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planchettewrites · 3 months ago

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Until the Twelfth of Never

SSA Aaron Hotchner (Criminal Minds)/AFAB!Reader

DESCRIPTION: A lonely evening without your husband causes some positive reflection, that is until he comes home again.

CONTENT: Pure fluff, brief and minor allusions to sex, mentions of Haley Hotchner's death, mentions of loneliness.

A/N: Aaron Hotchner, my beloved! Initially, this fic centered around another song, but then I reworked it to a song that fit much better. I apologize for not posting, I've been working on other fics and preparing for my new job. I wanted to make this fic realistic to what it would be like to be married to Hotch, so prepare for some angst. All that said, I hope you enjoy it!

1.9k words | Safe!

Evenings with your husband were usually tranquil. Evenings without your husband were far more tranquil, at least for the most part. As you cared for your stepson, who you loved with all your heart, he kept the house lively. He came into your room and showed you his drawings, or you helped him with his homework, eventually tucking him into bed at night. It was those moments you cherished with Jack. The moments where you could read a story to him about faraway lands and slain dragons or the defeat of monsters or hear him talk about his day at school. However, no matter how much you loved that little boy, there was always a space in your heart missing from your husband’s absence.

You worked during the day, picked Jack up from school, and then returned home to a relatively clean house. Then you cooked dinner, ensured Jack got cleaned up for the evening, tucked him into bed, and watched television until it was time for you to sleep. That was consistently the hardest part of the day, where you fell asleep next to an empty side of the bed. Almost every night and every day, like clockwork, before you sleep and before you wake, you reach out and put your hand on Aaron’s pillow, feeling the soft material under your hands. Some days, you spray his cologne on his pillow to trick your brain into thinking he’s there.

You learned rather quickly that it’s very hard to be a wife to a husband who rarely comes home.

In some ways, you don’t feel like you have ever a right to complain. His not being home was the same thing that brought the demise of his marriage to his late ex-wife. The solitude and the silence can be pleasant, but your husband is your other half. You miss him like any wife would. However, when he was home, it was like he never left. He was still the kind, silly, dedicated, and wonderful father and husband he was before he left. When he was home, he always made time for you and his son. He’d take you three out to dinner or the movies and spend plenty of time with each of you in ways where it matters. He’d take his son to school and back, take him to baseball games, and watch Jack’s favorite shows with him. He’d spend time with you in the mornings and at night, ensuring you were happy and all your needs were fulfilled. He’d cook dinner for his family and spend every waking moment with the both of you.

This week was another week Aaron was gone. He was supposed to return by the weekend, and then he’d return to your arms again. Until then, it was you and Jack. Except for the rest of the week, based on his wishes, he was with his Aunt Jessica. He wanted to see his cousins on the Brooks side of the family. You and the Brooks family got along fine, which is very fortunate for you. You had no ill will towards Haley (nor the rest of the Brooks family, for that matter); in fact, often, as a family, you would visit her grave.

Needless to say, the Hotchner household was very quiet with your husband or your stepson. As you made dinner, funny enough, one of Jack’s favorites, fettuccine alfredo with broccoli and chicken, you turned on one of your CDs, an assorted mix from songs of the 1950s. Aaron got one of his coworkers, Penelope Garcia, to burn the CD for you. It was a mix of songs that both you and Aaron enjoyed and ones that made Aaron think of you. Songs like “Everybody Loves a Lover” by Doris Day, “Can’t Take My Eyes Off You” by Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons, “Please Mr. Sun” by Tommy Edwards, “Fortune Teller” by Bobby Curtola, and so on and so forth.

One of Aaron’s favorite tracks on the mix was “The Twelfth of Never” by Johnny Mathis. Aaron said it was one of his favorite love songs from that era; the slow melody and beautiful lyrics really spoke to him. In fact, he loved the song so much and associated it with your relationship and marriage entirely that it was your first dance song at your wedding. It was one of the first tracks on the CD since Aaron found the song so representative of your love.

The music from your CD player blasted throughout the house, with no worry of waking any sleeping children or husbands. Currently, the second track of the mix was playing, “(I Got Spurs) Jingle Jangle Jingle.” Although the lyrics no longer applied to you, you had told Aaron it was one of your favorite songs in college.

“'Cause I got spurs that jingle, jangle, jingle (Jingle, jangle)

As I go ridin' merrily along (Jingle, jangle)

And they sing, "Oh, ain't you glad you're single" (Jingle, jangle)

And that song ain't so very far from wrong (Jingle, jangle).”

You sang along with the track from nearly the top of your lungs. You danced around your chicken as the pasta was cooking towards al dente. Your broccoli was also being steamed, and the chicken pieces were already cooked. Your hips swayed to the rhythm of the song, the funky orchestra carrying the tune of the music while Kay Kyser sang the lyrics.

You always preferred to cook with music on. There was nothing like a dull life, you thought. You needed music to carry you through the good times and the bad, the lonely moments or the otherwise not. You twirled by the counters, imagining that your sleep shorts gave you the same twirl as a skirt from the early 1950s.

“…Oh, Lillie Belle (Lillie Belle)

Oh, Lillie Belle (Lillie Belle)

Though I may have done some foolin'

This is why I never fell.”

You laughed a little to yourself as you sang along to that last lyric. You remember that promise you made in college: never fall for a man who stole your heart. Of course, that all changed when you met Aaron. Upon meeting, the attraction was instant. You met through a mutual friend of your father’s, and even though he was noticeably older than you, that didn’t seem to matter too much. You were a grown woman; you could make your own decisions. You didn’t expect that decision to be falling in love with and eventually marrying Aaron Hotchner, becoming a mother figure to a beautiful boy in the process. Still, you wouldn’t ever regret your heart’s desire.

“… Oh, I got spurs that jingle, jangle, jingle (I got spurs that jingle, jangle, jingle)

As I go ridin' merrily along (I go ridin' merrily along)

And they sing, "Oh, ain't you glad you're single" (And they sing, "Oh, ain't you glad you're single")

And that song ain't so very far from wrong (And that song ain't so very far from wrong).”

As the third chorus came in with a woman’s voice, you found yourself totally entranced in the music. You did the twist as you stirred your pasta, singing your heart out. Some of you wished that Jack or Aaron were here to enjoy this moment with you, but concurrently, you were having a great time with yourself. The music kept you company, and the gentle hum of the stove fan kept you grounded in reality.

“… Oh, Lillie Belle

Oh, Lillie Belle

Though I may have done some foolin'

This is why I never fell

'Cause I got spurs that jingle, jangle, jingle (I got spurs that jingle, jangle, jingle).”

You kicked up your feet and continued to sway around the kitchen. While you were by no means a professional dancer, you knew how to dance well enough that you could carry your body to the melody. As the last chorus kicked in, you huffed out a sigh with a smile. All that dancing knocked the wind out of you. You went back to stirring the pasta, finally tasting it to see if your pasta was fully cooked. It was. After draining your pasta, you put it back in the pan to add the sauce as the next song begins.

Part of you stopped to smile when you heard the opening notes of the next song on the tracklist: “The Twelfth of Never” by Johnny Mathis. Part of you wanted to skip to the next track, avoid the slight twinge in your heart when you heard the song and thought of your physically absent husband, but that’s not what Aaron would want. If Aaron were here, he’d grab you to slow dance, singing along to Johnny’s baritenor with his low baritone.

“You ask how much I need you; must I explain?

I need you, oh, my darling, like roses need rain

You ask how long I'll love you, I'll tell you true

Until the twelfth of never, I'll still be loving you.”

You sang along under your breath, your eyes closed as you stirred. You sang along to the following verses, swaying gently from side to side, imagining Aaron’s big arms wrapped around you. You wished you could feel his arms wrapped tight around your waist, kissing your neck as you cooked. One of his favorite things to do when he was home was cook together. You kept singing until you felt a presence and heard a familiar voice sing along to the song.

“Hold me close,

Never let me go,

Hold me close,

Melt my heart like it will snow.”

Your eyes shot open as you turned to the sound of the voice, and there stood your husband in the flesh, leaning against the doorway, looking at you like you were a fresh drink of water in the scoring heat. Such love was apparent in his eyes; it almost made your eyes tear up. You nearly dropped the spoon, placing it quickly on the counter and almost sprinting into your husband’s arms.

Opening his arms for you, Aaron immediately pulled you into a tight hug, pressing kisses to the top of your head. “I’ve missed you, my angel.” he pressed another kiss to your forehead. “I’ve missed you so, so much.”

Tears were beginning to brim in your eyes as you looked up at Aaron, a smile growing on your face. “I didn’t even hear you come in! When did you get home?”

“A few minutes ago. I heard our mix playing, and I had to come to see what you were up to.” his arms grew tighter around you, one of his hands slithering up your back to cradle your head. “I see that you’re cooking.”

“I’m sorry; if I knew you were coming home, I would’ve made some for you too.”

He smiled. “Not to worry, sweetheart, I ate on the plane ride back.”

Effectively abandoning your dinner, you let yourself melt into your husband’s touch as the last verse of the song began to play, the two of you singing along and swaying to the rhythm.

“I'll love you 'til the bluebells forget to bloom

I'll love you 'til the clover has lost its perfume

I'll love you 'til the poets run out of rhyme

Until the twelfth of never, and that's a long, long time

Until the twelfth of never, and that's a long, long time.”

At your wedding, you promised to love each other for the rest of your lives, come what may. The song currently ending perfectly encapsulated your relationship with your husband; you two swore to love each other through the hard times and the good, regardless of what life threw your way. You and Aaron would always have each other’s backs, and that is what this song meant to you: that you would love each other until the twelfth of never—which, indeed, was a long, long time.

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x female reader #planchettewrites

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flanaganfilm · 2 years ago

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I tend to get obsessed with scenes where actors have a particularly outstanding performance. I find myself revisiting them over and over again just to relive the moment. Several examples of this, but one that I just love is in Midnight Mass when Kate and Zach are on the rowboat. What's it like experiencing that live, during production? Are you aware in the moment of how special it is or does that become more evident in post? Love to hear any and all details behind the scenes of how those get made. Also curious what scenes from your favorite movies/TV standout as particularly compelling performances by the actors.

This scene is a strange one, because it was the first thing we shot of the whole series. We had been shut down since March 2020 when the initial COVID lockdown hit, and were the first show in North America to go back into production that summer. We didn't know how to do that, and were juggling constantly evolving safety protocols as we tried to figure out how to shoot in this new world. Because a lot of our sets weren't ready to shoot when we came back, we opted to start easy - on our stages, with blue screen work. The boat scene is shot entirely on blue screen, we didn't even have water - the boat was gently rocked back and forth by grips. Kate and Zach were asked to do this huge, heavy, insanely difficult and emotional scene ON OUR FIRST DAY. I had asked them a few weeks prior if they'd be okay with that, as I was worried - they hadn't built their characters yet. They hadn't put a single scene down to draw from. But both said they'd do it, and so we threw them into the deep end.

