought i was doing the right thing.” 

“and me luke,” you rubbed your temples with the pads of your fingers. you hadn’t told anyone this before. you were too busy trying to make sure that everyone else around you was okay. as the oldest one now that luke was gone, you had to step up. your mother was right. your siblings were not doing well, nobody in the camp was. “i feel so stupid for ever trusting you. i keep thinking of every small interaction, every word you said, and i just keep wondering if any of it was real.”

“you don’t mean that,” he shook his head, stepping down to get closer to you. under the light of the streetlamp, you saw him better. if you didn’t know him as well as you did, you probably wouldn’t have recognized him. “everything, all of it, i meant it. you know that right?” 

his eyes were sunken in, dark bags outshining the once vibrant sparkle of his eyes. now, the rims of his eyes were red. his hair was matted against his scalp like he let his curls tangle into knots and didn’t bother to fix them. there were newer, smaller cuts that joined the scar on his face. they weren’t as deep, but they were fresh, a sign that whatever he faced was recent.

“i love you, please tell me you at least believe that,” luke rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palm, “your mom doesn’t answer me anymore. i don’t know what else to do.”

when you didn’t say anything, luke felt the ground crumbling from under him. luke could live with a lot of things; being a failure in the eyes of his father, being a traitor, but you thinking that he didn’t love you was something he didn’t think he could live with. it was real to him, all of it. he didn’t know if this was the right time to tell you that those moments with you were the only things keeping him grounded. 

the image of you throwing your head back in laughter as he tickled your sides, the freckles on your cheeks that showed up during the summer that he would spend hours counting while you slept on his chest, the sound of your voice, talking in hushed whispers, in the dark of the hermes cabin; it was you who he held onto as he fell deeper and deeper under kronos’ control. 

luke walked closer to you, holding out a hand to touch you, when you flinched and backed away from him. your fingers unconsciously reached for the dagger you had on your belt loop. he shuddered, taking in a breath. he looked down at his hands, lips trembling as he wiped them on the fabric of his jeans. there was nothing on them, but he wanted to scrub them clean because it felt as if all the blood he spilled was stuck under his flesh, staining them red. 

you thought he would hurt you. 

“i…” luke trailed off, stuffing his hands in his pockets. he cleared his throat, “i didn’t come here to fight. i could never hurt you.” 

“i don’t know anymore, luke,” you bit your lip, heart breaking as you spoke to him. “i never thought that we’d end up like this.” 

“come with me,” he begged. “run away with me.” 

“is this what you came here for?” you asked, “to try to recruit me like you did with percy?” 

“no,” he shook his head vigorously. he was on the verge of getting on his knees to beg you to believe him. “i want out. i messed up, angel.” 

“you did,” you whispered. he looked genuine like he meant it, like he did want to run away from it. a piece of you wanted to say yes, yes, i’ll run away with you. tell me where to go and i’ll follow you, but it was the part of you that still clung to him. the foolish part of you who still wanted to believe that the boy you met when you were younger, stubborn, selfless, sweet, luke castellan was still there. 

you listened to that part of you on the final night in the hermes cabin, when you told him you loved him and he said nothing back. you tried so hard to lock that part of you away since that night, but it was hard to deny it when he was there in front of you.

“tell me what i can do to fix it,” luke felt like he was going crazy. “anything, angel. i’ll do it. just say the word.” 

you closed your eyes, “there’s nothing you can do anymore, luke.” 

“that can’t be true,” he hiccuped. 

“you need to go.” 

over the last few years, luke experienced brutal types of torture. he often spent days without sleeping, too afraid that kronos would visit him while he dreamt. he fought monsters he didn’t realize existed. he walked away from fights barely hanging onto a thread of life, but this– you telling him that there was nothing else left for him, like he no longer had a place in your life, this was a different type of torture that might just send him plummeting to his end. 

“please don’t come back here,” you added, motioning to the buildings behind you. “this was the one place in my life you haven’t tainted.” 

his apology was left stuck in his throat as you walked away, not once looking back at him. 

iii. but i can't help him, can't make him better and i can't do nothing about his strange weather. 

“y/n,” percy said, approaching you from behind. 

it was the summer. you were sitting on the pier, a joint loosely hanging off your lips. you put out the lit end on the wooden pier, stuffing the joint in your pocket. you knew percy knew you smoked, but you still tried to hide it from him as much as possible. he was too young. 

“hey, perce,” you smiled, kindly, scooting over to give him space to sit next to you. “sorry. you caught me. i’m not really being a good role model right now.” 

“it’s okay,” he assured you, sitting beside you. he looked out into the lake, extending his fingers to cause a ripple effect in the water. “i don’t judge.” 

you nudged his shoulder. percy looked his age in the light of the sunset. you wondered if you ever looked that young. “don’t tell mr. d.” 

“he has plenty of other things to worry about,” percy scoffed, “how are you?” 

you knew why he was asking. beth had told you today that they saw luke in the labyrinth. he was now kronos’ host. when she first told you, you were stone cold, no emotion on your face. you knew something like this was possible. it was only a matter of time until you lost luke all over again, completely this time, but it still hurt even though you knew it was coming. you simply nodded and walked off, finding solace at the pier as you always did. 

“i’m okay,” you replied, though your voice said differently. you played with the sleeves of your sweater, luke’s sweater actually. he left it in the hermes cabin along with the rest of his things. nobody dared to touch it so his bed remained the same as it was years ago, collecting dust. “he came to see me in berkeley… before, y’know.” 

“did he?” 

“yeah,” you sighed, leaning back on your elbows. “he said he wanted out. asked me to run away with him.” 

percy looked at you, “what did you say?” 

“i told him it was too late,” you met his gaze. “i don’t know if it actually was.” 

he didn’t know what to say to that. he’d only witnessed your relationship with luke for a few hours when he returned to camp for the first time. it was only a few years ago, but percy felt like it had been lifetimes. he’d heard about you and luke from annabeth and grover. when there were lulls in their conversations, one of them would bring you up and joke about how you and luke should just confess your feelings for one another. percy didn’t understand it until he saw the way luke was with you. 

luke, who’d taken him under his wing, was love struck. percy didn’t know how he didn’t notice it before, but there were traces of you weaved into luke’s life. a picture of the two of you in his wallet, a small cal berkeley flag taped messily on his wall, a box of his things under his bed that were reserved for you, doodles of hearts in black and pink ink on luke’s counselor clipboard when he did cabin checks, you were in every piece of him. 

luke was glued to your side the entire time you were there and nobody batted an eye. it was normal. luke and y/n, two names that seemed to go together, like they were meant to be uttered right after each other. it felt right. 

“i met your mom,” he said, “she was weird.” 

“sorry,” you couldn’t help but chuckle. “what did she say?” 

“she was obsessed with me and annabeth,” there was a blush creeping up on percy’s cheeks. he looked down at his lap to shy away, but you caught it. it was such a teenage boy response of percy to call your mom, the goddess of love, weird because she caught onto the two kids’ feelings for each other. 

“yeah, she does that,” you decided to spare him the details of why. you were sure the boy would explode in embarrassment if you told him that you also knew about his feelings for beth. you sensed it when you returned to camp last summer. there were inklings of it when you first met them, but now their bond was stronger and it was harder to ignore. “she used to obsess over me and luke.” 

percy blinked, “she said your love was her favorite to watch.” 

now it was your turn to go red, “did she?” 

“yeah,” he nodded, “annabeth thinks that you’re aphrodite’s favorite because you and luke had a great love and she was drawn to it, which is a little mean if you ask me.” 

“agreed,” you replied, “i… i miss him, percy.” 

“i know.” 

“i love him,” you cried, smudging the mascara on your eyes. 

“i know.” 

“he wasn’t always like this,” percy watched your eyes unfocus, like you were playing back the memories you had with luke in your head. “when we were younger, before luke was the golden boy, he used to help me sneak out of camp when i’d get home sick. he’d take me to this abandoned cabin a few miles away. an old couple used to live there and they set up a little free library. luke knew i loved to read so he would take me there so i could pick out new books for the summer.” 

“i didn’t know it then, but before i got to camp, he would steal books from stores during trips into the city and put them in there so i would have new selections to choose from when i got back,” you had a fond smile on your face as you continued, “the cabin was sold to new owners and they took the library down a while back. i think they thought nobody really used it anymore.” 

“he was always good at sneaking around,” you hummed, “he’d walk out of a place with something that wasn’t his inside his pocket; a lollipop for a new camper who was missing home a little extra one summer, a can of soda for beth from mr. d’s stash when it got too hot under the sun, a flower from the demeter kids’ secret garden for me. he never got caught, but everyone knew it was him. i don’t think anyone cared, though, because it was luke. he always had good intentions at the end of the day.” 

“do you think he’s still there?” percy asked, voice hushed into a whisper. “do you think he could ever come back to being that way?” 

“probably not,” you turned to face him. you were mourning him, percy realized then. luke wasn’t dead, not physically anyway, but the way you spoke about him felt like he was already gone. “luke, he internalizes everything he does. he beats himself up over the things he does wrong. if he were to survive this, i don’t think he’d ever forgive himself for it.” 

“this life, this prophecy, it feels like too much sometimes,” he mumbled. the sun was gone now, the two of you sat in the dark, listening to the calm sounds of the water. “i still feel like i don’t know what i’m doing most days.” 

“yeah,” you played with the pink lighter in your hand. the heart you drew on the plastic was long gone and there was no more fluid in it, but you kept it anyway. “my prophecy said that i would lose a love to worse than death and i ignored then because it didn’t make any sense to me, but now it does.” 

“i’m sorry.” percy didn’t know if it was the right thing to say. 

you smiled at him differently, like you were tired, a look of resignation across your face. you stood up, motioning for him to follow you back to camp to join the others. as you walked together in silence, you noticed a single dove fly across the horizon. 

iv. high, neglectful lover. you’re crumbling, sadly. you’re sadly, crumbling. 

you’d fought through your wounds, even as your bones ached and your blood stained the clothes over your body. luke appeared then. you didn’t know if the gods took on mercy on you at that moment, or if was the lack of energy to distinguish real life from your dreams, or a mist that covered the truth from you then, but the world seemed to stop and everyone seemed to fade away. 

all you saw was luke, in his camp half-blood shirt, five beads around his neck, the same boyish smile on his face. his eyes were sparkling as he approached you. his lips felt soft to the touch and his voice was kind. 

“my angel,” he said, wrapping his arms around you the same way he always did when you returned to him each summer. 

if you were to choose the way death came for you, you would choose it just like this, you decided– in the arms of the one love you’d ever known.

[aemondsladywife]

Until He Met Her

aemond targaryen x reader

author's note: i am SO sorry this is so late, i lost my phone which meant i lost this and i've been dying in deadlines but i hope you like it, i haven't written in years, feedback is appreciated <3

genre: slight angst, fluff at the end <3

aemond targaryen did not believe in love.

he saw the way his father treated his mother, the way his brother treats his wife. he knew very well that his marriage would be one of duty, to increase alliances and to produce heirs.

aemond targaryen did not believe he could be loved.

sure, his mother loved him, but that was it. it was the day that he lost his eye that consolidated his feelings. other than his mother, not a single person had defended him, not even his own father. he felt sorry for his future wife, having to live someone such a 'monster' like him.

that was until he met you.

it was his nephew's nameday celebrations or in aemond's eyes, another excuse for his brother to get drunk. the prince hated such celebrations like this. he found them rather pathetic, lords drowning themselves in their cups whilst the ladies entertain themselves with the latest gossip. however, aemond kept himself entertained with his observations and on his nephew's nameday, his observation was you.

you stuck out to him the moment you walked in. this was the first time he'd ever seen you, walking in with a smile plastered on your face, bursting with energy, greeting every single guest as if the celebration was your own. in all honesty? he found you bizarre. he found it bizarre how you insisted on acquanting yourself with every person in the room regardless of their birth. he found it bizarre as to how he can hear your loud laugh from the other side of the table. he even saw you talk to his stoic grandfather which caught him by surprise. he couldn't bring himself to admit it, but he was sliently waiting for you to approach him.

however, aemond's attention was diverted when he heard his name mentioned in the whispers of the lords and ladies, started by tyland lannister.

