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hairmetal666 · 7 days

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Steve has done interviews before. Like, a lot of interviews. YouTube, podcasts, print, TV stuff. Not as a brag, or anything, just. He's been an influencer for a long time, for better or worse, and it's part of the deal.

Usually, he's comfortable in front of the camera. Usually, he's poised and well-spoken. But today, this time, sweat pools under his arms and beads along his hairline, the lights beating down on him in a harsh glare.

"Steve Harrington," Murray Bauman crosses his legs, smiles big for the cameras. "It's been a while."

He smiles too, tries to seem like he's not about to have a panic attack. "I've been a little busy."

Murray laughs and it's then that Steve understands how screwed he really is. Murray's show, it's all glitz and glamour on the surface; mixed drinks and hijinks until the celebrity guests lose their inhibitions, admitting things they probably wanted to keep secret.

It's just that, before, Steve didn't have any salacious rumors to worry about, and now--

"You've had a rough year, Steve, yeah?"

"Not my best, for sure." He leans back, tries to seem calm, unbothered.

"I was sorry to hear about your divorce. I think that announcement really took a lot of people by surprise."

His hands clench, but he manages not to shift or bounce his leg. "Thanks for, uh. Yeah. We were also sorry it didn't work out."

Murray nods, face full of sympathy. "You and Nancy, you'd been together since high school? That's almost--what? 15 years?"

"It's--" he clears his throat. "About that long." Steve takes a sip of the drink next to him, an apple martini that's both too sweet and too strong.

"Am I right to assume that you didn't see it coming?"

And isn't that a question? Sure, now in hindsight, he can see the fractures that lead to the end, but six months ago did he--it's all so--what if all along--

"All marriages have rough patches," is what he says. "We just couldn't come out of ours as a couple."

"Do you know what I've found really remarkable about this phase of your life? The content and tone of your videos in the midst of the maelstrom of rumors and gossip didn't change at all. 'Your kids' as you call them, are still as bright and vibrant as ever. You're laughing, dancing, cooking, having a great time."

"I needed that--that normalcy you know? And the kids, they're such an important part of my life, having them around helped."

"Including Nancy's brother, Mike?"

Steve laughs and it's not fake. "Totally including Mike. My relationship with Nancy has nothing to do with my relationship with him."

"He's kind of an antagonist--would you say?--in your videos, though."

"We have conflict sometimes, but it's never serious. We know how to play it up for laughs."

"So, nothing's changed between you?"

"Not at all."

"The cheating rumors." Murray's smile is soft, but all the air still leaves the room.

"What about them?" It's more combative than he means, but--

"Did Nancy cheat on you with Jonathan Byers?"

He swallows and it hurts. She did cheat, is the thing. It's not public information, still only speculation, but--

"You can't believe everything you read, Murray."

"So, she didn't cheat?" There's a glow to Murray's eyes that tells Steve he already knows the answer.

"Like, I said before, marriages are hard. We spent a lot of time apart because of our jobs. It took a toll."

"And she was traveling with Jonathan, yes? He's been her photographer for the past decade, from what I understand."

"They were co-workers, but we're all close. And those rumors didn't help our relationship, for sure. It's--not easy to hear that a bunch of people think your wife and close friend may be having an affair, that people 'ship' them. Even when it's not true, it creates--"

"Tension? Distrust?"

"Both, probably." He takes another drink as he nods. "After a while you do start to wonder if there's truth to it, and you're too ignorant or too--too trusting to see it."

"And it eroded the relationship."

"It certainly didn't help." He takes another drink.

"And how about your relationship with Jonathan's brother, Will. Has that been impacted?"

"Of course not. Never. Whatever happens between Nancy, Jonathan, and I, it has nothing to do with the kids. They know that.

"You talked about it."

"Yes. Extensively."

"I know there's often speculation on the relationship you have with them; if you're really close or it's all for the cameras."

"Murray." He leans forward. "We've talked about this before. I met Dustin through Mike, and the whole group followed. I've known them all since they were 8 years old. They're--I mean, not to be cliche, but they're my family." He sips the last bit of martini.

"And where does Eddie Munson fit into that family?"

The question shouldn't be a surprise, but he almost does a spit take, has to fight to keep it together.

"Eddie?"

"Yes." Murray's smile is chilling. "Your close friend Eddie Munson. Musician. Plays Dungeons and Dragons on YouTube. You made out with him in a music video. Ringing any bells?"

"I'm familiar with Eddie," his grin is rigid. "I don't know what that has to do with my marriage ending."

"Well, the rumors weren't all about Nancy, were they?"

"Eddie and I have--we became mutuals online years and years ago. I used one of his songs in a video and the kids are obsessed with his dnd stuff, so. We've become close."

"Friends?"

"Isn't that implied?"

"After that music video, I don't think so."

Steve rolls his eyes, lets the irritation show for the first time. "He asked me to be in his video. There's nothing scandalous about it."

"What's your relationship with Eddie right now?"

"Like I said, friends."

"Do you want it to be more than that?"

"Eddie's really important to me."

"Is that all?"

"Not really sure what you want me to say here, Murray."

"You were married to a woman for years, but now there are questions about your sexuality."

He grits his teeth. "My sexuality isn't anyone's business aside my own. People can say shit on Twitter all they want, that doesn't mean they know me. But--the end of my marriage--it definitely gave me the space for self-discovery, I guess? In a way I hadn't had before."

"And is Eddie a part of that self-discovery?"

"Yeah, as one of my closest friends, he is."

"Do you have feelings for him?"

"That's--that's not--I'm going through a divorce. My focus isn't on starting another relationship right now."

"You, famously, tattooed your initials on the inside of his thigh during an Instagram live. That's pretty intimate."

"We were just having a little fun."

"Huh. That seems like more than 'a little fun' to me. So, how's Eddie doing with the increased attention?"

It takes Steve a second to track the change of subject, mind still stuck on the tattoo, on how the ink had looked on Eddie's pale skin.

"It's hard." Steve eventually answers. "Of course he enjoys bringing his music and dnd to a wider audience, but the focus on his personal life is--it's a lot."

"Well, he should have thought about before letting you tattoo him for your 850,000 followers. Does he want a relationship with you?"

His throat is dry, burning, he wishes he had more martini. He wishes he'd never taken a sip. "You'd have to ask him. I'm just taking it day by day, you know? That's what I need right now."

"We're getting to the end of our time, but you know I have to ask. Your best friend, Robin Buckley, she very famously unfollowed both Nancy and Jonathan on all social media when news broke about your divorce. Can you tell us why she unfollowed them?"

"I have no control over Robin's accounts. I didn't even know she followed Jonathan ever, and she and Nancy have a relationship outside of me, you know? I can't say what happened between them."

"She's been in your videos with Eddie. She like him?"

"Very much. It's kind of annoying actually. They keep ganging up on me."

"Much to everyone's delight, I'm sure. So, what can we expect from the newly single Steve Harrington?"

"There are a couple things in the works, but only time will tell."

---

He walks through his front door an hour later, and Eddie's sitting on the couch, playing a soft melody on an acoustic guitar. He stops when he sees Steve, setting the guitar aside, and standing.

"How'd it go, baby?" He asks. His soft smile is so beautiful, Steve gets a lump in his throat.

"As expected." He crosses the space between them, lets Eddie pull him close.

"He ask about us?" Eddie's breath tickles his ear.

"Of course."

"And you--"

"I want--it should be just for us. We should be able to announce when we're ready. Not when Murray-fucking-Bauman asks."

Eddie kisses him, then, sweet and slow, making him lose his breath.

"Whenever you're ready, I'll be right by your side."

"You sure? All my mess--"

"Is mine too. Afraid you're stuck with me for the long haul, Steve Harrington."

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #ficlet #fluff #angst #secret relationship #influencer steve harrington #musician eddie munson #referenced cheating but it's jonathan and nancy #celebrity interview #this is another ficlet inspired by something that happened on real housewives #iykyk #yes murray is andy cohen #and yes this is a stand-in for wwhl #what if steve is a momtok influencer though #this might be part of a longer thing soon!

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fangswbenefits · 2 months

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The Arrangement (15) - Acquaintances

Summary: Astarion meets a friend of old and quickly realises it might have just cost him something very dear to him.

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: 18+. Mentions of past trauma and abuse. Mentions of abuse.

Note: This post on reddit shed some light on Cazador, so I definitely giving it a read!

Word count: 3.3k

Series masterlist . Ao3

In times past, Astarion would have found momentary solace in the person standing right before him. After all, silence and whatever could be called normalcy were hard to come by in Cazador's palace.

The servants had been the very embodiment of the life he had long lost. In fact, they had been the only life that roamed the vast halls. All had accepted being there willingly and under the foolish illusion that Cazador would one day grant them the gift of immortality.

If you could actually call it a gift…

And even though they were loyal to the vampire lord to a fault, they were, for the most part, quite amicable to his spawn as well. Some would even tend to the vast and deep wounds inflicted by Cazador after he had spent his wrath.

Astarion had been quite fortunate to be on the receiving end of their mercy on numerous occasions, when his field of vision was nothing but a pool of blood – a sore reminder that crossing Cazador Szarr was not to be taken lightly.

Eyla?

He did remember her name and her kindness and gentle touch amidst his wails of pain.

“Surprised to see me?”

The slim figure took a few sure steps in his direction as he cradled your limp form in his arms, still overrun with shock.

Astarion tried to talk, but no words left his mouth.

“I suppose your silence is a novelty,” she said, coming to a halt as she pushed the hood down, revealing her pleasant face. “After all, you were always the loud and troublesome one.”

For better or for worse, navigating through undeath and the unpredictability of his circumstances ever since he was snatched from Baldur's gate, had taught him a thing or two about being prepared and always on guard.

The dagger tightly strapped to his thigh was proof of it. He would only need to move his hand slightly under you to reach the hilt.

“What have you done to her?”

The woman's lips were pressed into a fine line for a long while, as if examining his question.

His patience was running thin, and he tried hard to keep her engaged enough so he could find a way to incapacitate her.

“Do not fret – she will be fine,” she said with a sigh, drawing even closer. “Not that it wouldn't give me great pleasure to put an end to the so-called hero of Baldur's Gate and her role in what you did to the master.”

Ah.

He should have known that this had something to do with Cazador. It seemed that he was destined to have him haunt him even in true death.

The sudden realisation hit him so hard he held you even closer to his body, shifting along the bench as if that would create a safe distance from Eyla.

Surprised was soon drowned out by the ever-growing anger that took root within him. He was known for his temper and outbursts, and clearly not the most sensible man when cornered.

But this was something else entirely.

Astarion had over two hundred years of having the worst atrocities being inflicted upon his body and mind. As far as he was concerned, he had managed to find useful ways to deal with imminent threats to him.

But he wasn't so lenient when it came to you.

You were off limits to anyone.

And he wasn't going to allow any harm to befall you.

“You'd be wise to undo this right now, or this conversation will be rather short.”

She had the nerve to snicker, eyes flickering under the moonlight. “Freedom has made you even more insufferable and entitled. Godey ought to have been harsher to you back then. I reckon one hundred more lashings would have made a difference each time you crossed the master.”

Rage swirled throughout his body like poisonous fumes, and he found it hard to stay put through the taunting.

But she was a fool to think she could best him in his natural element. After all, he had a tongue sharp enough to rival the blade of his dagger.

“Well, darling,” he started, slipping nearly effortlessly into his usual demeanour, “Godey is now nothing but a pile of dust, so unless you intend on joining him for a tea party in the afterlife, I'd make sure to tread lightly.”

And like clockwork, the first cracks began to show.

Her face dropped ever so slightly and he figured he had one - maybe two if the gods above even cared to bestow him any grace - sneer remark left before she lashed out at him.

“You insolent and ungrateful brat,” Eyla spat out through gritted teeth, both fists clenched at her sides, allowing him to infer

Well, he had clearly exhausted her patience already, hadn't he?

No bother.

His right hand now gripped the handle of the dagger firmly, as he readied himself for an imminent physical confrontation.

But something made him freeze almost instantly, and his gaze dropped briefly to your face.

Maybe, just maybe, it was merely his mind playing tricks on him and feeding off his desperation, but he could swear he felt you shift slightly against him.

And then he saw your face tense.

A sudden wave of relief washed down on him, his free hand giving you a reassuring squeeze.

Good girl.

It was in moments like this that he vaguely wished – much to his utter disgust – that the wriggling worm was still a . He would have made good use of them right now.

More than relief, he felt pride.

He had yet to meet someone quite as resilient as you. Whatever incantation had been cast on you surely wasn't enough to contain the tempest within you.

You had been shaped by the elements and woven into a sorcerer whose magic wasn't so easily put out. He had been foolish to think a mere vampire lord servant could ever be a match against your mind.

“Isn't it enough that you turned on your master and betrayed him?”

Oh, what a bloody nuisance. He had no patience to entertain speeches of heartbroken servants whose wet dream had been crushed.

However…

You shifted again, but no sound came from your parting lips.

Astarion knew then he had to play the waiting game. There was no denying you were slowly but surely coming to your senses, but he couldn't draw attention to it.

More than friends, you two had grown to become teammates, taking in on each other's queues to know when to make the right move.

He knew you needed time, and time he would give you.

Meeting her eyes with defiance, he took on the challenge. “What Cazador sold you was naught but a fantasy.”

Your hand shifted next.

Mentioning his name so blatantly made her visibly shudder. “How dare you? You utter his name with no regard that he saved you from certain death.”

He leaned back with a roll of his eyes, further reeling her into his trap. “Oh, please. And what would he save you from, exactly? Idiocy? I am afraid it would take more than a vampire bite to fix such ailment, dear Eyla. Eternal life can only do so much.”

Warmth began spreading under his palm, letting him know that you were returning to him.

Still, you needed more time.

“Your words might work on the weak, but not on me.”

“And yet… you managed to serve a vampire lord who had no intention to ever deliver his promises.”

Eyla was young and naive, so he couldn't truly fault her for being so passionate and loyal. Cazador's grasp reached far and viciously. Astarion had once fallen for his

“That does not make me weak.”

A crooked grin curled his lips. “Just an idiot, then.”

He tugged on his dagger slowly, allowing his fingers to glide down across the blade, knowing that, sooner or later, he would have to make use of it.

Eyla scoffed, crossing her arms, apparently unaware that you were no longer unconscious.

Come on… you're almost there, darling, he urged sweetly in his head as if his words could ever reach you.

“The others warned me that you had become rather insufferable.”

Others?

“Oh, how very interesting,” he said, trying his best to ignore your hand clawing at his shirt. “Ava?”

Were they… friends? In on this together?

Her brows furrowed. “The monster hunter whore you befriended? Don't insult me.”

Clearly not.

Well…

“Does this rendezvous even have a purpose?” Astarion said with a forced yawn. “Are we to swap snarky remarks until one of us perishes? I had more engaging plans for this evening.”

The serenity in her face had given her away.

She wasn't alone and he was a master of shadows.

Even in the poorly lit area, he could see silhouettes drawing near right behind her. That was certainly yet another nuisance he would have to deal with.

“Astarion…”

Your voice snapped him out of his bloodbath scheming right away.

For a brief moment, he let his guard down by meeting your hazy eyes.

“There you are.”

His voice was almost shaky from relief, but it would come at a cost.

It had been an unfortunate distraction.

He wasn't sure how he managed to tap so quickly into his reflexes, but he soon felt the warm and familiar splatter of blood hit his face, making him wince from bloodlust.

In the midst of chaos and footsteps and hisses surrounding him, he was able to spot the man he had hurled his dagger at, slicing clean through the pulsing artery in his neck. The obscene gush of blood that ensued as he hit the ground was enough to drive any vampire mad.

And he was not immune to it.

He hadn't fed in days and he could use this to his advantage. In fact, he reckoned it would be the only way out.

Droplets streamed down his face, hitting his lips, and he wasn't strong enough to deny himself of an added burst of power. As such, his tongue darted out and a rumbling groan tore through him as the liquid progressively took over his senses. One by one.

Blood was blood.

He would have preferred yours, but he was far too hungry to be picky.

He had pushed you right behind him as he leapt from the bench, determined to take on anyone who dared to come close.

By the time he had managed to retrieve his dagger, Eyla had a smile dancing on her lips. One that had his eyes wide.

Astarion was fast and agile, but he was also severely outnumbered.

Two other men had rushed to his side, and he flinched as something began poking at his lower abdomen, as they looped strong arms around his own, immobilising him in place.

Wooden stakes.

“Astarion…”

Your voice was still void of the life it usually held. It was evident that you were still weak and in no condition to fight.

And, in truth, he wasn't even sure he wanted you to.

“Drop the dagger.”

It wasn't a request.

It was a command and he wasn't sure how to dodge this one. He usually carried knives and other daggers on him just to be on the safe side, but he didn't think he would need those tonight.

Fucking idiot…

No amount of self-deprecation would get him out of this one.

They wanted to kill him for what he had done to Cazador. They wanted revenge and he wasn't sure how his wits and snarky replies would talk him out of this one.

He groaned as one man drove the stake harsher against him, from under his shirt. Still, the pressure wasn't enough to break skin. Not yet, at least.

As a reflex, he immediately let go of the dagger, hearing it land with a muffled thump on the grass.

Eyla's spirit had been renewed and she took measured steps towards him.

He heard grunts from his side as you struggled to sit down on the bench, flickering snaps of lightning emerging from your hands.

That almost made him smile.

You were a fighter through and through, and he wouldn't mind parting this world in these terms. Knowing you had been enough to ease the pain of centuries of hurt. He had been given a second chance at life when he met you and not when he was made immortal.

He had never felt more alive than in the moments he had spent with you and he would wish to have more, but he couldn't wish for that at your expense. After all, you had your whole life ahead of you.

He had had his fill.

He was ready to meet whatever fate awaited him, as long as you were kept safe.

“You're coming with us.”

His brows furrowed, caught by surprise.

“Do not harm her.”

Eyla was so close he could feel her hot breath on his skin, fanning the blood on his face that had begun to dry into sticky patches.

“We are not harming anyone,” she said viciously. “But we've had enough of you running around unscathed after what you've done.”

He wished he could tear his eyes from you, but it was like a force field. Your arms trembled as you tried your best to rein in the elements inside you. Lighting and fire swirled erratically from your hands.

Yours was wild magic.

Hard to harness and bend to your will.

Even harder when thrown off balance unexpectedly.

“Look at me, Astarion.”

The two men pressed the stakes harder and he had no choice but to comply, meeting her eyes again.

“Did you really think we were going to allow you to have your happily ever after? That you could off into the sunset with her once you found a way to not burn to ashes?”

She was mocking him… goading him, knowing he was rendered immobile.

“Have you been the ones sabotaging this all along?”

A surge of outrage nearly burst from deep within as her silence answered his question.

“Surprised?”

That would be an understatement. He couldn't even begin to describe the turmoil that gripped him from the inside out.

“Why…” His voice faltered momentarily, “why not just kill me right when you had the chance?”

At this, Eyla laughed. “Is there a bigger punishment than the illusion of freedom? Killing you would have been the kinder way out for you,” she went on, each word dripping with poison. “No. No, Astarion. You were a fool to hope. You were a fool to hope your misery was over.”

A part of him was still in shock at the revelation, and he had no smart jabs that could possibly help him right now.

But the truth was that, the rest of him, had begun to accept that. He had been a fool indeed to think he could have had any other ending than this.

That he could have had a semblance of happiness with you.

“But I think that we are tired of playing this game. Maybe it's finally time to kill you.”

Just like a punch to his gut, he was quickly overtaken with dread as he heard a faint whimper from you.. “If you're going to kill me, don't do it in front of her.”

“You are in no position to make demands.”

“Please.”

He was running out of time.

He thought he had bought enough for you to recover, but you couldn't even bring yourself to sit upright, let alone save him from whatever awaited him.

Most importantly, he was running out of ways to ensure you weren't scarred for life for witnessing him being destroyed.

“Oh, you're going to beg? The way you used to beg Cazador to stop carving the scars you carry on you, hmm?” Eyla said, visibly satisfied with the effect her words had on him. “Get on your knees and beg, then.”

“No… fuck…” you said in between groans.

He'd rather you had lost consciousness once again, for each word from you was as a dagger that was carved into him.

“Astarion. Do not kneel…”

The two men holding him tight chuckled darkly as his knees began to cave in, but before he could go through with it, Eyla raised one hand, halting him.

“What if we kill her instead?” she chirped, making her way to you. “I think we should. Astarion would have an eternity to suffer for having killed the only person he has ever truly loved.”

Blinded by anguish, Astarion lurched forward, feeling both men struggling to keep him in place. He felt the sharp tips of the wooden stakes break skin just enough to draw blood, but he powered through the fear that loomed over him.

“I will fucking kill you if you touch her!”

With a click of her tongue, Eyla sat next to you, one hand caressing your head as you spilled curses at her, still drained from whatever magic had been cast on you.

“You'd be staked before you could even reach me, silly boy,” she said, revealing a knife from under her sleeve. “Now that I think about it, killing her seems the most reasonable choice here.”

You tried to flinch away from her grasp, and Astarion felt himself go mad from the sight in front of him.

He was about to scream when they muffled him with a piece of cloth, robbing him of his voice.