(That's DP Michael Fimognari in the boat, trying to adjust lighting through his goggles) It was a VERY weird day. We were all wearing KN95 masks and goggles, the actors had to wear full masks and face shields when we weren't rolling. It was absolutely surreal and just about impossible for anyone to get into any headspace that felt like we were doing scene work. I had been fitted with modified motorcycle goggles, as I needed eye protection to be near the actors (it was all more than a bit ridiculous.) There was a ladder on set - you can see it behind Michael in the picture above - and I started the day by climbing it to address the cast and crew. About ten words into my speech, my goggles completely fogged up and I couldn't see anymore. I had to be helped down the ladder by several grips. I remember the first rehearsal was insane because the actors weren't allowed to take off their masks, per Netflix safety protocols. I was also required to wear my mask and goggles throughout, so giving direction to actors who couldn't see my face was a brand new and deeply strange thing (I'd continue to work this way for the next two years, we all got used to it, but this first day was fucking WEIRD). Kate and Zach couldn't even really hear each other through the masks to rehearse, as it was such a quiet and intimate scene. I was standing a few feet away and couldn't hear a damn thing. It was additionally weird because all of the elements of the scene outside of the boat wouldn't be added for many, many months as we got into VFX. There was no water, no stars, nothing at all to look at but hanging blue curtains and masked crew members. I don't know how Kate and Zach were able to put all of that aside and deliver the performances they delivered - oh wait, I suppose I do know. It's because they are exceptional actors. Kate later told me she was so outside of her comfort zone that she had to just dive in and trust every single thing around her. The scenes in the boat ultimately came together beautifully, but I did apologize to both of them later in the shoot. It wasn't fair that we asked them to do that, to start like that, without letting them build any foundation. But both waved it off. Production is chaos, and that particular production was the very first out the gate with COVID, so everything was crazy. They took all of that vulnerability and uncertainty and discomfort and fear and turned it into a handful of scenes that roar with honesty. It's among my favorite moments in what may always be my favorite Intrepid series.

#midnight mass #kate siegel #zach gilford #covid protocol

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silversatin2105 · 1 year ago

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Inspired by the response from Grand line dreams Angst ask about severely injured reader

Writer’s comments:

This is a response to the ask answered by the user known as @grandlinedreams, this is my take on a best case scenario, thank you so much for your permission to post

TW: Angst, mentions of medial stuff, potential character death, if I’ve missed anything please let me know and I’ll add them to the list

It had been two weeks and three days since (Y/N) had been severely injured, you had survived the reaper’s scythe that night, its amazing how you did, you were decimated, deep lacerations on your arms and chest, before Law even got to you half a pint of your blood had already been spilled, without hesitation that day Law had carried your dying form to the Polar Tang and emergency surgery had to be performed.

Blood had to be warmed and prepped, bandages had to be removed and the wounds under sutured after Law checked for signs of internal bleeding and any shrapnel that entered the wounds had to be removed and then fish skin was placed upon the wounds before being re-dressed, when the blood was ready it was allowed to flow into your veins as the other arm took in IV fluids, no need for a sedative you were already out of it.

The first night was always the fist challenge you would face, At this moment deaths embrace felt comforting, the natural next step but what about him?

Law had always feared that your devil may care attitude would lead to calamity and so right he was, you fucked up and now the Captain of the Polar Tang had to deal with the very real threat of loosing you, On one rare conversation he would tell you of the brave man whom gave him a second shot at life, to tell you the truth that’s the first time he opened up to you, hearing his story you vowed to do anything for him, become anything for him and right now there was a very real chance that would be a corpse.

No were the thoughts in your mind as you channeled all your energy, all your might, everything into breathing, you were not going to add to the myriad of mental scars to him, NO MORE SUFFERING, breathing in and out you fought, the heart beating in your chest like terrible thunder as in the reality that your coma had sealed you from, you lay heaving concerning law.

“Damn have you developed an infection?” Law asked wiping your brow with a clean cloth, the male grimaced lip bitten as he checked your wounds, a few were red and hot to the touch so he applied IV antibiotics to your course of treatment, the second hurdle in your journey to spit death in the face and draw another waking breath, raw emotion galvanizing your resolve, fight on, live on.

After a few days the antibiotics took effect, the second hurdle back to the land of the living almost cleared, Law was still taking his meals by your bedside, still cautious- On alert, and He left the running of the ship mostly to Beppo after forming a plan of attack for the next moves to make, like before he spoke to you, Asked what was going thought your mind?, No doubt he’s seen some wild occurrences, since his alliances with straw hat, but in truth, seeing you that day on the battlefield, he never dared to hope that you’d draw another waking breath.

Heck he was so worried that he had taken to shifted bathroom breaks with other members of the crew watching you and this was the norm for two weeks and four days, He must have had too much coffee that morning as he couldn’t wait for cover, he made his apologies to your sleeping form and bolted for the bathroom, as he walked back to the med bay he sighed- I better get another cup of coffee later for tonight..im so fucking tired …when’s the last time I slept, were his thoughts as he walked into the room where you were being kept, his tired and drained eyes gaze out to a surprise.

It was you, sitting up in bed your (insert color) eyes looking at him with a sort of tired look, you had seen better days then again so had he, he looked disheveled, sleep deprived and honestly so fucking done, in that moment no words were spoken, just a quietness as your eyes locked, ten minutes had passed and then it happened, you began to speak.

“I’m so sorry captain, I messed up… their Haki was too strong, I promise it won’t happen again” you told him an apology, one of the things you fought through death for, Law was stunned, the first thing from you after three weeks was an apology.

“Is that it… after three weeks the first words out of your mouth is an apology, We’ve all been worried sick, you damned idiot !” Law went on to say in a harsh tone, cold words masking the internalized concern he daren’t let himself feel, the emotions he stonewalled from his own heart, Law in this moment was as before romantically hidden behind a sheet of Plexiglas.

You looked up at him with shock in your eyes, you expected this but you didn’t expect it to hurt so much, tears welling in your eyes you slid back onto to the bed clutching the blanket to your chest, Law grumbled and sighed laying his hat on the bedside table resting his head by your side, a hand timidly reaching out to yours, within a moment, you felt the roughness of his fingertips upon your hand, the hand of your captain, you froze in response, you go to turn to look at him.

“D-don’t look at me right now. Please…” Law orders as you oblige him to take in the warmth of your hand, the pulse on your wrist, a pulse that those three weeks ago could have been taken from him, could he finally bring himself to hope now that you were once more amongst the living, fifteen minutes past as he assessed you, got his heart ready and then he began to speak.

“Listen up, I am going to say something, take it as you will…the truth is (Y/N) I feel deep kinship for you, since you joined the crew you’ve shown unwavering loyalty, courage in the face of adversity. What I mean to say is…I love you”

Law speaks to you, the world in that moment shattering, your eyes widen as he presses his head close to you back, and you blush as Law finally falls asleep after three weeks of hell.

You go to move and as you do, you feel an arm move carefully around you, light snoozing sounds from the captain of the heart pirates can be heard, and so in that moment you smile lightly and fall asleep again.

“It’s easy to promise someone that you’d die for them but even more difficult to promise that you'd live for someone"

END SCENE

#one piece #law x reader #law x y/n #inspired by #Grandlinedreams #angst #writers gonna write #fan fic

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xxiamtiebrousxx · 5 months ago

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Hi, you write very cool, I love reading your posts. Can you please make mercenaries with a teenage girl reader? She's originally from Russia. Y/n is a big fan of horror movies and other creepy stuff. Her favorite hobby is walking around abandoned buildings and diggerism, she likes to take things she finds in buildings with her as souvenirs. One shot as all mercenaries go with her to the abandoned hospital, if it's not hard. They have fun, have wheelchair races, scare each other, draw graffiti, until they hear some strange noises, the mercenaries think it's y/n since she moved away from them, but she stands next to them. Y/n as the bravest decides to go into the room where the strange sounds are coming from, dementia and courage, there she sees a group of some people, they notice her and start chasing her, y/n shouts to the mercenaries to run away and they all escape from the hospital ttogether. I apologize for the errors in the text, English is not my native language

A/N: WOO WEE, IT'S BEEN A WHILE SINCE I'VE WRITTEN ANYTHING TF2. Sorry this took so long! I've been trying to find myself again and improve my writing! So, I hope you enjoy as I try to finish all these requests... (I hope I got everything in this request)

Horror Flicks and Thrillers (Mercs x Teen! Reader)

Hailing from a small, unknown town in Russia, you moved to Teufort only a few years ago. You were younger than you were right now, around fourteen years of age. Maybe even younger. You were seventeen now, living with a group of men known as Team Fortress. They were mercenaries, every single one, with different and unique jobs. You had grown to love them like family. They accepted you into their family. When you arrived, you weren’t fluent in English. Scout and Heavy helped you learn. Heavy did most of the work, providing flashcards and having Scout translate it back to English. Weeks had gone by and you spoke full sentences without hesitation. They attempted to raise you, seeing as you were now one of them. It wasn’t easy, especially since they were paid killers constantly fighting the enemy team. You tried not to make it hard for them but your obsession with creepy things and horror movies got in the way.

“Can we watch the Mike Myers film again?” you sweetly asked Heavy as he chopped onions on the cutting board. The giant did not shed a tear as he chopped the onions in one swoop. They seemed to have no effect on him. “I love a good Halloween movie. Or two.” Heavy grunted.

“That will be the eighth time this week, leetle Y/n,” he replied. You frowned. “Are you not tired from watching the same films over and over?” A grin grew on your face. You weren’t tired of the same horror flicks. You loved them so much. You knew you would die watching the films. It’d be the last thing before you went into the afterlife. It didn’t matter if it was even the classic horror or thriller films.

“Y/n, didn’t you hear me?”

“Hmm?” You looked back at Heavy, who simply sighed. He wasn’t trying to sound disappointed. But it was a bit frustrating when you didn’t listen. You got lost in thought a lot.

“Mind helping me?” he asked again, this time with your full attention. You nodded, mumbling “Uh huh” and went around Heavy. You grabbed a bowl and Heavy slipped the diced onions into it. He placed the knife and cutting board into the kitchen sink. Today was fish and salad onion day. The onion was mixed with other vegetables and served as a side. When Heavy was the one to cook the dish, it was like heaven on the mouth. It was something known to keep you shushed about your horror flick obsession.

But you had a plan for later that night. You were going to make it terribly unforgettable.

*>/<*

You helped Scout carry the dishes to the sink. It was Pyro’s turn to wash them. Spy and Heavy were very hesitant to let Pyro do it, since last time he shattered every plate and burned them like a bonfire. Ms. Pauling was not too pleased with that incident.

“Alright, those are all the dishes,” Scout declared, placing a stack on the larger side of the sink. You followed him into the living room, where he crashed on the couch next to Engineer. He sighed. “So what are we doing tonight?” he asked. A grin grew on your face. The team discussed what they were going to do. Spy recommended that you all played poker, Pyro suggested making it “Movie Night” tonight.

You slowly snuck off as the discussion quickly turned into a heated argument. Pyro was the one to notice you sneak off and quietly followed. It was dark and cold outside. The lights from inside barely illuminated the front yard. You sighed. It was a beautiful night to go breaking into haunted hospitals. Pyro never mumbled a word. He simply followed you to Spy’s extremely expensive sports car. He watched as you shattered the window and snuck in the car. You pulled out the steering system, exposing the wires. You began to hot-wire the car as Pyro leaned his arms against the shattered window. You almost had the engine running when you heard a voice call out, sending chills down your spine.

“What do you think you’re doing?!” You flinched back.

“Privet (Hello) Spy,” you sheepishly replied, lifting your head up so he could see you. Spy’s face was red with anger. “I’m just simply… pochinit' tvoyu mashinu (fixing your car),” you lied. Spy raised his eyebrow. You sank back into the driver’s seat. “Okay fine, maybe I was hot-wiring it to take it out.”

“And why, may I ask?” Spy said. Pyro looked to you, then to Spy, and back to you again. There was a hunch Pyro knew what you were planning.

“Um, for a late night drive,” you answered. If Spy’s eyebrow could lift any higher, it would. He wasn’t buying it. You slouched back in the seat. “Fine, I was going to steal it to check out an abandoned hospital.”