"how can the kings brother remain unwed? there must be something gravely wrong with him."

"he has one eye, is that not enough wrong with him."

"i heard that along with eye went his heart."

"which lady would want to lay with such a deformed creature?"

although the prince was used to such chatter and knew it was best to ignore and rise above, to remain unbothered, he still felt hurt. his missing eye always was and always will be his greatest insecurity.

"gods brother, you look like you've got something stuck up your backside no wonder why you've never danced with anyone other than mother." aemond rolled his eyes at the sound of his brothers voice, fighting the urge to put his fist in face.

"it is not that no lady wants to dance with me, i do not want to dance. whilst you fuck, drink and dance brother, i do your job." he replied with anger laced in his voice. aegon backed down, knowing better than to provoke his brother even further.

the music had changed which meant it was time for the dancing, which was also aemond's cue to leave. he never bothered to approach ladies, he could see the fear and disgust on their faces and would rather leave than face rejection.

"my lord Lannister, it has been a while are you keeping well?"

aemond felt slightly disappointed but not surprised by your approachal to the lannister lord. he had hoped you wouldn't mix with such people but then again, who didn't view him in such a way?

"my lady y/n, your beauty increases by the day, i would be a fool not to ask for this dance."

just as the prince was ready to leave, he heard,

"it is with great regret my lord i cannot accept your offer as i am to dance with another. my prince Aemond, may I have this dance?"

the prince was more than shocked. he concealed his feelings well enough but he couldn't help but feel confused. first, he was confused by you. you came in smiling with mountains of energy entertaining every single person now you came up to HIM and asked him for a dance? confused was an understatement. not only that, it wasn't normal for a lady to ask a prince for a dance nor was it normal for aemond to dance in such occasions with anyone other than his mother or sister. he was nervous, he could feel the all the eyes on him.

"with pleasure, my lady."

with that aemond took your hand and placed one hand on your waist and began to dance. he knew he was a good dancer, all the years of training meant he was swift on his feet but it still wasn't enough to stop his nerves.

"you seem tense, my prince?"

his one eye looked at you. he found you beautiful. he knew he was dancing with the most beautiful woman in the room. he strongly believed that you danced with him out of pity.

before he could replied you leaned in to his ear and whispered,

"take a look at tyland lannister for me my prince, i think his reaction might be enough to ail you."

he looked past your shoulder and right at the lannister lord who had an amusing mixture of jealousy, shock and confusion written accross his face to which both you and aemond couldn't help but laugh.

he visibly loosened up after that, which caught the attention of his mother and grandfather who shared a knowing look. after everything that happened with her own marriage, aegons and helaena's marriage and aemond's traumatic childhood, all alicent wanted was for aemond to be happy and loved.

aemond quickly spun you both around so aegon was in your eye line, who's face showed nothing but pure confusion.

"my lady, just behind me is my brother, the king, tell me what does he look like right now?"

"his grace seems rather perplexed my prince, but i think that may be due to all the ale."

you both made eye contact once again and couldn't help but laugh. whilst aemond was enjoying himself, the insecurities came creeping in. he couldn't understand why you would dance with him.

"tell me, my lady, why is that you dance with me?"

"is there any reason why i shouldn't dance with you my lord? is there something you are not telling me?" you reply amusingly

"do you not hear the whispers of the court? most ladies are repulsed by the sight of me." he said lightheartedly, but you could hear it was much more than a jest.

your squeeze his hand for a moment and hold it a little tighter. you knew the real story of prince aemond, and you couldn't help but have a soft spot for him.

"but of course i hear the whispers. but why should i take any heed? before me is a handsome, brave prince who rides the greatest dragon is westeros, why would i be repulsed? those who cower away and take heed to the gossip are at a great loss, they do not get to meet the prince aemond i have just encountered."

his gaze softens. he couldn't find an ounce of insincerity in your voice. he felt appreciated and at the very moment, the prince realised he had fallen for you. prince aemond targaryen, who had never truly known peace, finally felt it with you.

"my lady, i would like you to meet my mother."

taglist: @moonmaiden1996 @the-orions-belt @animusxy @uselessbutinteresting @dianaelena15 @sahanna @skythighs @modicum-ofnothing @cullenswife @ewansmitchells @whitesunflower @mugiwaraelly @fultimefangirl @allyoursriver @molieski @sunna-fangirls @fragilemarissa @stillinracooncity @paperstreetsoaps

*tags w a line through didn't work!!

**i really appreciate comments and reblogs <3

[readychilledwine]

Rhys w a small reader with a big mouth?

Little Girl, Big Mouth

Rhys with a mouthy reader headcanons

Warnings - implied smut, reader could be seen as trashy but Rhys loves it

A/n - This anon actually came from an IRL friend. She texted me about it, and I had her clarify if she meant a gossip or big mouth as in a girl who is prone to talking shit and fighting. It was talking shit and fighting, so thanks, Sammie 💕💕

Ps- I will figure out what your username is 👀 but you're very sweet for doing this the way the rest of my followers do instead of just texting me first😭

You aren't a doormat. He refuses to let you be seen as one. Even if that means you get into a verbal argument here and there.

Those verbal arguments have gotten physical.

My baby daddy always tells me not to write a check he can't cash (if you don't know what that means, it means don't start a fight that he can't finsh.) You don't have that problem with Rhysand.

If you stand, mouth firing off insults as someone else is, he will stand too. Ride or die, he won't let you fight without him.

And that is if the man isn’t already behind you, warning the male standing over you without even having to speak that if he lays a hand on you or speaks out of line, he will be finding out why Rhysand is proud to be half illyrian.

You do know time and place, but if someone insults your male, your family, or your court first, all bets are off.

Your mouth is equal opportunity. High fae, lower, male, female, high lord? You don't care. All bets are off the table with you. No one is safe.

Beron? Constantly roasting him. Asking him if beating his wife helps him feel like a real male. Keir? Verbally torn apart. How pathetic he must be to think he has some pull when he lost out on being high lord.

Hell, illyrian males aren't even safe from you. Not when three immediately are behind you the second they feel your mood change.

And it isn't that you can't fight. You are well trained and can more than hold your own. He just prefers you let him.

He's only held you back once. It was from Amren, and he hardly caught you in time before you jumped on her.

Cassian was disappointed. He wanted to watch two tiny females wrestle it out. He said it would be better if pretty lacy outfits were involved, but he was ready to settle for you in your dress and Amren in her two piece outfit.

Rhys did not stop you, nor Amren, from tackling Cassian for that comment.

He will throw you over his shoulder, ignoring you as you scream for him to put you down while still running your mouth as you're carried out of the room. But only if family is involved.

Mother knows they are no exception. You all get on each other's nerves from time to time. Besides Azriel. You could never fight Azriel.

Rhys loves it. He loves how spicy you are. He loves how much fight and sass you have. He loves how it's always to people who are mean.

He does love fighting for you as well. Sometimes, he asks you to pick fights when it's someone he has been itching to get his hands on.

He rewards you throughly when you oblige him.

"Where's that big mouth now, darling?" While your back is arched off the bed, and your mind is just a haze. "Thought you had so much to say earlier."

He loves making his girl with so much to say and so many opinions go dumb for him.

He loves it when all you can think to say is his name and barely thrown together words.

He loves putting your mouth to other uses if you start in on him, too.

He'd keep you tucked under his desk for hours, putting your mouth towards something actually useful if you two fight.

And that's rare. Your opinions are normally shared and mutual. It's why you two work. Otherwise, you would be constantly at each other's throats with how vocally dominant you both like to be.

Overall, he'd change nothing about how sassy you can be. He loves you as is. Even if it means you bandaging his hands after a trip to Illyria.

[dmercer91]

in your arms i feel at peace | look after you, tz11

in which trevor is your shoulder to cry on

don't let those super fluffy pictures of z fool you, this is sad as fuck (and dialogue heavy)

when i first started this account i figured i'd be doing mostly nsfw and look at me!!! every character i write has mommy issues :)

also send in for this au pls and thank you ill give you a vital organ

"someone's in a good mood," trevor mumbled behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist as you made breakfast for the two of you. nobody else was awake yet, and it was nice to just have some quiet time with him.

in just a couple weeks you’d become great friends, and you found yourself glued to him or to a book all day every day

“my mom asked if i wanted to go shopping with her today, it’s been a while since we’ve done something like that,” you explained, not clocking the look of worry on trevor’s face

you were over the moon that your mom wanted to spend time with you, one on one. this was your chance to bond with her now that you were closer to being an adult

your chance to fix things and have her treat you as an individual

you figured your mom saw today the same, that she might change. maybe she wouldn’t undermine your issues, compare them to her own

maybe she’d offer you help rather than argue that she was worse off

maybe she’d buy you things you actually like rather than force you to dress like she wanted - professional and proper so that you would be taken more seriously

trevor could tell that you thought today would change some things, and he wasn’t quite sure what to think of it

he knew your relationship with your mom wasn’t great. he knew your relationship with your whole family was less than ideal, actually.

he was a little nervous to see where the day went, but for now? you were excited, and he loved that for you

that excitement didn’t last long

he had a feeling he’d be left picking up the broken pieces of your heart whenever you got back

the feeling was right

but, he didn’t think it’d be this bad.

you were yelling as you walked through the door, your mom poker faced and unimpressed, almost rolling her eyes as she told you to calm down

“would you quit being a brat? there are other people in this house!”

trevor watched from the bottom of the stairs as you paused, laughing to yourself

“right. other people. you know what, mom?” you left space for her to answer you despite the question being rhetorical, but she just crossed her arms

challenging you to say what it was that was on your mind

“i don’t want to be your daughter anymore. from here on out, i am a stranger to you, i am the other people you’re so worried about looking your best for” you smiled softly

your moms face fell from amused to confused, thinking you’d do what you normally did - cry, and then accept any offer to rekindle your relationship in hopes that this time, she’d be a mom to you.

“you’re a pathetic excuse for a mother and i was just a kid. i didn’t- i don’t deserve to be tangled in this stupid, one sided vendetta you have against me for just existing,” your tone was level, you weren’t yelling anymore

your mom scoffed, trying to hold up a cold exterior while facing the reality that she was losing the only person who’d do anything for her

the person who, at seven years old, helped her move out of your dads house after the divorce

the person who didn’t question that you were moving in with a man you’d never met before

the person who cleaned the whole house regularly so that she wouldn’t have to stress about it

the person who helped her with laundry because her boyfriend refused

the person who defended her when he was drunk

the person who let her cry on your shoulder when owen wanted to stay with your dad for some time

the person who didn’t do the same because you didn’t want to hurt her feelings

the person who offers to do anything and everything for her because you know she works a lot

the person who forgives quickly and tries to forget, cause that’s your mom and you believed she could be better

the person who shuts up when you’re feeling down because you don’t want to put more things on her

the person who drops anything you’re feeling cause when you bring it up, suddenly she feels worse than you about that same thing and she needs you to lean on

the person who after seventeen years, has finally given up

you’ve given up.