Reflexively, he tried to break free once more, but he was far too weak to put up a fight.

He knew it was futile, but he had abandoned all reason. Even though he had savoured blood, he was still too weak to break through the hold they had on him. Each pull from him and each attempt to break free were quickly met with an immovable force.

When his eyes met yours, he saw you mouth something.

And it broke him.

He didn't need to hear it.

He knew what you were attempting to say.

Thank you.

He doubted any torture Cazador had ever inflected on him could ever match the pain he was currently experiencing.

Eyla suddenly grabbed a vial from her robes, spilling the clear liquid along the sharp blade.

“Isn't it poetic justice that you are a master of poisons, and she gets to die at your hand?”

He recognised the vial as his.

It was his poison.

He couldn't tell which one, but it hardly mattered. Each poison he concocted was terrible through and through. They were designed to hurt and, ultimately, kill.

Soon, you began to sob, swirls of fire engulfing your hands as frustration gripped you. You were unable to get your magic under control and you were going to die.

For him.

Because of him.

Eyla threw him a final glance, positioning the top of the knife right across your neck. You stilled immediately, knowing any sudden movement could have the blade slice right through.

He tried to speak again, but all his words came out unintelligible.

“If you scream, they'll stake you.”

Eagerly, he nodded, and they swiftly removed the cloth from in between his teeth.

“Please. Don't!” Astarion said in sheer despair. “I will do whatever you want!”

She narrowed her eyes at him for a moment. “You have nothing to offer us.”

He had to try.

He had to try to buy himself more time in the hopes that someone had heard him and might

“You want eternal life, don't you?”

Silence. Dreadful and agonising silence.

“I can find a way to help you. There are other true vampires out there.”

Eyla tapped the side of her blade to your skin as she pondered his words. She then exchanged looks with both men.

“Should we take his offer?”

Had he made it? Had he managed to bluff his way out of this one? To possibly get you somewhere safe?

Hope.

Eyla lifted the poisonous blade and Astarion felt a crushing weight being lifted from him.

She locked eyes with him for what seemed like a lifetime.

Please. Please. Please.

Eyla clicked her tongue with a pout. “I don't think so.”

And he watched in horror as she moved her hand to swiftly bury the knife into your abdomen.

“NO!”

Astarion felt his body go limp as his field of vision got flooded with a golden and warm beam that tore through the night sky akin to how the sun breaks the dawn.

Next chapter: When All Things End

#astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x female tav #the arrangement #astarion fic #astarion x f!tav #astarion x you

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lokisprettygirl · 10 months

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Close Ties (Daemon Targaryen x Female Reader) (Modern AU) (Non canon) (18+)

Read Chapter 14 // Series Masterlist

Chapter 15

Summary : Your relationship with Daemon changes.

Warning: 18+ dad's best friend trope, canon (we don't know her..don't like don't read), feeling of hopelessness, uncle Daemon kink (you don't have to squint), familial uncle niece sort of relationship but he's not really her uncle, there will be more smut later, masturbation, significant age gap but reader is in her mid twenties, mention of infidelity, miscarriage , divorce, smoking and alcohol drinking, physical violence implied

A burning rage stirred within you as your eyes met hers, the last thing you wanted to do was smile at her. How dare she enter your home after all the pain and hurt she had caused not just to Daemon but your family as well?

“Y/n how are you?” Her screechy voice made you wince so you just crossed your arms and glared at Daemon but he was just staring at her. You couldn't really figure out what he was thinking.

“Get out of my house Stella” you said to her and just walked past her to go upstairs, swear to god if he was planning to get back to her you'd never ever even look at him again.

“Her house? The audacity is strange, her father owns it, does she not remember?” Stella chuckled as she turned to Daemon and she was about to hug him again but he put his hand out in front of her to stop her. He was too stunned with her presence to do anything about it when she hugged him the last time and you saw that and he figured you were going to take it the wrong way.

“Did he call you here?” He asked her with a clenched jaw and scowl evident on his face, your father had been making all the wrong decisions since he was diagnosed so he didn't put this behavior past him.

“No ..I came because I missed you dae” she gave him her typical sweet smile and it only infuriated him further.

“Don't call me that” he grabbed her arm and dragged her towards the door “Get out and don't come back.. I don't want you to come back here ever again”

He said to her with anger in his voice so she pulled her arms out of his grasp and glared at him.

“What the fuck is wrong with you Daemon, i know our marriage fell apart but you're acting as if we haven't spent 13 good years together” she told him nonchalantly and he could only let out a chuckle because he was so frustrated.

“Good years? Are you fucking kidding me? Or maybe they were good for you because you got to fuck every other guy out there”

Her eyes teared up as he said that.

“You know that's not true..it happened just a few times and it only happened when there was a trouble in our marriage” he chuckled again as she said that,

“And cheating on our marriage was the sure shot way to fix that right?”

“Daemon–”

“Get the fuck out…you heard her right, this is her home and she doesn't want you here..I don't want you here and now that everyone knows the truth about you and him.. nobody wants to see your face”

“What do you mean they know?’ There was a look of shock on her face as she heard that. Daemon had sworn to never reveal what his best friend and his wife had done to him and your mother but now that the truth was out in the open he had nothing to fear or be afraid of.

“Get the fucking hell out of here before I call the security”

He warned her one more time, she was his ex wife and as much as he despised her she was still his ex wife, someone he considered family once and he didn't want to harm her in any ways.

As you stepped into your room you threw your bag at the bed and your heels flung into the corner of the room, you had never felt so angry the way you did in that moment. She was the reason your family was ruined all those years ago, if it wasn't for Daemon protecting your mother from the truth perhaps your parents would have been divorced by now, sure your father was equally responsible for this but you couldn't even bring yourself to be upset with him.

Everytime you looked at him he just seemed worse and your heart broke for him more and more everyday. You just wanted him to get better even though it didn't seem feasible.

You wanted to go check on Daemon but you felt resentment towards him as well, she hugged him and he didn't pull her away from him and he was staring at her, didn't even look at you when you spoke, what if he'd fall for her again and they would get married again? What if he'd decide to just move on and they give their broken marriage another chance?

You felt your heart shattering in tiny little pieces as you thought of the possibility.

That night as you looked at Daemon you didn't say a word because in anger you'd have only misspoken, your relationship wasn't anything like before, sure he was there for you every time you needed him but you felt that bond breaking slowly everyday.

As the next few days passed there was an itch in you that wanted to find out more about Daemon and Stella because you knew she was still in London and Daemon wasn't at home most of the evenings. Was he seeing her? Perhaps they were going on dates with each other to reconcile?

When you asked Rhaneyra about it she had no clue about their current situation so she asked Daemon about Stella but he refused to talk about her.

Two weeks later as your dad's birthday arrived he threw a party for himself but it wasn't lavish like all those years before, he just invited people he was close with, that included his brother and his family and some of his close friends over the years.

As you saw Daemon in his simple black tee and blue jeans you just wanted to hold him and feel his touch in return, his hair had gotten slightly longer since he had arrived, not that long but long enough to indicate he hadn't cut it in a while.

Sometimes you looked at him and wondered if you gave up on him too easily? Perhaps you could have made your father see why he was so perfect for you and why you'd never ever be able to move on from him but you didn't even try, you just gave up because your father was sick. He had never asked anything from you in all your life so when he asked you for that one thing that would keep him at peace you just wanted to give it to him but that didn't mean that you wanted to give up Daemon, you never wanted to let him go..

“Just kiss and make up already” you heard Rhaenyra's voice and snapped out of your daydreaming, as she hugged you, your eyes welled up, in all of these ordeal you were glad to have a friend like her, you didn't know how you'd have survived this situation without her support.

“You know I can't and now I'm afraid he's seeing her again”

She turned around to look at him suspiciously as you said that, when his eyes met with her he gave her a small smile but he didn't even look at you, he hardly ever looked at you outside of work these days.

As the guests began to leave, and you saw Stella approach with a box of presents, you felt your blood boil immediately. You saw your mother greeting her like an old friend, as if she didn't know that Stella had betrayed her by sleeping with her husband, almost breaking up their marriage. The fact that your mother could still be so friendly with Stella despite knowing the truth hurt you more than words could express.

When your dad opened his mouth and told everyone to bury the hatches and burn the bridge you just wanted to scream at him, sick or not you felt really frustrated and upset by his behavior.

You looked at Daemon to gauge his reactions towards her and you saw that he had turned around to leave for his room and your father gestured to Stella to go talk to him.

Did he think you had moved on from him and it was barely an infatuation on your part? Why was he doing this to you knowing how you felt for him and worst of all how could he invite her here after everything that had transpired amongst all of them?

Or maybe Daemon knew about it and maybe your doubts were right regarding him and Stella wanting to reconcile.

“Are you guys insane?” You asked your parents as it was just you and them now after she had left to go see him upstairs.

“Be mindful of your words sweetheart” your mum glared at you so you glared back at her in response

“She fucked him do you not remember that or you're suffering from amnesia?” You asked her and she just sighed in response and ignored your worries altogether. She was just doing everything your father asked her to do.

“It's time for your meds honey” she told your dad so he nodded and they both made their way to their bedroom. Your eyes welled up at their dismissive behavior towards you, were you overreacting or they were just not reacting as they should. She didn't come here on her own, your father must have invited her right? You understood his need to make everything right but this wasn't the way.

He didn't expect his best friend to get back together with his cheating ex wife right?

As you passed by Daemon’s room you heard their faint voices and you wanted to just ignore the situation and go to your room to sleep the pain away but you couldn't, you won't watch him ruin his life this way, not again, you were just a child the last time he got married but you won't let him make the same mistake twice..

You built up the courage and knocked on his door, it took him a few seconds to open but as he looked at you he was slightly taken aback, he wasn't expecting to see you on his door.

“Can we talk…please” you looked him right in the eye so he nodded and closed the door behind him

“Not here” he grabbed your arm and your breath hitched at the sudden touch, god you really missed him with every fiber of your being.

He took you to the next room and as you both entered he let go of your hand and maintained a distance from you,

“Are you alright?” He asked you and you had no idea what to tell him because you surely weren't alright.

“Yeah I'm just…what's going on..i mean with Stella”

You looked at him once before you couldn't take the heat of his gaze and looked down, he could see your fingers fiddling with each other. He never wanted your relationship with him to change, perhaps if you both had not taken that romantic turn things would have been different between you two but then did he regret taking one step closer to you and crossing that line he never should have crossed? No he didn't really regret that, it didn't last but it was beautiful. He loved his life when you belonged to him, he loved the way you used to love him.

When he didn't say anything you just felt even worse, you couldn't even talk to him in private without it turning weird between you two, silence became uncomfortable between you two and that's when you knew things had changed for the worse and you'd probably not get the old Daemon back..

“I should..go..I'm sorry I wasted your time” your eyes welled with tears as you walked past him but you didn't make it far as he had grabbed your arm and pulled you closer to him.

As the tears rolled down you felt him cupping your cheeks and wiping your tears with his thumbs..

“You never waste my time, I'm sorry i have been distant but it's necessary”

His voice was soft as a feather as he spoke and it only hurt you further, you felt as if you were losing him more and more everyday, sooner or later he'd move on and find someone else. The thought of finding him again and him being yours and then allowing him to slip so easily from you was something you'd always regret “Stop crying pixie” he mumbled as he pressed his forehead down on yours, his arms wrapped around your waist.

“i miss you…I miss you so much” as your broken words spilled his eyes teared up too, he had been trying to abide by the wishes your father had imposed on you two but watching you like this was heartbreaking, all he wanted to do was scoop you up in his arms and show you how much he had missed you as well.

“I miss you too darling, but I'm right here”

You took a step back as he said that, sure he was right there, he was close, very close but he was unreachable now. You couldn't get back to treating him the way you used to before.

“You're not…I'm losing you everyday and I can feel it” you mumbled with a trembling voice and he quickly wiped his tears before you'd see them. “Please promise me that no matter what happens you won't get back with her, promise me” you pleaded him as you grabbed his hand in yours, even if he wasn't meant to be yours he deserved someone who'd love him the way he deserved to be loved. He didn't deserve a woman like Stella in his life, he never did.

You looked at him with a hopeful eyes so he smiled between his tears

“You are worried about that huh?” He asked you softly as he grabbed onto your little fingers and brushed it with the back of his thumb, the touch ignited a fire within you. The farther you stayed from him the more you feared losing his attraction and affection towards you but moments like this made you believe that he was still into you as much as you were into him

“You didn't promise..i want you to promise”

You looked up at him so he chuckled, it was nice to see him smile even if it was from mere amusement of the situation.

“I wasn't planning to but if it would help make you feel better then i promise that I'd never ever get back to her”

“Really? So there were..no dates or anything?”

“Jesus no..who gave you that load of bollocks”

“Nobody..i was just.. worried” you mumbled meekly and all he wanted to do was to lean in and kiss you but he controlled himself,

“Got nothing to worry of, my heart still belongs to the prettiest girl I know”

His words made your heart flutter but then the fear kicked in. How long would he feel that way? Someday he'd move on in his life and perhaps you would too. The future where he was just your dad's best friend that you also worked with scared you, you feared losing the bond you shared with him.

“And mine belongs to the sweetest man I know and that man deserves the best in the world..so remember that” you hugged him for a moment and then you left before you'd do something stupid and betray the promise you had given to your dad. The last thing you wanted was to hurt him and stress him more in his condition.

The next day you were called into your dad's home office and he told you that you'd have to go to NYC for a presentation, the thing was that you weren't supposed to take Daemon with you and you had to deal with the presentation on your own which you didn't feel equipped for. You felt Daemon's eyes on you as you stepped out of his office to go prepare for this presentation, even Daemon didn't agree with your dad's decision, you were still learning and you already had plenty of responsibilities on your shoulders, he saw firsthand how anxious you got before every board meeting but at least he was there to calm you down,

“Don't you think you're being overly tough on her..she's not ready for this” Daemon told his old friend and only received an exaggerated sigh in response for a while

“I'm only preparing her for the world that is not going to pamper her or be kind to her, she needs a bit of awakening” he said to Daemon calmly,

“And whose fault is that? She has been sheltered all her life and suddenly you want her to do everything at once. Just stop for a second and think about her mental health–” your father stood up in anger and interrupted him mid sentence as he was surely offended by the accusation.

“Do you have a child of your own Daemon?” He asked Daemon a rhetorical question which he knew was asked just to put him down. “Don't teach me how I'm supposed to take care of my daughter. I know what I'm doing, i learned to be who I am when responsibilities weighed on me, she'd learn too, she's not a child”

Daemon's jaw clenched as he said that but he didn't respond because he didn't want to argue with him.

“Perhaps you'd give her the tough loving she requires when you'd stop lusting after my daughter and would start to see her as your own kin”

Her dad walked out after he said that and if it wasn't for you perhaps Daemon wouldn't have tolerated such a behavior. When he came back he was met with his old friend but of course since his disease had progressed and after learning the truth of your relationship with him your father had gotten extremely paranoid and he was always scared of dying any moment which made him snap at every person around him, people who were trying to take care of him were taking the brunt of it.

Next day he received a message from you and his heart rendered for you, he wished he was there to calm your nerves but it wasn't possible.

As promised Daemon was in your ears, not saying anything to distract you but offering words of affirmation every time you lost your confidence in the conference room.

It was indeed daunting being amongst the bunch of middle aged men who looked down upon you because you had suddenly taken over your father merely because he was sick. They came prepared to undermine your authority and your ideas but you did your best.

As soon as the presentation ended you made your way to the bathroom, hurled your guts out and then you cried for what felt like hours. There was this sickly feeling in your chest that made you believe that you had just put the company through a multi million loss because you didn't think your pitch was that strong. When you went home your fear was proven right because your father was really upset and disappointed with you and you felt like an absolute failure.

Especially because he had never treated you this way before, he was always so supportive even when you failed and now when you needed that support the most in your life he had shunned you out.

Not just that but he also wanted you to move back to your own place so you won't be around Daemon anymore.

When Daemon didn't see you step down for dinner he began to worry more and more about you, he was angry, pissed off at the way your father was choosing to do this with you..

He knocked on his office and he found your dad just drinking all alone which he shouldn't have been doing at such hours.

“Don't do this to her, don't be so harsh with her because you're trying to push her away from you”

Your father looked at him but there was a blank look on his face.

“I'm not pushing her away”

“I know what you're doing alright..we have been friends for years. Don't think you'll get away with lying and pretending for long” Daemon told him sternly and earned a sigh in response.

“She needs this, when the world will be cruel to her I want her to stand her ground and not crumble under the pressure” Daemon groaned as your father said that, he was at the end of his wits with him now. It wasn't you that needed toughness, it was your father instead.

“She'll learn that on her own time the way you did. What you're doing with her now is only breaking her confidence. She learned your ugly truth and in the same breath she found out that she was losing one of her parents, you made her break her own heart and then you put her on a pedestal, not to forget the stunt you pulled by inviting Stella knowing too well that it would bother her and now you want her to go live all alone with no one around her to support her?” He raised his voice and he could tell that his words were affecting your father,

“These are the memories you want to leave behind with her? Do you really think your death would hurt her less if you're a jerk to her? No it would only hurt her more because when you're gone she'd spend lifetime thinking about how she wasn't a capable daughter and how she wasn't able to make you proud you fucking arse”

Daemon walked out of his office after that because he didn't even want to look at him at the moment, he knew he'd start to feel pity for him and won't be able to say anything after that. He wished your father didn't have to leave so soon and he was cured miraculously but the treatment he was getting done was only borrowing him more time and after the upbringing your parents had given you he didn't want your father to ruin it all before his death, he didn't want him to take your innocence away from you.

As you heard a knock on your door you wiped your tears and got off the bed to open the door, it was Daemon on the other side and as soon as he saw your swollen red face he immediately stepped closer to you pulled you in his arms to hug you. He closed the door behind him even though deep down he didn't care what your parents would think about this now. He was done with their judgment for now when he knew you needed someone to tell you how proud he was of you.

You sobbed and sobbed until the tears went dry and headache began to set in. You didn't want to hurt your father but he was hurting you and you didn't think you'd be able to take more..

“i knew I'd fuck up…im not made for this” as he heard your broken sobs his eyes welled up as well, he wanted to protect you and he was going to do that whether your parents liked it or not.

“Shhhh puppy you did great, I was there, I heard you, you did nothing wrong, every experience is going to teach you something, it's not all gains in business, you lose at time and that's okay, your father failed plenty of times and he was much older than you when he did”

You looked up at him as he wiped your tears and cooed gently in your ears, as his sweet words infiltrated your ears you were finally able to register the close proximity you were sharing with him at the moment.

“It's okay to fail?”

“It's better to fail than not to try at all. And you tried my sweet girl..I'm so proud of you for that” You cupped his cheeks and leaned up to kiss his cheeks one by one before you kissed his forehead, his words were exactly what you needed at the moment, then you pulled away from him because you knew you'd kiss him if you'd continue to stay close to him and you had promised your dad to not do so.

“Ummmm i haven't showered in two days” he chuckled as you said that.

“Better get to that then and I need you to go downstairs for dinner after that alright?” He told you firmly so you nodded.

“Thank you..i love you” his brows furrowed as you mumbled that as if it was the most natural thing for you to say to him.

“I love you ..don't forget..no matter how distant I seem I'd always love you”

Things changed between you two once again that night, he was distant still but closer to you. He'd hold your hand when he found you shivering due to anxiety, he'd hug you everytime you panicked, he made jokes with you like before and he even flirted with you at times.

Your relationship that had changed for worse was starting to change for better this time, you had lost him as a lover but you didn't want to lose him as your man, as your family, whatever that meant. You needed him close and you needed him as yours, and he was there for you, he was willing to be there for you selflessly even though you barely gave him anything in return.

Weeks later Rhaenyra invited you to a family get together she held for her birthday, Daemon was there too of course and he looked sexier than ever, all black attire made him look devastatingly handsome and it was just your bad luck that you weren't able to get a taste of his sweetness.

That didn't last though, as the drinks went around between you two you got bolder and bolder and you didn't know why but he didn't resist your advances either, well not really, perhaps he was starving for your touch as well.

You knew both of you would regret it in the wake of daylight but that night you needed him in every possible way and you were going to get him.

👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀

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lovelyladyabsinthewrites · 2 years

Text

A Mouse in a Lion’s Den Pt.3

Pairing(s): Rhaegar Targaryen x Lannister!Reader, Jaime Lannister x Cersei Lannister Warnings: childhood trauma, emotional/psychological abuse, large age gap Words: 3869 Summary: After years spent in Dragonstone, you are finally brought to the Red Keep; ready to become Rhaegar’s bride. Part 1 Part 2 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18

Book One of Heir of Ash and Fire

Tensions were boiling in King’s Landing. Hardly the right time for a wedding but Rhaegar seemed to be growing tense with each second his father lost his sanity. He had to seal the deal before Aerys changed his mind.

Rhaegar had enough on his mind, what with the ominous things he had read in a book when he was younger and with the plans he had to overthrow his father. Many of the kingdoms had sworn alliance to Rhaegar, promising to back him up whenever he said the word.