“An abandoned hospital?” a cheery voice called out. It was Medic, who was being followed by the rest of the team as they headed out. “I would love to go with jou!” A big grin grew on Medic’s face. Spy’s expression was one of shock.

“No, no, non,” he replied, shaking his head. Scout grinned.

“Heck yeah, let’s check out a creepy hospital! I need something to do anyway,” he said.

“No,” Spy sternly said. “And that no is final!”

*>/<*

The dirt path leading into the woods was illuminated by the van’s headlights. For some strange reason, everyone agreed that visiting the hospital was the thing to do tonight. You happily hummed, tapping your hands on your lap as Medic slowly started to hit the brakes of the team minivan. Spy sat up front, grumbling to himself and chewing on his cigarette. He was annoyed that no one listened. You were thinking to yourself, who died and made you boss? Heavy had to carry him against his will. Spy wasn’t going anywhere.

Scout impatiently tapped his foot on the dirty carpet of the van. He never had any patience. He had a record of running red lights and getting in trouble with the police.

“When are we getting there?” he whined. “My everything is numb. I need to run.” Medic brought the van to a stop, placing the brakes and turning the vehicle off. Scout was the first one out, creating a dirt storm as he ran around, stretching out his legs. You followed him.

“Wait up!” you called out, chasing after Scout who was long gone already. Someone grabbed you by the scruff of your collar, lifting you up in the air. It was Heavy, and he had a stern look on his face. “Aww, Uncle Misha!” you whined. “Let me run with Scout, please!” You wiggled around, struggling to break free from Heavy’s grip. He shook his great big head.

“No.” He set you back down on the ground and snatched Scout by the ear. He wriggled around in pain, arguing with Heavy to put him back down. You chuckled. Spy stepped next to you, exhaling smoke from his cigarette.

“Could we please get a move on?” he asked, clearly complaining. He just didn’t want to show it.

*>/<*

Engineer fiddled with the powerbox, attempting to fix the lights. Sniper wheeled Scout around in a rusty wheelchair. The runner laughed, throwing his arms into the air. Sniper had a smirk plastered on his lips. Spy disappeared to who knows where and Medic was losing it over the pristine tools left behind in the abandoned hospital. You found a small dirt pile and began to dig. You were searching for small souvenirs to take home.

“What are you doing, cadet?” Soldier asked in his gruff voice.

“Stuff.”

“What kind of stuff?” He kneeled down and used his bare hands to dig with you. You completely ignored the spraying coming from Scout’s paint can as he painted graffiti onto the wall. Your fingers were stained with dust and dirty, finding a small gold coin. Soldier found a pencil snapped into two pieces. You found a few abandoned soda cans.

Digging got boring very quickly. Soldier found a few maggots and you had dared him to try and eat them. He was struggling to. They wiggled around in his hands, squirming to get free. You wound up dragging Soldier over with you to help Scout paint the walls. Pyro joined in, happily mumbling and spray painting horrible depictions of people dying in fires. He probably thought he was drawing beautiful unicorns and silly little babies.

Medic found a barricaded door with scratch and burn marks. There was moaning coming from behind the door, something that caught everyone’s attention. Scout leaned in, pressing his ear up against the door to hear what was behind the door better. He lifted up one foot and was about to kick it down when instead, Heavy pushed Scout to the side and kicked the door open.

“That’s how you do it,” he said, dusting off his hands. Scout scoffed and stuck out his tongue very briefly. You giggled. Heavy didn’t notice and Scout lived to see another day.

“What is this place?” you asked, following Heavy inside the room. It was dark. Engineer snatched Spy’s match box against his protests and lit one.

“Oh my gosh,” he muttered. You screamed, scrambling over to Heavy.

People moaned like zombies, walking around blindly and moaning like mummies. They were pale, almost a ghastly shade of green. The “zombies” wore nasty, dirtied hospital gowns. They were patients left here to die. The doctors must’ve thought they were a lost cause. Medic, on the other hand, had thoughts about getting new experiments.

As soon as the doors opened and you let out the scream, the patients looked to you and the mercenaries, their heads whipping around quickly. Engie dropped the match out of fear.

You screamed again. Or was it Scout who screamed?

The scream, once again, caught the attention of the “zombies” and they came rushing out, running at fast speeds despite their conditions.

“RUN!” Scout shouted. Everyone listened, although they were calmer than Scout. Heavy picked you up with ease, throwing you over his shoulder. He grabbed Engineer and stopped Pyro from taking one of the patients with him. Demoman picked up Medic and Spy, who held onto Scout. Sniper was just running for his life, grabbing onto his hat.

“Ahh, zhis is fun!” Medic exclaimed, grinning maniacally. He giggled with glee.

“For you it is!” Scout snapped back. The adrenaline was pumping. You looked behind you as the patients were baring their teeth, foaming out the mouth. You squeaked.

“Run faster Uncle Misha!” you shouted. The hospital was a maze. You and the mercenaries weaved in and out of rooms, struggling to find the exit. The patients were closing in on you.

“How are they so fast?!” Scout exclaimed, dodging a swipe. He started to slow down. That wasn’t a good sign. “How do we get out of here?!”

A gun cocking in place caught your attention.

“We fight,” Spy announced, placing his finger over the trigger.

“You brought a weapon?!” you asked. “Why didn’t you use that earlier?! And…” Medic pulled out his saw, Demoman had a shattered beer bottle, and Engineer had his gunslinger. Almost everyone had a weapon.

“To the death, gentlemen.”

*>/<*

It took a while, but you pointed out to follow the exit signs. They were the only things working in the hospital, dimly glowing. It was stupid, but it worked. Soon, everyone was back in the van, covered in blood. Medic was healing Scout, who had slammed into a wall. You sighed, approaching Spy.

“Sorry we dragged you out here,” you replied. He scoffed, lighting a cigarette.

“Surprisingly…it was fun,” he said. You grinned. Was he being honest with you? Spy enjoyed tonight?

“Really?” you asked. He smiled, ruffling up your hair.

“No, we almost died.”

#tf2 #team fortress 2 x reader #team fortress 2 #tf2 x reader #long post #tf2 spy #tf2 medic #tf2 heavy #tf2 scout #tf2 soldier #tf2 pyro #tf2 engineer #tf2 demoman #tf2 sniper #x reader #one shot #tf2 one shots

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foreverdolly · 2 years ago

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𝐁𝐄 𝐌𝐘 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑(𝐩𝐭 𝟏)| 𝟗𝟎𝐬!𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫 𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐢𝐬 𝐱 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐛𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary: your love life has been tragic to say the least, so after a rather public breakup you decide that you're done with bad boys. elvis is the lead singer of a well known and well loved metal band. he lives a hard and fast lifestyle and wouldn't dream of ever apologizing for it. the one thing that nobody would ever expect from a rough-around-the-edges kinda guy like elvis is the fact that the man is a hopeless romantic. and he's got his sights set on you. elvis presley was precisely the kind of person you were trying to avoid. you couldn't let him weasel his way into your life. . . . right?

warning/notes: SMUT! ahead, this thing is going to be dirty dirty so prepare yourselves, drug and alcohol use. you're seriously a sex symbol and everyone is obsessed with you. . . including me. elvis is an actual simp in this fic, but what's new with my writing? this fic does take place in the 90's. . . so just imagine 60's elvis throughout this fic, because that's exactly what i was doing. | this is part one of a three part mini series. i will be posting all three parts this week, so you will not have to wait a million years to be able to finish it. please please please heart this post, repost it and tell me what you think about it. i love interaction, and this is my first time posting in ages. i'm a little nervous about it.

word count: 5.3k

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The bar was hazy with thick cigarette smoke, but there was something special about the way that the neon lights shone through the fog that hung above the mass of grinding bodies. The music pounded away in your ears, and after the round of mixed drinks that you had downed with your group of friends, you couldn’t help but sway your body along with the beat. In a packed bar like this, where everybody was too drunk to notice or too high to care, you were just another somebody.

That was the draw to nightlife for you. It was a small reprieve, and maybe it made you a bit sick in the head, but you cherished it. No matter how self absorbed and ungrateful it sounded, you missed the days of feeling like a normal person. You missed being able to leave your house in a ratty old t-shirt and shorts without the fear of being plastered all over the front of a gossip magazine looming above your head. You missed going to the grocery store and taking your sweet time perusing the aisles. You missed the way your life had been before the organized chaos.

People have always paid extra attention to you. You had been the butt of many jokes during your early days in middle school. You were the ugly duckling- nothing but a scrawny little girl that came from an impoverished family. The year you turned thirteen everything changed though. Puberty had hit you like a freight train. Your curves had filled out and your face had lost all of its baby fat. In the blink of an eye all of the girls wanted to be your friends, and the boys that used to tease you were now trying their hardest to get your attention.

You only got prettier as time went on it would seem. People stopped caring about the unfortunate state of your home life all together, instead focusing on your looks and likeability. School was no longer hell from you, and you entirely had your appearance to thank for it. Becoming a model had happened just as quickly.

You had been on a date with an ex when you had first been discovered. You remembered that day vividly: the nasty fight during the car ride to the stadium, the overpriced beers as well as the crippling fear that you were allowing a man to emotionally beat you down. You had somehow ended up on the jumbotron, and all you could do was awkwardly smile and wave- blow a few kisses at the camera when it lingered on your face for a little too long. You had laughed it off, assuring your at-the-time boyfriend that it had been some sort of a coincidence. He had been the jealous and possessive sort. A man that worked in the marketing department of one of your state’s favorite beer companies saw you holding the bottle in your hand on the big screen, and the rest was history.

You felt blessed for your booming career and all of the attention that you had garnered over the last few years, but a part of you missed the days where you could go outside without cameras flashing or people asking something of you. Everybody always wanted something from you. Be it a simple picture, a signature or even a smile- at this point there wasn’t a part of you not owned or wanted by the public. Even other celebrities had an ulterior motive for trying to connect with you. You’d learned your lesson though. Dating was officially off the table. Well. . . dating celebrities, at least.

“I’m being serious this time, guys.” You tried to reason with your friends, reaching up to tangle your long manicured fingers into your messy updo. “Bad boys are out.” You seriously believed it this time too. No matter how hot, famous or rich you were, men were always going to be trash.

You had always been the type of girlfriend that went out of her way to take care of their partner. You hated drama, so starting unnecessary fights was beneath you. You were trusting to a fault, which had gotten you into trouble more than a handful of times. You had a big heart, and despite the constant disappointments you still believed in true love. You had finally come to the conclusion that the problem was never you. It had always been them. You were self aware enough to know that you had a bit of a. . .type.

“Bad boys” only wanted one thing from you though.

They just wanted sex. It had always been that way, even since high school. As much as you hated to admit it, you had never been in a stable relationship, even in the early years of your life before the tabloids kept tabs on your every move.

You loved sex, but it never led to anything good. The most you got out of it in most cases was nothing but momentary, fleeting satisfaction that only left you feeling more empty than you had been before. You were done with being used to beef up somebody's ego only to be discarded like garbage soon after.

Your close friend, Veronica, was quick to throw her arm around you, pressing your frame tightly into her side. “We need to find you someone nerdy. Like. . . like an accountant or something.” She snapped her fingers excitedly as though she had just solved world hunger.

You let out a small squeal, leaning your head back to laugh without restraint. In your inner circle on a night like this? Things seemed to just. . . fall into place. You were happy- obnoxiously so- and you couldn’t be bothered to care about anything else. You were sick and tired of crying over men that didn’t care about you. Especially ones that didn’t feel a fraction of what you felt for them. All that mattered now was the fact that they were playing remixes of all your favorite songs at this particular club and that you had just gotten your nails freshly painted earlier in the day. Your dress fit you like a glove, you were actually having a good hair day without the help of a stylist and the people that you had surrounded yourself with loved you like family. This was your element.