“don’t you think that’s a little dramatic, y/n?” you smiled with a shake of your head, a tear falling down your face

“that’s kinda the problem, isn’t it? if i was any less emotional you might have me checked for psychopathy.

my whole life you let owen walk all over me. demean me over and over, and of course i cried, i was eight years old.

every time i tried to say something you’d tell me i was too emotional, that he treated me like shit on the bottom of his shoe because it was easy and i reacted too much

that wasn’t the truth. you just didn’t want to deal with it. you were annoyed that i was crying.

regardless i believed you because you were meant to be my mother

the bullying never stopped but every single time i just walked away and suddenly i wasn’t emotional enough for you

i was uncomfortable in my own home and that meant i was rude and blunt and i needed to smile sometimes cause i seemed like a bitch

you made me into that and i think it’s time someone lets you know so you can get the fuck off your high horse, cause we all know you think you’re a great mother”

she clenched her jaw and opened her mouth to speak, but you cut her off

“i’m not done.

news flash, buying me things at the mall just to soften the blow of you being a massive cunt doesn’t make you a good mother

putting a roof over my head and feeding me doesn’t make you a good mother, it just allows you to keep your kids.

so, again. you’re gonna start treating me like a stranger

because it’s not hard to see how insecure you are about how random people see you on the outside

you put up this mask of perfection for people who don’t even know you and never will, but you don’t give a single fuck how your own child sees you on the inside

i’m done being an extension of you to torment and compare yourself to, and i’m staying here wether you like it or not.

i’m here as a friend of quinn’s, now. as a friend of the family’s. this is not my family,”

the room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop

“don’t be disrespectful, y/n. i do a lot for you. i bought you summer clothes today!” you bit the inside of your cheek, filing through you head to look for any memory of her that wasn’t tainted by it’s true purpose, and you couldn’t.

“you didn’t listen to a word i said, huh? figures,”

when you turned and the first thing you saw was trevor, looking at you from the staircase, every bit of yourself willed to not let the dam break until you were alone, with him.

you walked right into him, clinging onto him and pressing your face tight into his neck

he reciprocated the second you were near, taking you into his arms and squeezing you tight, cupping your head and rubbing your back

he helped you up the stairs and towards the door to his room, holding your hand until you got to his bed and he could pull you back into his arms, on his lap.

"what happened, sunshine?" he murmured, letting you comb your fingers through his hair to try and keep yourself calm

it didn't work all that well, tears already streaming down your face now that you were in the comfort of his room, alone where you felt you wouldn't be judged.

your reply was muffled by his shoulder, where you'd pressed your jaw to try and keep your cries quiet

"she wanted me to go back home."

trevor furrowed his eyebrows and traced patterns on your leg with his fingers, knowing you'd open up when you were ready.

you took a minute to calm your breathing, explaining everyhting.

that originally you wanted to spend the summer at home with your dad because you knew you'd be isolated here, that quinn had other friends and you couldn't steal him away from everyone for the whole offseason.

that you got put in your place before the drive down to michigan and told that ellen needed you there to help around the house and that you could just be helpful 'this one time'

that ellen hadn't made you touch a thing all summer, the only time you did a chore was when you made yourself and him a snack, so you knew your mom just wanted you here to be a servant

that when you met him, you were finally happy in michigan and you were actually looking forward to the summer and getting to know him, spending some more time with jack and luke now that you had someone in common

that today, the shopping trip was just a cover up, your mom spoiling you before telling you - not asking - that you were going back home to house sit until the offseason was over

that you were naive at first, that you thought your mom grew a heart and that she was giving you an out due to you wanting to stay back home weeks ago

that you quickly saw through that

that your mom told you that owen had been excited to meet the team usa guys, trevor especially, and that you were getting in the way of your brother having the offseason experience he wanted

that you were going to be miserable the whole summer, but now that you've found a happy place in michigan, you were told to go home and be miserable there instead

that she wanted you isolated all summer. that was her plan.

and after you let it all out to him, you just started sobbing, and you couldn't stop

trevor did his best to soothe you, mumbling sweet nothings and reassuring you that ellen wanted you at the lake house and that he knew she'd let you stay

"i don't know what i could've done to make her hate me so much," you croaked, balling his shirt up into your fists and pulling him closer

“you didn’t do anything, sunshine. there’s nothing in the world you could’ve done to deserve that, you were just a kid. n’ you’re an angel, you know? like heaven on earth, it’s not your fault,” he whispered, cradling the back of your head

you looked up into his eyes from your spot on his shoulder, eyes uncertain and still overflowing with tears

“i know you don’t believe me, it’s okay,” he slid his thumb back and forth along your hair, kissing you on the temple.

you adjusted your head to get closer to him, still keeping your eyes on his

sniffling slightly, you took his other hand and toyed with his fingers, gaze eventually falling there as your tears slowed and nose cleared up

“thank you, trev, that-“ he cut you off with a kiss, catching you a little off guard

still, you pulled away with a smile, holding his jaw with the hand you’d had gripping his shirt

“that’s really sweet.” you finished, fresh tears falling from your face

he moved to wipe them, brushing his thumb against your nose gently

“of course, my sunshine,”

you hugged him, using both arms to wrap around him and squeeze tight, him returning the favour

“i’m all yours for the rest of the day, hm? maybe we can sneak off on the boat? bring some snacks, blankets n’ your laptop for movies and make a day out of it,”

you nodded happily, becoming pliant in his arms with a dumb smile

“that sounds perfect, z,”

he went to kiss you again, but the door cracked open mid lean-in and you jumped apart like it was an affair

it was ellen, now grinning to herself at the sight in front of her

“i figured you’d be in here. can we talk?”

you blushed, nodding.

“yeah, auntie el, just-“

“i’ll go,” trevor cut you off, ruffling your hair and placing a kiss on your cheek

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

Home. - Fluffy Ending (not canon) || cbf!Simon "Ghost" Riley

Rating: M Words: 2.8K Pairing: cbf!Simonxafab!reader / teen!Simonxteen!Reader Summary: Teen Simon and his best friend often spend their nights away from their respective houses because they found a home in each other… CW: none. Tags: you/your pronouns, reconnecting with family, wedding guests, second chance romance, time skip. a/n: not proofread. I didn't like the way I wrote this ending but I figured I should share it either way. It's too fluffy/forced for my taste. The actual alt ending will be better. ALSO: Was listening to Chemical by Post Malone on repeat while writing this. Idk if you wanna do that too while reading...

[MASTERLIST]

You're twenty-eight, he's twenty-nine.

You swore to yourself you wouldn’t step a foot back in Manc, not even if cows flew!

You swore to yourself you wouldn’t keep in contact with anyone, not even if someone died!

(Which your father did. Thank fuck.)

You broke those promises so many times.

You were unable to keep away, though you tried…

It’s your own fault, really.

You stalk your old friends and family on Facebook sometimes.

Other times you check the local news.

Others you check the obituary and marriage sections on the news.

You beat yourself over it every time. Even though seeing the lack of changes through your cyberstalking and the news made you feel immense relief, you still ended up closing the pages on your browser with more aggression than you should and sulking in your bed.

And yet, you still go and do it again a few weeks later.

And then another few weeks later.

It’s pathetic, really, but maybe it provides you some comfort. Maybe helps you sleep at night.

You should’ve figured out that someone would have made you eventually. 

I mean, naming your blank Facebook profile after the one mean neighbor you had, who called the police on you and your mates once for being too loud while hanging out in the street, and died years ago? Yeah, they’d make you eventually.

Luckily for you, it was Olly who did.

All things considered, it could’ve gone much worse.

Maybe… Maybe you should follow his advice.

It’s been a decade.

Your mum deserves at least a letter to let her know you’re still alive, that you’re healthy, happy, and safe. She’s owed that much…

-

It was very strange to be inside your childhood home after almost eleven years.

Four days ago, your mum had openly sobbed as she threw her arms around you, and you had found yourself sobbed with her, both of you falling to your knees at the front door.

She held your face so gingerly and kissed your forehead so many times, her face severely more aged than the last time you had seen her.

The letter you had sent her 8 months before was 23 pages long, a bulk so large you sent them unfolded and stapled together inside a manila envelope rather than folded neatly into a standard one, and had detailed everything you figured she should learn about your life. 

Where you went.

What you did.

Who you did it with.

How you felt.

What you learned.

How you changed.

You apologized for running away, for worrying her.

You assured her you loved her and missed her.

You asked, tentatively, if she could find a way to let you be a bit more present.

You reiterated you wanted to remain living where you were in Scotland… but that you could allow yourself to be her daughter again if she so wanted it.

You know she cried reading it. Hell, you cried writing it…

You didn’t expect anything, you didn’t want to cause her any more grief by coming barrelling back into her life. She’s your mother, you didn’t want to manipulate her. You weren’t surprised when she didn’t answer for a few weeks…

But then her letter came. A simple half-a-page response that said, in no uncertain terms, that she missed you, that you were always welcome in her home and her heart, and she wanted to have her little girl back.

It all culminated in today.

Adjusting your red gown with one hand, you walk up the aisle, the other holding your 10-month-old daughter who’s clad in a pale yellow tulle dress. She’s kept flush to your chest, her chubby legs wrapped around your hip.

You and your mum find a spot near the middle and sit down, though you scoot yourself as far on the pew as you can, making sure that you can step off to the side just in case Evelyn starts fussing. Though you doubt she will. 

The ceremony is being held in the middle of the afternoon and she has been calm and sleepy this whole time, softly dozing off in your arms, her little face nuzzling to your neck, since it’s close to her nap time.

You sit Evie down on your lap and place a hand on the back of her head while you and your mum speak softly, still waiting for the wedding ceremony to start.

You still can’t believe that you’re here…

Wythenshawe still looks as crappy as ever, you still know the streets like the back of your hand, though a lot of it has changed, shops went out and into business, and people moved away.

You met up with your old mates at your local just a couple of nights ago, and after a lot of tears and some drinking, you gossiped all night about your lives and everyone else’s.

In a way, it feels like you never left…

You were so afraid that they would hold a grudge at you for leaving, for not staying in touch… But they never did. You were welcomed with open arms…

It’s… nice.

The ceremony doesn’t take long to start. 

You nearly cry at the sight of Emily in her wedding dress, having deemed her a close friend for the better time of your formative years. And Olly, as emotionally detached as he tries to pretend himself to be, cries at the sight of his bride.

The ceremony is long and a bit tedious, as most weddings tend to be, but you’re still happy to be there… Happy to be back.

It’s nearly 45 minutes into the ceremony when Evie starts fussing a bit. You’re quick to take the nappy bag onto your shoulder and rush out of the church while shooting some apologetic looks to the guests around.

Once outside, you find shade under a tree and begin to bounce Evie a bit, knowing she isn’t fussing because of her diaper or hunger, but rather from the fact she’s teething.

One hand balances the infant, the other sets down the nappy bag on a low wall and you begin rummaging for the teething ring toy amidst the pockets. When you find it, you give it to her, which she gladly takes, though it doesn’t do much for her pain, only quieting her down a bit by allowing her to bite all over it.

“Shhh… it’s alright, pet…” You whisper to her as you kiss her smooth forehead and nuzzle your nose against the crown of her head.

You keep softly swaying and bouncing with her in your hip, moving about, side to side, while she drools all over the toy, her hands, and your dress as she softly headbutts your chest while chewing.

You’re lucky your dress is a dark enough shade of red and made from a fabric as forgiving as chiffon, so that the wetness will dry quickly and discreetly.

It’s in the midst of your pacing and bouncing the infant on your hip that you spot him.

His pale jawline peppered with a well-trimmed stubble, his blonde hair cut short and hidden under the beige beret, his strong build wrapped in full military dress…

You almost didn’t recognize him…

You leave your bag right where it is and beeline for him before you can stop yourself. 

And he makes no motion to move from his resting spot, leaning against a wall, smoking a cigarette, and looking right at you like you’re sure he has been doing for the past 15 minutes or so (you wouldn’t put it past him).

“Fuckin’ hell…” You hear yourself saying as you come to stand in front of Simon.

He tosses his cigarette down on the floor and puts it out with his brown boot, blowing the smoke away from your daughter on your hip.

“That how you greet people now?” He retorts while looking down at you through his fluttering eyelashes. 

His voice is so much deeper, rough and strong than it used to be… You don’t know how to respond at first, your mouth has gone dry and your brain has blue-screened.

You’ve had dreams about this before… Nightmares too.

You’ve imagined that one day you’d cross paths with him on the street and you’d stumble all over yourself. That he’d ask you how you’ve been or what you’ve done with your life and you’d have nothing to show for it…

You thought you’ve healed from your past, but here comes Simon Riley to indirectly tell you “HA! Think again, dumbass!”.

“You surprised me is all.” You end up saying, your voice carrying a maturity and a strength you didn’t know it could. “Didn’t think you’d come.”