Yet he thought of the little girl- no. (y/n) was no longer a child. According to the maester at Dragonstone where she now lived, she had been having her moon’s blood for quite a few years now and (in the maester’s opinion) was ready to be wed. Their engagement had held on long enough. It was time. Before he decided to wage war against his father.

Fingers smooth against the inked words on the sheet of parchment you had received yesterday. You lost count on how many times you had reread it. Tyrion had grown so much while you lived in Dragonstone. You missed him dearly but made sure to write to him as soon as he had learned out to read. No raven could keep up with all the letters you sent one another back and forth. You couldn’t help it. If you couldn’t be with him physically the next best thing was letters. And boy did Tyrion write a lot. His grammar and writing was impeccable for his age. You were so utterly proud of him.

Smiling you hold the note close to your heart and lean against the harsh stone wall. You had written to your father, begging him to send Tyrion to Dragonstone seeing as you weren’t permitted to leave until your wedding or unless Rhaegar was with you. Your father never replied to any of your letters. You should have been used to it though. You just really wanted to see your baby brother.

Occasionally you received letters from Jaime who had been inducted into the King’s Guard at such a young age. The youngest in fact to have a spot in the guard. Tywin was still upset about the fact that he had lost his heir to King Aerys. Of course he would never accept Tyrion as his heir. Tyrion wasn’t up to his standards, just like you weren’t either. There you were though. Engaged to Rhaegar. He tried to visit you as often as possible, even take you with him on trips, but with Aerys quickly losing his mind Rhaegar’s visits grew less and less. Ravens from him still came though. Rhaegar always kept true to writing you, no matter how busy he got. He wrote you once claiming that it was therapeutic and reading your letters always took him away from all the stress of King’s Landing. It made you feel of use to him. He still never explained why he chose you as his bride, even when you asked him. Rhaegar would just smile at you, the way he always did with such genuine warmth, and gently run his thumb under your chin. No matter how much you grew he always referred to you as his mouse. You used to hate it so much but coming from Rhaegar you learned to find it endearing. You were a goner, you knew that the last time Rhaegar came to visit you. It was inevitable that you would fall in love with him. Cersei was right. Rhaegar was the most handsome man in all of Westeros. And the kindest.

You kiss Tyrion’s letter before putting it away with his other letters. Dabbing at your eyes that had grown a little wet, you head out of your room to go visit Rhaella. She had been your companion for the past couple of months. Dragonstone seemed to be the safest place for her considering that she was about two months pregnant. Safer than the capital at least. Rhaella was probably in danger from her own husband too.

She was happy to be away. Even if her pregnancy was making her incredibly sick she told you that she was just so happy to be away from Aerys.

“What if I get sick when I get pregnant?” You ask her. There were times when Rhaella couldn’t even stand up. Her pregnancies had always been difficult for her. She’d had a multitude of miscarriages and still-births. The children she did manage to bring into the world only lived for a few months; at most a year. It had taken her so long to be pregnant with Viserys and even then it was touch and go, constantly worried that he too wouldn’t live for long. Rhaella shoots you a tired smile. “It is not unusual for a woman to get sick while pregnant. It goes away after some time. That shouldn’t stop you from having babies. You’ll be queen after all. It’s your duty to provide heirs.”

Right. Marrying Rhaegar meant. . .

Your face heated up. You may have had the body of a woman grown, but you were still ever the child.

Turning your head to look out the window you see the setting sun bleed into the ocean making the reflection a bright orange-pink hue that seemed to glow in the evening light.

“Excuse me for the interruption.” A maid timidly knocks before opening the door slightly. Once she gets Rhaella’s okay, she goes in. “A raven just came from King’s Landing. For the Lady (y/n).”

You hold your hand out so she could pass it onto you. Cracking the wax seal that had the three headed Targaryen dragon. Your eyes scan, recognizing Rhaegar’s graceful handwriting.

“Oh.”

“What is it?”

“Rhaegar wants me to go to King’s Landing. He says we will have our wedding.”

The queen inhales sharply.. “Does he really think right now is the right time for a wedding?”

“Apparently.” You worry about Rhaegar. Things must be bad if he’s finally chosen a date for your wedding. You had been engaged for a few years now, it was about time. Still. . .

You stand up. “Well. . . I should start packing.”

It had been Cersei’s idea to join the King’s guard even if it did infuriate Tywin. At least it saved Jaime from marriage. He could keep true to Cersei and not be forced to marry some insufferable woman. Despite being his sister, Cersei was the only woman for him; Jaime was sure of that. He hadn’t felt the way he did with Cersei with any other girl. He didn’t even bother with prostitutes. No one could compare to his sister.

Although this job was starting to grate on Jaime’s nerves. Aerys was unstable. Anyone who dared oppose him to his face was met with a long and painful death. He was not fit to rule Westeros. Rhaegar was though. Jaime remembered when Cersei had been younger how she had fawned over the silver haired prince. That all stopped once it was announced that their younger sister (y/n) would be the one to marry him. Jaime was happy; partly because it wasn’t Cersei and the other was because he knew Rhaegar would treat (y/n) the way she deserved. (y/n) would be a good queen, Jaime had no doubt. She wasn’t meant to be born a Lannister. But maybe a Targaryen.

He hoped that Aerys would be overthrown soon so he wouldn’t be able to hurt (y/n). There were plans in the making, he had heard. Tywin was willing to backup Rhaegar as were many other lords. Aerys had been quickly losing popularity and the seven kingdoms were turning to Rhaegar.

Until the day where Rhaegar finally decided to strike against his father, Jaime would continue to half-heartedly protect Aerys. His time on the Iron Throne was dwindling anyway.

“Are you sure marrying the Lannister girl is a good idea?”

Jaime stopped in his tracks, controlling his breathing so that he wouldn’t be detected. Aerys had continuously spoken about his doubts of Rhaegar marrying (y/n), but he was the one who allowed it in the first place. Jaime himself couldn’t understand why. She had been just a child when Rhaegar first met her. A quiet, unimpressive, little thing she had been. Yet both the king and prince had deemed her worthy enough to take on the Targaryen name when Aerys had refused someone like Cersei for Rhaegar’s bride.

Rhaegar’s clear, musical voice cuts off whatever the first one had continued to say. “There’s no need to worry about (y/n), Griff. She isn’t like the others in her family.”

Jon Connington. Of course he’d be the one to try and talk Rhaegar out of marrying a Lannister. He was the prince’s most trusted friend. A little too devoted at times.

“She could be fooling you. Those Lannister lions are good at lying. She could very well be working with Tywin to take the throne out from Targaryen rule! I just can’t understand why you’re marrying that child.” Griff exclaims a bit exasperated as if they had discussed this plenty of times before.

There’s pause before Jaime hears shuffling, perhaps Rhaegar clasping his good friend on the shoulder as the silver prince often did. “I wanted to take her out of that oppressive family, Jon. The first time I met her she looked so scared to even speak. There was no love for her from even her own family. And perhaps I couldn’t help but feel a connection to her. A kindred spirit. Even as a prince there wasn’t much I could do to make her situation better.”

“Except marrying her?” Griff scoffs. “Why do you even care so much about this girl?”

“She was the only person to ever ask me if I was lonely.”

He didn’t want to hear anymore. Jaime left just as soundlessly as he had been. That was why Rhaegar was marrying (y/n)? It made his mind reel. (y/n) was loved, surely she was. True the Lannisters were cold with their affections but that didn’t mean she wasn’t loved any less. At least that’s what Jaime tried telling himself. After that time when Cersei locked (y/n) in a lion’s cage he knew that she cared not for her little sister. It had slightly horrified Jaime that she had done such a thing. Cersei tried justifying her actions by claiming that she was trying to toughen up (y/n). That she was too soft. That’s what their mother had loved most about (y/n) though. Her softness. And that’s what Jaime found endearing as well. He loved Cersei and her fearlessness and tenacity. She was what every maiden should aspire to be. All the beauty and more that Joanna Lannister had possessed, except her sweet nature. That had solely been passed onto (y/n). Maybe that was why Tywin couldn’t even look at his youngest daughter. Everyone knew how much Tywin had loved his wife; perhaps the only person he had ever loved.

Regardless, Jaime couldn’t deny any longer that (y/n) hadn’t been treated that well by the people who were supposed to love her unconditionally.

Nails curling against his palm, Jaime marches back to his station by King Aerys’ side. That’s where he belonged.

For now.

Jaime just had to wait. In the meantime he would enjoy seeing his little sister again. Rhaegar had boarded her up in Dragonstone as he too feared any threat from his own father. Jaime hadn’t seen (y/n) since she had been shipped off.

When (y/n)’s ship was sighted about to dock in the Blackwater Bay, Jaime saw Rhaegar and his entourage leave to go greet her. Jaime would’ve gone as well but was under strict orders to be with his fellow King’s Guard and be close by to Aerys. He finally got to see her when Rhaegar reluctantly brought her to see the king.

Jaime couldn’t help but stare at who used to be his little sister.

You smile when you see Jaime and would’ve run to hug him had you not been holding onto Rhaegar’s arm. Just like you had thought, Jaime had grown into such a handsome young man. He looked every part of a proper knight.

Not wanting to be rude you turn your attention to King Aerys. There wasn’t much that had changed of Aerys since the last time you saw him except for longer hair and nails. His eyes appeared even more sunken in for not eating much from the fear of being poisoned.

Regardless of his appearance you curtsy to show him that you weren’t a gawking child anymore. You had grown since the tourney at Lannisport. You were still no Cersei and you never would be, but having been able to grow away from the expectation of being like her you were able to become your own person.

He’s unimpressed but gives you a nod. “So Rhaegar’s bride has finally arrived.”

“Yes your Grace.” Even though he hadn’t asked about her you tell him that Rhaella is doing fine and that the baby inside of her continues to grow. Aerys doesn’t seem to care about that either and just answers you with a grunt. The queen had already told you that they cared not for each other; that their marriage had been their father’s idea. And thus the Targaryen sibling unions continued on as they had done with Aegon and his sister wives. Except for now. Rhaella hadn’t had a daughter for Rhaegar to marry. Which you suppose was good news for you.

The king still unnerved you, no matter how much older you had become. This man was unstable and dangerous. He killed anyone who spoke ill of him without batting an eye. You wondered how your brother was able to protect someone like Aerys.

His pale lavender eyes roam from you to Jaime. He grunts again before muttering something about Lannisters and waves you off, having enough of your presence.

You cast one last look to Jaime on your way out. You hoped you’d be able to speak to him and catch up. Jaime nods your way, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips.

“You must have a lot to say to him.” Rhaegar comments, finally being able to breathe now that he was away from Aerys.

“Yes but I can understand that he has other things to do.” Still holding onto his arm you shrug; being the understanding person that you were. “He’s grown so much.”

“As have you.” notes your prince making you blush slightly. You wondered if Rhaegar even realized how his words sounded. “Your brother looked shocked as well. Then again he hasn’t seen you in years.”

Taking a deep inhale you try and force down the nervousness that had been creeping up on you. Putting on a confident smile you beam up at Rhaegar. “If you’re not busy I would like a tour of the Keep.”

He grins back at you, eyes sparkling like gemstones; illuminated by the stream of sunlight that cascaded in through the windows. “Of course. This will be your home soon after all.”

That was right. You were there to finally wed Rhaegar. You would no longer be a Lannister. You would be (y/n) Targaryen, Queen of Westeros. A title that would’ve originally gone to Cersei had Aerys not rejected Tywin’s match proposal.

“My home. . .” The word was foreign on your tongue. After your mother had died Casterly Rock had no longer felt like your home. Even Dragonstone had never truly been your home.

He pauses hearing the timidness in your voice and goes on to say “I can’t guarantee you’ll be completely safe. Being my wife will have it’s challenges. There will be rough times ahead. It might take me away for months on end. I may even need to send you back to Dragonstone. Know this (y/n), this is our home. I will be your home. You’re not alone anymore (y/n). “Beautiful long fingers weave with your’s.

“Neither are you Rhaegar.”

For the past few years of living at Dragonstone and Rhaegar visiting you when he could, you had come to know the Silver Prince better than anyone else. There were days where he would be morose, stuck in his melancholic thoughts that concerned the future. A future that he warned you all of the seven kingdoms should be ready for. He was always thinking and planning ahead.

There would be light on his features when you spoke to him though, excited about what Tyrion had wrote to you or a story you had heard. You had even begun to learn the harp just to be closer to him. You would never be as good as Rhaegar on the harp but he had told you that nothing made him happier to hear you play. As clumsy as your playing was.

You didn’t know if he truly loved you the way you did him; he never kissed you yet sometimes he would take you into his arms. Rhaegar was sweet enough with you but did he love you? In arranged marriages it wasn’t uncommon for the couple to not love each other. Yet someone as cold as your father had fallen in love with his intended. Your parents had an arranged marriage but they had loved each other immensely. When had they fallen in love, you wondered. Could Rhaegar find it in himself to love someone like you? He was the most beautiful man you had ever met, physically and mentally and even though you had grown into your own person comfortably you still doubted his affections for you.

Rhaegar showed you around the Red Keep and you noted the area as you wanted to familiarize yourself with what would indeed be your new home. He even showed you the Dragon Pits where once all the Targaryen dragons had been kept. The two of you ventured down into them, an odd sensation running up your spine as you remembered the lion cages below Casterly Rock. You kept close to him as the memories came back to you. Noticing your slight fear, Rhaegar grabs your hand; reassuring you that you were safe. He tells you stories about the dragons that his family had once had and about the internal strife that would lead to the Dance of Dragons. You passed by a few dragon remains, and perhaps even human as well. The Targaryens had a rich and long history, even before the Doom of Valyria. They even sounded like fairy tales you mother might have told you. These stories were real though. No wonder Aerys had been hesitant, as Rhaella had told you, marrying you to Rhaegar.

A bit tired from your travel and from walking around the Red Keep Rhaegar takes you back so that you could rest before dinner. It was greatly appreciated as you flung yourself onto the giant bed that was provided for you. You and Rhaegar would not be sharing a room until you were married but your room was right next to his. Even being one room away from him was close enough. You flop around on your bed, utterly happy to be near Rhaegar. You couldn’t believe that you would finally be his wife.

Once your excitement died down, exhaustion finally seized you and you were asleep in no time.

You didn’t know how long you had been asleep when you hear knocking on your door.

Groggy you lift your head from your pillow, (h/c) hair sticking up in odd places. You roll out of bed and smoothe down your hair with your hand before going to answer it. You’re immediately wide awake.

“Jaime!” You practically sing, keeping your arms at your sides otherwise you would have thrown them around your older brother. You were just so ecstatic to see him and that he was the one to reach out to you first. He look magnificent in his armor as he leans against your doorframe.

“Are you sure you’re really my little sister?” Jaime chuckles and pushes off from the frame to waltz into your room. “What happened to the little girl that I saw off to Dragonstone?”

You twirl happily around him. “She grew up! Just like you did! You’re finally a knight. Not just any knight. You’ve gotten yourself a place in the King’s Guard. You did exactly what you wanted to do. I’m so happy for you Jaime.”

And truly you were. Jaime had been able to get out from under Tywin’s oppressive control. Then again even Tywin couldn’t tell his headstrong twins what to do. Jaime never took well to orders. It was different now that he was a knight.

A crooked smirk made him appear so much older. “And I’m happy for you too. You’re getting married and will someday be a queen. That’s a lot from originally being a mouse among lions.”

“Now I’m a mouse among dragons.” You chuckle and observe just how much your brother had changed. It seemed he was doing the same thing with you. You always did like it when Jaime’s attention was solely on you. You pull out a chair and urge him to sit down. You didn’t know how long you had with him before he was called back to Aerys’ side. “Tell me what I’ve been missing out on.”

Her facial expressions were so genuine; (y/n) literally wore her emotions on her sleeves. Her pure, unadulterated happiness nearly rendered Jaime speechless. She was. . . absolutely stunning. That shy, awkward little girl was gone. (y/n) still had tha shy blush to her cheeks but she hid her nerves with a bright smile. Jaime truly couldn’t believe his eyes when he first saw her. She hadn’t tried to hide behind Rhaegar in the presence of Aerys as she had done years ago with Jaime. If Jaime were being honest though he had kind of liked when his little sister would seek him for protection. He didn’t like timid girls but (y/n) had always been a different story. Maybe because she was his baby sister. Cersei had made it a point very early on that she didn’t want to be protected. She was capable of doing that herself.

With (y/n) though. . .

She had been downright adorable when she cowered behind Jaime. Cersei and Tywin may not had appreciated (y/n)’s frailty but Jaim had. Seeing her so grown up, so matured. . . Jaime couldn’t begin to describe what he was feeling. He wasn’t used to being taken by surprise. Wasn’t used to the sensation of his breath being taken away. Even when he had seen Cersei naked for the first time he hadn’t been nervous. He had bent her over and fucked her without hesitation.

A bat of (y/n)’s eyelashes though and Jaime was ready to lay down his sword for her and swear fealty and loyalty.

“You will be a wonderful queen.” Jaime says randomly that interrupts (y/n) from whatever she had been saying.

Her smile is blinding at his words.

He knew then and there that it was going to be absolutely difficult to see her wed Rhaegar.

#game of thrones #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones fanfic #Game of Thrones fandom #got fanfiction #got fanfic #got fandom #got reader insert #asoiaf fandom #asoiaf fanfiction #asoiaf fanfic #asoiaf reader insert #reader insert #reader insert fanfiction

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officialgleamstar · 1 year

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TALK TO ME ABOUT MNMOMS ANY TOPIC YOU WANT GO GO GOOOO 🥳

Okay I’m on mobile now because I’m sleepy but OOGH. HAD TO THINK ABOUT THIS ONE. I’ve realized I’ve really neglected talking about a very important aspect of dungeons and daddies in regards to this au: The generational trauma 🎉🎊 aka each moms’ relationship with her own mother! (And parents in general lol)

First, the easiest one - Mercedes has a very genuinely good relationship with her parents. She has a healthy loving relationship with both of them. The generational trauma for the Oak-Garcias is still very Oak-heavy in this AU, which you know Isadora because you were the one who talked with me when I was originally figuring things out :D Mercedes’ issues stem a lot more from not knowing how to handle her husband’s family and being really overwhelmed and genuinely disgusted with the lifestyle that Henry comes from (obviously not held against him, but it does very much change how she views him and how views her children. She always thought the twins took more after her until she saw the same facial features so many times in Oakvale)

Morgan has the worst relationship on paper with her parents but it’s also a pretty simple situation. She was disowned for marrying Glenn. When her parents tried to come back into her life after his death, she refused to return contact. She always disagreed with them growing up and saw them as unsupportive, so while she feels guilt that she’s left Nick with no real grandparents, she still stands by that she did the right thing. For the Foster timeline, Jodie’s Morgan cut her parents off as well, but I’m still trying to figure out why lol. I’m not entirely sure Morgan would ever think to ask

Samantha has a complicated relationship with her mom. Growing up, Samantha’s mom was fairly lonely and as a result, she treated Samantha as a friend more than she did a daughter. She put her problems onto Samantha from a young age and while she didn’t expect her preteen daughter to be able to help at all, she still overstepped appropriate boundaries quite a bit in that regard. This led to Sammy often feeling helpless and like her mom was going through too much for Samantha to ever bring her own issues to her mom as well, since she didn’t want to be a burden. Once she was older, Samantha realized how inappropriate it was that she was being saddled with adult issues before she was even 15 and while it did shape her life in some positive ways - Samantha does credit her interest in therapy to wanting to help her mom - she also recognizes that it puts a huge strain on her relationship with her mom. This is why she’s so closed off with her son when it comes to emotional issues: she never wants to put Terry Junior in that same position of having to care for his mother as a child.

Carol is uh. Carol um. Hm!! Carol.

Carol has had a bad relationship with her mom her entire life. She pointedly spent most of her time at Darryl’s house throughout her childhood and teenage years, she never really starts conversations with her mom or dad, and whenever she’s asked about her parents, she always thinks of the Wilsons before her biological parents. However, Carol does not like recognizing this as true because that would require analyzing why she dislikes her mom, and that would require her addressing the fact that she hates the life she was raised to live. Her parents were very traditional, just like the Wilsons, and Carol was raised to be a good Catholic wife to her good Catholic husband. She gets a lot of shit from her parents for being the breadwinner while Darryl stays at home, something that bothers her to no end because she is very defensive of Darryl, and she feels incredibly stifled by the concept that she has to be this meek heterosexual woman with a nuclear family and a white picket fence. However, pre-Forgotten Realms, she never really lets herself explore this past “I want a career”, and she’s also deeply in denial about there being an issue at all. I have this like, general plan for a battleaxe that they get at some point where the worst the wielder’s relationship is with your parents, the more powerful it is, and uh. Needless to say. Carol is the one who owns it LMAO it absolutely mortifies her but it’s one of the first steps towards her admitting she’s unhappy with her life

#dndads #mnmoms au #ask #isadora greenhall

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purplesurveys · 6 months

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1840

When was the last time you were sick? How incapacitated were you by the illness/ailment? End of November. A nasty flu had been going around, so even though I just had Covid the month before I still managed to catch the bug and had a 40-degree fever. It wasn't nearly as bad as Covid, but with that high of a fever I still felt very weak and very very cold. My skin felt like glass, and I was too lethargic to eat which didn't feel good.