The drinks were flowing, your heart was happy, and you were tired of moping around and feeling bad for yourself.

An accountant was exactly what you needed.

“You’re so right! I need a sweet little accountant that I can come home to at the end of a long day. That sounds perfect to me. I need a man that lives a boring life and is more than willing to take time out of his not-so hectic life for me.” You agreed, pressing your cheek against your friend’s in a display of affection before grabbing your drink off of the table. “A toast! To. . .,” You bit your plush bottom lip as you tried to think of the best way to word what it was that you were looking for in a man. “To good guys.”

“To good guys!” They all chimed after you.

Your friends were all quick to clink their glasses against yours, happily joining you in downing the rest of their brightly colored glasses of alcohol.

“Excuse me!” You called out to one of the waitstaff, flagging her down with a wide dazzling smile.

The scantily dressed woman was quick to make her way over to your marked off section. The owner of the club insisted on putting you and your friends in VIP for ‘your safety’, though you were starting to think that all it was doing was drawing more attention towards your area. The younger woman smiled sweetly back at you, though you weren’t blind enough to not see the way that her fingers were anxiously twitching at her sides. A-list celebrities didn’t frequent clubs like this, so you were sure that she was probably scared out of her mind to do something wrong and incur your (nonexistent) wrath.

“W-What can I help you with?” What little confidence she had earlier was faltering now as she got closer and closer to you.

“I want to buy every person in this club a shot of tequila! Top shelf, please. We’re celebrating!” Tonight you were in an especially good mood considering your recent split with your heartthrob co-star. You were finally starting to feel better about it, which was a good sign that you were moving on.

You and your group’s shots arrived first, but within seconds tray after tray of plastic cups began circulating the bar. You were quick to cheers your friends once again, swallowing back the clear liquor. You had imbibed in a fair bit of alcohol already, so the burning sensation wasn’t as bad as it had been towards the beginning of your girls night out. Despite the slightly numb lips and hazy expression, you didn’t sway once in your heels as you continued to sway along to the beat of the music. You danced like nobody was watching, but little did you know that a certain blue eyed musician had his eye on you from across the club.

“Compliments of (F/N) (L/N).” The waitress motioned to the tray that she was holding up in front of the brunette’s face.

For a second all he could do was stare at the drinks, drunkenly trying to remember whether or not he ordered anything. His eyebrows twitched upwards in surprise as the woman’s words finally began to register. Wait a minute. . . who bought him a shot? The name sounded awfully familiar, so he must know the woman somehow. His rings glinted under the colored lights as he reached for the cup, the leggy blonde that had been keeping him company that night following suit.

“Who?” He asked dumbly, squinting his eyes to follow the direction that the waitress had pointed in.

“(F/N) (L/N). She’s an actress and model? She bought every-” And before the woman could let Elvis know that you had bought everyone in the entire club a shot he was already throwing the tequila back, tossing the plastic drunkenly back onto the table before pushing the blonde woman’s arm off from around him as though her touch burned him.

Because he had recognized you the second that he saw you, even from across the bar. You were prettier in person than you were on camera, which was rare in Los Angeles.

The woman that had once been keeping him company gaped up at the musician, her cheeks darkening with embarrassment as she realized that she was actively being ditched for another woman. In front of everybody that she had come to the club with.

“Fuck you, Presley!” She screamed after him, but the curse fell on deaf ears as he wove his way in between the writhing, sweaty bodies of dancing patrons.

He had his eyes glued on one person and one person only. Never in his life had he seen a woman that beautiful before- and Elvis had seen, kissed and fucked his fair share of hot women. He remembered exactly why your name sounded so familiar to him. You weren’t some chick whose feelings he had hurt or someone that his music label had asked him to play nice with.

You were a fuckin’ Playboy Bunny.

Your group of friends had stopped talking and had all turned to face him as he approached, their eyebrows knitted together as they tried to figure out exactly who he was and why he was there. Tall and lean, heavily tattooed with dark hair and blue eyes as bright as the morning sky. One by one he watched their expressions shift into recognition. Elvis lifted up a long leg, easily stepping over the velvet rope that had been put up around your section.

All you could do was watch, wondering exactly why Elvis Presley was approaching you with a smirk on his face. Was there something that you might have missed? You’d never met the man before in your life. You would have definitely remembered if you had.

He was clad in a black pair of jeans and a white tank top that fit snug enough to show off his nipple piercings. His thick gold necklaces caught the light as he bent down to shorten his frame, smiling directly at you. It was like the two of you were the only ones in the bar. His attention was perfectly undivided. His black hair hung loose in his eyes, undone from its usual updo that he had sported in all of the pictures you’d seen of him in the past. You had to admit though. . . there was something more dangerous about this version of Elvis. He seemed more wild and relaxed. More himself and less of the showman. It made your heart race, and admittedly kept you from shooing him off in the opposite direction.

Not even ten minutes ago you had sworn off bad boys, and yet here you were, watching with wide eyes as one sauntered right up to you.

His black boots stopped to rest right in front of your heeled feet, and he took his time looking you up and down, wanting you to see his approval. He wanted you to know just how irresistible he found you. In a club as loud as this one was, you had to learn how to communicate with your body.

Elvis had been raised in the south by a Christian family, but that didn’t mean that he was always a gentleman. He was far too drunk for that. So instead of thanking you for the shot or trying his hand at flirting with you, he plopped down in the spot beside you and leaned over.

Your jaw went slack as you felt his warm tongue trail all the way up from the sensitive pulsepoint at your neck to your temple. His nose brushed against your hair as his warm breath fanned over your ear. You could hear his heady breath, and it lit a fire inside of you. Rather than being outraged you found yourself clamping your thighs together in the hopes of creating some sort of friction. He pulled back only to smile drunkenly at you, drumming his tattooed hands against his seat as he waited for your reaction.

He watched you all while knowing that you had to have felt something. Your breath had caught at the sudden action, and he knew it. He saw the adorable flush to your cheeks and the glint in your glassy eyes. A cocky, satisfied huff left him as he leaned back against the leather booth. You, of course, exceeded his expectations when you turned towards your friend and repeated the action. Your group, no matter how prissy they all looked, were all good sports. They howled and cackled as one by one they licked each other’s face, following your lead without question.

“I’m Elvis.” He called over the music, watching as you gave him a knowing nod.

You opened your mouth in order to introduce yourself only for him to hold his hand up, giving a dismissive flick of his wrist. “No need. I know who ya are.” He stated with an upturned lip.

His smile was nothing short of goofy, his blue eyes sweet as he looked over your face again and again, almost as though he was committing every detail to memory. There was something about him that just felt. . . different. It felt good.

“Do ya wanna dance?” He nodded towards the packed dance floor, raising an eyebrow at you.

Your best friend tensed behind you. “What happened to good boys being in?” She whispered in your ear, shooting you a pleading look.

You couldn’t help but giggle, waving her off like it was no big deal. “This is just for tonight. We’re only going to dance, alright? Promise.” And with that you stood up, letting him take your hand and pull you out onto the dance floor.

You weren’t sure how long the two of you danced, only that you could feel long strands of your wavy hair clinging to the back of your arms after falling out from its’s updo. You were a drunken, sweaty mess and didn’t care one bit. All that mattered was that Elvis was making you laugh harder than you ever had before. His large hands felt too good on your hips as he swayed you back and forth, pressing you against his thigh. All you would have to do is arch your back just a fraction, and it would be your cunt that he would be leading you to grind against his thigh, not your hips. You should have hated yourself for the thought, but you were too far gone. All you knew was that he was handsome and was looking down at you as though you hung the moon.

He was so big and warm. Domineering in a kind of way that let you know he would be able to take care of you in the exact way that you preferred.

Your fingers gently traced a few of the tattoos on his arms as you continued to sway back and forth, eying the colorful, sweaty skin as he continued to wrap himself around you. He smelled like expensive cologne and warm skin- and it took every last shred of self restraint that you had in your body not to bury your nose into his chest and inhale. Being around him was making you lose your mind.

The two of you only left the dance floor to down more drinks and get away from the loud speakers from time to time when you wanted to converse with each other. It was far too loud to have any sort of heart to hearts with him, but he went out of his way to show off his flashy personality to you.

“I really have to go, Elvis. I’ve got a flight to catch tomorrow afternoon, which means I have to wake up early to pack.” You explained, stumbling outside so that you could wait for the cab that the bar had called for you.

Elvis had been nice enough to offer to wait with you, not wanting any seedy characters to get any bad ideas. It was nearly four o’clock in the morning, and you didn’t even want to think about the kind of people that might be lurking in the darkness. L.A was a terrifying place to be left alone in. Especially at night.

“The clubs not even closin’ yet though. Why don’t you wait for just one more hour?” He begged, his gold bracelet sliding down to his forearm as he clasped his hands together over his chest.

You couldn’t help but laugh, the dyed brunette eyeing the adorable way your nose scrunched up as you did so. Yeah. . . he was completely smitten. It was official.

“I’m serious, Elvis. I have to get home.” You weren’t giving in, no matter how much you wanted to.

Your friend's words were finally pounding their way back into your head, reminding you that the man in front of you would only break your heart and leave you to pick up the pieces afterwards. Casual sex used to be fun for you, but you were bored with the notion. What you were looking for was someone to settle down with. Elvis Presley definitely didn’t seem like the type.

“Well where are you doin’ tomorrow? Maybe we can do somethin’ fun.” He needed to see you as soon as possible. He could tell that staying over at your place or vice versa was completely out of the question, so he didn’t even attempt to offer. You were worth the wait anyway, so he didn’t mind taking his time. He could tell that you were old school, and he respected it.

This way of thinking was completely out of character for Elvis though. The reason why he wasn’t afraid to sleep around and forget about the women that he spent time with was because the two of you were very similar. The musician was a hopeless romantic, and wanted to fall in love more than he cared to ever say.

If you weren’t in love then you weren’t alive. That was his way of thinking, at least.

He wanted somebody to share his life with, but he hadn’t met the right person. He had tried his hand at long term relationships a couple of times, but women had a track record of breaking his heart. So he had gotten into the habit of being the break-er and not the break-ee.

“I’m headed to Mexico for this business trip. If I show up with huge bags under my eyes my manager will not be happy.” You watched as he perked up, your eyebrows raising in confusion.

“I love Mexico! Where exactly are you stayin’?”

“Cacún. . .” You replied slowly, not exactly sure whether or not you wanted him to know. There was something about his reaction to the news that made you think that he might try and. . . - no. No way. No normal person- musician or not- would book a last minute flight just to spend more time with you. Stable people’s minds didn’t work like that.

“Oh, that’s perfect. We’re goin’ to Cancún then.” No hesitation.

You guffawed, blinking hard at him as you tried to figure out exactly how to handle this situation. You were used to men being forward with you, but this was on an entirely different level.

“You’re not following me to Mexico,” You told him, reaching out to give his arm a small shake when you noticed the devious smile pulling up at his lips. “Elvis, I’m serious.”

“Oh, I’m so comin’, no matter how much you beg.”

The taxi pulled up to the curb before you could say anything else. With a loud sigh you opened the door for yourself, blurting out “no you’re not” as you closed the door soundly behind you. Before you could even blink the man was wrenching the other backdoor open, sliding his way inside. You laughed at the ridiculousness of the situation. He had to be playing with you, because there was no way he could be serious.