“Didn’t think I would either. Got lucky this coincided with my leave.” He remarks. “Could say the same to you, though.” He adds.

You can’t tell if he meant to offend with that comment. Olly had told you through Facebook that he told Simon about you vanishing off the face of the Earth and that Simon didn’t take it well. You knew he, rightfully so, expected you to stay gone.

“Got back in touch with Olly and the rest of my family.” You remark simply and shrug.

He keeps looking at you with those brown eyes of his, with a certain coldness behind you that forcefully reminds you that this is not the same person you used to know. The boy he was and the man he is are forcefully different people.

“Cute kid.” He adds after a beat of silence as his eyes flit to your daughter who’s still very much in her own world with her teething toy.

“Thanks.” You reply.

This feels awkward. You’re finally standing face to face (more like face-to-chest, goddamn is the man tall) after a whole ten years. Are you even friends? No. But are you acquaintances? Also no. And you have too much of a history to be strangers. 

So what are you?

“What’s her name?” He asks as he looks back at you.

“Evie.” You answer. “Evelyn.” You correct yourself before adding. “Evie for short.”

“Hm.” He remarks unemotionally. His eyes flit over you up and down, taking in… everything about you.

You are a confident person, you’d say. You feel good in your own skin. You like your reflection when you see yourself in the mirror. And you feel like a million bucks in this dress, which wraps around your body beautifully, the fabric making you look delicate and soft.

But under his scrutinizing gaze, you feel anything but confident.

So, you take a breath and return the same scrutinizing gaze, up and down, taking in every inch of him, your eyes just as strong and confident as his own. He notices, because of course he does, and he puffs out his chest and raises his chin, to allow you to keep looking at him, showing himself off a bit proudly.

He’s wearing a khaki formal uniform, or full dress as you remember it being called, and although it's been ten years, you still remember some things about all the stuff you investigated about the British Army, so you could keep up with him, impress him with your knowledge.

A brown waist belt with a sash across the right soldier means he’s an Officer… The buttons are gold and shaped like winged parachutes, and he wears a beret instead of a cap. A beige beret to be exact, which means he’s no longer in the Parachute Regiments, who wear maroon ones. There’s a cap badge on the beret and the Excalibur on it tells you one thing: he’s special forces. You don’t remember which one… but you know he’s something big, bad, and important.

“Special Forces.” You muse out loud, showing off what you noticed.

His eyebrows raise, impressed by you, and then he nods. “Somethin’ like that.” He adds.

“Done well for yourself, then.” You add and he nods again and blinks while smirking, as if trying to humbly pat himself on the back for it.

“She have a dad?” Simon asks while shooting Evelyn a look. The words escape his mouth quicker than he wanted and sound a lot more judgemental than he meant for them to.

The way your eyebrows raised at him, the same way they used to when he’d say something bloody stupid as a teen, told him you weren’t pleased and that he had put his foot in his mouth.

“Sorry.” He says though it’s clear he doesn’t mean it. “Came out wrong.” He tells you.

You might have gone ten years apart but you knew Simon like the back of your hand at one point… And you knew sometimes he’d say things aloud when he meant to keep them as thoughts. It’s clearly that’s a habit he still has.

“I know what you meant.” You reply bluntly as you fix your grip on the infant, swiveling her a bit to sit on your other side.

“What’s the answer then? She got a dad?” He probes as he dips his head a bit to the side, his arms hanging by his side as he looks you up and down.

“Aye.” You end up replying, the Scottish word slipping past your lips then you meant for it to. You still speak English with a Manc accent, just like him, but there are little quirks like this one that you’ve adopted after living in Dundee for ten years.

Simon’s eyebrows cock up as well at the sound of Scottish word, and you can tell he finds it odd, but he doesn’t comment. “Where’s he, then?” He retorts. “No ring on your finger.” He adds.

Your eyes drift down to your left hand which is wrapped around your daughter now, the splayed fingers showing a distinct lack of a wedding ring. He sounds just as judgemental. But you don’t let it ruffle your feathers.

“Separated.” You reply maturely. “No ring on yours.” You say and nod toward his own left hand which also lacks a ring.

“Married to the job.” He replies and you can’t help but let out a snort of a chuckle, which makes him chuckle dryly too.

“‘f course you are.” You add in reply.

“Could’ve been married to you.” He retorts with the same casualty of someone saying ‘Nice weather today’.

You scoff and shake your head. “Really?” You add.

“Ye.” He adds. “Had a ring and everythin’.” He quips. “Then Olly told me you ran off into the night.”

You scoff again, mostly out of disbelief, and look away from him, your eyes flittering over the courtyard in front of the church.

The ceremony should be finishing soon enough.

“Dodged a bullet then.” You remark dryly, smiling a bit in amusement.

“You or me?” He retorts and you find your eyes drifting upwards to him again.

For a moment you just both stare at each other in silence… 

Your eyes are locked in the same way they used to whenever the two of you were about to throw themselves at one another as teens… 

Then, he breaks into a grin, and so do you, the both of you looking away for a moment. His tongue presses against the inside of his cheek. You’re both amused at the cheekiness of your comment.

“How long are you stayin'?” He asks you once you both glance at each other again.

“Goin’ home on the 26th.” You tell him. “How long’ve you got leave for?” 

“‘Till the 27th.” He replies and dips his head to the side a bit.

This is definitely crazy.

You secretly wonder if you’ve gone mad.

A decade has gone by… But there’s no mistaking the electricity in the air.

That light buzzing of goosebumps that prickle at your skin, making the hair in the back of your neck stand�� Like lightning is about to strike…

“Take me out to dinner.” You demand abruptly and narrow your eyes at him.

He presses his tongue to the inside of his cheek again in amusement. “Are you askin’ me on a date?” He retorts.

“No. I’m tellin’ you.” You add, watching how his brown eyes swiftly light ablaze with a certain fire you never expected to see after so many years apart.

“Tomorrow?” He suggests.

“Tomorrow.” You add.

“I’ll pick you up at 9.” He adds.

You know damn well that 9 P.M. is too damn late for dinner… But you also know that in reality, your ‘dinner’ will be grabbing Nando’s and cheap beer, and eating in the backseat of his car in that one side road you always used to go to… talking into the night… and probably definitely fucking each other’s brains out.

“Like the good ol’ days.” You remark.

“Mhm.” He adds.

Then, the church doors open and the guests come pouring out, forcing the two of you to separate.

But you can still see the smirk on his lips from afar as you walk off to grab your nappy bag, find your mum, and get ready for the rice toss.

[MASTERLIST]

taglist: @iite-cool , @spicyspicyliving

[almacambiondaughterofsaleos]

Bad Writing Can Make A Privileged Character Unintentionally Unlikable Or Likable

Although my opinion won't be popular on this site, I don't think being privileged prevents you from being sympathetic or having a hard life (specifically when it comes to abuse). However, I do think it comes down to how the narrative executes and treats said privileged character. This can be shown in Velma's interpretation of Fred and Stolas from Helluva Boss. The former is an example of trying to make this guy a privileged, rich white boy who who are supposed to hate for getting everything in life handed to him just like Velma (blah). While with Stolas, who are supposed to sympathize with him despite being rich he has a bad home life with his wife, father was distant from him, and trapped in an arranged marriage.

However, it's funny enough I have seen more people feel sorry for Fred than Stolas as time goes on. The reason is despite his rich background his parents really are the worst compared to Paimon who was at worst a neglectful parent while his parents are control freaks who belittle him for being babyish and later his mother even planned to kill him to swap brains just because she believed he would ruin everything she built. The show also goes out of it's way to shit on him and make him the butt of many jokes as a way to do lame "white people" suck. Seriously, despite his supposed privilege he takes a lot of damage in the show: being falsely accused of murder, body shamed for having a tiny dong, being sent to prison (and people relishing that a white man was falsely imprisoned), having his own mother try to murder him so she can have someone more competent run the family business, and finally he witnesses said mother being murdered. Again an example of despite the narrative telling us he has it good everything that was shown shows that his so-called privilege doesn't protect him from the tons of shit thrown at him.

And again going back to Stolas he in contrast is constantly shown to have everything in the narrative try to treat him as a sympathetic kicked dog who just wants to find love despite the stigma of being with a lower class demon. However, everything in this seems forced because it's made to ignore how much power he has over Blitzo which has been the main source of problem which is he hovers the book over him in exchange for sexual favors. As a result Blitzo feels trapped in the relationship due to Stolas having the upperhand. However, the narrative refuses to fully embrace it and skirts around it to prevent Stolas from being problematic. Also despite being shown as a cheater the narrative again goes out of it's way to try to make it justified that he did it due to making his wife so one dimensionally abusive. And again it's been brought up his daughter is a prop made to make him seem like a good dad, when in reality he has put his love for Blitzo over his daughter to the point he seems to neglect her more but we are expected to her to just tolerate it because he's supposedly trying. As a result, we don't see him sympathetic despite his privilege we see how privilege he is and wish he'd get over himself.

I do think that makes the biggest difference between the two because of the fact that Fred was allowed to change and realize he was crappy while the narrative enables Stolas to always view himself as a victim and dismiss his actions as not hurting people. Again I do not believe being privilege dismisses you from sympathy because the point of equality is that sympathy can be given to anyone regardless of status. However, I can't be sympathetic to someone who tries to cry about something while abusing their privilege on someone which is what Stolas does often, but the narrative wants to think everything is good. It just winds up making me hate him more and realize what a pathetic pos he is, while someone like Fred is made to be pathetic actually tries to better himself and hopefully does grow even more in the second season. Again bad writing is what it takes to sympathize with or not with how a privileged character is presented.

[slutforsnow]

Death, Revelations, & Jail

A/N: This one might end up being just a tad longer than the last 3 chapters :3 ALSO I FINALLY FINISHED EPISODE 3 😭 IM SORRY IT TOOK FOREVER, HENRY BEING PATHETIC WAS FUNNY 😭😭

Tw: Joseph's death, revealing Violet's trauma (grooming, SA, assault, abuse, manipulation), Kathleen's death, robbery

At the funeral, Violet stood with Kathleen and Billy per Joseph's final request. His reasoning had been that he wanted her there instead of Antrim because of how caring she was compared to his step-father. Violet was touched by him asking for her to be there in his final moments.

Violet had one hand on Kathleen's back, rubbing her back as she and Billy sprinkled dirt on Joe's body, holding back her own tears. She didn't know why, but she just wanted to bawl her eyes out. He had been a sweetheart in the short time she had known him and had prayed for him to recover.

Billy and Kathleen didn't deserve this; they were too good of people to have lost Joseph. If Violet could bring back Joe, she would even go as far as ask God to take her abuser and ex-friend.

'If anyone deserves to be in the ground it's that fucking-'

Violet's thoughts were interrupted, hearing a familiar voice. Her heart dropped, and she suddenly felt lightheaded.

She slowly turned to face him. What was he of all people doing here?

As Violet watched the short argument between Kathleen and Henry, the pieces began to make sense. Henry was Billy's step-father and Violet's abuser. She felt hot tears fill in her eyes, but not of sadness, oh no. Of anger. Hatred, even. He was here hurting two more people while his victim was here in front of him and he had the fucking nerve to pretend everything was fine between the two of them and ignore her? Violet balled her fists, glaring at Henry, and scrunched her nose up in disgust at the blonde bastard.

"You really think that Joseph would want you at his burial? He asked me to be here instead of you because he felt more loved by someone he just met instead of his own stepfather that he's known for the past 6 years?" She spat, her chest heaving up and down, as she felt her heart speed up. Henry paled, looking at Violet.

If he didn't remember her before she spoke, he sure as hell remembered her now. Kathleen and Billy looked between Henry and Violet, seeing the tears of rage roll down on Violet's cheeks.

"Violet- what are you doin' here?" A simple question, how pathetic was he? To ask how she was while she was recovering from the damage he caused her?

"Really? That's your question? Not 'I'm sorry for doin' what I did to you two years ago I hope you can forgive me'?!" She yelled, feeling her knees grow numb. She felt faint, sick even.

Why would he act so casual?