Do you often reflect on your past in terms of "eras" or “milestone” time frames (eg, looking back and saying, “it’s been 10 years since X”, etc.)? Sure. It just makes things easier to remember that way, and in some ways a wholesome reminder of how far I've come.

Is there something you would like to do or be, but have pretty much accepted it won’t happen because it’s just “not the kind of person you are” or is otherwise incompatible with your personality, character, etc.? I doubt I will ever make it to the WWE just because it's such a huge, HUGE company with highly selective employment (only 800 employees, and that's including their satellite offices worldwide), plus the fact that I am not an American citizen already kills off any chance I'd have. It's a dream I'm not necessarily killing but have nonetheless accepted that it has little to no chance of ever happening.

Such is life.

When was the last time you experienced cognitive dissonance? Not sure when the last time was exactly, but the sample scenario I thought of is whenever I have a short temper at work. I need to remind myself that it, in the words of Gen Z, "it's not that serious." lol

If you use Letterboxd, what causes you to “heart”/“like” a film? I don't use Letterboxd and I don't really watch movies anymore.

Do you like people watching and is it something you do often? If so, where are your favorite locations to do so? Yeah, but I have to be in a certain disposition or location to do it. I like people-watching in foreign countries, or in my university which is open to the public.

Whether you want to have children or not, what do you think has had the greatest influence on your views of children/childrearing (eg, your parents, your own upbringing, your interactions with children as an adult, etc.)? It would be my experiences and realizations so far as I navigate being an adult. What I mean by that is in the time that I've been on this 'journey,' I've been learning that I like being alone. I'm also very focused on my career and, quite selfishly, I like keeping most of the money I earn for myself and for building my life and doing the things I'd love to experience for my own, like traveling. I don't see myself as the type of person who would go for juggling both career and family.

Is there anything that you enjoy that you simultaneously find intensely cringey? Is it so cringey that you wouldn’t normally admit to actually enjoying it? No. Life is too short to be overly conscious of things you like, and lbr people hardly give a fuck as we have our own lives to deal with.

I just spent four days straight spamming the shit out of my Instagram stories with extremely wordy reviews of the first 17 Wrestlemanias - 15-year-old Robyn would have talked herself out of doing that, worrying that people would think she is a loser lol. But I went ahead and did it anyway regardless if people would read it or not, because in the first place I did it for myself thinking it'd be lovely to have an archive of my experiences watching the shows.

When was the last time you felt someone was being dishonest with you — not necessarily downright lying to your face, but acting or responding to you in a way that seemed false or did not feel like their true self? It's been a while since I felt like this.

Similarly, when was the last time you saw a side of someone that made you question your preexisting perception of them? It's an ongoing process currently. Ange was recently transferred to my team, but I was warned that she didn't have the best reputation in her previous department as she was known for being condescending and bossy, especially towards her juniors.

I don't have a final verdict on her yet as we've only been working together for all of two weeks, but it's something I actively have my eyes on.

If you were a doll, what outfit(s) and accessories would you come with? Purple hair, a t-shirt tightly cropped just right above the belly button, denim jeans, white sneakers, and a cute lil handbag hanging on my shoulder. And an Army Bomb hehe.

What was the last bit of praise you received? People complimented my lipstick a few days ago, I guess that counts? Hahaha.

When you hear or see your name written out (as in /your/ name, not someone else who shares your name), do you immediately recognize it as your own, or is there a moment of disconnect before that recognition? Good question. There's definitely a bit of a disconnect, mainly because my name is relatively uncommon and there's that moment of "hey that's me" when I see my name spelled out hahaha

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captainswanapproved · 1 year

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An Indecent Proposal- Chapter 18

A03,Prologue, Chapter 1,Chapter 2,Chapter 3, Chapter 4,Chapter 5,Chapter 6,Interlude,Chapter 7,Chapter 8,Chapter 9,Chapter 10,Chapter 11,Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17,

Daemon x Rhaenyra Multichapter AU:

Daemon leaves Rhaenyra at her wedding feast. Rhaenyra marries Laenor. After a year of trying to do their duty and produce an heir, Rhaenyra writes to Daemon.

She needs a true Targaryen heir.

It only needs to be an arrangement of business, she says. And it would result in Daemon’s child one day taking the Iron Throne.

Daemon accepts the proposal and returns to court.

Only, ventures like these are never simple. As much as they would wish to, Daemon and Rhaenyra cannot let go of the past, or the feelings they once had for each other.

123 AC

Rhaenyra Targaryen snuggled against her husband’s warm body, sleepy, sated, and more than a little bruised. She and Daemon liked it rough on occasion. Daemon’s execution of Vaemond Velaryon on her orders had made Rhaenyra tremble with a nearly unslakable lust for her lord husband, and now that he belonged to her in the eyes of gods and men alike, she had taken her pleasure, and allowed him to take his in turn.

She looked at his broad, fair chest and back, now deliciously marked. She had raked her nails into his flesh as she tumbled over the edge, and he had screamed her name. Now he was fast asleep, his arm wrapped possessively around her slender waist.

If the gods were kind, she would give Daemon another trueborn child in nine moons. Having spent the last year in a state of true happiness with her beloved and her children, she was starting to believe that the gods were kind after all.

This happiness could not make her troubles disappear, but it certainly helped to ease her burdens. Today, they had rid the realm of an enemy, and in time, the rest of those who dared oppose her reign would fall.

It was that thought that finally allowed her to sleep.

The following morning, however, brought discouraging tidings.

Aemon, her father’s cupbearer, appeared in their chambers in the light of early dawn.

“Forgive me, Princess,” he said, bowing low. “I have come on behalf of the king. Prince Daeron’s dragon egg has started to hatch. He requests your presence in the throne room, along with your entire family.”

Rhaenyra stared at the lad, dumbfounded. It was impossible that Daeron’s egg could be hatching. He had no blood of the dragon flowing through his veins.

Daemon spared her the trouble of responding, thanked the boy, and dismissed him.

His fingers curled around hers, jolting Rhaenyra out of her stunned trance.

“The Green Bitch is trying to make a statement in gathering an audience for the hatching. You and I know the truth of the princeling’s heritage, and soon, so will the rest of the court.” Daemon stole a kiss and grinned wickedly up at her.

“Come, my dearest. We do not want to miss the Queen’s public humiliation.”

Rhaenyra nodded. Surely Daemon must be correct. The hatching of the egg was a coincidence, and Prince Daeron would prove himself unworthy of such a gift.

***

Alicent stood beside her son, staring at the cracking egg with undisguised greed.

Rhaenyra’s two youngest boys still had no dragons, thanks to her father’s grand orchestrations.

Now, after three years of waiting, Daeron would receive what he deserved.

It did not trouble Alicent that her third son had no blood of the dragon. Her clever little princeling was precocious and had studied the tomes she had given him with a fierce dedication. He would be the first Andal to master a dragon.

Daeron stood erect and proud beside her, ready to greet his hatchling as soon as it emerged.

Alicent was grateful that she had concealed the dark roots of his hair with fresh dye the night before. It would not have been prudent for Daeron to appear before court looking anything less than a Targaryen. After all, appearances still needed to be maintained.

Viserys stood on Daeron’s other side, beaming with pride, the old fool. Still, Alicent thanked the gods for Viserys’s blind devotion and gullibility. It had served her well for years.

“Honored lords and ladies. I thank you for assembling so quickly to bear witness to Prince Daeron’s triumph,” Viserys said.

Alicent dared to look across the throne room, where Rhaenyra stood flanked by her husband and children. The false Aegon’s egg had yet to hatch. And Joffrey’s had turned to stone. Alicent savored the taste of victory as Daeron’s egg cracked open at last.

The small head of a silver hatchling poked out of the shattered shell and uttered the draconic equivalent of an infant’s first cry.

The high-pitched sound echoed off the stones of the throne room. The assemblage showed their delight with applause. Alicent pushed Daeron towards the hatchling.

Daeron took a deep breath and knelt before the beast, extending a shaking hand.

The baby dragon recoiled at the touch, unfurled its wings, and let out a shriek.

The attack was unexpected, leaving no time for the dragon keepers to restrain the blasted creature.

Daeron fell to the ground, wailing in agony, blood pouring from his left eye.

Alicent screamed for the beast to be contained as she clutched her son to her. She felt the sticky warmth of his blood seep through the velvet of her gown.

The lords and ladies of Westeros watched in white-faced horror as Daeron was taken away by the maesters, and the hatchling was chained and caged by the dragon keepers.

Viserys took Alicent’s arm, but in her fury, she paid no heed to his attempts at comfort. Her gaze flew to Rhaenyra and Daemon. The little bitch’s face was frozen in a passable expression of horror at the gruesome scene, but it was Prince Daemon who returned Alicent’s gaze, his purple eyes gleaming in triumph.

#daemon x rhaenyra #daemyra #hotd #hotd fanfic #my writing #hotd an indecent proposal #never added this chapter here for some reason

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unedited-me · 4 months

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Post EDC - Day 5

It's been awhile since I've thought of you. Even longer since we've spoken. I don't know why this week hit harder than most, but I can't seem to get you off my mind. I'm hoping wiritng to you helps. Even if I know you'll never read it. You've found my secret blogs before, but quite frankly, I'd be shocked if you were even still looking. You look at my social media, but that's convenient. I don't think you really look for me anymore.

I wonder when that stopped for you. Part of me wishes it would stop for me, but part of me is terrified for the day that actually happens. You're such a big part of who I am that the absence of you feels almost like the absence of me. Like I don't know who I am fully without you reminding me. Which is crazy because I existed before you, and I was sure enough of myself back then. But while we were together, so much of my identity was rooted in you. Some days it's very apparent that I lost a version of me. Mind you, a version I didn't very much like, but it's still a hole just the same. These days I feel closer to that version of me. The one I didn't like. Losing you, meant losing her. For a while I thought that was something worth celebrating. But you're still gone, and she's creeping her way back in. I'm worried I'll spend the rest of my life running away from her. Like the remnants of you will never truly leave my body. After 7 years you became my default. The problem is I think you still are. Actively making the choice to be someone different is harder than I thought.

I can't strip myself of everything I was when I was with you, because parts of that person were me already. This past weekend was EDC. I went to my first EDC without you. I loved it. I went to many raves without you, and I loved them too. But being there this weekend didn't feel the same. Something inside of me decided raves are only meant to be enjoyed with you, and now that you're not here, I don't like raves. I wanted to love it. I wanted it to feel like it used to...like home. But the last place I truly felt at home was with you. Which is terrifying when I consider how you treated me. How I felt the majority of the time we spent together. How you spoke to me. Is my home meant to feel toxic? I was so close to something healthy. But I just couldn't manage to keep it. To earn it. I know it's the story I'm telling myself, but it feels true. I can almost picture what it felt like to write in my fist blog after him, in my tiny room, on my blue and white butterfly chair with all the ripped fabric pieces. Tears filling my eyes and making it hard to see where the right letters were on the keyboard. Nearly 15 years later, and I'm still that same girl I was back then. Am I destined to always be her? Am I stuck being the person you expected me to turn into? Sometimes I feel like I don't know how to be anyone else; some days I feel like you didn't know me at all. Today, it's the former.

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the-firebird69 · 1 year

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There's a few things happening here in Shawn county it might change this it is mines about sitting and blithering but then again nothing has.

-Charlotte county sheriff is now down to 350 sherrifs. We heard them say and that's the max they want to cut them down to 300 today

-they put to go to police they had 20 they were down to 15 yesterday today I'm they want it to be down to 10

-the neighborhood was at 240 and since yesterday dropped to about 220 out of 300 households. It's due to their actions within Florida and trying to take over from inside position and are getting hit I'll do it so and it failed miserably and a lot of them died

-there are 300,000 warlock and Charlotte county and that was this Monday I had some large forces in Florida trying to get here so they tried to disrupt from behind and 99.9% of the ones who lost where the doing that here and really it was up to about 50,000 gone yesterday afternoon last night it went up to 100,000 going from attacking for the rear it's over the past two days since that happened that's a lot of people kind of what's going on here. Therefore only $200,000 remain and those are your higher up people

-early 3200 l here in West Charlotte and Pensacola about 200 died so down to 3,000 and they want to remove 200

-true too Trump did a little penance there as his family and Sarah is still doing it and in his mom's body she's a mutant and scars disappeared and the kneecaps grew back and the ankles are not used anymore she can't tell she's in someone else's body mainly because it was peacock's body similar surgery is done....ok. the Trump had taken all the stuff and as president he was going to enacted but the guy does not check himself is lazy bum and we can't have that and we can't have some of them counts on us to do it. So he gave up all his stuff to his people and people ripping them off. And Tommy F was the one doing it. the cunt Trump is blaming our son, just remembered it was Tommy f so we can't use them for anything or have them near our son we don't want them there son at all guys such a f****** jerk, I'm going to leave him off him because of what he just said and he's not going to be doing anything and same with Dan but really had the stuff and he was taking it was taken because of the bodies they were in. Dan is laughing it is funny you're so hard on them and you took them for so many rides and ruined so many things we're trying to do for our son and f*** you is what happens okay and f*** you is what happened to you stupid Trump you f****** a****** having a kid too couldn't keep anything because of you and so f*** you you f****** piece of dirt to learn anything tell me if did it but holy s*** f*** you. You broke so many bones in d she couldn't go on after a while it was too hard and Sarah spent like 9 years trying to heal finally she got her bones to work right and found out they're not her bones so I said the same thank you for taking care of my mom's skeleton you piece of s*** tell your piece of s*** to shut up and blow his brains out how about we work it that way and see if it does something. They're going to blow his brains out all over your stupid f****** body. Hey there idiot too you shut them up or it happens. That should be taken seriously but she thinks Tommy f did the whole thing. How'd that go sarah you and Trump have the accident happen you like that tell me I've had to do tons of work too because that's stupid s*** too. We have something to say I think it's illegal. Hahahaha our son as laughing this is the why, sure it's illegal only if you had police and we hear you don't have them but what would you be reporting okay sarah you can be arrested for being in her body not really the other way around. Everybody knows who Trump is now so does this mean that Tommy f is interested in money finally. It's kind of like you're a shelter and he couldn't inherit anything his parents were paranoid to put him in a will because of you two idiots and the third one there. But he didn't do this at all on purpose is done to you after they died and he took everything from you but he took from them now it's time for you to lose the last part Trump and Sarah and other trumpsters.

I'm moving on to the next torture phase and if you don't think it's torture then what was it and son says there's a few of them but one of them is

* you get to be Donald Trump and he's the one who took the money.

Trump went out there last night to see what he can do about Tommy f. And he lost and it's going back out there shortly there's a big fight out there throughout the whole Halloween and Friday the 13th series and they're going to get into these fights Non-Stop when Tommy f is the one fighting is going out there to try and retrieve his face from Lily AKA Michael Myers who always wanted to be the Myers girl Paris Hilton and she got the name at least see. She's doing her job and yeah you'll see her in movies mutating into just about anybody like Bo Derek and she doesn't quite a bit and she can't do it here. What are you saying loser he went to attack me so you don't get the price well what else would it be but something really bad. And he was talking to Lily and she's trying to shake it off and says it's probably what happens she says try and attacking me and see what happens so it happens to you all the time and thanks for the invite I'll pour some gas on you you see the movie series you get attacked anyways s*** head. This is oh that's a lot of fun and by the way a new full heights and power you would be dead before I even got there cuz I can shout you to death if you have big mouths and now you're going to die permanently finally inother news Trump got his body back. And Sarah is in my mom's body. And she's terrified and said who's doing that I already told you who as soon as you the guy goes after you for his mask his face. She says that's disgusting he's the one doing it I have his face on yeah being surprised it make sense right, he said the last part to Lily and she says that's right. A lot of people horrified but we're going to publish and yeah Trump and Sarah are going on to do something else is stupid after you be yourself for a little bit which will get rid of you faster now that you have the money and get instead of the stuff

Thor Freya

Zues

It's going to happen to you anyways stupid s*** and you don't pay anybody so you're going to be out soon this is actually going to do it quite a bit to you not the whole thing but yeah

Hera

Who is expect only a couple other things we necessary to get you out of here and the biggest one is have we really gotten and what we want done cuz we have to rely on you Trump so you do an assessment and we have several more things we need to do. The first one is to divest the money the second is to try and move our son's money around which is something you're willing to do because of the first. The third is we need you to act like you're mortal, not like your immortal. You have weaknesses and failties that are glaring and you have to act like him a little. And they're a few more things that are going to happen to you you're going to move into them. You are possessed anyways trying all sorts of dumb things and figured it out and we are going to do things too for you trying it. You have to go off and do the head hellraiser guy and obviously the name is fitting your pinhead. Sarah has to do something too she has to get her body back and she's just a lot of stuff but when she does she becomes the queen of the bold she wants to be queen so bad. And our son says that you don't know when to shut up you too idiots and she gets dissected her back gets put back in in her body attached everyday it gets detached several times a day and they say it's for treatments and it's dolores body still that's how you can survive most of what happens to you Sarah will kill you almost immediately. You people are frail race even though you're kind of immune your body is human and it takes a day off tough time and your people can't survive down here for too long you make fun of him for having some injuries and stuff then you get massively injured and your people get injured every day walking around.

You're sick of you too think it is punishment cuz we're involved too and we hate you you're blaming our son anyways and we're going to do more to you because you're blaming him and what's going on now we'll make a lot of people very very sick

Olympus

0 notes

venomous--fics · 3 years

Text

@geekgirlofarchangels Requested: Hi! (I just wanted to say that I love your writing, it's amazing)😍

Can I request Eddie Brock x reader, who bake sweets for him, basically try to show her love for him in many ways in a day to day basis, and when she decides to tell him that she loves him, she sees him with Anne and misunderstand everything.

She panics, but ends fluff? Sorry for any mistakes English is not my first language

A/N: No worries!! Thank you for the request and I hope you enjoy!! Day 6! So many more to go!

"I think I need better piping tips." You said, looking over to Eddie for some reassurance.

The man had a one track mind, and right now, the only thing he could think of was the cookies you had in the oven. He's been staring at it for the last five minutes.

"A watched pot never boils." You said, finally catching his attention.

"And watched cookies never bake." he retorted turning around to look at the cake you'd be decorating, "I think it looks nice."

"Really?"

"Of course!"

"You're not just being cute and nice, right?"

"What would I gain from lying? Name one thing."

"More sweets?"

"That is true, but I don't have to lie to get those."

You rolled your eyes with a smile as you moved the cake to the other counter so that way you had room for the cookies. Before you, Eddie wasn't really the type of guy to have a sweet tooth, but oh boy you sure did change that. You worked at a bakery, and you were still practicing your skills any chance you got.

Eddie was a good and somewhat unbiased judge. He never lied to you, but he was never mean about anything either. If something needed worked on, he'd tell you nicely.

"Why are you stressing so much about your decorating skills anyways? I think you're amazing at it."

"My boss really wants me to start helping out in the decorating area..I was just worried that I was totally going to suck." You set your piping bag off to the side and wiped off your hands, "I just want to make sure I can do everything perfectly."

"You got this. It'll be a breeze for you. I mean, c'mon, look at it. It's really good."

You took a moment to really admire your cake. Yeah, it was pretty good.

Eddie really was so nice and loving to you. He was nothing like any of the other people you'd chosen to spend your time with before. Eddie actually wanted to do things with you, and he was constantly dragging you along for new adventures, and actually paid attention to your wants and needs.

You really liked him. Well, if you were being honest, you were really hopelessly in love with him. And you wanted to tell him, and you were sure he felt the same, but you really wanted to make it special.

Should you write it in icing on a cookie? Or maybe he was a bit tired of cookies. Maybe he'd expect you to do that since you're a baker and all. Maybe you should just tell him. Face to face.

You both left for work, saying your goodbyes and sharing a kiss or two. You were going to tell him after work. It'd finally be a weight off your chest to finally say just how you felt.

Despite having a seemingly normal day, you began to feel a little puzzled towards lunch. Normally, somehow, someway, Eddie always found his way to your work. It was bizarre how your lunch breaks always lined up, but you were sure he did that on purpose.

He didn't show up today, so you spent your break alone. You'd texted him to have a good rest of the day at work, but he never texted back. Maybe he just got busy, you told yourself.

You managed to clock out and make your way home, and still no response from Eddie. He wasn't even home yet. It was 6:45. Normally, he's home way before you. You shrugged it off as a late day at the office as you changed out of your work clothes.

Eddie got home at about 7:15 pm, and didn't say much as to why that was. He was his normal cheery self. He doted on you as usual, and you two ate together. Every thing was fine, but it didn't feel fine.

Things continued on like that for a few days. You had this persistent nagging feeling that Eddie was hiding something, and it was getting in the way of talking to him. It was getting far too annoying to ignore.

Today, one of your rare days off, you decided to hell with it. You were going to make Eddie a nice dinner and just tell him. Maybe then the nagging feeling would go away. Maybe you were just nervous because this was a huge thing to say, especially to Eddie.

You were making your way downtown, to the store, to pick up a few ingredients for dinner. Your list was short, so this really shouldn't take too long. You walked passed a café that you and Eddie frequented, and your body froze just a few steps passed the big front window. The hell was that?