“Sir, please wait a minute. He’s not coming with me.” You told the taxi driver before turning to face the black haired man. “Elvis, you are not coming to Mexico. Okay? It’s something that I have to do for work. Now. . . can you please let me go home?” The alcohol was beginning to take its toll on you, and you felt exhausted. Your bed was practically calling out to you. So no matter how charismatic or handsome the singer was, you refused to let him come home with you.

“I’ll get out of the car if you do one thing for me.”

You weren’t surprised when he asked for your number, and like an idiot you complied, writing the words “don’t call” right above your digits.

It was only when he got out of the car with a wide smile on your face that you realized how torn you were. Part of you knew that he shouldn’t call, but a large chunk of you really wanted him to despite that fact.

What you didn’t see was the way Elvis stared after the taxi until it had completely disappeared down the street, and then at the small scrap of paper in his hands. He gently traced his finger over your loopy, feminine handwriting. Eager to get home so that he could give you a lil ring.

The phone had been ringing off the hook since ten o’clock that morning. One after the other, Elvis had left you voicemail after voicemail. You had half the mind to just rip out the cord and cut your losses, but knew that your manager would have no way to contact you if she needed to. So you put up with the inappropriate amount of calls.

“Ya did buy me a shot of tequila last night, which I think has to be a sign that I’m supposed to go to Mexico with ya.”

Beep.

“Me and my band just finished recordin’ our album, which means that I have way too much time on my hands. Really, you would be doin’ me a damn favor if you let me go with you.”

Beep.

“Elvis Presley in Cancún. Elvis Presley in Cancún. Elvis Presley and his weiner are fuckin’ comin’ to Cancún.” His singing echoed around the house.

Beep.

“Hola, mi amor-”

Beep.

“Cancún~,” You bit your lip to keep your smile at bay as you dragged your heavy silver suitcase down your stairs and up to the front door. “Cancú-”

“Elvis.”

“Darlin’!” He called out excitedly as you picked up the phone for the first time that entire morning.

“Don’t. Come.” You tried using your stern voice, hoping he would finally take you seriously.

A beat, and then came his answer.

“I’m fuckin’ comin’.” You could hear the smile in his voice.

“Don’t.” And with that you hung up, dragging your luggage out your front door and towards the waiting taxi.

You should have been appalled, but how could you be? Because what if he really did show up? The thought of seeing him again made her palms go a bit sweaty. "U-Umm. . . You can just drop me off at the front. There's no need to try and park with all of that airport traffic."

“Are you looking for someone?” Your friend asked, standing up the tips of her toes so that she could shove her carry-on into the overhead compartment.

You pushed the sunglasses higher up on the bridge of your nose, leaning further back into your seat as you watched the door to the plane like a hawk. You hated the fact that Veronica was so observant. Well. . . in this case, at least. She could read you like a book. She had already questioned you about last night until she was blue in the face, and the last thing you needed was for her to find out that there was a possibility that he might be following you all the way to Mexico. And why? You still had no clue.

“Of course not. I’m just eager to lift off, is all. I’m hoping to take a little nap until we get there.” You hated lying more than anything, but you were willing to do anything to keep her from lecturing you.

She meant well, and you loved her for that. You just couldn’t help but feel guilty for dancing with Elvis last night, even if it had meant absolutely nothing. It had to have meant absolutely nothing to you. The two of you hadn’t even kissed, which meant that you technically hadn’t gone back on your word. Good boys were in. And bad boys?

They were out.

The nicer beachside resorts loomed high above the bustling city, their sleek designs and gaudy terraces visible from the lower streets. You had decided to roll down the window of the car so that you could enjoy the warm night air. The smells, sounds, and sights were so different from those that you were used to in L.A. It was a nice change of pace, whether you were here for work purposes or not. All you had to do was play nice with a room full of rich old men and then you’d be in the clear. Your friend had excitedly made plans for the entire weekend, doing her fair share of research to make sure that the two of you had the best time. She’d even called your resort ahead of time so that she could know what kind of food they served. She had originally agreed to come with you right after your bad breakup to keep you company, but what had once been a means to look out for you and offer you support had quickly turned into her hatching a plan to keep your mind off of things.

The fact that this trip also gave her a means to try and dissuade you from ever talking to Elvis again was just an added bonus.

“Ronnie, have you ever seen something so beautiful? Look at that.” You pointed out the window, ushering her to lean closer against you so that she could see what you were seeing.

A crowd of people were dancing amongst each other, string lights swaying softly in the oceanside breeze as they clapped joyously along with the music. You were a stickler for romance films. The cheesier, the better. It was almost as though you were watching one unfold right before your very eyes.

You continued to point this way and that, your eyes wide as you tried to fully bask in the city all around you. For a second you forgot all about the crazy musician and his threat to follow you to Mexico. It was just you and your best friend spending some much needed time away from the messy city life of Los Angeles. The car began to climb the brick road all the way up to the largest resort, intricate metal lanterns hanging from the large front porch of the building.

“They have us staying here?” Veronica gaped, her eyes wide with excitement. This was her first time out of the country in ages, and she was planning to pack in as much as she possibly could over the three day weekend. She had been sure to warn you to prepare yourself for a packed itinerary.

“I had no clue it would be this nice.” You mumbled your reply, reaching your hand out numbly as you watched a few members of the staff pour out from the front lobby.

The car door was being opened for you in the blink of an eye, your luggage already being carried up and into the building.

“Miss (L/N) and friend, we’re so pleased that you could bless us with your presence. My name is Oliver and I will be taking care of all of your needs. Please don’t hesitate to let me know if you need anything at all.” Oliver looked to be a year or two younger than you, dressed up in a pressed suit and perfectly starched tie. He sounded like he was reading off of a script, eager to please the star and her close friend.

When you had envisioned Cancún you hadn’t thought of. . . such a fancy resort. Sprawling beaches and family owned restaurants were more your style, but this? You’d happily thank your manager for booking you such a sweet gig. You and your friend would be staying in your own suites on the top floor for free, and all you had to do was sit and look pretty during dinner tonight. Living the life of a celebrity was still new to you, so you had been told that you still had that “small town” charm that people adored so much. You were personable and genuine, which was rare to find in Sin City. Your good looks and sweet attitude was, thankfully, the reason why you were able to live such a lush lifestyle.

“Thank you, Oliver. If you could just point me in the direction of our suites that would be amazing. I need to get dressed for tonight.” Your white sneakers and yoga pants felt hideously out of place in the large lobby. Men and women in full glamor passed by you and your leisurely dressed friend, causing the both of you to duck your heads down in embarrassment in fear of being perceived.

“Of course. Here is your key ma’am,” Oliver slid you the golden key with a well trained smile. “And then here is yours.”

You started to walk off in the direction of the elevator but froze as he called your name once again.

“Someone delivered flowers for you. I can have them brought to your room as well if you’d like.” The young brunette reached down on the table behind him, placing the intricate bouquet down on the counter in front of you.

Your jaw dropped as you realized just how expensive something like that must have been, especially to be delivered. Peonies, babies breath, roses- it was huge. You couldn’t think of anyone that would deliver flowers to you. Not in Cancún, at least.

Veronica elbowed your side gently, eagerly urging you to read the card.

“It’s from-” You couldn’t help but bite your lip, trying to keep your smile at bay. Tonight was already turning out to be wonderful. . . and you practically just landed.

That smile, however, was quick to fall off of your face as you read the card.

i wanted to give credit to my amazing beta readers! @meds4beatlemania, @austinsmutler and a special thanks to @memphis-mania. mem literally held my hand throughout the editing process and gave me the confidence i needed to put on my big girl panties and post! are you interested in becoming a beta reader? feel free to message me!

taglist: @knoxvillesshoes@cosmorant@ol1viam@simply-sams-things@haim80s@gabbcabb@8hgel@slutt4him@busy-bee-angel-misska@kaitaesupremacy@dazedshoon @4rt3m1ss@cryingabtab@kittenlittle24@austinsrealgf@austinbutlersgirlfriend@clearbolts @dark-as-love@anni-secret-account-75@ab4eva@starcatchxr @julietamidala @obbsessivereader@gwuide@blurredcolour@the-little-red-haired-girl@meladollsims@poppet05@shrekstheloml@randomwriter888@idc123sworld@vane28282@mirandastuckinthe80s@girlblogger2002@rockerchick05@screechingstrawberrysong@simpforevery1@girlabirla@dre6ming@obetrolncocktails@fairyjanes@jensenswinchester@lo-bells @in-my-body-bag@fxntxsix@petrparkrslut@eliseinmemphis @lelifesaver @screaching-cookie@fantuhsise@areuirish @bcofl0ve@mslizziesblog@shynovelist@ssstrangersblog @harrysthecraic@hangmanswhore@jyvnho@mymamalife @melodydior

and the big daddy crew: @powerofelvis @ggwritesstuff @woundmetender @eliseinmemphis @polksalademma @flwrs4aust @headfullofpresley @cryingabtab @austinbutlersbaby @lindszeppelin @rosaminny

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mrs-snape5984 · 8 months ago

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“Dancing with tears in my eyes, weeping for the memory of a life gone by…”

“It's time and we're in each other's arms. It's time, but I don't think we really care…” (“Dancing with tears in my eyes” by Ultravox)

After reading my following lines, I decided to put a trigger warning on this post. I used this platform to vent out my frustration and despair. Those of you wonderful readers, who get triggered by mentions of hopelessness and subtle hints of suicidal thoughts, should better skip the next seven paragraphs. Thank you for your understanding!

Lying in the darkness of my room…forced by this cruel disease ME/CFS to live a restrained life in a body and mind, which makes me feel as if I’m an animal, trapped in captivity…I often show tendencies to dream myself away…drowning in my fantasies of Severus Snape.

With him by my side, I can do the things, which my diseased body and my disoriented mind are refusing to allow me experiencing them anymore. Things, which I’m desperately yearning for, since this sickness has clawed me into her tight grip about 1,5 years ago.

I want to leave my darkness so badly that it hurts. The longing for a self-destined life in freedom becomes unbearable for me to endure. My only piece of liberty left is my habit of sitting on the balcony outside of my bedroom at nighttime, enjoying the silence of the world and a fresh breeze on my face without getting overstimulated by noises, motions and lights.

In times, when even this tiniest bit of peace isn’t possible for me to enjoy anymore…when another crash is suppressing me even further…forcing me to stay in bed for days or weeks, my soul seems to absorb the darkness around me. I’m getting tired of this life…tired of myself…tired of being doomed to uselessness.

I mean, what’s left of my former self? My professional career as a pedagogue, working as a social worker for the government office for youth welfare seems to be a fading memory in my mind. Now I have to ask my mother for help with each bureaucratic application form, because my retarded brain refuses to understand these things anymore. For someone, who has always been proud of their intellect and education, this is a real low blow. Also, I’m a person, who’s really bad at asking for help. The thought of being dependent on others has always been one of my biggest nightmares…and now I can’t even do the smallest tasks on my own!

My three amazing children were used to have an active, funny mother, who guided them through this confusing world….who showed them the beauty of life in its fullest. And now, they’re witnessing their mother lying in her bed surrounded by darkness day in, day out! Sure, I’m still trying to be there for them in my minimalistic possibilities…but it isn’t the same as they’ve always known it to be. You can’t imagine, how guilty I’m feeling for being so useless…for not being the mother, my kids would deserve to have!

In order to escape these thoughts of hopelessness and to forbid myself to drown in despair, searching for ideas of exiting this world, I rather keep clinging on Severus…like I’ve done it over the past 21 years.