"Vi, what are you talkin' about?" Kathleen asked, sounding genuinely confused that her husband and Violet, whom she now considered to be a daughter to her if Violet and Billy were to ever date in the future, knew each other.

"What I'm sayin' is that your husband and a third party manipulated me into thinkin' he loved me but only used my 16 year old body for such disgustin' and vile things," Violet stated, glaring at Henry but speaking so gently and sweet to Kathleen.

"You what!?" Billy shouted in anger, turning to Henry. He immediately reached for his pistol, ready to put a bullet between his eyes, only to be stopped by his mother.

He always had a bad feeling about Henry, but knowing that he was the one who violated Violet was beyond disgusting. It was horrid. Silence stood between the 4 of them and Billy shot between Henry's feet, causing a cry of fear and surprise to erupt from Henry's throat.

"Warnin' shot," He stated bluntly before pulling Violet into his embrace as Kathleen practically dragged Henry back to the house to shout at him for what he did to her.

"You can put your pistol away, moron," Violet teased, giggling to herself as Billy rubbed her back, listening to the sounds of the two men burying his brother.

"No, I'm gonna need it when I get back to the house," He told her, a small smile tugging at his lips.

"Don't waste your bullets on him. He needs a slow and painful death," She argued, laying her head on his chest as he held her close.

Billy pondered that for a moment; get rid of the problem or let the problem suffer.

"You're right, he does deserve to suffer," He murmured, putting his gun back in his gunbelt. "I'm sorry he did that to you."

"Why are you sorry? You didn't know," She questioned, looking up at him and wipin' her tears away. As she did, she had also revealed her scars across her nose. He didn't say anything about her scars, thinking they added to her sense of danger.

"For not doin' somethin' sooner so he couldn't have hurt you," He answered simply, as if it was obvious. Violet felt a faint redness creep up onto her cheeks; he cared about her that much when they had only met a few days ago?

"Awh, Billy that's mighty sweet of you," She replied, not meeting his gaze so he didn't notice her growing redness. Billy gently laid his forehead against hers, smiling at her as he was happy to make her smile.

"Anythin' to see you smile, Vi," He murmured, holding her close.

That night, as the pair decided to stay and comfort Kathleen, Violet ended up staying over with the Antrims as it was pouring rain by the time she noticed it was dark out.

Billy let her cuddle with him in his bed, and they talked each other to sleep–talking about ideas on how to make Henry go 'missing' and comforting Billy about the loss of Joe. Late in the night, Billy woke up to the sounds of hustlin' and bustlin' in the kitchen area. He quietly got up, making sure not to wake Violet, grabbed his gun, and crept his way to the kitchen, aiming it at his step-father once he got a clear view of him.

Henry stopped moving, slowly looking towards his step-son.

"So you caught me. This is my money," He began, having only opened the small box that held what little savings Kathleen had.

"You haven't earned any of it. Not a fuckin' penny," Billy began, moving forward, keeping the gun aimed at Henry's head and being glad he towered over the man he hated. "You chase a dream. You pay for whores. You cheat on my mother and now you fucking steal from her!"

The more Billy spoke, the more he felt his anger rise. He didn't raise his voice. No, he couldn't do that. Not while his mother and best friend were asleep. They needed their rest. It had been an eventful day for both of them.

He continued to force Henry to back up eventually out of the house and into the cold rain. Billy didn't care about the cold. He had enough of Henry's bullshit.

"Not to mention what you did to Violet; she was fuckin' sixteen!! Sixteen!! How could even think of doing such a thing to her!?" He yelled, pressing the barrel of his gun to Henry's head. He could yell now, since they were outside; no one could hear him over the loud pouring rain.

Violet, however, woke up having to use the bathroom. She frowned, not seeing Billy in bed next to her.

'Maybe he's in the kitchen,' She thought to herself, yawning as she made her way to the bathroom, grateful that Billy's clothes covered her body mostly. As she made her way around the house to hopefully see Billy, just eating a midnight snack, she caught sight of him outside with Henry. She stood by the table, seeing the box of the family's savings. Sighing tiredly, she made her way upstairs again to grab a towel to dry him off when he came back inside.

"You could've been a good man like my father. All you had to do was try," Billy continued, cutting off Henry from his pathetic rambling and pleading.

Then he remembered Violet's words from earlier.

"Don't waste your bullets on him. He deserves to suffer."

And suffer he will. He lowered his gun and went back inside, shutting the door in Henry's face.

When he turned around, he came face to face with his mom and Violet. He assumed they heard him as Violet came over to him and wrapped his blanket around him, considering it was the only was big enough that could actually have any chance of drying him a little bit, as Kathleen lit another oil lamp to warm him up.

Violet, knowing this was a family matter, hugged Billy tightly once he sat down next to his ma and went upstairs.

She laid in bed for a while, staring at the ceiling as she waited for his return.

Once he came back to the room, with his hair still damp. Once he put his pistol away in his gunbelt, he laid next to Violet in silence. She pulled him into a tight hug once he got comfortable, holding him somehow tighter than before.

"Thank you," She whispered, knowing he drove away Henry for good.

"Of course, Violet," He whispered back, holding her close and burying his face in her shoulder. Vi buried her face into his neck, taking in his calming scent. He smelled like a wet dog, but amongst that scent, he also smelled like grass, mud, with hints of whiskey.

"I'm never leaving your side," She stated softly, earning a gentle chuckle from him.

"You're an idiot."

"Nah, you are."

"How am I an idiot?"

"Who went out in the rain in their pajamas 10 minutes ago?" She teased, giggling as he laughed softly, accepting defeat.

"Alright, you got me there," He admitted before closing his eyes to try an asleep.

"Yes, I do," She murmured, yawning before curling up into his side.

Days later, Kathleen dropped as well from the same illness that took Joe. The moment Violet had heard the news from Jesse, she had bolted barefoot to find him, determined to help Billy and Kathleen.

As the 18 year olds took care of Kathleen, she cherished every moment she had with them. She didn't want to go, yet she knew that God would reunite her with her husband and Joe. As she was being taken care of, she noticed how Violet and Billy talked and cooperated. They worked together without complaint and were just as stubborn as the other. Kathleen didn't want to leave Billy alone, but as time went on, she realized that he wouldn't be alone. He'd have Violet with him, and Kathleen was okay with that.

The day after she was buried, Violet laid her head on Billy's shoulder as his now former home was cleared out. The town had taken the house as Billy didn't have enough to pay for it.

Violet sighed, rubbing Billy's arm as he watched the home get cleared out.

"You can come stay with Jesse and I until you get back on your feet," She suggested, peering up at him.

"I don't wanna be a burden," Billy denied, shaking his head.

"Billy-"

"You could always rob someplace," a familiar voice said, pulling their attention from the now empty house to Jesse.

"Jesse, no, he needs money not to be arrested-," Violet began, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms facing her brother completely.

"I mean, it could work," Billy interjected, looking down at Violet.

"Where would you even try?" Violeg protested, looking up at him.

"That place," Jesse suggested, nodding curtly towards the Chinese laundry place across the road.

"No, you'll both get caught for sure," She told him.

"Doesn't hurt to try," Billy said, nodding to Jesse.

"You can't be serious, Billy!"

"Alright, meet back here around midnight."

"Fuck you, Jesse," Violet grumbled, pinching the bridge of her nose and closing her eyes in disappointment.

The next night, Violet had gathered Billy's things, as well as her own, onto 2 horses. She knew this would happen. Stupid Jesse and his dumb fucking plan. Violet knew this would happen, but did the boys listen? No, of course not. Why would they?

She peered around the corner of the clothing shop, seeing Billy running from the jail, and she whistled at him, causing him to stop running.

"Violet?" He questioned in a whisper shout as he came closer to her.

"Of course, you fucking idiot, now get on your horse and let's go," She playfully said, grinning and jamming his hat on his head.

"How- wait, why are you leaving?" He asked, not wasting time and getting on his horse as Violet got onto hers.

"Whose gonna keep your ass outta trouble?" She retaliated, grinning evilly.

"Rude," He repreplied, chuckling as the two snapped the reins and their horses were off.

'Goodbye to this hellish town and the people in,' Violet thought, smiling as she no longer would have to be forced into trying to date some of the other guys in town. 'Freedom at last.'

[riaki]

> under warm kitchen lights and puffy silk sheets dad!aki hayakawa x reader hcs/drabbles

man... i finally finished this. oh my word wc: 3.2k :cry: cw: fem!reader (use of mother terms but no explicit description), brief mention of hospitals, kids omg so scary boy n girl not proofread!!

i always find myself writing waaayyyyyy too much for these 'short' drabbles/hcs/whatever they are. i think this one got even worse than the yoshida one. anyways its ok cus i live laugh love aki

also thank u @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat for feeding me ideas with canon hayakawa family interactions :3

it's hard for him, to say the least.

while parenting is a new experience for the both of you, it's more than appropriate to say aki's the least bit familiar. putting up with denji and power (begrudgingly, he'll tell you-- although you never believe it) certainly has him battle-ready and prepared, albeit with a slight darkening of the circles under his velvety blue eyes and a minute downward tug on his chapped lips that need yours on them for rejuvenation when he thinks about the tiring journey lying ahead on a path of family that's only been slightly worn. but then you smile, squeezing his calloused hands that are bigger than yours and intertwining your fingers gently, and he forgets there's supposed to be blood between them as he presses a light kiss to your forehead and tells you in that smooth velvety voice that he's ready for whatever pandemonium your rascals will cause as long as you're there with him.

truth be told, there's nothing in this damned world that aki wants-- yearns for than a life of normality with you. he doesn't have a lust for a revenge that festers and infects, anymore; the only thing on his mind when his work gives the luxury of a time of rest is how wonderful it'd be to start a lively little family of your own as you smile at him or card your hands through his damp hair when you share a lukewarm bath surrounded by cold austere tiles in the darkest hours of the morning, having found him covered in a thin veneer of chilling sweat only moments ago, knuckles pale white as he clung to the duvet. more often than not you find a knot between his dark brows; a heavy weight on his shoulders that's perceivable but frustratingly intangible-- like an ugly patch of weeds in an old, worn garden that's not worth saving, but still has enough life within it to be marred by rot and degradation of soil. but when you wrap your arms around his neck and hold him flush to your chest, so close to your heart-- the place where he thinks he deserves to be furthest from-- when your lithe fingers work so gently it's almost painful to soothe the crease on his nose bridge and the tension between his bare shoulders, he's so bold as to dare to just hope for a life further than nights of hollow intimacy that, in vain, attempt to sew and patch up the gaping valley between the wants of his heart and of his mind. further than exhausted mornings littered with extinguished cigarette butts and framed with curling smoke, pale sunrises and slow, languid movement that reflect the growing shadows beneath his tired eyes; further than the bitter scent of the black coffee he always makes for himself because the pathetic attempt at at romantic in him insists that your sweet lips are the sugar and cream to his life enough. but in truth he can-- and thought he'd always be able to taste that overwhelming tang of something equitable to sourness on his tongue when he downs the bland caffeine, like the feeling that crashes and overwhelms him when he realizes that what you have right now? is just an illusion for his poorly-kept facade of something he wishes could be more. something with a shared bed and an extra room painted bright pastel, a bunk bed tucked into the corner and kids' toys scattered all over the place.