You must've been seeing things. Surely you hadn't seen what you thought you saw, right? Not wanting to be seen, just in case your eyes weren't tricking you, you turned your body a little. You couldn't believe it. There was was. Even if all you saw was the back of his head, you knew it was him solely because of who was sitting across from him at the little table.

"Anne?" you asked yourself quietly.

She looked like she was in good spirits today. Her smile was warm and inviting as always, and it looked like she was chuckling at something Eddie had just said. You couldn't look away.

Why would he do this to you? Are you really surprised? After all, he did love her first. Maybe he never really loved you to begin with.

You made your way back to the apartment to gather your thoughts. There was to be a rational explanation for this. They weren't doing anything bad, but, you did find yourself worrying because...Well, you know, it was Anne.

For the first time in years, you felt angry. How could he do that to you? You should just leave and just call him later and tell him that you're never coming back. You froze halfway to the door once you realized what had really happened. Eddie chose her. And you knew that time after time he'd do it again.

You felt stupid. You felt a few tears slip out and you tried to fight them off, but that only seemed to make it worse. The door opened, and the sound of keys hitting the counter caught your attention.

"Oh!" Eddie said, "You're home! Good, I have- Hey, are you okay?"

You just stared at him.

He walked over, attempting to comfort you, but you took a few steps back, causing him to freeze. He looked wounded.

"Did something happen?" he asked, lowering his hands.

"I don't know," You said bitterly, "Why don't you go ask Anne?"

"Anne?" Then it registered, "Oh! Oh, no, babe, that's-"

"I don't want to hear any excuses, Eddie! How could you do that to me? How could you string me along and then just backstab me like that."

"No!" He really wanted to hold you, but he knew he had to refrain, "No, no, no! It wasn't like that. I swear!"

"I can't even look at you." You rushed into the bedroom, slamming the door. "God! I'm so, so stupid!"

Eddie listened to your slightly muffled yelling for a minute or two before moving over to the door to open it.

"I shouldn't even be here anymore!" You shouted, throwing open the door, "I have to go."

You tried to move past Eddie, but as a reflex, he grabbed your arm, "Please don't do that."

You tugged and pulled, but you couldn't wiggle free. He wasn't holding too tight, and he wasn't hurting you. You just couldn't get free, "Let go of me!"

"I swear I'd never do that to you!" He pleaded, "Will you just let me explain?"

You stopped fighting and just stared helplessly ahead, "What is there to explain, huh? You don't love me like I love you, so there's nothing left to talk about."

"You love me?"

"Of course I do! But it's obvious that you don't love me! So, just, let go!"

"I love you too!" He said loudly.

It's like the whole world stopped in that moment as your head whipped around to look at him. He looked like his whole world was about to end. This wasn't how any of this was supposed to go down.

"I love you." he repeated, "I- I'm so sorry I didn't say it sooner. I..I got nervous so I, as stupid as it sounds, I went to Anne for advice."

Your whole body relaxed as you listened to him.

"I wasn't sure how to say it- Or, I guess, say it right." Eddie sighed a little, "I asked her what I should do. She was always better at this stuff. She gave me this bright idea of a movie and dinner...But it seems like that's all out the window now."

You realized your mistake, "Eddie, I'm sorry...I didn't want it to happen like this either. I had a plan too, and I guess I ruined it."

"I should've just told you. I was just scared you wouldn't feel the same."

"Wouldn't feel the same?" You wanted to sound offended at the thought, "Eddie, why do you think I do all these nice things for you? I wanted to tell you for ages, but I just couldn't."

Eddie let go of your arm, and pulled you into a hug. He hugged you like his life depended on it. You hugged back before sighing, "This really isn't how I wanted this to go."

"I know." he said, "Doesn't make it any less true, does it?"

You shook your head.

"I mean it. I really do love you. I just wanted to make sure I did everything right this time." He sounded disappointed with himself, "I guess I'm always going to screw some things up."

"That's okay." You reassured, "I don't know if you noticed, but I ruined this whole thing. Your plan, my plan. All of it."

"I wouldn't say ruined." Eddie pulled back to look at you, "I'd just say this was a little out of the ordinary."

"Do you still want to go out for dinner? Is that still in the cards?" You asked curiously.

"Of course. Why don't we just take a breather for a little bit."

#eddie brock x reader #eddie brock imagine #marvel imagine #marvel x reader #venom imagine #venom x reader

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rhysanoodle · 2 years

Text

Between Light and Shadow

(Banner by the lovely @sncinder 💕)

Elriel’s story after ACOSF

Word Count: 1841

AO3

Chapter 27

The next morning, Elain found herself sitting across from Rhys in his office, Lucien occupying the seat next to her as the Scythe lay ominously on the desk in front of them.

“Mind telling me what exactly happened in Lake Orel?” Thankfully, they had all been left in peace last night, but when Elain had emerged with a grumbling stomach after bathing this morning, she had seen the worry in their eyes and hadn’t objected when Rhys asked if she and Lucien would mind debriefing him.

Azriel could survive another few minutes without food. She had already given him one potion and changed his bandages this morning, so he likely would be napping for a while longer. She was sure everyone was aware that she had spent the night in his room—in his bed—but no one was mentioning it, so she certainly wasn’t going to bring it up.

Elain and Lucien shared a glance, and at his continued silence, Elain launched into the tale, elaborating on how Koschei had trapped them, had lured her and forced her to break her own mating bond, had used her to begin to weaken his own curse’s hold on him.

“It’s truly broken?” Rhys’s eyes flitted between the two of them, as if inspecting them for any remnants of the bond they had shared for the past couple of years.

Lucien nodded. “Whatever it did … worked.” Elain could still feel the tatters of the bond inside her, like a missing limb she didn’t even realize she’d had.

“And it worked on Vassa too?” Rhys wondered aloud. Elain’s head whipped to Lucien. She hadn’t done anything to Vassa. The firebird had arrived too late in the battle, and Elain hadn’t even gotten the chance to consider using the Scythe to free Vassa from her captor.

“I think … I think that was me,” Lucien admitted. “I have no idea how, but when he was reeling her in, I just snapped. Something happened to my fire, and I could just … feel the moment her bonds broke.”

“Ah, that,” Rhys nodded knowingly. “I think we owe you an explanation.”

Feyre entered the room, smiling sheepishly at Lucien. “We think you’re Helion’s son,” she admitted, wincing as her blow landed, Lucien’s good eye widening in shock.

“But I can wield fire magic,” Lucien said disbelievingly, summoning a bit of fire in his palm for a split second as if to prove it to himself.

“So can your mother. You inherited it from her line.”

“But … This power …”

“Surely, you’ve noticed your powers growing stronger as of late, signs that you might in fact be the heir. But we’ve also noted this change with Eris as he prepares to take the Autumn throne. How can there be two heirs to Autumn? Unless …”

“Shit,” Lucien cursed, his face falling into his hands. “How is this possible?”

“You’d have to ask your mother for the specifics, but before she was sold to Beron as his bride, we believe she was in a relationship with Helion. Perhaps those feelings never faded, and—”

Lucien growled, and Feyre had the presence of mind to blanche. “I’m really sorry for keeping this from you, Lucien. It was never the right time, and we weren’t even one hundred percent certain until now.”

“Cauldron dammit, Feyre. All this time, you’ve let me keep thinking I was related to him? You’ve left me in danger in the case that any of my brothers noticed this shift?”

“We haven’t suspected for long, and would it have been worth knowing if it turned out not to be true? To give you that hope and snatch it away?”

He stood, pacing back and forth. “I don’t know, but it’s better than being blindsided like this. If I had known, I could have figured out how to use these powers. Cauldron, I could’ve freed Vassa ages ago, and none of this would’ve happened.”

“Well, that’s not what happened, is it?” Rhys countered. “So you need to decide how you’re going to live with it now. Even Helion struggled to figure out how to free Vassa from Koschei. I’m not sure it would have been that easy.”

“What are you going to do?” Feyre probed, voice cautious.

“I have to go back home. To Vassa. I don’t know what comes next.”

Elain stood, taking his arm as he stood, unhinged in the doorway, laying a calming palm on his bicep. “I know a bit about learning some things about yourself which are difficult to accept,” she murmured, low enough that only he could hear. “I’m always here if you need to talk.”

If someone had told her even mere months ago that she would be comforting him so, she would’ve accused them of lying, but in the past few weeks she had grown a soft spot for the male who had the misfortune of being tethered to her. He wasn’t so bad after all, especially after he had made the difficult decision to let her go.

“Thank you, Elain. I won’t be a stranger.” With a soft pat on her hand, he extricated himself, strolling out of the office.

“You’re really in the interest of keeping secrets about others’ lives, aren’t you?” Elain could feel her original anger at Rhys flaring up as she turned back to her sister and her sister’s mate.

“Perhaps it wasn’t in my best interest,” Rhys admitted sheepishly.

“It wasn’t in anyone’s best interest,” Elain countered, folding her arms across her chest and staring him down.

“I’ve already said I’m sorry, Ellie, but I truly mean it.”

“And he’s never going to do anything that is controlling and invasive which affects other people’s personal lives without their consent again,” Feyre added, cutting a glare at her mate, who affirmed her.

“You made me think he couldn’t ever love me. Do you know how much that hurt?” Now that the initial shock of the revelation had worn off, her anger had stepped aside in favor of the sadness of what she and Azriel could have had. “I’d already gone through that once, and it almost killed me.”

Elain could see the moment that Rhys’s heart broke. “I didn’t mean to cause that. I thought … I thought he was merely lusting after you, using you for some reason to distract himself from whatever was bothering him. And I couldn’t afford him invoking Lucien’s wrath—or Beron’s wrath, if he chose to invoke the Blood Duel on Lucien’s behalf.”

“But you didn’t take into account my feelings either.”

“I was trying to protect them.”

“I am no one’s to protect but my own. I can handle the shadowsinger. If we were just having sex, it still would be none of your business.” She knew that the hardness in her eyes could cut through him like a knife, as intended.

“Please forgive me. I promise. Never again.” And Elain could feel the defeat resonating from the High Lord. He had made many mistakes, but at least he did feel some remorse for what it had cost her.

“In that case,” she murmured, eyeing the Scythe, laying on the desk. “I would like to see something.”

Rhys tensed as she reached for the piece of the Trove, but Elain didn’t falter. She gripped the handle tightly with both hands, allowing the otherworldly power to come over her, as she heard the gasps from Feyre and Rhys as they beheld her. Powerful. Unearthly. And … beautiful, she somehow knew. Perhaps it was the omniscience of the Cauldron flowing through her.

The room became flooded with color and light as she took in all the magic surrounding them. All the invisible lines which tied the universe and their fates together.

There was no mistaking their mating bond, a brilliant sapphire, thicker and more vivid than any other bond she had ever witnessed, but that wasn’t what Elain was interested in. She let herself look past it, at a much smaller thread, tying Feyre’s left hand to Rhys’s. Their bargain.

“I can break it,” she told them. “I can break the bargain which troubles you.”

“I was wondering,” Rhys murmured. “Are you ready, darling?” He turned to his mate. “I’ll still mean it in spirit, but maybe next time one of us is on death’s door we won’t be so frantic about leaving this world—leaving our son—so abruptly.”

“It’s the right thing to do,” Feyre admitted, but Elain saw the gleam of a tear in her eye. As ill-advised as binding their lives together was, there was still something reassuring about knowing they would go together and never leave the other behind.

She couldn’t help but feel the same way about Azriel. She had been willing to sacrifice herself for him. Perhaps Koschei might not mean her mortal harm, but she was still offering up her life as she knew it to be owned by him. And considering how many of her choices had been taken away from her in her life—how she had struggled and suffered because of them—it was the ultimate sacrifice for her. But he was worth it.

Just then, a glimmer struck her from the corner of her eye. That bond which had appeared a dim gold between herself and Azriel last night pulsed—lighting up and letting off a burnished glow. Even more radiant than her severed bond with Lucien. She could feel him—a dull whisper as he slept on another floor—but she could feel him deep within her.

She froze, unable to proceed, as she attempted to process what this could mean. Because that bond with him, it had been there, lying dormant while she had been bonded to Lucien. Could it be?

“Elain, dear?” Rhys cocked his head, a glimmer of worry shining in those sapphire eyes.

Right. She owed them a broken bargain, and being very careful not to touch any of the other many magical threads running rampant through the room, she cleaved through the problematic one.

The other two stumbled, appearing to have blacked out for a split second before they regained their bearings. “It’s done,” Feyre murmured, looking at her bare left arm with a hint of regret.

“If it’s the ink you’re missing, I can certainly help you there,” Rhys crooned, and Elain knew that it was time to leave as Feyre ran into his arms. She set the Scythe quietly back on the desk, but not before feeling a familiar itch running along her shoulder blades from her own tattoo.

She could sever it if she wished to, be free of her duty, but …

No, this was not just for Elspeth. She could free everyone in that cursed mountain, send them all to a peaceful afterlife and spare so many. Just as she had once been trapped in a prison—in a life—not of her choosing, these souls did not deserve their fate.

But that was a problem for another day, as she made her way back to Azriel’s room and all the uncertainty that lay waiting for her there.

***************

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#elriel #elain archeron #azriel #a court of thorns and roses #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf #fanfic #my fic #blas #between light and shadow

94 notes · View notes

tacticaldiary · 4 years

Text

Harsh Words

REQUEST: When Y/n getting hurt the way Bakugou talks to her due to the tone of his voice, ended up fighting when y/n tried to tell him about it, Bakugou getting mad, both of them not talking for days/weeks, Bakugou getting triggered when Y/n is always with Shoto since they were friends too..Ahhhh thank you 🤧

--------------------------------------------------------------------

Enjoy! :)

Pairing: Reader x Bakugou Katsuki

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me...yeah that’s bullshit. Doesn’t apply to Katsuki Bakugou. Y/N finds out first hand. The true impact of his words hits Katsuki two weeks too late, as the need to have his partner back wins over his pride.

Masterlist

Y/N lived for the rare gentle moments, sleepy conversations, quietly studying together, taking care of the other’s wounds. Although they were rare, Y/N cherished every single gentle movement with her fiery boyfriend.

Right now, though, Bakugou was anything but gentle

“Stop being dramatic.”

The words stung, especially when considering how hard Y/N was trying not to snap at him. SHe just wanted a rational conversation to discuss this. She crosses her arms, her face twisting into a scowl.

“I’m not being dramatic, Katsuki! Just listen to me for once!”

Katsuki was rough around the edges, there was no doubt, and it was one of the things that made Y/N fall for him a year ago. The past few weeks, however, had been particularly rough. His insults towards her had been much meaner, his tone harsher. Although she has always been on the lesser end of his receiving temper, this was taking a toll on her.

She finally had enough when he had insulted her clumsiness in front of the whole class in the dorm common area. She remembers full well the crash of the glass as it shattered upon impact, hitting the ground, followed by a snort and a “What? You got two left feet to match your useless quirk now?”. She had stormed out of the room, eyes glassy and Bakugou had followed her.

And here they were.

“You’ve been horrible to me this whole past month! I don’t know what the hell is wrong with you, that you think it was okay to yell at me like that in front of everyone, but-”

“I’ve been exactly the same. You know what you got yourself into when you started dating me. Don’t get all sensitive now.” he rolls his eyes, fixing her with a glare. The way he completely dismisses her makes her want to bang her head against a wall with frustration. He didn’t get it. She was human too, and she had a limit to her patience.

“You’re just being an asshole lately! This has nothing to do with me being sensitive.”

“The fact that you’re yelling at me proves that it does.” He yells, before taking a step closer. “What? Can’t handle an insult, dumbass? This bothers you that much?” He mocks her on the last part, tilting his head in a fake sympathetic look.

“You know what? Fuck you!” She yells back, shaking her head, tears of anger and frustration trailing down her cheeks. “I don’t have to deal with this shit. Come talk to me once you fix your shitty attitude and decide to stop being a literal asshole to me.” Y/N turns on heel and walks out of his room, ignoring Bakugou’s angry calls for her to come back.

Her tears unsettled him, although he doesn’t admit it. He feels guilt, or some variant of it, eat away at his insides, knowing he was the reason for their distress. He did care about her, a little too much in his opinion. He watches the door shut behind her.

Scoffing he moves over to his desk, sitting down and running a hand through his head angrily. He wasn’t any more of an asshole than he usually was, he was sure of it. Right?

Lost in his though, he idly fidgets with a pen from the holder at his desk. He recalls Y/N frowning a lot more these days...and she didn’t really bite back to his jabs anymore...when was the last time they had actually spent time together? Gone out? Now that he thought about it he hadn’t had a quiet moment with her in a week or two.

Huffing out a breath, he shakes his head to himself. Whatever. He would do something about that once she came back to him and apologised. That’s how it usually worked after one of their fights. Y/N was the first one to apologise, then he’d do his part silently by spoiling her or spending time with her. It was his way of a silent apology. She always came to him first though, knowing his pride wouldn’t let him be the first to admit the fault lied with him.

Bakugou is left hanging for the first time. He expected nothing to happen on the first day, or the second day...but two weeks later?

Y/N had not talked to him for two weeks, and he was itching for things to go back to normal. He didn’t want to admit how much this was affecting him. Not having her to study quietly with, or cuddle with at night, or someone to nag at him for pushing himself too hard...it was annoyingly frustrating. He wanted her back. He wanted her so damn badly and he was starting to crack.

He feels especially shitty today as he watches her walk straight past their usual table, to join another table, where she’d been sitting at for the length of time she’d been...ignoring him. The fact that it was Deku’s table only worked harder to piss him off. He watches, his eyes narrowing in an intense stare as she slips into the seat next to Todoroki.

Icyhot.

Another reason he’d been especially prickly. Y/N was good friends with Deku’s group, he knew that. It’s not like he could, or would, stop her from doing what she wanted. He wasn’t like that, even he wasn’t that much of an asshole.

He can’t help but shift restlessly in his place, as he sees her relaxed, giggling at something Icyhot had said. He didn’t even know the guy was capable of making jokes. Gritting his teeth, he turns away, focusing on the conversation the idiots around him were having.

He manages to keep himself at bay for about 15 minutes, before he sees Y/N and Todoroki get up...together, and leave. Together. The fact that she didn’t even spare him a glance as she walked by definitely didn’t feel like someone was painfully squeezing his heart. Obviously not. As he stares at them leaving, his eyes narrow when the Half and Half bastard puts an arm around her shoulders and leads her out. He gets up suddenly and follows them, fuming.

Y/N was miserable ever since the argument. She was tired and hurting and today was especially hard for some reason. The moment she walked into the cafeteria, she felt her boyfriend's eyes on her. Ignoring them, refusing to look his way, she made her way over to Izuku’s table. He wasn’t going to be the one to apologise. If he truly cared about her and their relationship, he would have to swallow his pride and come to her.

The whole time she’d been a little dazed, and on the brink of tears, effectively hiding it underneath laughs and jokes. She fooled pretty much everyone except the quiet guy next to her. About 15 minutes into lunch, she feels Todoroki nudge her and point to the door, a look of muted worry plastered on his face. Y/N can do nothing to protest without bursting into tears so she complies, standing and excusing herself.

By the time she’s nearing the exit door, her shoulders are shaking, and she feels Todoroki’s steadying arm around her. She welcomes the comforting touch.

He leads her to an empty hallway, pulling her into a classroom. He prompts her to sit on one of the desks, taking a seat next to her. Y/N feels bad about placing her worries on her friend, but she can’t help but let it out. She knew Todoroki was a good listener and that he wouldn’t judge her. By the time she’s done recounting the past painful weeks, there are tears running down her cheeks.

Todoroki awkwardly looks around for a second, before placing a hesitant hand on her shoulder and comforting her. He was trying his best, but the look of uncomfort on his face was almost comical. He wanted to be there for his friend, and Y/N was thankful for it. She looks up and offers Todoroki a shaky smile. She goes to thank him, when she’s cut off by a familiar harsh voice.

“The hell are you two doing?” Bakugou stands, eyes narrowed at the two of them, a scowl on his face. Why were they so close? They didn’t need to be this close.

“Bakugou.” Todoroki nods, standing. Y/N glances at him once, before looking away, determined to keep ignoring him. She doesn’t know why he’s here. He hasn’t tried to talk to her at all. She doesn’t realise she’s tuned out the conversation between the other two, which in retrospect, was a horrible idea knowing how much Bakugou disliked Todoroki, she’s only snapped out of her thoughts when she hears the door slam, causing her to jump.

Bakugou stands there for a second, before narrowing his eyes and walking towards her. She stays where she is on the desk, shifting her gaze to stare at the ground. Why was he still here? Where had Todoroki gone?

She stills as she feels him stop in front of her. Feeling his hands rest on the desk either side of her, he hears him scoff when she doesn’t look up. Hearing him shift, he grasps her chin and makes her look at him.

Although he has his usual scowl and annoyed expression, Y/N can identify mild worry as his eyes scan over her face. It’s very evident that she’s been crying, her eyes still puffy. She doesn’t have time to react, before Bakugou steps forward and slides his hands up to her sides pulling her into a...hug? He rests his chin on top of her head and holds her tightly to himself.