I’ve commissioned my friend @opalchalice to make my fantasy of Severus and my (self-inserted as fuck) OC Julia, dancing in the rain…letting their sorrows be washed off from the pouring raindrops…come to life through her beautiful art. I asked her to draw this moment of peace for Sevy and Jules…a moment of joy before the world around them would fall apart.

Lia, you did an incredible job with this artwork! There’s nothing, that I don’t love about it. Please, take my apologies for writing such a pathetically whiny post beneath your lovely drawing. I know, it should have deserved better. But rest assured, my friend, your art always gifts me some light and comfort for my troubled heart and soul and I enjoy every conversation with you! Thank you for everything!

🖤Severus & Julia🖤

🖤Sevy & Jules🖤

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crownedinmarigolds · 1 month ago

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I was thinking about doing a commission sale for October but oh my I got so busy with my day-job! T_T I will definitely do something special perhaps when I'm back in November but I think for now I'm just a little too busy - I apologize! Maybe things will clear up more after this week or next but I'm for sure working on a more limited outside work free time for the next couple of weeks... The schedule for October: - Working on the commissions I have. These shouldn't be too affected or anything! <3 - Lots of outside Tumblr family things like my child's Halloween events for school! - Anniversary with the manssss. - Hecata Family Portrait on the 31st - I've drawn this and we are taking submissions for the picture until the 30th! It will be a hard deadline this time so the picture can be posted for everyone on Halloween! - Dragon Age: The Veilguard comes out October 31st and I'd like to play a bit without cutting into drawing time for people. I just want to respect my clients' times!

#I had a quiet period for comms for a bit (totally fine!) but suddenly had a little burst of inquiries so I gotta make sure I have the time!#personal #commission schedule

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a-writers-blurbs · 5 months ago

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A bit of a disclaimer ig...

Hi guys,

This is going to be a long post that sounds slightly rant-y & I'm going to apologize in advance for that. I am going to make exactly ONE post (this one) about this topic, and I will not be discussing it further or posting about it again. I will also not be responding to any negative comments but deleting them instead.

These are my personal opinions and [...not *trying* to sound rude, but there's no other way to say it...] a bunch of random people online aren't going to change my opinions.

My husband is an artist. He does canvas painting & draws comic books (think anti-hero dark horse). I paint furniture (kinda mini murals) & make chibi drawings. I've also been writing fanfiction since the late 90s.

That being said, this post is about AI art.

I get the controversy, I do. But I've heard this argument before, when fanfiction became more popularized. The whole "You're just stealing someone else's work & changing it up to call it your own" is (at its core) the same argument against AI. The only difference is that instead of you yourself changing it, you're allowing a machine to do it.

But I digress...

Over the last week, I have received several messages about my use of AI art. First & foremost, my stuff is appropriately tagged as AI.

Second, I don't sell or advertise these pictures in any way. In fact, none of them have been posted anywhere but here (as of 6/1/24).

Third, and probably most important, I DONT MAKE THEM FOR YALL. Fanfiction & fanart are a HOBBY. It is something that I do because I enjoy it and it destresses me. I DO NOT do it, hoping I'll get 1000s of followers, views, likes, etc. Every story I write, I print & bind for my library. I will now be doing the same with my AI pictures.

I have a condition that has a symptom called Maladaptive Daydreaming. Because of this, my head is full of an alarming amount of excruciatingly detailed & unrealistic scenarios and images. (To the point that it affects my everyday life).

I can't necessarily recreate the images in my mind without help & the only way to get rid of the random scenarios is to write them out. So I do write them. And now I use AI to help me get a BASE image. I do still go in myself and edit/redraw parts of each generated image to fit them to the characters I want them to represent. I do thus using digital art.

Granted, there's a whole other group of people that think digital art isn't real art... but that's a discussion for another day. Anyway...

TLDR:

I use AI art & will continue to despite some people's dislike. I will continue to delete any and all comments left publicly that are malicious, rude, or condescending. My stories & are are for me. If others enjoy it, great, that's freaking awesome. If not, there are literally thousands of other fanfic authors you can follow instead of me.

Again, I apologize, I know this sounds rude. But I need to be 100% transparent on this one. I am extremely grateful for every folllower & reader I have. I won't lie & say comments/positive interaction isn't a serotonin boost because it is. Yall also give me more motivation to actually complete a story vs. moving on to the next idea. But I'm not going to change the way I do things to appease someone I don't even know.

This is one of the few things I enjoy doing in my free time & have been doing it for 25 years now, and in the last 5 or so years ALL fandoms have gotten so toxic its hard to enjoy anything anymore. Last time it got like this, I simply stopped posting. I'd rather not do that again, but if people (who aren't even following me) don't leave me alone, I'll probably have to do it again, sadly.

But for now, hopefully this post will give people with different opinions to go ahead and block me from their feed. We're not going to agree so instead of wasting energy arguing, let's keep the peace & agree to stay off if each others feeds.

I won't judge you on your idea that you feel it's your duty to harass people over their choices & you won't judge me for enjoying something. 😉

Thank you for listening. Love yall & and I hope your day is blessed!

#fanfic #kagome higurashi #lord sesshomaru #sesshomaru #sesshomaru x kagome #sesshomaru's mother #sesskag #sesskag fanfiction #sesskag fic #sesskag monthly prompt #ai #ai generated #ai art

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liaromancewriter · 1 year ago

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Picta Problems

Premise: Cassie and Ethan clash over a Pictagram post.

Book: Open Heart (post series) Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Cassie Valentine) Rating/Category: Teen. Angsty Fluff. Format: Prose + Text & Pic Fic Words: 1,100

A/N: I started with the intent of making fluffy edits; that's it. And then this fic took a life of its own. Submission for @choiceschallenge-may2023 prompt "photographs" and @choicesjunechallenge "stories". I'm using @choicesflashfics week 35, prompt 3.

Part 1: Picta Memories

Part 2: The Backlash

Part 3: The Confrontation

Cassie Valentine was having a good day until she wasn’t. Everyone knew her to be easygoing, often with a smile on her lips, but serious about her work. Her friends and foes agreed on one thing: she had a long fuse, and it took a lot for her to lose that sunny disposition.

Of course, she wasn’t a saint, and medicine wasn’t a career for eternal optimists. But she found a way to keep her balance despite everything fate threw at her.

That’s why many people milling about on the seventh floor of Boston’s Edenbrook Hospital were surprised to see her angry expression as she furiously tapped on her cell phone. Sensing her distraction, they stayed out of her way.

But the rumors spread. Dr. Valentine was in a bad mood. Best to wait until it evened out. She might be slow to anger, but she was also quick to diffuse.

The traveling nurse assigned to that floor asked his colleagues if the young doctor might just be hangry. Perhaps a cookie could turn the tide.

“She’s partial to cupcakes,” one of them commented.

“And coffee,” another piped in, having witnessed Dr. Valentine and Dr. Ramsey returning from their daily coffee run for years.

“Could she have had a fight with Dr. Ramsey?” one recently hired nurse wondered.

The idea was so preposterous that everyone around the nurses’ station laughed. They were still wiping tears from their eyes when Ethan Ramsey stepped off the elevator and marched determinedly down the hallway to his former office.

Everyone held their breath and pretended to be busy as he paused midway to stare at them. He quirked one eyebrow, a perplexed frown forming on his lips and then he shook his head and continued walking.

Still puzzling over the bizarre behavior at the nurses’ station, Ethan absently swiped his access card on the reader outside the diagnostic team’s office and strode through the sliding glass doors.

“Any idea what’s happening outside?” he called out.

Cassie was staring at scans on the digital board and didn’t respond. Not giving it another thought, Ethan joined her and shoved his hands in his pant pockets as he stared at what appeared to be a patient’s brain. The shadows told their own story about the individual’s condition.

“Hmm,” he mused and rocked back on his heels. “See that—”

“I know how to read a scan, Ethan,” Cassie said curtly, throwing him an annoyed look. “Believe it or not, I am adult enough to do my job without anyone watching over my shoulder.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m pissed off at you!”

Taken aback by her vehemence, Ethan started to reach for her, only for Cassie to evade his touch. She walked around him and took her place behind the desk, putting physical and emotional distance between them.

“Is this about my text message earlier?” Ethan asked, mentally tracking their interactions during the day.

“Partially,” she said. “It’s about you not trusting me enough to know when to draw the line about publicizing our relationship. I barely post about you. If people didn’t already know about us, they’d think I was single. But that isn’t good enough for you, is it?”

Ethan wondered how his day had gone from breakfast in bed with his lover to her looking at him as if he was a stranger. He didn’t think their text exchange had been that serious, but clearly, Cassie disagreed.

“I already apologized,” he said, sighing deeply, unable to hide his irritation.

“Until the next time,” Cassie bit out. “I can’t be in a relationship where I’m constantly walking on eggshells. I ask for very little, Ethan, but I demand your trust in this. I’ve earned it.”

She was right, thought Ethan. She’d had enough experience with tabloids to be a fiend about her privacy. And as someone intimately familiar with her Pictagram feed, he knew his presence was an exception, not the rule.

Of all the things she could be upset about, he found it hilarious that it was over this. He admitted his first reaction was annoyance at seeing a private moment shared on social media and having her friends comment. But there hadn’t been malicious intent involved.

Like it or not, he was involved with Cassie, and she had earned his trust. Not just for this, but for all other things too.

“Why are you smiling at me like that?” Cassie asked suspiciously, her green eyes narrowing to slits.

Instead of answering, he walked around the desk, turned her chair and placed his hands on either side of her chair, effectively caging her. He leaned in, his blue eyes intent as they locked on hers.

“I.” He kissed her forehead. “Am.” Then the tip of her nose. “Sorry.” He brushed his lips across hers. “I overreacted. Forgive me?”

He didn’t think she’d respond, but she seemed to deflate before his eyes, losing the tightness in her body as her anger left.

“Fine,” she said somewhat graciously. “But we should set some ground rules because I’m not ashamed of our relationship. I might not want to end up on HSTea, but that doesn’t mean I want to hide away completely.”

She pushed against his arms until he moved back to let her stand.

“There are obligations to who I am, Ethan,” Cassie said, deadly serious as she crossed her arms across her chest. “If we’re going to go the distance, you need to accept that being with a Valentine comes with social responsibilities and prurient interest from strangers.”

She continued, staring at him carefully. “My family tries their best to keep the limelight away from me, but they cannot make it disappear completely. It will shine on you too, and you have to be okay with it even if you don’t like it.”

“I see,” he said cautiously for lack of anything else to say.

The shrill sound of his pager cut through the uncomfortable silence. Ethan cursed and glanced at the tiny screen.

“I have to go, but I do want to discuss this, Cassie,” he said. “Meet me for dinner tonight. We can talk without interruption.”

She nodded rigidly, and Ethan exhaled. He touched her hand, needing that connection before they went their separate ways. He took comfort when she hooked her pinky around his and smiled softly.

As he walked back to his office in the administrative wing, Ethan thought it would likely be the most important dinner of his life. But there was no decision to make. He’d already decided to fall in love with Cassie. Everything started from there.