(and as much as you tell him otherwise, some small part of him that he's tucked into the darkest recesses of his mind will always, always believe that you deserve someone immensely better than him-- better than a cynical devil hunter with nothing to offer but years of bottled tears, unspoken words that die on his parched tongue, and withered feeling in his heavy limbs that come with the sensation of dragging himself through the pool of molasses that is the routine of life-threatening missions he throws himself into by a hollow ambition. but he's never, and if he's being honest, he doesn't want to have the heart to end things with you. and imagining you, holding hands with someone else, laughing that bubbly bright melody and smiling that cheery grin in any direction but his, makes his heart hurt uncomfortably and his cold blood boil.)

and so, when the fever dream that's your wedding day comes around, he wishes he had met you early enough to be addicted to the taste of your lips instead of the rough, paper end of a cigarette and the numbing thrill that settles in his diluted veins at the hit of nicotine clogging his lungs, before it's disillusioned and the despondent cycle repeats. you don't know the half of what he'd give for that. either way, he believes it a miracle that he even got the chance to see the starstruck look in your gorgeous eyes when he slid that silver band onto your ring finger; that he lived to see the day where the familiar touch of your tender hands coupled with the refreshing bite of cold metal on his skin, treating him like some elegant thing in your garden; a lily of the valley when in reality he's just some weed that should've been rid of. a flower who's bell shaped bunches of milky petals hang from the stalk like a condemned man on a court platform, yet still so bright and graceful you could forget the plant was poisonous. when aki had laid eyes on that pretty ring, tucked into a black box of deep velvet on a shaded patch of street one sunny afternoon, he immediately thought of how nicely the elegantly-cut gem would match your dazzling irises; he takes extensive care to make sure the luster suits as an addition to your appearance instead of a distractor-- after all, when he looks at his then future spouse, he wants to be drawn to your eyes, then the ring tying you two together like a red string on your pinky fingers. that, and the way your gaze will soften as it lands on him, in the way that could only happen when the purest angel from heaven chooses to spot the bastard straight from hell out of the crowd who dared to nose his way into your ethereal presence. it's truly befitting, he thinks; your touch is featherlight even when all he does is weigh you down like a ball and chain locked to your ankle, bound by softly-spoken vows and a promise amongst the white of veils and pretty cream flowers. and aki is a selfish man, so he's only glad he decided to weave your fates together, even if it meant the good and bad mingled to paint a splash of gray on love's canvas.

that's the story of your love on weighted scales that runs through his buzzing mind the night your sweet little kids ask their mama to recount the tale of your plunge into devotion together to them, far different than the telling words which seem to sweeten tenfold as they fall from your lips onto eager ears that soon turn deaf, sleeping soundly in your arms. for all the aloof, coldness and silence he's ever turned out into the harsh world your family lives and breathes in, aki's surprisingly loving as a father-- he can't help the gentle soft spot he has for your children when he remembers the big, teethy grins with little cinnamon pastry crumbs scattered around their curved lips and round cherry cheeks are a result of your combined efforts; the streak of tenderness you unearthed in him finds itself being yanked wide open by two pairs of small, grubby hands that are tiny enough to wrap around the length of his thumb, like a little pair of gloves that sponge the inpurity from his hands and make his eyes soften, crinkle around the edges in the way that you love. it's certainly not an unfamiliar feeling; the one invoked deep within his hardened chest buds and unfurls within his organs when your kids take their first breath of fresh air-- well, as fresh as clinical hospital air and stark white lights can get-- is the same one that hit him like a truck when his gaze inevitably finds its way back to you every moment you're near him. cupid's arrow has long burrowed into the cavity of his chest, and if he's honest, he doesn't mind at all. if you had the energy to, you would've snuck a quick picture, if not mental, and made a little sweet teasing fun of him for being so dumb-- no, starstruck; a fool absolutely enamored with two little reflections of you and him. the product of literal years in blood, sweat and tears; maybe some coffee, and definitely some love.

and while aki may involuntarily be an intrinsic liar to his very core by nature (you still love him either way, even when he tells you he tried to stop your baby boy from crawling onto the kitchen counter over the sink and clambering onto two shaky toddler legs to paw at the jar of peanut butter in your cabinet), you're not. so you'll enjoy the strawberry blush that seeps its way across the soft skin of his cheeks that you've mapped with fluttering kisses and trembling hands when you tell him just how much of a great father you think he is to your kids, on the nights when he gets home with sufficient energy to whip something up for the haven of cozy warmth he calls 'home'. you'll prep a warm stew together that makes your daughter's mouth water and eyes go round as saucers as she clings to aki koala-bear style, legs wrapped around his neck and fingers curling into his raven hair as she watches him stir the broth with one hand (the other resting firmly, yet gently on her ankle) to melt the icicles clinging to the awnings of your windows for frigid winters. or, maybe some cold soba for those humid summer nights to enjoy amongst the symphony of cicada buzzes and city sounds, watching lights flash by as you laugh and reach out to wipe the soup off of your son's cheeks when the noodle he was indulging on goes up a little too fast, missing the way your husband's eyes fall on you ever so affectionately. you'll enjoy a sweet, tender kiss in the golden hazy glow of your warm kitchen bubble, full of lively mirth as you carve out silly little smiley faces and stars out of potatoes and bits of cucumber and carrot. on the rare occasion you decide it's a good idea to let your kids contribute a little, the immediate and guilty regret you feel when you watch your daughter slip up and knick her little finger gets washed away by a familiar, blooming feeling of adoration, almost sickeningly sweet in its intensity as you pause to watch aki kiss away the beads of ruby red blood welling on the cut, rubbing her 'boo-boo' so tenderly it makes your heart hurt as you gently plaster a cute sunflower bandaid over the cut while your baby girl stares at your husband with such wonder you think he might be a knight-in-shining-armor in her wide round eyes. and it makes his bleeding heart skip a beat when you tell him you see him the same way, too. there's always guaranteed to be a fresh plate of intricate bunny-shaped apple slices as dessert after dinner, and on slow nights spent in the company of family, there'll be a quick and intense battle of rock paper scissor or sticks between the love of your life and your beloved children on who'll be the lucky winner to put their head in your lap tonight.

(although, aki rarely lets himself win, because he knows he'll be able to later that night if not in that fond moment, sure to become a treasured memory.)

aki sees himself as a good father; he's strict when he needs to be, and he always tries to make time for his kids. he's even stopped smoking in front of them; in the house, as a whole. he had to pepper you with a few sweet, slow and intentional kisses and light-hearted apologetic words when you demanded to know why your requests for him to stop slowly killing himself with each drag fell to deaf ears, but suddenly you got a little more intimate and out popped a few kids-- and he'd stopped. of course, those were enough to pacify you; he made your resolve weak, like the sweet wobbly jello you indulged your daughter to as you watched your husband work out a crossword puzzle with your son. sometimes, you have to remind him sternly not to curse in front of his kids. but when he reminds you of the vehement stream of swears that always left you when you had to change less-than-pleasant diapers in your earlier parenting years, he’ll chuckle at the flush on your face, because you seem to elicit a lot of those from him. he’ll smile, because he’s finally found something worth the effort. and he'll run a hand through your hair and press a kiss to your forehead because you've made him capable of caring (and he knows how to distract you). sometimes, though, he thinks he's a little too soft on their pleading looks and puppy eyes on the nights when lightning streaks across the sky in frightening arcs, claps of thunder rumbling across the dark clouds when the streets of tokyo are enveloped in curtains of rain showers, when one (or both) of your beloved kids peeks their head from the doorway, a little 'can i sleep with you guys?' escaping as a timid peep. he watches in a sleepy sort of amusement as you nod, one hand lazily curling around your waist to keep you close to his side as he rests his chin on your shoulder. and it's your turn to stifle your amusement when a small, quiet mumble of protest leaves his mouth as your kid sidles into the covers between the two of you, effectively splitting you from your husband. if he was impatient, you know he'd have half the mind to pick them up and plop them at the edge of the bed to have you all to himself, but on most nights he'll just observe in quiet affection when you scoop up your son or daughter in your arms, cradling them to your chest and playing with that head of soft hair, humming gently in a way that makes his heart melt at the edges

sometimes, when 'uncle' denji and 'auntie' power are over, they'll poke fun at him in their usual, disrespectful and chaotic manner, because it doesn't take a pair of keen eyes to see the way he looks at you like you've hung the very constellations in the sky; like the stellar designs in the firmament were all carefully crafted by your hand. he's no overdone zodiac freak, but he dares to say the stars aligned the night he was finally able to call you his and only his. denji and power get along incredibly well with his kids; it almost makes him jealous. like you, his resolve is incredibly easy to weaken with the right expression and the right words; your kids must've picked up a few tricks from your book, because they know exactly how to play him into the palm of their tiny little hands. denji and power spoil them to no end; the wonder duo indulge the kids through games of tag and roughhousing, treating them to a wide array of candy and sweets that guarantee a doctor's visit the following week. he swears the pinch between his eyes you worked so hard to eliminate returns little by little when he watches them run around the place he used to call his safe haven, leaving a trail of absolute destruction and havoc in the form of torn magazines, splintered puzzle pieces, apple sauce sludge, tiny lego blocks (that leave a lifetime of pain), and pairs of his socks. it only gets worse when they learn how to negotiate; he makes a mental note to blame denji and power, because there's no way in hell your children figured out how to bargain from you or him. whines of "aww, but uncle denji lets me take the toys outside, dad!" and "buy me that neko charm, or else i'll tell mom you knocked over her plant pot yesterday!" (which, for the record, isn't true. that was 'auntie' power.) that being said, it's a given family outings are narrowly avoided disasters; as the kids grow, aki swears he'll have to start keeping them on a leash, or they might end up accidentally shoplifting your local 7/11's supply of sour gummy cubes, or have fed daffodil seeds to each stray cat on your condo's street under one blink of a weary eye. at the end of the day, he always caves with an exasperated sigh and an irritated 'fine. but don't tell your mom, okay?'. after all, he's always been a sucker for you; who's to say he's not the same with your kids?

unserious hcs... :3

def the type of dad to mutter 'no she didn't' or 'they probably deserved it' under his breath when ur daughter's school principal calls u both in to tell u she stuck her chewed melon gum in three different girls' hair that day

unreasonably competitive w his children. god knows why

yells at ur kids a lot and starts pouting like the grown ass man he is when u scold him for it ("sorry, love. i got used to it. power and denji were a hell of a handful.")

tucks them both in n denies it with everything in him when u ask if he likes making them beg for goodnight smooches

tells them to fuck off (in childrenspeak) when its ur marriage anni / date night

when they were rlly young, u guys used to all do family showers and or baths together but then water would get everywhere and the rubber duck would be fought over n bathbombs would overflow and the kids would get mad at each other so u dont do that anymore...

an absolute goof and doesnt know what the hell hes doing at first... one time ur son was choking on a cherry pit and he didnt know what to do so he just. shook him. by some miracle it worked (if it was denji or power he wouldve js smacked their back unnecessarily aggressively)

unrolls his cigarettes and makes origami shapes out of them; once ur daughter got her ears pierced he made a pair of crane earrings for her from the paper (clean ofc. i hope)

thoroughly enjoys forcing himself into mother daughter nights and he grumbles but secretly loves when ur daughter practices makeup on him or braids his hair

hopes and prays like an idiot that his kids see him as a cool epic devil hunter awesome sauce dad and not a silly pathetic failwife househusband (that's only for u to think)

stitches up any clothing, pillow cases or stuffed animals that r falling apart, also makes sure that no color bleeds when washing clothes and that nothing shrinks cus he does all the laundry for evryone

helps u make a family photo scrapbook and tape polaroids to ur fridge. lets the kids cut out patterns and shapes (his fav r the nutrition facts for some weird reason) from their juiceboxes and kids' magazines to put in the scrapbook

whenvr ur napping he always tells them to shut up. or he just forces them to nap too so he can be lazy and crawl into bed w u

a very good dad !!

hes such a loser oh no.. i should've just used the unserious hcs for the entire thing. i rambled im sorry it will happen again. i love himr

my (riaki) stuff. don't repost and/or plagiarize !

[little-tyrant-gortash]

@quaintnecromancer I don't want to post this huge fucking idea under someone else's post because I feel like I'd annoy them, but...

Sickeningly familiar...

What if... and I'm just ranting my fanon about it here, but...

Enver didn't want to become famous with his father's name - that man literally sold him to a warlock (devil), and he wouldn't make history with that name. No. He'd break away from that. He is the master of his own fate, and from nothing he'd emerge as something new, something different than his father, thank you very much.

He'd carve a future and a legacy through a name he invented for himself because his parents, especially his father, don't deserve a single gold piece from the fortune and power he'd acquired on his own.