What?

After her momentary confusion, she struggles half heartedly to get him to let go of her. However much she didn’t want to admit it, she missed this.

She missed him.

Pretty son she gives up and stays there, letting him stand in front of her and hold her. He’s fully aware of the tears slowly soaking the front of his shirt.

“What do you want?” Y/N asks quietly, a single hand clutching the back of his shirt. She feels, doesn’t hear, his mouth move in her hair. Pulling away slightly she looks up. Even when she’s sitting down on a desk, he’s still a little taller. His gaze flickers to her eyes, before going back to looking at something behind her. He mumbles something Y/N can’t quite hear, but he doesn’t loosen his grip around her.

“...What the hell are you say-”

“I’m sorry.” He finally says properly, shifting his gaze back to her.

Y/N’s pretty sure that’s the first time she’s heard him genuinely say those words. “Are you?” Ignoring the hope swelling inside her, she tilts her head in question. She wouldn’t let him get off the hook that easily.

He looks slightly annoyed, before remembering why they were in this situation in the first place. “I am. I...shit, I didn’t realise I was hurting you. The past few weeks have been shit without you. I’m sorry.” He mutters the last part again, heat creeping up his neck. It looks like he was struggling to get the words out.

“You did. Hurt me, that is. That won’t change.”

“I know.” His voice is unusually quiet. “Won’t happen again.”

“It will.” Bakugou looks surprised at that. “I’m not telling you to become a whole different person, Katsuki.”

She brings up a hand and cups his cheek, smiling a little when he leans into the touch. She was glad she wasn’t the only one being affected by this fight.

“That brash loud part of you is the guy I fell for. I don’t want that to change. It’s just...yelling at me like that in front of everyone wasn’t cool. You really made me feel like shit.”

Bakugou let’s that sink in, before scoffing and tightening his grip around her. The guilt that had been brewing over the days comes crashing like a wave. “I said it wouldn’t happen again, didn’t I? You think I make empty promises, dumbass?” He didn’t. He’d keep his word.

Y/N responds by tugging on his shirt and pulling him closer and resting her head on his shoulder, humming a little at how warm he was. She feels him reach up and brush her hair off her forehead and place a small peck on it.

She knew how un-Bakugou-like that was. It showed her that he really was sorry. She swears it could be her mind playing tricks on her, but she’s sure she heard Bakugou say something. Smiling into the fabric of his shirt, she responds.

“I missed you too.”

——————————————————————————

Author’s Note: These types of fics are my jam! Feel free to leave feedback! (23/02/2021)

Edit: I had to reupload this because the link was faulty, so excuse the reupload!

Requests for BNHA are Open and Welcome!

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homosexuhauls · 3 years

Text

15 JUNE, 2021 by Chimamanda Ngozi-Adichie

IT IS OBSCENE: A TRUE REFLECTION IN THREE PARTS

PART ONE

When you are a public figure, people will write and say false things about you. It comes with the territory. Many of those things you brush aside. Many you ignore. The people close to you advise you that silence is best. And it often is. Sometimes, though, silence makes a lie begin to take on the shimmer of truth.

In this age of social media, where a story travels the world in minutes, silence sometimes means that other people can hijack your story and soon, their false version becomes the defining story about you.

Falsehood flies, and the Truth comes limping after it, as Jonathan Swift wrote.

Take the case of a young woman who attended my Lagos writing workshop some years ago; she stood out because she was bright and interested in feminism.

After the workshop, I welcomed her into my life. I very rarely do this, because my past experiences with young Nigerians left me wary of people who are calculating and insincere and want to use me only as an opportunity. But she was a Bright Young Nigerian Feminist and I thought that was worth making an exception.

She spent time in my Lagos home. We had long conversations. I was support-giver, counsellor, comforter.

Then I gave an interview in March 2017 in which I said that a trans woman is a trans woman, (the larger point of which was to say that we should be able to acknowledge difference while being fully inclusive, that in fact the whole premise of inclusiveness is difference.)

I was told she went on social media and insulted me.

This woman knows me enough to know that I fully support the rights of trans people and all marginalized people. That I have always been fiercely supportive of difference, in general. And that I am a person who reads and thinks and forms my opinions in a carefully considered way.

Of course she could very well have had concerns with the interview. That is fair enough. But I had a personal relationship with her. She could have emailed or called or texted me. Instead she went on social media to put on a public performance.

I was stunned. I couldn’t believe it. But I mostly held myself responsible. My spirit had been slightly stalled, from the beginning, by her. My first sense of unease with her came when she posted a photo taken in my house, at a time when I did not want any photos of my personal life on social media. I asked that she take it down. The second case of unease was her publicizing something I had told her in confidence about another member of the workshop. The most upsetting was when she, without telling me, used my name to apply for an American visa. Above all else was my lingering suspicion that she was a person who chose as friends only those from whom she could benefit. But she was a Bright Young Nigerian Feminist and I allowed that sentiment to over-ride my unease.

After she publicly insulted me, it was clear to me that this kind of noxious person had no business in my life, ever again.

A few months later, she sent this affected, self-regarding email which I ignored.

Friday September 15 2017 at 4.35 AM

Dearest Chimamanda,

Happy birthday. I mean this with all my heart, even though I know I have fallen (removed myself?) from your grace. It would be impossible for me to stop loving you; long before you gave me the possibility of being your friend you were the embodiment of my deepest hopes, and that will never change.

I think of you often, still – stating the obvious. I grieve the loss of our friendship; it is a complicated sadness. I’m sorry that I caused you pain, or to feel like you can no longer trust me. There’s so much that I wish could be said.

I pray this birthday is the happiest one yet. I wish you rest and quiet and abiding stability, and of course more of the kind of success that means the most to you.

I hope mothering X is everything you hoped and prayed for and more.

Have a wonderful day today.

Love always.

About a year later, she sent this email, which I also ignored.

Thursday November 29 2018 at 8.42 AM

Dear Chimamanda,

I realise this is long overdue and vastly insufficient, but I’m really sorry. I’ve spent so much time going back and forth in my head and my email drafts; wondering whether to write you, how to write you, what to say, all kinds of things. But in the end, this is the thing I realise I need to say.

I’m sorry I disappointed and hurt you by saying things publicly that were sharply critical, unkind and even disrespectful, especially in light of all the backlash and criticism you experience from people who don’t know you. I could have acted with more consideration towards you. I should have, especially given the privilege of intimacy that you had offered me. There are many reasons why I chose to behave the way I did, but none of them is an excuse. And I clearly realise now, after many, many months of needless sadness and angst and hurt and actual confusion, that I did not treat you as a friend would—certainly not as someone would to whom you had offered unprecedented access to yourself and your life.

You’ve meant the world to me since I was barely a teenager. It’s been very hard navigating the emotional fallout of the past several months, knowing you were displeased with me but truly not quite understanding why, then deciding I didn’t care, then realising that would never be true. I’ve always cared. But I was too mixed up about the situation to be able to make sense of it, or properly see past my own justifications. I’m sorry it took me so long to grasp how I let you down.

I realise that I don’t have room to ask anything of you, but I would be grateful for a chance to say this in person. Still, even if I never get that, I really hope you believe me.

Congratulations on restarting the workshop, and on all the other amazing successes of the past several months. I think of you often; it would be impossible not to. You look so happy in your pictures. I really hope you are well.

All my love,

I hoped never to hear from her again. But she has recently gone on social media to write about how she “refused to kiss my ring,” as if I demanded some kind of obeisance from her. She also suggests that there is some dark, shadowy ‘more’ to tell that she won’t tell, with an undertone of “if only you knew the whole story.”

It is a manipulative way of lying. By suggesting there is ‘more’ when you know very well that there isn’t, you do sufficient reputational damage while also being able to plead deniability. Innuendo without fact is immoral.

No, there isn’t more to the story. It is a simple story – you got close to a famous person, you publicly insulted the famous person to aggrandize yourself, the famous person cut you off, you sent emails and texts that were ignored, and you then decided to go on social media to peddle falsehoods. It is obscene to tell the world that you refused to kiss a ring when in fact there isn’t any ring at all.

I cannot make much of the hostility of strangers who do not know me – fame taints our view of the humanity of famous people. But the truth is that the famous person remains irretrievably human. Fame does not inoculate the famous person from disappointment and depression, fame does not make you any less angered or hurt by the duplicitous nature of people. To be famous is to be assumed to have power, which is true, but in the analysis of fame, people often ignore the vulnerability that comes with fame, and they are unable to see how others who have nothing to lose can lie and connive in order to take advantage of that fame, while not giving a single thought to the feelings and humanity of the famous person.

And when you personally know a famous person, when you have experienced their humanity, when you have benefited from their kindness, and yet you are unable to extend to them the basic grace and respect that even a casual acquaintanceship deserves, then it says something fundamental about you.

And in a deluded way, you will convince yourself that your hypocritical, self-regarding, compassion-free behavior is in fact principled feminism. It isn’t. You will wrap your mediocre malice in the false gauziness of ideological purity. But it’s still malice. You will tell yourself that being able to parrot the latest American Feminist orthodoxy justifies your hacking at the spirit of a person who had shown you only kindness. You can call your opportunism by any name, but it doesn’t make it any less of the ugly opportunism that it is.

PART TWO

When I first read this person’s work, which was their application to my writing workshop, I thought the sentences were well-done. I accepted this person. At the workshop, I thought they could have been more respectful of the other participants, perhaps not kept typing dismissively as others’ stories were discussed, with an air of being among people below their level. After the workshop, I decided to select the best stories, edit them, pay the writers a fee, and publish them in an e-magazine. The first story I chose was this person’s. I wrote a glowing introduction, which the story truly deserved.

They sent this email.

Fri, Aug 7, 2015, 8:20 AM

Thank you so much for that introduction. It means so much to me and I’m going to keep reading it to get through the rest of my stay at Syracuse. I sent it to my mother and she got nervous about the piece because you said ‘it disturbs’, said she’s not sure how she’s going to feel when she reads it. But she’s also one of those ‘let’s leave the past in the past’ people. My sister approved, which meant a lot because our childhoods were each other’s.

All that to say, I’m so grateful you gave me the space to write the short version of this piece, the encouragement to write the longer piece, and now, a platform for it. I definitely have plans to write more about Aba.

Thank you, with all my heart.

PS- I wanted to sign off gratefully + gracefully in Igbo but I said let me not fall my own hand 🙂

About a year later, they sent another email to let me know that their novel would be published.

Wed, Jun 8, 2016, 8:20 AM

Greetings!

I hope all’s been well with you this past year. Belated congratulations on the baby’s arrival, I hope she’s being a delight (I’m sure she is), and on the Johns Hopkins honors.

I was thinking about how this time last year, I’d just received the email from you about Farafina and I wanted to reach out with a quick update. I’ve just accepted an offer for the novel I excerpted as my application and it feels like the workshop was a catalyst for the events that’ve led me here. So, thank you, for the workshop and your words and the Olisa TV series and listening to me babble on about my story at the hotel. I deeply appreciate all of it and you.

All my best,

Before the novel was published, I spoke of it to some people, to help it get attention. I had not been able to finish reading it. I found the writing beautiful, but the story false-hearted and burdened by bathos. When I spoke of the novel, however, it was the former sentiment that I expressed, never the latter.

After I gave the March 2017 interview in which I said that a trans woman is a trans woman, I was told that this person had insulted me on social media, calling me, among other things, a murderer. I was deeply upset, because while I did not really know them personally, I felt they knew what I stood for and that I fully supported the rights of trans people, and that I do not wish anybody dead.

Still, I took no action. I ignored the public insult.

When this person’s publishers sent me an early copy of their novel, I was surprised to see that my name was included in their cover biography. I had never seen that done in a book before. I didn’t like that I had not been asked for permission to use my name, but most of all I thought – why would a person who thinks I’m a murderer want my name so prominently displayed in their biography?

Then I learned that, because my name was in the cover biography, a journalist had called them my “protegee” and they then threw a Twitter tantrum about it, calling it clickbait, viciously disavowing having received any help from me.

I knew this person had called me a murderer, I knew they were actively campaigning to “cancel” me and tweeting about how I should no longer be invited to speak at events. But this I felt I could not ignore.

I sent an email to my representative:

From: Chimamanda Adichie

Date: Wed, Feb 14, 2018 at 2:06 PM

I’m writing about X

She attended my Lagos workshop two years ago and I selected hers as one of a few pieces I published after the workshop.

Apparently I was referred to as her ‘mentor’ and/or she was referred to as my ‘protege,’ in some articles, which led to her tweeting about it. Her tweets were forwarded to me by friends. In them, she reacted quite viscerally to my being called her ‘mentor’ and her being my ‘protege.’ To be fair, she is not technically my ‘protege,’ and it is perfectly fine that she feels this way, but her ungracious tone and the ugliness of the energy spent on her tweets surprised me.

I recently received her book and noticed that my name was included in her official book bio. I was stunned. Surely if she is so strongly averse to my being considered a person who has been significant in her career, (which is my understanding of the loose use of protege/mentor) then it is unseemly to make the choice to include my name in her bio. I found it unusual, as I don’t think I’ve seen it done before in a book bio, but I also now find it unacceptably cynical.

It is only reasonable for a person who sees my name as it is used in her bio — ‘her work has been selected and edited by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie’ — to assume some sort of mentor/protege relationship.

To publicly disavow this with a tone bordering on hostility and at the same time so baldly use my name to sell her book is utterly unacceptable to me.

I’d like you to please reach out to her publishers and ask that my name be removed from her official book bio. I refuse to be used in this way.

After contacting her publishers, my representative wrote:

They have asked whether your preference would be to remove the Acknowledgment to you in the back of the book also, in future reprints.

I replied:

I don’t think that is my decision to take, and so will not answer either way, although it would be ideal if she herself made the decision to do so.

On the subject of how to go about it, I was absolutely determined not to be used by this person, but I was also sensitive to the costs the publisher might incur, as this was not in any way the publisher’s fault. Instead of pulping the already printed copies, I asked that the jackets be stripped and rebound. To my representative I wrote:

I’m completely determined that I not be used in this opportunistic and hypocritical way. But I want to make sure to proceed reasonably.

I was assured that my name would be removed and I moved on.

But from time to time, I would be informed of yet another social media post in which this person had attacked me.

This person has created a space in which social media followers have – and this I find unforgiveable – trivialized my parents’ death, claiming that the sudden and devastating loss of my parents within months of each other during this pandemic, was ‘punishment’ for my ‘transphobia.’

This person has asked followers to pick up machetes and attack me.

This person began a narrative that I had sabotaged their career, a narrative that has been picked up and repeated by others.

The normal response would be to ignore it all, because this person is seeking attention and publicity to benefit themselves. Claiming that I have sabotaged their career is a lie and this person knows that it is a lie. But if something is repeated often enough, in this age in which people do not need proof or verification to run with a story, especially a story that has outrage potential, then it can easily begin to seem true.

My addressing this lie will indeed get this person some attention – may they bask in it.

Here is the truth: I was very supportive of this writer. I didn’t have to be. I wasn’t asked to be. I supported this writer because I believe we need a diverse range of African stories.

Sabotaging a young writer’s career is just not my style; I would get no benefit or satisfaction from it. Asking that my name be removed from your biography is not sabotaging your career. It is about protecting my boundaries of what I consider acceptable in civil human behavior.

You publicly call me a murderer AND still feel entitled to benefit from my name?

You use my name (without my permission) to sell your book AND then throw an ugly tantrum when someone makes a reference to it?

What kind of monstrous entitlement, what kind of perverse self-absorption, what utter lack of self-awareness, what unheeding heartlessness, what frightening immaturity makes a person act this way?

Besides, a person who genuinely believes me to be a murderer cannot possibly want my name on their book cover, unless of course that person is a rank opportunist.

PART THREE

In certain young people today like these two from my writing workshop, I notice what I find increasingly troubling: a cold-blooded grasping, a hunger to take and take and take, but never give; a massive sense of entitlement; an inability to show gratitude; an ease with dishonesty and pretension and selfishness that is couched in the language of self-care; an expectation always to be helped and rewarded no matter whether deserving or not; language that is slick and sleek but with little emotional intelligence; an astonishing level of self-absorption; an unrealistic expectation of puritanism from others; an over-inflated sense of ability, or of talent where there is any at all; an inability to apologize, truly and fully, without justifications; a passionate performance of virtue that is well executed in the public space of Twitter but not in the intimate space of friendship.

I find it obscene.

There are many social-media-savvy people who are choking on sanctimony and lacking in compassion, who can fluidly pontificate on Twitter about kindness but are unable to actually show kindness. People whose social media lives are case studies in emotional aridity. People for whom friendship, and its expectations of loyalty and compassion and support, no longer matter. People who claim to love literature – the messy stories of our humanity – but are also monomaniacally obsessed with whatever is the prevailing ideological orthodoxy. People who demand that you denounce your friends for flimsy reasons in order to remain a member of the chosen puritan class.

People who ask you to ‘educate’ yourself while not having actually read any books themselves, while not being able to intelligently defend their own ideological positions, because by ‘educate,’ they actually mean ‘parrot what I say, flatten all nuance, wish away complexity.’

People who do not recognize that what they call a sophisticated take is really a simplistic mix of abstraction and orthodoxy – sophistication in this case being a showing-off of how au fait they are on the current version of ideological orthodoxy.

People who wield the words ‘violence’ and ‘weaponize’ like tarnished pitchforks. People who depend on obfuscation, who have no compassion for anybody genuinely curious or confused. Ask them a question and you are told that the answer is to repeat a mantra. Ask again for clarity and be accused of violence. (How ironic, speaking of violence, that it is one of these two who encouraged Twitter followers to pick up machetes and attack me.)

And so we have a generation of young people on social media so terrified of having the wrong opinions that they have robbed themselves of the opportunity to think and to learn and to grow.

I have spoken to young people who tell me they are terrified to tweet anything, that they read and re-read their tweets because they fear they will be attacked by their own. The assumption of good faith is dead. What matters is not goodness but the appearance of goodness. We are no longer human beings. We are now angels jostling to out-angel one another. God help us. It is obscene.

#chimamanda ngozi adichie #femimism #nigerian feminism #radfem safe #gender critical #radical feminism #cancel culture #forgot the link oops

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liddolwhynot2000 · 4 years

Text

Moments Levi shared with his beloved baby daughter- Kutchel

____________________________________

aka Levi giving all his 💕Uwu's💕 to his baby girl

____________________________________

Dadaaa

____________________________________

It's Levi's day off, and even though he tries his hardest not to look it, he's eager to run back home. He's determined to not waste a second of being off duty.

He's missed his family- you and your calming presence. The stability that he falls into at merely being in the same vicinity as you, is difficult to resist-even for a man like Levi.

Your gentleness somehow meshes well with your child's rowdiness, always laughing and wreaking havoc in the house. He wants to hold his baby brat, even if she'll try to pull his hair out for it.

So he hurries back home, but of course, he has to get past your little guard first. Standing with his cloak still in his arms, Levi craned his neck down to stare at the tiny creature sitting on the floor, blocking his path to his beloved wife. Said creature, wearing a blue dress, is his adorable one year old daughter.

The baby doesn't bother to spare him a glance, too busy babbling as she plays with her blocks. Levi's fine with it, it took him a while but he's learned to accept that babies don't care about, well, anything.

He ponders lifting her up and cradling her in his arms for a cuddle. But, considering the ferociousness with which his daughter is bashing two blocks together, he decides that he values his ability to hear.

Kneeling down, he sets his cloak on the floor and sits in front of her, waiting to be noticed. Kutchel looks at him, her big black eyes innocently blinking at him. She shoves a block into her mouth and gurgles, recognising him.

"Do I have your approval to go to your mom now?"

"Ba da guuu"

"Is that a yes or a no?"

More random babbling. Tiny hands busy themselves with trying to crawl away, so Levi pats her on the head and gets up to go to his wife. He doesn't notice his baby pausing mid crawl to pout at him, wanting him to stick close.

He also doesn't see her little face cutely scrunch up, thinking of ways to stop him and bring one of her favourite humans back to her.

''Daadaaa."

Levi freezes, his heart immediately melting. He can't stop himself from turning back to his child, not when she calls out for him like that.

He cradles her in his arms, unaware that you're watching from the kitchen door, committing the sight to memory.

__________________________________

Conversations

__________________________________

You've been with Levi for so long now-so much of your life has been spent with this wonderful man and you have no regrets whatsoever.

You do, however, have secrets. Not serious ones, but pure ones. Small, precious memories you've kept to yourself. They're you're little secrets- events that you look back on with fondness.

Events Levi doesn't know you saw happen.

You remember, when you were exhausted from giving birth, how lovingly Levi talked to your newborn daughter.

'Hey brat, you better keep it down now. Your mom just fell asleep- don't yawn. You're already not listening to me-'

He thought you were asleep. If it weren't for your stitches, you would have giggled and alerted him to the fact that you were listening.

You remember all those times you were never woken up by Kutchel crying-because Levi would wake up before you.

'Go to sleep.'

'oooooh'

'I said; Go. To. Sleep. Don't smile at me-- hey stop laughing-'

You caught on to it very randomly, and the memory warmed your heart to this day.