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

All Fics & Edits: @annfg8 @bluebelle08 @coffeeheartaddict2 @crazy-loca-blog @doriopenheart @genevievemd @headoverheelsforramsey @lucy-268 @jamespotterthefirst @jerzwriter @lady-calypso @mainstreetreader @peonierose @potionsprefect @queencarb @quixoticdreamer16 @rookiemartin @socalwriterbee @takemyopenheart @tessa-liam @trappedinfanfiction

Submissions: @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

Ethan & Cassie only: @cariantha @custaroonie @hopelessromantic1352 @mrs-ramsey

#open heart #open heart choices #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #choices open heart #open heart fanfics #open heart fanfiction #choices fic writers creations #cfwc fics of the week #choices fanfics #choices fanfiction #short story #writers on tumblr #playchoices #ethan ramsey x cassie valentine

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guz013 · 3 months ago

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Firstly, when you get this, you have to answer with 5 things you like about yourself, publicly. Then, send this ask to 10 of your favorite followers (no pressure though! positivity is cool)💛

Ok, that's an interesting question and chain, because it made me really question and reflect on some things. But first, the 5 things:

I became a [some sort of] therapist for a lot of friends of mine, to the point that they ask if I can also help their friends sometimes. And most of the time helping them also helps me better understand mental problems and issues on my life, and when I need some "friend-therapist", I know that I can rely on them back;

I learned to learn. Growing up as what I would learn is called "gifted child", really made it difficult in my teenage to [now] early-adult life. When you grow up having your entire life being able to learn things quickly, the first time you encounter something challenging, it hits harder;

I like to be bold and have a challenge. It is somewhat contradictory from the last point, but nowadays, I do not like to, and almost can't work, without having some sort of challenge or bigger goal in mind. Yes, having small tasks is good for the day-to-day, but actively having an objective in life that's greater than myself as a person (like creating my childhood company/brand) keeps me motivated to not give up. I don't care if this dream never comes to reality totally one day, just having something to reach for is already enough;

I acknowledge the present and it's value. This is something that I still struggle with, anxiety really makes it hard to just focus and be grateful about the present and the "now". However, I started to finally acknowledge it, plan things for tomorrow, instead for next month or even year. Things like programming and drawing really made me appreciate the process of creating things, instead of just wanting the final product done. Even though in can go backwards from the past point, I would summarize this thinking as: "living the present, but being optimist about the future";

I became "someone who's trying to improve". This phrase/mantra that I created for myself, joking on not, really helped my life. In just 5 words there's the acceptance that I'm not perfect, that it's not guaranteed that I will achieve my goals, but that I will always try, that I always have room to improve. Growing up I had some fucked up opinions and wasn't the best person I would say, but well, I improved, I'm now better, I'm not perfect, and I will make a mistake in the future or even hurt someone accidentally again, but I will apologize, I will try to improve, I will become a better self. And hopefully, in the process, I can improve my art, my products, projects, and the world where I live in.

I have to admit that listing these things was kinda hard. Because of all the "gifted kid childhood" thing, I tried to develop some sort of anti-ego for myself, trying to be less egocentric, since I was a lot in the past and still do have a problem with ego sometimes. This doesn't mean that I'm harsh on myself, but personally it is hard to accept complements even from myself, since I know that because of complements of strangers, teachers, parents, I started to feel like I know everything and ended up somewhat ignorant for a lot of things. So the amount of "I" in this post was somewhat strange, not going to lie. However, sometimes feeling uncomfortable is healthy y'know, it's hard to be comfortable when you are starting to draw for example, but the lack of comfort is part of the process and changing.

And being more grateful with and reflecting about yourself is nice sometimes, it really can show how much you improved and can improve as a person. This is even one of the reasons I started the Daily Blogs, it's a constant self-reflection of my day, creative process, and self. I would really recommend anyone reading this give it a shot, try to make a diary, or write how was your week, anything that can help you reflect where you are, where you were, and where you want to be. Self reflection doesn't need to be daily, and most of the time I would say shouldn't be public (I really filter a lot of personal thoughts on my daily blogs and posts, privacy is good and not something you can take back easily), and it can be in any format, from a markdown file on Obsidian, to a plaintext note in your phone. Just give yourself some time without social media, entertainment, and have a talk with your own mind, it really helps.

Thanks for the ask @pxasee! This was an interesting experience.

Bonus: My girlfriend said that one thing that she likes about me is my smile.

#ask reply #self reflection

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smidgen-of-hotboy · 7 months ago

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Our Angel of Brahma, pt. x

This is my second time trying to post this, and I think- I think this may the point where I draw the line with the weird fucked formatting Travelers. Hellsite does not like it when I reach the character limit (and I'm tired of fighting it, curses...) CW for: mentioned animal abuse, mentioned assault towards a disabled character, genocide, homelessness. if there is something else you would like warned for, please reach out to me.

@ceaseless-watchers-special-girl @ananxiousgenz @demonic-panini @the-private-eye @gwenlena

SOUND: COMMS BEEPS. RECORDING BEGINS.

BAIRD (REVOLUTIONARY):

I apologized to Iris for my outburst a few days ago. They accepted it without any questions. I still feel guilty, but they aren't willing to drag this out any longer.

The twins are off probation but they still need supervision. Talia goes out with them most days as part of her physical therapy. It's good for her. But she always comes back so tired and wiped out from just walking that she takes days to recover. We don't get days though. We don't know when New Kinshasa is going to change its mind on us again. Today they can give us an early curfew, and the next they can turn the Guardian Angel System on to target everyone old enough to remember the Angel. We don't have a damn clue what they're planning or going to do next...

Uh- this week on Brahma: the Rats gang in the north and the Rats gang in the south are at odds with each other. If the situation escalates any further there's going to a be a damn turf war. Ten years of relative peace and now they're at a tipping point?

(BAIRD SIGHS)

I remember when a mischief of Rats scurried on to our block a few years ago. Charlie, Talia, and I had run a couple of them off years and years prior. And most knew better than to come looking for trouble down our block. Most everyone that was taken care of by Mrs. Darius or taught under Mr. Eber at some point or another knew not to come poking their nose around looking for trouble. But this mischief was new. They didn't know who's grounds they were stepping on or what apartments they were looking to squat in.

When those new kids started making a mess of the streets and tried running circles around the market, I went and took care of them myself. Josie and Hank were so worried for me, but when I got back I just told them that it was no big deal. Just a bunch of homeless kids that needed a place to stay. I wrangled them into place and got them all sorted and now they’re running chores for old-timers like Hank and slipping messages to the other Revolutionaries across Brahma.

Yesterday’s Rats weren’t those same kids though. The twins complained about a group of teenagers mucking around the old daycare. Josie and Iris couldn’t parse much of what they said so they’ve asked me to try talking to them and Talia one on one. And from what I understand, the girls were upset because the Rats kept calling them “Goodies”, and Talia was mostly ignoring them pretty well until one of them chucked a rock at her and Mischa. So now I gotta get involved in another rat problem and either rough ‘em up and shoo ‘em out, or knock enough sense into them they start behaving better.

(BAIRD GROANS)

And honestly, I wanna do neither. I told Hank and Josie back then that I wasn’t scared but really. I was scared shitless. Those kids were easy to talk to though once they realized I’m like them. I’m not a fighter. I don’t go in fists-a-swinging right off the bat. That was always more Talia and Charlie then me… but, Talia can hardly walk most days, and Charlie’s gone. Josie is too busy distributing aid at the rec center, Hank is retired, the twins are afraid of them, and Iris is coordinating with the Old-Timers. Everyone’s either too old, too busy, or too young to deal with problems like these.

(BAIRD TAKES A DEEP BREATH AND LETS IT OUT SLOWLY. HE STRUGGLES TO CLEAR THEIR THROAT)

In other news on Brahma: Ester is now taller than I was at ten. Meaning that I really was just short for being a ten-year-old. Hallie is as tall are Charlie was, but they’ll both probably need another year before they’re as tall as Talia was at their age. I don’t know much about Hank and his life before the Galatic Civil War, but I’m almost certain he came from one of the Solar Planets. Why in any Goddess good name he chose to stay in the Outer Rim and chose to stay on Brahma of all places, I don’t think I’ll ever understand.

(BAIRD COUGHS, BEATS THEIR CHEST, AND COUGHS SOME MORE)

Good grief… I need to ask Iris about something to soothe my throat. Debris keeps falling from New Kinshasa. It burns up before it hits the Dome and can do any real damage, but when I was last in the market, I was talking with one of the vendors and she said her neighborhood was afraid of another Cleansing. The last one was… six years ago? That sounds about right. And the one before that was when New Kinshasa leveled a quarter of Brahma in one day. It still gives me chills just thinking about it.

SOUND: COMMS BEEPS. RECORDING ENDS.

SOUND: COMMS BEEPS AGAIN. NEW RECORDING BEGINS.

BAIRD (REVOLUTIONARY):

Well, that went better than expected.

I paid a visit to the squatters at the old daycare. The youngest looked to be about nine, the oldest gave me a black eye–

IRIS:

They did a lot more than that, now hold still while I stitch your face back together.

BAIRD (REVOLUTIONARY):

Oh c’mon Iris– can’t a guy catch a break? Do you think it’s gonna scar at least?

IRIS:

If it does, no one will notice unless they look for it.

(IRIS GETS LOUDER, AS IF THEY PULLED THE COMMS CLOSER)

For the record: Baird’s brow split open because the Brat was wearing a ring. Baird does have a black eye, but that’s nothing a bit of pain meds can’t help him cope with.

(BAIRD GAGS)

BAIRD (REVOLUTIONARY):

No thanks, I’ll pass. I can cope with the pain.

(IRIS SNORTS)

IRIS:

And… There. All done.

(MOMENTS PAUSE)

BAIRD (REVOLUTIONARY):

You can let go of my face now.

IRIS:

Right, sorry. You look so much like your parents and I just– I miss them.

BAIRD (REVOLUTIONARY):

Well it would kind of be a weird if I didn’t look a little bit like them…

IRIS:

Har-har– think you’re so fucking clever… you were saying though? About how it went better than you expected?

BAIRD (REVOLUTIONARY):

Oh yeah. It did. I got punched in the face and the others got freaked out when I fell backwards because they didn’t know how to get rid of a dead body. One of them came over to check on me and I was mostly fine after they helped me sit up.

The one who punched me didn’t apologize and I don’t need ‘em to. I asked them why they were squatting in the daycare and they said that they didn’t feel safe anymore at their old spot. Apparently the Rats North and South from here drove them out and they each found one another looking for some place to go. I talked to them and they agreed to pack their shit up and get out of the daycare, but they want my help finding someplace they can stay.

(IRIS HUMS)

IRIS:

It sounds like to me, that we’re past a plausible turf war, and are stuck smack dab in the middle of it. I’ll have to bring this up at the next Meeting you know… How do you feel about going to your first Meeting with the others?

BAIRD (REVOLUTIONARY):

Really! You mean that?

IRIS:

Yes. You’re an adult, I trust your decisions, and you have some experience from back when you helped run Talia’s little book club. Plus those meetings are so boring without someone there to keep you company. It’d be nice to have you around to take notes while I nap.

BAIRD (REVOLUTIONARY):

You’re such an ass, you know that?

(IRIS LAUGHS)

SOUND: COMMS BEEPS. RECORDING ENDS.

SOUND: COMMS BEEPS AGAIN. NEW RECORDING BEGINS.

BAIRD (REVOLUTIONARY):

What the fuck!

(IRIS LAUGHS)

No I’m serious! What the fuck was that for the last hour and a half! What the fuck!

IRIS:

Welcome to my world, Baird. I’ve been fighting those ding-bats for the last decade all on my own. They refuse to give me supplies to restock the only functioning Hanataba Clinic left because you live across town now, how are you supposed to take care everyone when you're all the way over in the Est Quarter? I would move back someplace closer if only you would fucking give me what I need! But no! Instead we run circles around and around, have the same passing contests between North and South, East and West, downtown and uptown, and no body fucking wins!

(IRIS PANTS)

BAIRD (REVOLUTIONARY):

Oh. I… had no idea. Really? It's been like this this whole time?