In fact, he goes as far that he takes free will from his parents, because when they had that free will, they've valued their business and gold more than the life and well-being of their own son. They've tossed him in the hands of people who tortured him for fun as a kid. When he should've felt safe and taken care of, everything was taken from him, from his freedom to his dignity. Just because they were bored and they loved it when he begged and screamed.

Fuck that. Fuck the Flymm name.

So he wondered - he needs a good, strong name he could call his own, one that wouldn't make him feel angry whenever he heard it, and he has a few ideas. Eventually, he settles for an idea that the Dark Urge comes up with.

And he fucking loves it. That's him.

Enver Gortash. Strong. Regal. Merciless. Fit for a Banite, much better than the weak and pathetic Flymm.

Enver Flymm is the boy who had been sold, locked up, and beaten for entertainment.

Enver Gortash is the mastermind who seized power and became the most influential politician and inventor of Baldur's Gate and made his adversaries kneel.

Sickeningly familiar... because the Dark Urge helped to create it. And if anyone dared to call Enver Flymm and not Gortash, the Dark Urge relieved them of their tongue on the spot. After a few incidents like that, people collectively stopped ever calling him Flymm again.

One another idea: he'd kept the name Enver because that name came from his mother, and despite everything, deep down, he still loves her. Abandoning the name Flymm rather tells a story about the conflict between father and son; perhaps they've been spared because of his mother. Perhaps that's why he kept Enver, too.

Yet another idea: he keeps the name of his father's business the same, while he owns it, of course. Just to rub it in.

[vaguely-yandere]

When people add Stolkholm Syndrome into the Yandere/Darling conversation, I feel like it's always the, "My free will has been beaten into submission and my mind has been broken" sort of coersion.

Like the yandere is big and scary and violent, and eventually just for the sake of survival, you begin to kowtow to their whims until eventually Survival Mode becomes normal, and you lose who you were before.

But as we know, not all Yanderes are big and scary and violent.

I like to imagine the confidant yanderes. The ones who manipulate you until you really believe of your "own will" that they made your life better by kidnapping you. "Isn't this so much better than working a 9 to 5?" "You hated your coworkers anyway." "You can have anything you want. Isn't that worth your freedom?" Until all a Darling remembers about their old life is suffering and turmoil, and they find genuine comfort in their Yandere's arms. Their savior, their knight in shining armor, their prince, etc.

Then I like to imagine the pitiful yanderes. The puppies and kitties who can't live without you. They may have kidnapped you successfully, but their lives are falling apart. They bring you tv dinners, because they don't know how to cook for themselves. Their home is a mess while your room is spotless cuz taking care of you is the only thing they have the energy for. And you grow to know them, you can't stop your heart from growing feelings from them. You want to guide them, to mother them, to protect them. Until eventually you wind up as a caretaker to the person who vowed to take care of you. But it was a choice of your own, and even if you could escape, how could you leave them like this?

And finally I like to think of the sympathetic yanderes. The ones whose lives on the outside may be perfect, but they're empty. The only thing that brings them joy is you. And in them you see a reflection of yourself as your darkest time. Who hasn't lost a friend or a loved one? Who hasn't wracked their brain thinking of ways it could've gone differently? Who hasn't had the idea of wanting someone all to themselves, so that they could never leave you or grow tired of you...? These yanderes pull on your heartstrings until you understand them, and you yearn for their certified brand of twisted, obsessive love. Because it will never leave you. A constant, unending love... Who in their right mind would cast that aside? Then again, at this point, coudl you really claim to be in your right mind?

Idk, food for thought. :3c

oh... oh this is toxic..... i love it

yanderes who arent big. they arent physically intimidating. they dont work out, they cant lift a fucking car over their head, they dont have a death glare, nothing. they look so sweet, even their fake smile looks real. and really, these are the scariest because how the fuck could you live with yourself leaving someone who you know cant live without you? truly live without you! not just mentally but they would probably die if you left. they dont threaten it but you feel it. you know they wont survive without you. they rely on you emotionally, so much so that you go to bed bone deep exhausted every day.

and its not like a highschooler or groomer trying to get you to send nudes, no, theres no life threats, no death threats, no nothing. no threats of any kind... not verbally, at least. because thats too easy. you know how to spot that. its easy to detach yourself when theres a whiny, annoying, sad and pathetic voice whining about hurting themselves over the phone because you didnt wanna go into the bathroom for a quick nude (too niche?) but when you see it? see the way you talking to other people makes them feel worthless? see the way they pull away and detach themselves? see them crying more and more often? their romantic gestures slowly stop, they stop asking for kisses, theres barely any touching and you need them. you need them and you know youre using them too but at some point, you stop caring because it just feels so so good to be loved in such an unhealthy, obsessive way. it fills you to the brim, like tar, slow and thick and its warm. you know that if you leave now, you will never get this love again.

(remember kids! dont fuckin do that)

[thereader-radhika]

2- Friends and Foes from the Beyond

Part 1

Nandini shivered as the rain came pounding down. Thirumalai says that she feels colder these days because she lost too much weight. She tied a piece of cloth over her thin grey hair fashioned into a small bun. When she was younger and the hair was thicker, it used to stay tight for a long time.

"Aazhi mazhai kanna . . . ", she hummed as she covered herself with the thick blanket given by Annan and lied down on the mat. Since the day his gurunathan handed her over to him, she hasn't let him know peace or rest. Even in this old age, he dutifully visited her at least thrice every year.

"Do you need heat, kanmani?"

She woke up with a start and looked around frantically searching for the source of that sound. Which devil has come to torture her today? It seems like father-in-law and son-in-law have come together today. Weren't Pandyas the sworn enemies of Pazhuvettaraiyar? How could they become such thick friends in death?

"Our darling is confused."

"My little girl isn't confused. This smart girl killed him and avenged poor old me." Veera Pandyan's severed head laughed from Periya Pazhuvettaraiyar's lap. "No, I didn't kill . . . ", Nandini groaned. The events of that cursed night replayed in her mind.

"Hoy! Hoy! Veera Pandyan thalai konda Koparakesari stabbed himself. You are such a misfortune".

"But he too didn't get her maama", Periya Pazhuvettaraiyar tickled Veera Pandyan's cheeks and he laughed even louder.

"I will only blame you. You clothed her in the finest silk and gold, endured all mockery while this yakshi was observing fasts and austerities for that upstart".

"That isn't true. She touched my arms a few times".

"Chi! Are you a man? I was with her mother only for a few days but I shot two birds with one stone", Veera Pandyan's head winked. Nandini felt like vomiting but her body was unable to move. Someone caressed her hair and wiped her tears. Amma! She buried her head into her lap and cried bitterly.

"How many men have these women claimed to be their lovers? Pathetic maamiyar, her hopes were shattered when Sundara Cholan's veera-patni entered the pyre with her husband. That's our Chola women for you". Pazhuvettaraiyar's boasting turned to screams as Veera Pandyan's furious head bit his hands.

"Don't you hear this, you whore? I am so embarassed to admit that you are my daughter too".

"Sorry maama. I have spoken in anger."

"Don't worry. I will teach you to tame unruly women".

"Thanks. I will try it on her in our next birth".

Nandini's blood boiled as she listened to this exchange. She only hoped to console the old man after using him for years but he haunts her with her own words. "Get lost, you old perverts. I will never be yours".

"Old? Have you seen yourself, moothevi? Do you think your komagan will look twice at you? Even your mother looks younger than you. How lovely of them to send my mohini to me!"

Veera Pandyan's headless body approached Mandakini as the head jeered at Nandini from Pazhuvettaraiyar's lap. She dropped Nandini's head on the hard floor and dashed into the rain as the mutilated body followed her with outstretched arms. Nandini massaged her temples. Isn't there an end to this? Earlier, it was Veera Pandyan alone. After that fateful night, more apparitions started to torture her.

Where is he?

Why hasn't he come today? Is it because she looks old and ugly now? Perhaps he doesn't want her anymore.

"You know that isn't true", Aditha Karikalan chuckled from the other side of her mat. She tried to hug him but her arms passed through his form. She got as close as she could get and stared into those lovely brown eyes.

"Do they bother you . . . there?"

"No. Don't you know that we have our own place?  For us."

"Ummmm"

"There are a lot of flowers. You can make as many garlands as you want and I will adorn your neck with all of them".

"Can we take my Amma too? She doesn't have anyone else."

"Yes, but she won't come alone".

"I am coming. I just want to meet Ponniyin Selvan once, just once, and tell him everything. After that I won't linger. I can't wait."

His form dissolved into thin air before her eyes but she heard his whisper, "Neither can I".

Parts 3, 4

@favcolourrvibgior @willkatfanfromasia @sowlspace @sampigehoovu @sakhiiii @ambidextrousarcher @harinishivaa @celestesinsight

[hawkinsmafia]

day 15 : photographs

featuring Dmitri Antonov x oc Lilibet Grey & oc Georgette Grey

rating: general

cw: mentions of past manipulation and revenge porn of a minor, unfavorable depiction of Tommy H.

wc: 927

an: written for the 200 Words Challenge. I’m having fun exploring this man. :) I think I hc him as a pretty decent cook, and definitely has high dexterity. also I’m in love with the idea that he gets himself a motorcycle in Hawkins. more biker representation pls!

Returning to Hawkins had had an effect on Georgette, Lilibet could see it the very same day they arrived. Her daughter was reverting back to the version of herself that hadn’t yet been to California, hadn’t made friends at Lenora High or had sleepovers at her house on Lonzo Way. The Georgette who didn’t fit in and didn’t have much to say. Even securing an early summer job at Main Street Vinyl hadn’t lifted her mood. Some of it, perhaps, could have been attributed to shyness around their new roommate, but Dmitri couldn’t be the source of all her malaise. Lilibet had seen with her own eyes that the two of them got along well enough; even Georgette’s aloof tuxedo cat, Count Ulfric Arpeggio, seemed to grudgingly accept Dmitri’s presence.

So while Dmitri was busy in the kitchen, prepping vegetables for dinner—he had insisted on taking care of meals for the family, wanting to pull his fair share of the weight even while he hadn’t yet found employment in Hawkins—Lilibet approached Georgette. Plopping down next to her on their new sofa, Lilibet cut right to the chase.

“Alright, so are you ready to tell me what’s going on yet?”

Georgette looked at her mother, brow furrowing. “I… don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Why you’re retreating into your shell again,” Lilibet supplied. “As soon as we crossed the Hawkins town line, you started wilting. What’s happening?”

“Oh.” Georgette looked away, swallowing awkwardly. “You remember what happened.” She paused before adding, quietly, “With Tommy?”

An idle fury clawed Lilibet’s insides at the mention of the boy’s name, but she kept her face impassive. “Yes.”

“Yeah. Bet you’re not the only one.”

“Oh, sweetheart…” Lilibet reached out and touched her daughter’s knee, rubbing it soothingly.

“It was just really nice being two thousand miles away from anyone who’d ever even heard of Tommy Hagan and had ever seen my boobs.”

The way her daughter’s head hung in shame made Lilibet’s heart hurt, and she wrapped her arms around her, pulling her into a tight hug. “It’s been two years, baby. I’m sure most people have forgotten it entirely, and the rest… well, fuck them. They don’t have photographic memories, and if all they have to do with their spare time is try to recall the details of those photos, that says a hell of a lot more about their pathetic selves than it does about you.”

“But we never got all the copies back,” Georgette said, her voice cracking as she spoke into her mother’s shoulder, “and they have to be out there somewhere. What if being back in Hawkins makes someone remember they have one in their desk drawer and it starts getting passed around again?”

That fury was still coiling in Lilibet’s chest, and she spoke in a tone that was carefully measured but still licked of flame. “If it resurfaces, then we’ll prosecute. You were sixteen years old, which makes it a felony to even have a copy in the first place. And this time we won’t have to trade that charge away as a bargaining chip to keep Jonathan out of jail.” She pulled away from Georgette, her hands holding Georgette’s shoulders, and met her daughter’s eyes head-on. “If anyone is still holding on to that photo, if they have one shred of intelligence in their skull, they’ll keep it to themselves.”