Levi often had silly little conversations with baby Kutchel, when he thought you weren't in hearing range.

'Yes this is the right way-no what do you mean I can't fold shirts like this-you're pouting you obviously don't agree.'

'Kid- I don't know why you like Eren so much-but this works because he can be an unpaid babysitter-no? Fine, I guess I can pay him a little. Okay fine, I'll pay him more then a little.'

'Do you like this dress? Me neither. How about this one-these socks are awful why the hell do you have these-'

'Yes tea is better then coffee. Coffee is for soulless creatures like Mikasa-Hey, don't cry dammit, why do you have to like the brat that glares at me so much huh? You tiny traitor.'

'So I'm taking you to that military ball tommorow-and I expect you to cry enough that I have an excuse to leave. You cry, I leave and then you get as much milk as you want. We good? Good. Don't tell your mother.'

'You threw up on that military police soldier-I'm proud of you brat. Now, let's aim for throwing up on Erwin. Or at least trying to rip his eyebrows out. I feel like the rumour of them being fake might be true.'

'I know you can't talk much, but make a vow to me that you will, never, ever say yes to anything your Aunt Hange asks of you. Trust me, it's for you own good.'

'Kutchel- stop that-I will pay you to stay still. Here, here's all the money I have, which isn't much. Take it and stay still- why the hell are you still wiggling, you need to put your socks on dammit-'

And so much more. It warmed your heart to think of how beautifully he had bonded with her from the start. And you can only be glad you get to see their entire journey together.

__________________________________

Cloak

__________________________________

Levi is a man who values cleanliness above all things-he's made sure his house is so clean that all the rooms are sparkling. Despite having a baby in the house, who had recently learned how to walk and subsequently wreak havoc everywhere she wants to, he still tries his hardest to stick to those standards.

So that's why, here he is, pathetically trying to wash clothes, with a clingy toddler who has made it her life's mission to ruin his life. How is she doing this, one would ask. Well, making sure that he can't even put the damn clothes in the basket was one.

'Kutchel-no-stop it, give that back.'

Levi's a little ashamed of himself, just his hands moving to grab his swords are usually enough to strike fear into the heart of his enemies. Yet, here they are, incapable of winning a tug of war with his one year old brat.

He's really, really glad that Hanji can't see him right now.

He manages to get the shirt out of Kutchel's strong grip, causing her to pout and flail her arms with a whine. Levi refuses to give in and snatches the next piece of clothing before she can. He gives her a stern look.

'No.'

With that, he dumps it in the basket. Kutchel doesn't appreciate it, sitting down and pouting at him cutely. It doesn't last long, because she busies herself with the clothes again. At least she isn't snatching them from his hands this time, and only picking on the clean pile.

He gets up to get some more detergent, smiling to himself at the sound of happy gurgles. Once he comes back, he catches sight of Kutchel, and nearly drops all the powder.

His child is exactly where he had left her, except she's now wearing his Survey Corps cloak. Her black hair, much like his own, is messy and the hood is too big for her tiny head. She looks up at him, and smiles in the face of his horror. On one hand, it's pretty damn cute. On the other hand-

'Oh hell no-'

He starts to take the cloak off of her, ignoring her cries of indignation. His child won't have anything to do with the Survey Corps. Ever.

Too bad 15 year old Kutchel Ackerman had every intention of stealing his title from him- but that's a story for another time.

____________________________________

Clapping

____________________________________

Levi has self control. Plenty of it, actually. One could easily argue that, after Erwin, he's one of the most composed individuals in the military.

He's dealt with all sorts of people-rude, snobbish, arrogant bastards who think they stand a chance against him. His expression never waivers, even as he insults them to the point their ancestors are crying in the graves.

But what's happening right now, it makes him lose his precious self control. His face, so used to being that of an expressionless grumpy old man, is scrunched up in anger. Levi does not like what's happening.

Not one bit.

Levi can deal with people trash talking him, he never falters despite all the accurate short jokes. He can deal with people bashing Erwin without flinching-because even he's wanted to kill the man once and can't really blame others for wanting to do so as well.

However, what Levi can't deal with in a calm and rational manner, is -

'The fuck did you just say?'

'I said, your daughter is just a dumb brat.'

Yeah, this Military Police Senior Officer is dying today. Levi hopes Erwin is ready to deal with an irate Nile

'Shut the fuck up-I'm the only one who gets to call her a dumb brat.'

The Officer moves to speak again but Levi silences him with a soul burning glare. Levi turns to his brat. Kutchel is sitting on the carpet, wearing a tiny, cute red dress you had bought for her on sale. She's surrounded by numerous toys, gifted by his comrades.

'Kutchel-'

The baby pauses in her play time, which is chewing a stuffed bear, and turns to look at her papa. The officer looks confused.

'If you're happy and you know it clap your hands.'

There's a pause in the room. The officer looks surprised, although he thinks Levi just proved his point. Kutchel looks to be only a few months old and Levi has just monotonously stated a sentence that is usually sung. There was no way the brat would actuall-

Kutchel squealed in delight, pressing her hands together slowly. Once she notices her papas approval, she starts clapping happily.

Levi smirks, while the officer sweat drops.

'See that, bitch? No' dumb brat' does that at 9 months old.'

Of course, Levi still had to beat the guy up a little after that. No one picks on his baby but him.

____________________________________

Sorry

____________________________________

'Eat it.'

Levi pushed the spoon towards Kutchel, who refused to open her mouth.

He had seated her on the table, ditching the highchair. A bib was secured around her neck, and the brat was clearly hungry.

Except since she had eaten three bites, she refused to eat more. Levi was slowly getting more and more frustrated.

'What's your problem? I know you're hungry.'

Kutchel stared at him sadly, and his irritation thawed at the sight. His child was usually pretty well behaved when it came to food. She usually liked eating fruits and vegetables, but for some reason, kept rejecting her baby food.

Levi frowned, before deciding to taste it himself. Maybe if he ate one in front of her, she would want to eat it too-

Levi paused.

He slowly ate, resisting the urge to throw up. He grimaced and awkwardly avoided eye contact with Kutchel, feeling sheepish all of a sudden.

There was judgement in her eyes- something he couldn't blame her for.

The hell sort of crap had they been feeing her? It tasted awful. No wonder she wouldn't eat it.

Sighing, Levi shoved the bowl full of food-that-must-not-be-named away. He lifted Kutchel into his arms.

His brat pouted slightly, her small arms wrapping around his neck. Poor kid was hungry, as evidenced by her discontent expression.

Levi smiled at her lightly, tucking her head into he crook of his neck.

'Sorry Kutchel-let's go to the bakery and get some pastries. And when we get back, I'll even mix some chocolate in your milk. Just don't tell your mother okay.'

____________________________________

A/N: Heyooo. Just randomly thought of Levi being a dad and this came to mind. These are actually only some of the moments I thought of, I have plenty more in mind. Maybe I'll write those out too. Hope y'all enjoyed this! ❇️

#Attack on titan #AOT #Levi ackerman #Levi as a dad #Papa levi #Levi x reader #Baby Kutchel #Fluff

416 notes · View notes

theasstour · 4 years

Photo

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐎𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐋𝐞𝐟𝐭 𝐁𝐞𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐝.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 𝟕.𝟓𝐤 𝐍𝐁: 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐠 𝐮𝐬𝐞, 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐲 𝐦𝐞𝐧

A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who reblogged and sent me an ask after last chapter ❣️ I might not have gotten through all the asks yet, but know that I see all of you and I appreciate you more than I will ever find the right words to articulate 🌟 Thank you for the kind words and for reminding me of how fun it is to post my stories on here! Love you sm sm sm 🥰

Tuesday, 4 November 2017

One of the worst things Y/N knew of was seeing someone she cared about go through something troubling. If she knew them well enough, it would be written out on their face and in their gestures, making it so that she could not ever look past it and pretend everything was alright. Her ability to read people, to understand their wants and to see when something was off, was something she had crafted over many years of being a people pleaser. Now, it came naturally to her to study a person’s way of acting, talking, being, and then make them happy accordingly.

She realised when she grew older that the reason she did this was so people would look past her body and like her for who she actually was. She hated herself sometimes for still giving in to this need to please people all the time. She hated the things it had made her do in the past, how she had bent herself over backwards for people who did not, and would never, give a single shit about her. Though she felt at home in her body, she felt content in it, these tendencies to constantly make up for how she looked, to make light of it or make people feel comfortable around her, still hung around. With absolutely everything she was, Y/N hated that part of herself. She did not have to make up for anything. What did she have to apologise for? For existing? It did not make sense to her, but it had made sense to those that bullied her in school and those skinny people whose worst fear was becoming fat. Y/N’s worst fear, because of this, was not being liked. She realised how it all connected now.

Y/N realised how this need to please people came into play as she was sitting in a seminar room with Hayden, Chloe, Thian, Annalise, and three others from the International Society that Annalise often went to. Annalise was whispering in Dutch to the other Dutch girl she had met, while the rest of the room was relatively silent. Hayden had put on some music to lighten the mood, but it was evident that they were unsatisfied and sad. They were eight people; a single game of Uno was being played in a room that had been made so that at least 20 people would show up. Hayden had bought five decks of Uno, only for the one they brought with them to London to be the one the group ended up using. Their eyes drifted to the door every so often, silently begging for anyone else to show up to what looked to be a disastrous start to their Uno Society.

After two hours, they had to get out of the seminar room and go back home. As they were cleaning up, Y/N walked over to Hayden and helped them put their Uno decks and everything else they brought, back in their bag.

“More people will show up next time,” Y/N assured them.

“You’re just saying that.”

“No, I genuinely think more people will show up at one point.”

Hayden smiled at Y/N, though it did not reach their eyes. “If we don’t have at least 15 people by the third meeting, this won’t be considered a society by Helmond standards and we won’t be allowed to meet on campus grounds.”

Y/N felt a small tinge of panic at that. This was not usually the society people would jump to be part of, it would take a little while for people to want to show up to an Uno Society on a Tuesday every fortnight.

“We can hope more people will come, but I doubt they will,” Hayden said.

“There aren’t a lot of people our age who play Uno, though,” Chloe said as Hayden and Y/N made their way to the door.

Y/N furrowed her brows at Chloe’s comment, but did not say a word.

“No, but I love Uno, and it’s a very social game. It’ll be fun if a lot of people show up, you know?” Hayden said, closing the door behind them before they walked down the corridor for the exit.

“Obviously, people just don’t know what they’re missing,” Thian chimed in, showing off his usually wide, happy beam. “It’s a great idea, Hay.”

“Really? It’s not bound to flop?” Hayden asked, scrunching up their nose as if they could not quite believe what Thian was saying.

“Of course not,” Annalise said.

“It’s a nice break from all the assignments,” Y/N said.

“By the way, speaking of assignments,” Chloe groaned. “Y/N, have you started on the Othello presentation yet?”

“You haven’t had the presentation yet?” Thian asked.

“No, different Introduction to English Studies seminar groups have presentations at different dates,” Chloe said. “Since Y/N and I are seminar group E, we have it last. Monday, 4th of December.”

“That’s still a while away, though,” Hayden pointed out. “You still got a month.”

“Yeah, but the presentation’s 40% of the final grade. I know I’ll ace the essay, but we only get to have a five-minute presentation on Othello.” Chloe rolled her eyes. “How am I supposed to talk about how Othello’s a sexist play in just five minutes?”

“Easy,” Thian said. “You talk about how it’s a sexist play for just five minutes. You love to talk, it’ll be easy peasy.”

“I love to gossip, this is entirely different,” Chloe complained.

“Not really,” Y/N said, cocking her head a little to the side as the group rounded a corner. “You’re essentially just gonna gossip about Othello and what’s wrong with him and the way Shakespeare wrote the play.”

Chloe stared at Y/N for a few seconds, pursing her lips as she thought. A grin spread out across her lips and she nudged Y/N’s shoulder. “You’re right.”

“It’s gonna be fine,” Annalise smiled.

“And by the time that happens, the Uno society will be history,” Hayden mumbled, making Thian pout his bottom lip and wrap an arm around Hayden’s shoulders. They all made their way back to Dinwiddy, Lancaster Complex, and Fleming Hall, three of the seven different campus accommodations. Dinwiddy was definitely of a bit better standard than Lancaster and Fleming, but Y/N was sure that, had she decided to live on campus, she would have gone for either Lancaster or Fleming like Annalise, Thian, and Hayden. She said goodbye to all of them and went on her way, walking back to Haggerston while talking to her parents on the phone. They always insisted she call them if she walked out alone at night, no matter how many people were around.

The shops she strolled by were starting to put up Christmas decorations and sales, making Y/N long for holiday. She just wanted a few days off uni. Though it was only the first year, the amount of work they were getting was ridiculous, and Y/N felt like she either spent most of her time in the library with her Literature gang, or at a café with Nathan, doing uni work. The fact that Christmas lights and decorations were already making an appearance, gave her some hope.

Getting to Orsman Road was no problem, and Y/N hung up with her parents when she reached the flat building. The mere thought of her bed made her knees buckle, she could not wait to be snuggled up in a blanket and watching the newest true crime series on Netflix. Once inside, she got her shoes and outwear off, then walked straight for the kitchen. She halted.

In a pair of worn-out black rugby shorts and a black hoodie, Harry stood pouring water into the kettle. The muscles in his legs flexed and unflexed as he moved, making it impossible to look away from his thighs. Y/N could not find the right words to express just how much she hated those tiny shorts. It was as if he knew exactly what he was doing. Except he didn’t. He was very much just trying to wear something comfortable at home and Y/N was ogling him. He looked up as she entered.

“Hi,” Y/N said, walking over to the fridge where she kept her oat and banana milk.

“Hi,” Harry answered, watching her as she walked before putting the kettle on. “Been out shagging old men?”

Y/N blinked a few times before looking over at Harry as he put a teabag into his mug. “You’re very obsessed with my sex life.”

“I’m just nosy.”

Y/N sighed, knowing this was true from experience, and went back to getting her milk out of the fridge. “No, I was at a society meeting. The first one, actually.”

“Oh?” She could see in her peripheral vision that he turned around to watch her. “What kind of society?”

“Uno.”

Silence settled in the kitchen, and Y/N could hear Nathan and Mason in the living room next door playing something on the PlayStation. Y/N could feel Harry continue to just look at her as she poured herself a glass of the oat and banana milk. It was not until the milk was back in the fridge and Y/N met his eyes, that Harry spoke again.

“Uno?”

“Like the card game.”

“That’s… a niche interest.”

She raised her eyebrows. “And you’re being judgemental.”

Harry’s eyes grew wide. “No, no, no! I-“ He stopped himself, taking a grip of the kettle and quickly pouring himself a cuppa before meeting Y/N’s eyes again, something frantic shining within his own. “It’s just a very specific interest and society.”

She raised one of her shoulders. “Which is what makes it so amazing.”

“Yes. Yes, of course,” Harry said quickly, gesturing at her with his hand as if he completely agreed. Y/N wanted to laugh at how fast he was talking, as if he was desperate for her to understand that he was not being judgemental. “How was it?”

“Barely anyone showed up,” Y/N explained, sipping her milk.

Harry frowned. “Really?”

“Yeah, and at least 15 people total have to show up for it to be considered a society, or else Hayden, my course mate, can’t continue hosting on campus grounds.” Y/N sighed, looking at the ground. “Basically, if Hayden doesn’t find, like, twelve more people to join within the next two times, we won’t have a society any longer.”

Harry opened his mouth as if to say something, but just then, the sound of quick footsteps could be heard, and then Nathan’s face appeared in the doorway. A grin spread out on his face as he met Y/N’s eyes.

“Thought I heard you come in!” he exclaimed. “We’re playing GTA, wanna come drive some people over?”

Y/N smiled at that, scrunching up her nose. “As appealing as that sounds, I’m gonna have to decline.”

Nathan pouted his lips and Harry stood watching quietly. “Why?” Nathan asked.

“Have an essay that I need to finish.”

Nathan sighed heavily. “Fine. Guess I’ll let you write that bloody essay.”

“Excuse you? ‘Let me’?” Y/N rolled her eyes and Nathan laughed. She gave him and then Harry a smile, making her way out of the kitchen.

“Have a good night,” she heard Harry say as she walked through the doorway. She gave him another smile before walking up the stairs and to her room. She quickly got out of her clothes and into loungewear, taking all her make-up off and finding a fluffy blanket she could sit under in bed as she started writing her Introduction to English Studies essay. She could hear the boys shouting and playing downstairs and drowned it out by putting her earbuds in and shutting them out.

She ended up reading academic articles and writing down an essay plan until she felt her eyelids get heavy a few hours later. Putting her laptop away and finishing her oat and banana milk, Y/N took her contacts off and started getting ready for bed. The door to the room beside hers opened and closed, she could hear Harry rummaging in his room, though the sound was not disturbing in any way. The only disturbing thing about it was the fact that it was Harry, but Y/N was learning to accept that. It had only taken her two months, but she was coming to terms with the fact that Harry Styles, an ex-good friend of hers and person she had sex with once, was living and sleeping in the room right next to hers.

Friday, 17 November 2017

The pizza at Domino’s was absolutely amazing, but working for them was anything but. This was only Y/N’s first shift, and she was already dreading her next. Not only would she be bringing home with her the memories of a horrible first day on her new job, but she would also be bringing the smell of greasy pizza. She would have to do a deep clean in the shower before going to bed, she was not rubbing that smell onto her bedsheets.

With some experience working for Pizza Express before, Y/N was already well-versed working for a pizza chain. Pizza Express had been her job from 15 until she moved off to uni at 19, which she knew was what must have given her this new job at Domino’s rather quickly. As much experience as she had working at Pizza Express serving people, she had never been the one to drive around delivering pizzas. After all, she had not gotten her license until sometime last year, so it had never been a possibility. However, in the job description for this position at Domino’s, it had clearly stated that Y/N would be working mostly as a delivery driver, something that sounded chill at first, until she realised she would have to go deliver pizza to people that would be anything but friendly. Or maybe a little too friendly. Because of her inexperience in this particular field of the job, she had another employer join her for her first shift.

Isla was very quiet, maybe even a little too quiet for Y/N’s taste. She would mostly just stare out the window, sometimes chime in to help Y/N pick a quicker route, or help her make out how much she owed the customer if they paid a few quid too many. Other than that, Isla did not really offer much conversation wise. Even when the two of them picked up the pizzas for their first drive, the first time they spent together, Isla did not say much.

“Have you worked here long?” Y/N asked, giving Isla a smile so she would know that she was actually asking out of curiosity and not because she felt obliged to.

“A year.”

Y/N nodded as she sat down behind the wheel, Isla sitting down in the passenger seat. “I worked in Pizza Express at home in Nottingham before I moved here. Dunno why, I’ve always preferred Domino’s to Pizza Express. Though, Zizzi is top tier.”

Isla only nodded slightly.

Y/N had waited for a response, but realising she would not be getting one, she started the Domino’s car and started driving in the direction out of the parking spot on the street beside the tiny restaurant on Homefield Street. Y/N almost drove right into the Domino’s mopeds that all stood on the spot in front of the car. She just knew that at one point, she would be driving one of those. She followed the instructions on the GPS, up Hoxton Street, in the direction of Lavender Grove. Without any radio on, the car was very quiet. Too quiet. It made Y/N break out in sweat.

“Do you drive around with deliveries often?” Y/N asked.

Isla shook her head. “No.”

Y/N whipped her head back in the direction of the street in front of her, trying to produce spit so she could nervously swallow. Her mouth was too dry. “You work by the till then?”

“Mostly.”

Y/N smiled. “That’s the best place to work, isn’t it? Don’t have to drive around, don’t have to actually make the food.”

Isla gave a feeble smile. “I suppose.”

God, all Y/N wanted as an okay day. All she wanted was for one single day to be alright.

Isla would twine a single piece of her brown, bushy hair around her finger sometimes, then put it behind her ear, only to go back to fidgeting with it. Y/N was unsure if she was nervous to be in a car with someone she did not know, or if she was just deep in thought. Y/N wanted to get to know Isla, to make a friend at her new workplace, but she did not want to harass Isla if it meant it would make her uncomfortable. It was clear that she did not like being this close to Y/N considering the two had never met before and would now be spending a good six hours together. Therefore, to not push away what she hoped to be a future mate, she only made occasional conversation and then left Isla mostly to herself. She could sense that was what her companion wanted most of all.

In a particularly dodgy part of Lea Bridge, Y/N was delivering three pizzas to what she knew even before knocking on the door, would be to a rather creepy encounter. The man that opened the door was bald with glassy eyes and a blue tee shirt tucked into his grey joggers. At the sight of Y/N, he grinned.

“Three pepperonis?” she asked, wondering if this man just really loved pepperoni pizzas or if he was hosting a party.

“That’s me, yeah.”

“Alright.” Y/N handed him the three pizzas just as another man emerged from behind him, and it was then that Y/N noticed the incredible stench of alcohol and cigarettes. Some 80s rock was playing from a stereo and there did not seem to be much light on inside the flat. Y/N suddenly felt very sick.

“You pre-paid,” she stated, more to reassure herself that she could just leave than to make them aware that she knew they did not have to go get any money to pay her. “Have a nice night.”