From behind them came the sound of a throat being cleared, and they looked over the back of the sofa to find Dmitri standing in the doorway, his chef knife in hand, bright orange flecks of carrot clinging to the blade.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” he said, speaking very politely, “but I seem to have forgotten the onions.” His gaze settled on Georgette with a gentle smile. “Would you maybe have a few minutes to run out and purchase a bag for me?”

“Can I take your motorcycle?” she asked hopefully, but her mother cut in before Dmitri could respond.

“Absolutely not, but you can take my car.”

Georgette groaned, but pulled herself up off the couch and headed for the front door.

“And please don’t change the radio station presets!”

“I won’t,” she sighed with all the apathy of a beleaguered teenager, and closed the door behind her.

Dmitri waited a few more seconds before he spoke again. “Am I permitted to ask what that discussion was about?”

“You were eavesdropping?” Lilibet teased.

“I dropped no eaves, I was merely close enough to hear you. I cannot turn off my ears at will.”

With a sigh, Lilibet shifted on the couch, rising onto her knees on the cushions and turning toward the back of the couch to face Dmitri. “There was a boy Georgette had feelings for in high school, his name was Tommy Hagan. And Tommy decided to pretend he had feelings for her as well, as a joke. And apparently he was very convincing, because it went on for weeks, with Georgette thinking they were in love, and eventually she gave him a… let’s say, a very private photo of herself. By the next morning, he’d had hundreds of copies made and taped up all over the school for everyone to see.”

As Lilibet spoke, Dmitri’s expression hardened, his mouth a tight line, his eyes icy. He looked toward the front door again, then back to Lilibet.

“May I ask two more questions, my dove?”

She nodded, and the chef knife twirled in Dmitri’s grasp.

“Where is this Tommy Hagan now, and how dead would you like him to be?”

dividers by @saradika-graphics // photos suggested by @comfortably-obsessed-fangirl ♡

[mugunghwc]

unprompted ask / always accepting

@causalitylinked​​ said:  "Could you cease your incessant wailing already?" Ryuto sighs while finally taking a seat next to her. "It's pathetic. Why are you so hung up on a man that would never reciprocate your affection in the first place?" Perhaps he could stand to phrase his question less insensitively, but considering he never knew what it was like to actually be in love, Hana's behaviour was pretty much unfathomable to him. Seriously, for the life of him, Ryuto could not understand why she couldn't simply find another man who might potentially love her back because that seemed like a much more efficient way to spend her time than pining after someone unattainable. [ for hana, from ryuto! ]

      there were two immediate thoughts that came to mind upon hearing such a thing. one being, ‘ could you mind your own business?’. while the other was less snarky, & more self-aware as she wondered if she was really that obvious—staring at her phone with a pout on her lips. her reaction was no different from that she gave to others when they dared to give her unsolicited advice. even her mother had fallen victim to her attitude, becoming irritated & lashing out. hana would quickly pull her phone away & cross her arms over her chest, while trying to ignore his presence altogether.

     “what do you know? he’s just a busy man. that’s all.” purposely ignoring the point of what he was saying. she was in full denial ; clinging to the hope that one day he’d realize his mistake & finally look at her the way she does to him. hana would huff all indignant about his comment, or the fact that he thought she wanted to hear that from some kid. “what’s pathetic is getting all up on my business because you don’t have a life on your own, let alone a romantic interest.” her assumption. “he’s just trying to build up his career before settling down. then, i will definite be his wife.”

[findingnemosworld]

𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞 - 𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐜

・𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲: 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐲𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐬 ( 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐂𝐇𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐀𝐍 𝐏𝐔𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐂 𝐱 𝐖𝐈𝐅𝐄!𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐎𝐑 𝐒𝐖𝐈𝐅𝐓’𝐒 𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐃 “𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐄” )

[ 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭 ]

Erica never believed in fairy tales, sure as a child it was quite facile to be drawn to all the sugar coated sceneries that fairy tales provided, the classic tale of the princess and the prince falling love and achieving the happily ever after - a notion that Erica's parents were more than happy to destroy the day they sat her down to tell her that they were parting ways after what felt like a lifetime of hell, neither one had cared about her yet they seemed to only do so in that moment; pathetically asking if she was ok with it.

She was fourteen, had aged beyond her years and was so detached that all she could muster in that moment was a shrug and before she knew, she packed her belongings and moved with her mother to London as her mother had gotten a job in some law firm while Erica continued her studies up, years had gone by and Erica graduated with an honors in media and relations, however her deep passion lied in photography which lead her to get her first ever job, working for London's very own, Chelsea Football Club.

Everyone in Cobham as well as Stamford Bridge were quite kind and welcoming; however she, due to the emotional distress that her parents had put her through became so shut down that all she could do was muster a fake smile to get her through the day, she barely spoke unless she absolutely needed to, however she was oblivious to the young boy from Hershey, Pennsylvania who had moved to play here, the same boy that seemed to be curious by her.

The same boy, she had no idea will be; the greatest blessing she can ever hope for.

There'd been a common misconception that all football players were sleazy, sex raging addicts and while some definitely fall under that umbrella; Christian Pulisic was different, he'd made the first move to try and speak to her; and despite her cautious, short and rather curt answers, it did not seem to deter him from wanting to get to know her ultimately leading to an unspoken bond.

Break chats turned into food dates at each other's house, turned into movie nights, turned into something that neither one wanted to address by label, instead choosing to be cautious or in this case, he wanted to ensure that she didn't feel pressured.

" Can you believe it? " Erica breaks the silence, as they lied on his couch to watch an old cowboy movie.

" Believe what " Christian responds with a curious tone.

" That we're here, together " Erica mutters, " I .. I never really thought I could find someone that understands me "

Christian was aware of her past as she had disclosed everything to him one night and he held her in his arms while she cried, he smiles at her, " You can believe it, cause I'm not going anywhere "

And he never did, they continued embarking on a bond that can neither be described as a friendship nor a relationship, yet Erica knew that it spanned further than a friendship especially when, one evening while they were out - they sit on a park bench, and from the corner of his eye he noticed how she shivered from the breeze which prompted him to wrap an arm around her eliciting a smile to appear on her lips.

" Erica " Christian said, " I want to tell you something "

" Yeah " Erica responds, " What is it? "

He turns her to face him. " I like you, a lot " he blurts out, watching as her eyes widened. " will you be my girlfriend? "

Erica nods with a tearful smile, as he embraced her into his arms and kissed the side of her head, she murmurs. " You are the best thing that's ever been mine "

_

That was three years ago and to say that things had been a smooth sail, would be an understatement; the honeymoon stage was long gone, they were ready to take on the hardships of the world together as a couple - and it wasn't easy, she didn't move into his house yet but she spent more time there, so much so that he had an entire drawer of her things; every night after training, they lie in each other's arms and he listens as she slowly unveils more and more about why she became the woman she is today.

" Erica " she hears him murmur, " I promise you, that what your parents did will never happen again, we won't make their mistakes, it won't be easy " he presses a kiss to her shoulder, " but we'll make it work "

Christian was right, it wasn't easy at all.

Arguments ensued about bills, often times they'd come too exhausted and at the slightest discomfort, a fire of a fight begins in which venomous words are exchanged, Erica was young, so was he - they had nothing figured out except for the fact that they lived day by day, and it was hard for sure but she knew, she knew that their love was the only string holding them together, albeit barely with all the cracks that appeared.

One night, he suggested a stroll by the River of Thames and while they walked in pure silence, Erica stopped to truly drink the sight of the many lights across London, Christian stands next to her yet he wasn't looking at the view; rather he was looking at her, as he'd noticed just how dull her look on life used to be but now it was different, she truly and completely believed,

And for that he promised that no matter what, he would always stay, and that included in the bad times.

One night, they had a fight; she barely recalls what that fight was about - something about him leaving his dirty clothes out or dragging dirt in the house, she doesn't remember anything but screams and shouts, verbally venomous words that were spewed in the heat of the moment which ultimately lead her to storm out of the house at around 𝟐:𝟑𝟎𝐚𝐦, it was becoming draining for her to stay in and unbeknownst to her, he followed her right out onto the street.

" ERICA! " Chris shouts running after her.

She barely acknowledged him until she felt herself being tugged back into his embrace, " What! " She yells.

" Are you crazy? " Chris states, " You can't run off like this "

" I ... " Erica's throat dries up, she can't seem to find the energy to say anything which ultimately leads her to grow silent and brace herself for what he will say, or worse, the possibility of a breakup.

But instead, Christian places both his hands on her shoulders to get her to look at me. " Listen to me, I am not going anywhere so don't even think that I'm going to walk away "

" People walk away from my life, they all leave me Chris " Erica cries as she furiously wipes away her tears, " So you should probably go "

" Erica " Christian cuts her off, " When we sat in the park, I remember how we felt - pure and unconditional love that we were both too afraid to admit, me more than you because I knew you'd be scared to dive deep but the truth is, from the moment I saw you in Cobham I knew that I was in love with the careless man's careful and gorgeous daughter "

Erica blinks away the tears, " Chris "

Christian grabs her hand, " I'll never leave you alone, do you hear me? I am never leaving you "

And he never did, they'd taken the chance of the International break to visit his hometown; she'd met his parents and they adored her to bits, his sister showering her with so much love because according her, Erica was the reason for Christian's happiness and in reality, it was the other way around.

_

All these moments, good and bad, happy and sad had lead Erica to this very moment; where is now dressed in a beautiful form fitting white dress, her hair pinned to the side with a flower pin on top. Christian was styled to the nines with a dashing suit, and behind them stood their loved ones while the rest were seated to witness them solidify their love and after Christian had tearfully expressed her vows, it was Erica's turn.

" A long time ago, I had convinced myself that love didn't exist and that I would be content with living alone " Erica begins with a shaky voice, smiling when Christian squeezed her hand. " And low and behold, a shy but wonderfully kind boy from Hershey, Pennsylvania manages to weasel his way into my heart "

Christian chuckles.

" I tried to push him away but he persisted, he never gave up until I found myself believing in love again, so in front of our family and in front of God, I vow to protect your heart, to love you on the good days, the bad days and everything in between, to never let the darkness consume us and to always lead with purity, love and kindness until death do us part "

The priest smiles, " Do you Christian Pulisic take Erica Maine to be your lawfully wedded wife? "

Christian beams, " I do "

" Do you Erica Maine take Christian Pulisic to be your lawfully wedded husband? "

Erica smiles, " I do "

" Then by the power vested in me and by the state of Pennsylvania, I hereby pronounce you husband and wife, and you may now kiss your bride "

Christian whisks Erica into a kiss as their loved ones clap and cheer for them, Erica pulls back and rests her forehead on his. " I love you " she whispers.

" I love you too " Christian smiles.

Six years later,

" Daddy, Daddy again! "

Six year old Willa whines cuddling up to Christian after listening to the story of how her parents met, " Please, I wanna hear the story again "

" It's too late kiddo, time for you to sleep and besides tomorrow is your first day of school "

Christian and Erica had moved to Milan after Christian left Chelsea in search of a fresh start, Erica was able to get a job at the club as well which made it easy for them to drive to and from work together.

" Ok " Willa murmurs, yawning as she covered herself with the blanket.

Christian presses a kiss to her forehead and tucks her in, " good night baby "

He carefully walks out of the room and heads to the kitchen where his wife was cleaning the dishes, smiling to himself he walks and wraps his arms around her surprising her before she leaned back into his embrace. " Hey you " she murmurs.

" She fell asleep " Christian whispers. " Do you think we can get a few minutes alone? "

Erica hums, " Maybe, if you keep your voice down "

Christian feigns a hurt expression, " I'm not loud " he states, " besides I'm not the one who's like a kitten when I touch her, not that I object by any means " he smirks, laughing when she swats his hand.

Erica turns to face him, " I love you Mister Pulisic, you are the best thing that's ever been mine "

Christian smiles, pecking her lips. " I love you too Missus Pulisic, my most prized girl, after Willa " he murmurs.

" I know " Erica giggles.