“Wouldn’t be nice if you didn’t stick around,” the bald one holding the pizzas said.

“Yeah, why don’t you come inside? Have a bite with us?” the other one offered. “You look like a hard-working girl, why don’t you take a few minutes off with us?”

Y/N could feel her heart begin to beat faster, her hands begin to sweat. “No, I have to get back to work,” she said, giving them a smile before walking off.

“Wait, we didn’t give you a tip!”

“Come back, love!”

Y/N tuned them out as she walked down the stairs, keeping an eye over her shoulder and her ears on alert as she made her way back to the car. Isla was sat on her phone when Y/N sat back down in the driver’s seat, putting her seatbelt on a little too fast and gripping the steering wheel harder than she had previously. She just wanted to get away from those men, she just wanted that shift to be over.

“You okay?” Isla asked. The first question she ever asked Y/N. First time she ever took initiative to start a conversation. Y/N really appreciated it in that moment.

“Yeah,” Y/N said, sighing heavily. “Just hate men.”

Isla must have understood what Y/N was talking about because she nodded, looking straight ahead at the road in front of them. “I’m sorry you met the worst type of customers on your first night.”

“Had to meet them at one point, though,” Y/N said.

“You shouldn’t have to meet them at all.”

Y/N felt that statement reverberate through the car, lay in the air between them for quite some time after it was said. She could not stop thinking about it as she drove to the next destination, feeling disgusted and angry. Had she stayed there a second longer, she would have had to resist the urge to knee them both in the space between their legs. This was just one of the stupid encounters that night, though the rest were more so on the scale of weird than disgusting. Like a man that was clearly high thanking Y/N for his frozen milk when he had ordered three Ben and Jerry’s, or a woman with her hair a mess, make-up completely destroyed, and just her dress robes on, snatching the pizza out of Y/N’s hand before hurrying back inside. It was a strange few hours, and as she drove the car back to Domino’s Homefield Street, Y/N felt absolutely drained of energy.

Walking home after her shift at 3:30am was next to torture, she just wanted to be in bed, cosy underneath the covers, and forget about the fact that she was working tomorrow night as well. Though the Hoxton Street was washed in the yellow lights from the streetlamps and the occasional car driving by, it was anything but empty. Drunk people were walking home from pubs, while others, like her, walked home from another nightshift, and some were just out for a night stroll. She walked without listening to music, not feeling comfortable with not being completely aware of her surroundings when it was dark out. Besides, she was so tired as well, listening to music would probably put her to sleep.

Orsman Road was completely deserted, only a few people walking home from The Stag’s Head passed her smelling of beer and cigarettes. This street was darker, smaller, and less busy than Hoxton Street, so Y/N opted to walk in the middle of the road instead of in the shadows. She felt less vulnerable that way. As she reached the flat building, she got her keys out of her purse and went to unlock the door.

“Fancy seeing you here.”

She jumped, keys falling onto the asphalt. Looking over her shoulder, she saw Harry standing there with the smuggest, most infuriating look on his face. God, how she wanted to slap him until his teeth fell out. While she contemplated how to physically hurt him, Harry bent down, picked up Y/N’s keys, and put them back in her hand.

“Don’t lose those,” he said. “50 quid to get a new pair.”

Y/N only narrowed her eyes, unlocking the door for them both and striding on to the next floor. After opening the door to the flat, she got her shoes off, and walked straight for the kitchen. She needed strawberries, especially after the shift she just had. The door closed behind Harry and she heard him lock it before taking his shoes and jacket off, too. As she turned around after closing the fridge door, Harry stood by the kettle, filling it up with water.

“Didn’t know you worked at Domino’s,” he said, looking over at her briefly, nodding at her black Domino’s fleece jacket before turning his attention back to the kettle.

“Just started.”

“How’re you finding it?” he asked.

Y/N sighed, leaning her hip against the counter. “Considering this was my first shift and I have to show up again to work another nightshift tomorrow…” She pursed her lips as if deep in thought. “I’d say shite.”

Harry laughed, stopping the tap. “Tea?”

“No, I bought myself some banana and oat milk from M&S earlier, I’ll just have that. Thank you, though.” She gestured at what she had placed on the counter while he was busy with the kettle.

Harry watched her as she got herself a glass for the milk. “Can’t for the life of me remember you being a Tory.”

Y/N laughed. “Oh, you don’t remember me hating the poor?” she said, putting on a posh accent, Harry could not hold back his own laughter. “Quite a big part of my personality, don’t know how you missed it. Now-“ She put the milk back in the fridge. “-If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go spend five weeks at my £1.000.000 18 century holiday house in Surrey.”

Harry’s laughter echoed through the kitchen as he put the kettle on, shaking his head at her. “No, but how’d you like your first shift? Anything like Pizza Express?”

Why the fuck did he remember that? Why did he have to remember everything? Bloody hell…

“Not for me. There were just a lot of creepy men, and some very dodgy neighbourhoods. I’m sure that’s not all there is to the job as a delivery driver, I’m sure I was just unlucky my first time, but I can’t really afford to quit unless I have a backup.”

Harry frowned at that. “If you don’t like it and you feel unsafe, you don’t have to continue doing it.”

She nodded her head. “No, I know, but it’s still the only job I could find and that I could get at the moment. I’ll apply to others later.”

Harry’s frown deepened, crossing his arms over his black, tee-shirt covered chest. No tattoos on display. She wondered why he only had tattoos on his chest and torso.

“Yeah, alright…” he said, voice a little darker than before. “But if you feel unsafe-“

“-Harry, I practiced capoeira when I was younger, remember?”

At that, as if he was slowly unveiling a memory he had not thought about in a little too long, Harry smiled. A small, fond smile that Y/N remembered from a previous life; a life with far less troubles, far less complications than this one.

“Of course I do.”

Not “yes”. Not just “I do”. “Of course”. He had said “of course”, as if remembering was a privilege. As if not remembering would be the strangest thing in the world. Y/N hated that this man did not forget a single thing. Never had, never would.

“Well,” she said, trying to act normal after that. “Well, I can hold my own.”

“Good to know,” Harry smiled, getting a teabag from his cupboard. As he turned his body and face away from her, she saw something glisten in the lights of the kitchen. Two earrings. Two gold earrings right next to one another. In his ear. Y/N would never admit to it out loud, the sight made her mouth salivate. “But I still think you should quit if you don’t like your work.”

Y/N opened the strawberry container and took one out, taking a bite. She needed to look away from Harry, away from his two earrings, and away from him because he was making some points. She knew where Harry was coming from, she really did, but she could not go on living in London, using money every single day, and not have an income. Until something better came along, this would be her job. “How’s the pub?”

“Alright,” Harry said, pouring hot water into his mug. “I’m having my last shift there December 15th.”

Y/N blinked. “You’re quitting?”

“Yeah, I’m starting a new job in January.”

She raised her eyebrows, meeting his gaze again. “Okay, good for you. What one?”

“Tattoo artist.”

He had to be fucking kidding at this point. Y/N had to do everything to keep her eye from twitching.

“Just got my tattoo license, so I’m ready to go come January.”

Y/N did not want to admit it. She could not admit it. She physically could not. But… everything about Harry… everything he did, everything he said… It all hit different. And it did not help that Y/N, who loved tattoos, getting them, having them on her body, and seeing them on someone else’s, was now made aware that Harry could legally give people tattoos. He was going to become a tattoo artist in January. Y/N wanted to eat chalk.

Harry just looked at her, studying her face. “You okay?”

She swallowed the strawberry bite she had just taken. “Fantastic.”

Harry raised his eyebrows. “Really?”

“Did you draw your own tattoos then?”

For the second time that night, Y/N was witness to Harry’s smug smile. He raised his cuppa, cocking his head a little to the side as he said, “You’ve seen my tattoos?”

Y/N wanted to die.

“You’ve been sneaking into my room to watch me sleep, that it?” Harry asked. “You’ve probably seen the tattoo I have by my crotch then, too-“

“-Oi!” Y/N narrowed her eyes at him. “Piss off. I saw them when you were wearing that low-neck top at Footprint.”

Harry took a sip of his tea. “If you say so.”

Y/N rolled her eyes and Harry laughed.

“It’s jokes, Y/N.”

“Good. I’m genuinely scared you think I fancy you.”

Harry smiled. “You mean you don’t? Really?”

She took a hold of her strawberries and milk. “Goodnight, wanker.”

“I’m a dreamboat, what about this-“ Harry gestured at himself, flexing his arm muscles that weren’t really there. “-Doesn’t give you the fanny flutters?”

“You’re disgusting.”

Harry laughed.

“I was just interested to know about your job as a tattoo artist ‘cause I love tattoos,” Y/N explained.

Harry’s eyes travelled down to Y/N’s hand where the ‘M’ was tattooed, it lingered there for a moment too long. For some unknown reason, a tingle started up in Y/N’s thumb, making its way up her arm and to her breasts, then her stomach. Slowly, he lifted his eyes to her ribs where he must have seen her ‘saudade’ tattoo. Though it was not visible right then, it seemed as if Harry was seeing it all the same, sensing it somehow. At last, his eyes met hers, and Y/N felt something in her throat stop working. The tingle that had laid in her stomach just seconds earlier exploded, slithering all throughout her body and making her hyper aware of how knowledgeable Harry was of the tattoos on her body; of her. He must have paid more attention to her than she thought he had. Something about that made it hard to breathe. Bloody hell, she hated how fucking fit he was. She hated how she reacted to his glance, to his attention.

“I can tell,” he said, voice a tinge darker than before.

She was surely about to explode. Blinking a few times, she held her strawberries up, nodding her head to Harry in a silent goodbye, then made her way towards the door.

“Oh, Y/N,” Harry said, making her look over her shoulder at him. “Do you want some Ginger Nuts? I’m having some with my tea-“

“-No thanks. Goodnight.” Y/N walked straight out of the door and to her room, needing to stick her head out her window to cool down in the Regent’s Canal breeze before sitting down in her bed again. How could he be considerate, respectful, smart, pretty, and sexy at the same time? Some otherworldly powers had truly been at work these last few years to make Harry Styles into everything Y/N was attracted to.

She did not even want him as a boyfriend, she never had, there had never been any romantic feelings between them before and there never would be, but he was just so… so… frustrating. In every single sense of the word. He was just… very attractive. Very pleasing to look at. Everything that got to Y/N. And Y/N wanted to scream at Harry for making it so hard to ignore him, and at herself for falling for it.

Wednesday, 29 November 2017

Y/N was originally going to travel home to Nottingham that Friday so she could stay home that weekend. She had not been home since September, and though they only had two weeks of uni left before Christmas break, she wanted to go home this weekend. She missed her parents terribly and wanted to see them so badly, she could simply not wait until Christmas. So, because it was the last Wednesday of the month, Y/N travelled back up to Nottingham.

Every last Wednesday of every month, Davi would invite all of his Brazilian family who had settled in Nottingham after he had, as well as Lottie’s parents, over for feijoada. Brazil has many region-specific dishes, yet the one that best translates into a nationwide dish is the beloved feijoada. The name stems from the word feijão, which is Portuguese for bean, and also the key ingredient of feijoada, which is essentially a bean stew mixed with beef and pork. Though, depending on what region of Brazil you are in, you will find different ingredients added to the feijoada.

In Rio de Janeiro and Minas Gerais, feijoada is almost always cooked with black beans, while in Bahia, red or brown beans are preferred. In Bahia and Sergipe, they also usually add extra vegetables to the feijoada such as plantain, kale, potatoes, carrots, cabbage, and pumpkin. However, in the rest of Brazil, feijoada is simply beans and meat with no additional vegetables. It is served with white rice, shredded kale with bits of fried bacon, crispy pork crackling, and slices of oranges that are meant to aid the digestion of the heavy meal. Which is what Y/N had grown up eating.

Typically, it is served at noon on Wednesdays and Saturdays, as this hearty meal is a thick mixture that will have you full in no time. The only activity Y/N would recommend after it, is bed and a good book. Maybe even a little nap. Their big family often used to eat it during the weekend as it meant more time spent with the family, more time spent chatting and being social, but Davi who worked in a bakery, had often worked Saturday and Sunday afternoons, meaning that it would fit best for the family to keep the tradition of hosting the meal on Wednesdays at Davi and Lottie’s house. Which was why Y/N was on her way home that Wednesday at the end of November.

Closing Vidas Secas by Graciliano Ramos that she had just been reading, Y/N got up from her seat to get off the train. Graciliano Ramos was Y/N’s favourite writer of all time. Though she loved English Literature and especially loved studying it, she always found his works to be better than most. He was the only modernist writer she could stand. São Bernardo was her favourite of his novels. A story about a man who, having been born poor, gets rich using any ruthless means he can and ends up utterly alone. It had stuck with Y/N her entire life. The main character’s ability to love others, his selfishness, and arrogance, make up one of the most complex characters of world literature, in Y/N’s opinion.

In the last chapter of São Bernardo when Paulo Honório reflects on his life alone at night, Y/N found some of the best few pages she had ever read. The closing words ‘I ruined my life stupidly’ express the agony of a man whom Y/N learned to despise throughout the book, but who, thanks to the mastery of the author, leads us with him through his tragic life choices towards self-destruction. Y/N got goosebumps just thinking about it.

Stepping off the train with her small bag and book under her arm, Y/N walked straight for the train station exit. She recognised her mother’s brown hair in a bun at the top of her head, a pair of colourful flare trousers on along with a white buffer jacket. Lottie jumped up and down at the sight of Y/N and ran for her daughter, throwing her arms around her in a tight embrace.

“My baby,” she said, kissing Y/N’s cheeks and forehead. “Oh, my Y/N.”

Y/N hugged her mother back, burying her face in her mother’s neck. She did not care that she could hear Vidas Secas fall into the tiled floor or that her bag would get dirty where it lay, all she cared about was her mother’s embrace and the smell of home around her. She was fluent in two languages, yet Y/N could not find a word that could quite capture how happy she was to be home just now.

“Okay, my dove,” Lotte said, taking Y/N’s bag off the floor. Y/N bent down and picked up her book, bringing it to her chest. “Let’s go home.”

The two of them walked out to the car park, and Lottie quickly started driving them in the direction of Y/N’s childhood home. The familiar ride and the familiar city outside the car windows made her relax, sinking far into the seat until she felt enveloped in safeness and contentment. It didn’t take them long to reach the semi-detached brick house, all their family members’ cars parked out front and visible in the windows overlooking the street. Y/N took her own bag this time, and her mother led the way up the stairs to the house so she could open the door for her.

There was no time for Y/N to go upstairs with her bag and book, because she was bombarded with hugs and kisses the second she stepped inside. Her grandfather, avô, her grandmother, avó, her papai’s two sisters and her aunties, tia Gilma and tia Lara, their husbands and her uncles, tio Jaren and uncle Finnley – who was British and had met Lara after she moved here -, and her seven cousins, or primos. They all came rushing to her, with her British grandmother and grandfather grinning and waiting for her to be done hugging and kissing everyone. Being with them and smelling feijoada everywhere, made Y/N almost tear up. Blimey, ever since moving away to University, she had become so incredibly sappy.

“Amorinzho!” came like a scream from the kitchen. Davi came out into the foyer with his apron still on and the biggest grin on his face. He threw his arms around Y/N. “Eu tenho saudade de você.”

She had missed him, too. So much. She felt safer, more at ease, almost more herself now that she was reunited with her parents close.

So, she told him that as she whispered, “Eu também senti sua falta,” back. Her papai hugged her a little tighter at that, grinning at her with tears in his eyes as he squeezed her shoulders.

“Y/N!” avó shouted from where she now sat in the living room, her grey hair in a long braid down her back and a big knitted cardigan wrapped tightly around her small frame. “Venha comer!”

“I’ll come eat in a second,” Y/N said. “I just need to put my bag in my room.”

“I’ll do that for you, my sausage,” Y/N’s grandfather said, stroking her cheek before he bent down and brought the bag with him up the stairs to her room. Since her mother had been an only child, her parents, Y/N’s grandparents, had always been very caring and constantly present as Y/N and Marcela had been their only grandchildren. Not that her avós had not been present, because they really had, her entire family had, but her grandparents’ life had no meaning if it were not for Lottie, Y/N and Marcela.

Y/N walked past all her family and to the kitchen where her papai stood making her a plate of feijoada. He handed it to her and she smiled at him before helping herself to some rice. Just then, Lottie walked into the kitchen as well, hugging Y/N from behind before she walked over to make her daughter something to drink. Silence stretched out in the kitchen as conversation started back up again in the living room, everyone talking about everything and nothing, in English and Portuguese. But, something that was unusual for her parents, they did not say a single thing. Though this might not be unusual for some, it was extremely unusual for someone who came from a generally very talkative family.

“Charlotte,” Davi said, looking over at Lottie. “We should…”

“Not yet.”

Y/N looked over her shoulder at her parents. “What?”

“We should tell her.”

“She just got home, Davi,” Lottie reasoned. “We can tell her later. Let her enjoy her feijoada.”

“No, what’s going on?” Y/N asked again, turning her body to face them now.

“No, amorinzha,” Davi said, squeezing Y/N’s shoulder. “Your mother is right; we can talk about it later. It’s not appropriate to do it now.”

“What’s going on? What’re you talking about?” Y/N looked at her papai, then at her mum, both of them sharing a look with one another that Y/N did not understand. Over the years, she had become a master at deciphering what her parents were discussing when they shared looks, though she never managed to quite understand the proper subject of discussion, she could detect the mood. She understood this was more of a serious matter.

“Tell me,” Y/N said, feeling her heart begin to beat a little harder, a little faster, the more time went by without any of them saying anything.

“Fine,” Lottie sighed. “Put your plate down first.”

Y/N did so reluctantly, not taking her eyes off of her parents. If it was serious enough for her mother to want her to put her food down so she would not drop her plate, then Y/N was on the fence if she even wanted to know what was going on or if she wanted to live in blissful ignorance of it.

“Your pai and I have decided to sell the cabin.”

Y/N’s heart stopped beating. Her body felt numb, the chatter in the living room deceased to exist as she just looked at her mother, and then at her papai. Her mum, and then pai. Suddenly, as if slapped with a brick, Y/N’s brain roared to life and her body came as hot as coal. She looked at her mother who had been the one to speak, her mouth falling open and shutting again as she continued to process what she had just been told.

“You’re… you’re going to sell the cabin?” Y/N asked them, just to be completely sure that what she heard was correct.

“Yes,” Davi answered.

“You’re selling the cabin?” She could not believe it.

“Y/N-“

“-You’re selling our Newport cabin? The one in Wales?” she asked again, her voice rising now. They did not have any other cabins, but Y/N just had to know she was not mistaken. They couldn’t… They couldn’t just…

“Y/N, we never go there anymore,” Lottie reasoned. “We want to spend the money we use on the cabin on something else, we don’t know what yet.”

“So, you’re just going to sell the cabin where your daughter was murdered?” Y/N asked, voice filled with so much rage she barely recognised herself when she spoke. “Where Marcela was most likely stabbed? You’re selling that cabin?”

“We’re never there because she was… she was killed…” Davi cleared his throat. “Spending time inside that cabin when we know what happened inside it, does not feel right.”

“No, selling it isn’t right,” Y/N said. “What if there’s more evidence inside? What if there’s somewhere they haven’t looked?”

“Baby, they have cleaned out the cabin and there’s nowhere they haven’t looked. There’s nothing more they can investigate,” Lottie explained. “We don’t want to own that cabin anymore.”

“Kit murdered Marcela in there,” Y/N said. “Her murderous ex-boyfriend is running around somewhere because no one investigated that cabin thoroughly enough.”

“Selling it doesn’t mean they are going to stop investigating Marcela’s case, amorzinho,” Davi pointed out.

“We don’t… We still don’t know if Kit did it,” Lottie mumbled. “It was most likely him, but there could have been someone else who killed Marcela, Y/N.”

“Marcela’s body hasn’t been found, there’s no trace of Kit’s blood or remains on that property. That murderer is on the loose, something inside that cabin can tell us he killed her, I am sure of it.”

“Y/N, Kit hasn’t been seen since the murder either. Maybe he was killed, too,” Lottie said.

“Mum, Kit was a rubbish person, why are you sticking up for him?” Y/N groaned, running her hands over her face.

“We decided, Y/N,” Davi mumbled, rubbing his daughter’s back. “It’s happening.”

That was all Y/N needed to hear. She took her plate in one hand and the glass with water her mother had made her in another, and she walked straight past everyone in the living room and up to her room. She felt like a child stomping past everyone like that, but she just needed to be with her thoughts. There was absolutely no way they were selling that cabin. Not that cabin. Y/N was sure there was evidence in there somewhere, the police and the investigators had just not looked thoroughly enough. That was all. And if they had done a shite job, well… that just meant Y/N had to do it for them. She had to go to that cabin and look for herself once and for all. After all, who else would? It did not seem like anyone cared anymore.

NEXT UPDATE: Sunday, 21th March, 9PM GMT!

Huge thanks to my AMAZING beta readers! 🏛️ @aileenacoustic 🏛️ @devil-in-bw-the-sheets 🏛️ @sunflowerstache 🏛️ @fromyourstrulyh 🏛️

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