IRIS:

Yes! Baird what’s wrong?

BAIRD (REVOLUTIONARY):

Nothing it’s just… you would move back if they put effort into stocking the Hanataba clinic? You really would?

(A LASPE OF SILENCE. IRIS GASPS)

IRIS:

Oh no no no– no. Baird. Look at me. I would not leave you just like that. You’re my family. I gave up my dream to keep the clinic stocked because I wanted to be there for you and Cyrus. When Hanataba built the clinics, they left each one with a massive handbook covering all sorts of procedures. If the clinic was ever back to half functioning, I’d go back only to show someone else how to keep the lights on.

(IRIS SIGHS)

But there isn’t anyone else, there aren’t more supplies, and the clinic’s generator was probably been siphoned for fuel years ago.

(BAIRD MUMBLES SOMETHING INAUDIBLE)

BAIRD (REVOLUTIONARY):

What if… you weren’t the only Hanataba Clinician the Revolution had to rely on though? What if there was at least one other one?

IRIS:

Come again?

BAIRD (REVOLUTIONARY):

Quid pro quo. You help me get the Rats off the street, out of the daycare, and I help you find someone else to train to run the clinic and justify getting it operating again.

IRIS:

You want to use the Brats?

BAIRD (REVOLUTIONARY):

Just the mischief that got ran off by the bigger gangs. I bet I could even talk them into running messages across the planet. Helping us organize a bit better. Make getting the word out easier… what’s wrong?

IRIS:

Nothing, it’s a great idea Baird…

BAIRD (REVOLUTIONARY):

But?

IRIS:

…but I think the Old-Timers won’t like it. They don’t like the Pests to begin with.

BAIRD (REVOLUTIONARY):

Oh yeah no, they’ll hate this idea. But… I have to try. Right?

(FOOTSTEPS THROUGH AN EMPTY STREET. A FULL MINUTE PASSES)

IRIS:

Yeah. You have to try. I trust your decisions, and I trust you.

BAIRD (REVOLUTIONARY):

So, lets try together.

IRIS:

Yeah… we’ll try together.

SOUND: COMMS BEEPS. RECORDING ENDS.

- This recording takes place a few days after “Decade”. - Baird has mentioned Talia a lot and based off their descriptions it’s likely the neglect and abuse she took from the Constables 10 years prior left her disabled. If not that, in lasting chronic pain. - Baird’s cough does sound very concerning. They sounded awful in the first one (“Belief”). Dust that settles in the lungs can cause scarring. It must have progressively worsened over the years. If they’re alive today I would be shocked. - “Talia’s Book Club” whatever happened to it after Charlie was executed? - Baird’s reaction after attending his first Meeting with other Revolutionary organizers is so much like Eevees’. - Est Quarter: the East Quarter of Brahma. - Baird and Iris’ relationship has changed and improved so much since they were a kid. They’ve clearly grown a lot closer and have a lot of a love for one another. Did Baird’s plan ever get off the ground? Was there another Cleansing? -Frannie’s friend (Ms. Rita) messaged me back with an update on her search for Eevee Bell and Baird Bell. She recommended that I look back through her list for Baird since she said it would take her a week at most to gather everything she could on Eevee Bell. Doing a preliminary search on my own turns up nothing. I don’t know how or where Ms. Rita is getting her information from, and I don’t think I want to know either. The less I know the better (I think). - Though now that I’ve had time to think about it, I could ask her to look into the name Peter Nureyev. I’ve tried searching myself and I haven’t really found anything. Even with the information I’ve gleamed from Camilla and Eevee’s recordings, I haven’t found dick anything. Whoever he is (was?), he very effectively disappeared.

#our angel of brahma #long live the fucked formatting #sigh. oh well.#i will inevitably someday post this on ao3 and put all ~fancy~ formatting from my google doc into the ao3 posting #ask to be tagged or removed #the penumbra podcast #the penumbra fanfic #a hotboy's writing #private eye's keys go jingle jangle #i am also now working on the next installment and strap in folks we are going back into angst hurt no comfort territory. it'll be a doozy

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honeykngdom · 1 year ago

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𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚝 𝚊𝚜 𝚑𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚢 | 𝚎.𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕 | 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚒𝚡

Pairing: Embry Call x Original Character Summary: Join Ainsley and Embry as they embark on a journey where they are forced to question everything they thought they knew, and embrace the pain that is inevitable to avoid in love. An imprint story. Self-discovery. Angst and romance. Word Count: 5k Warnings: implied cunnalingus, puking A/N: I apologize that I haven't updated this story in forever. I'm in the middle of binging Naruto and my ass is thirsting so hard over the ninja men but I felt it was only fair if I updated this WIP before I posted anything related to another fandom >.< prev. chapter | next chapter

Despite my mother’s various protests, I found myself settling into Embry’s home quite comfortably. I hadn’t necessarily moved in, but I didn’t exactly live at home anymore, either. I spent a lot of my time on the tiny loveseat Jacob and Embry shared, finishing homework and listening to Podcasts, waiting for Embry to return home from a long night shift, or the extra shifts he was pulling to help out.

It turned out Jacob worked with Embry, too, so the house was mostly empty apart from myself and the sound of the wind knocking the pipes together. Most of the time, I forced myself to stay awake until they’d come home in the wee hours of the morning. I never slept soundly without Embry in the bed, anyway.

It had been three weeks since I last slept in my own bed; I now sat perched on the counter as Embry chopped red peppers into thin slices. I watched the way his back contracted with the gentle movements, enjoying the way his skin expanded whenever he stretched a hand to the size to stir the pan simmering on the stove aimlessly.

“You’re staring.” Embry mused quietly, looking over his shoulder at me.

I lifted a brow, raising the wine glass to my lips to take a small sip. “You’re sort of beautiful, you know that?”

Embry chuckled lightheartedly as he tossed the peppers into the pan. “Is that what we’re calling me this week?”

Last week, it was handsome. I accidentally said it while we were in the shower, not really something I had meant to say out loud. I was speaking about something out loud, but while thinking it in my head the words overlapped. Embry found my embarrassment cute, but I had never felt more happy to say it. I then made sure to say things like that frequently as a reminder that I adored him.

“Yes, it is.” I lifted my chin, taking another sip of the red liquid that sloshed around in the oversized glass. They say one glass a day, right? Embry joked when he noticed it in the thrift store — and laughed so hard at his own joke, he purchased it just so he could fill it to the brim each night with dinner. We hadn’t been by Emily’s in almost a week now, choosing to stay at home and spend whatever free time Embry had, together.

Embry brought the stovetop down to a simmer and turned to settle in between my thighs, hands resting on the countertop on either side of my bottom. I draped my arms over his shoulders, seeming pleased with my confidence. When he didn’t say anything, I tilted my head to the side and raised a brow again, “What?”

“Stop doing that.”

“Doing what?”

He leaned forward to press his lips to the side of my neck, just under my ear, “Giving me compliments.”

I hummed in a sort of delight, letting my eyes slip shut, “I thought you liked it when I fed your ego.”

He chuckled again, lips moving to press to the hollow base of my throat, “You do that plenty enough in the bedroom, honey, trust me.”

I let my mind wander to the previous night: the more comfortable I felt with him, the more I let myself go. My moans were loud enough the house could’ve shook, finding pleasure in watching Embry focus so intently on me to draw them from me. I felt it was only fair to happily oblige, no doubt boosting whatever confidence he had over his sexual abilities through the roof. My fingers would grip the sheets so tightly my knuckles would turn white, making a mess of my hair each time he’d comb his fingers through it just to pull my head back to expose my neck.

I almost felt bad for Jacob. Almost. They were technically his nights off, too.

Since winter had rolled in, I was constantly wearing turtlenecks and hoodies to hide the litter of love bites Embry left. It was never too much, but they were for us to see and enjoy. They were the casual reminders that whatever we had was simply amazing and hot and real — and it drove me absolutely crazy.

Once we were settled into our seats across from each other, I was the first to shovel a forkful of the pasta into my mouth; I didn’t really cook when Embry wasn’t around, and oftentimes found myself going hungry if he failed to come home in a timely manner. That was still just my secret.

“Fuck,” I moaned quietly, taking another bite, “why haven’t you been cooking for me this whole time?”

“Because we eat at Emily’s.” He reminded me, shovelling his own forkful into his mouth.

I brought the wine glass to my lips and downed the rest of my drink. “Looks like I found myself a husband.” I said, mostly to myself. When I glanced across the table at Embry, he was watching me with big brown eyes and a new sort of adoration. “Don’t.” I said, suddenly realizing the severity of what I had just said.

“I didn’t say anything.” He smiled, his eyes dropping back to his food. The smile on his face was unmistakable. “Not a word.”

“But you’re thinking about it.” I squinted, grabbing the bottle to pour myself another glass. One glass a day, my ass.

“Of course I am,” Embry sighed, resting his elbows on the table, “I already told you what I want.”

“And I told you that you’re insane,” I retorted, moving the food around on my plate, “multiple times.” I added quietly.

“Doesn’t have to be now.” He grumbled, shoving another bite into his mouth. “Just peace of mind, that’s all.”

“Embry,” I sighed, watching his shoulders drop the slightest as though he were expecting me to retaliate. I had been doing that a lot — I might have semi-moved into his home, but I still held him at arm's length with a lot of things. I still shot him down, especially when all he was trying to do was be a happy, lovesick idiot.

And here I was trying to stick a cork in all of the fun.

“I’m not going anywhere, okay?” I smiled, reaching across the table to touch his fingers. “I promise.”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The morning of Thanksgiving, I was woken by gentle kisses pressed against my back. “You know what I’m thankful for?” Embry had asked quietly, lips pressing another warm kiss to my spine.

“Hmm?” I hummed, hugging the pillow.

“My brothers,” He started, pressing his lips to the small of my back, “and my mother.” His mouth trailed to my hips. I slowly began to turn over, opening an eye to peer down at him, “But I’m most thankful for you.”

His teeth grazed my thigh and I tensed.

“Thankful for your kindness.”

A soft sigh slipped past my lips as he bit into the flesh.

“Thankful for your patience.”

My hands drifted up into his hair.

“Thankful for your love, even if I’m undeserving.”

My legs shifted apart, allowing him to settle in between my thighs.

“Thankful for all the adorable noises you make.”

He pressed a warm, open mouthed kiss to my swollen folds, enticing a slow whine somewhere in the back of my throat.

“Just so, so thankful for you.”

He had spent the morning pleasing me in so many different ways, trying to show me just how thankful he truly was. Once we showered and dressed, we drove hand-in-hand to Emily’s. I offered to help in preparing for the feast she had to make, feeling somewhat obligated after extending an invitation to my family. Billy offered to bring the veggies and stuffing. Sue was bringing the desserts. Jennie was bringing the fresh buns and roasted potatoes — which left Emily and I with the turkey, other forms of potatoes, extra stuffing (my mother wasn’t really aware of how much these men could put away) and other various appetizers.

When we arrived at the Uley house, I could smell the delicious scent of fresh bread from outside in my Jeep. Embry followed behind me now, rather than leading me into the home. It was something that naturally shifted over our time together. My boyfriend pressed a quick kiss to my cheek as I shrugged from my jacket; he would retire to the living room with Sam, Paul and Jared to watch whatever sports game was on the television, while the rest of us remained in the kitchen.

A few weeks ago, Emily and Sam proudly announced the expectancy of a second little Uley. Now, Emily was all but sweating buckets in the kitchen, trying to keep her bump from accidentally hitting the hot stovetop. I thought it was sweet how much Emily already mothered the unborn child.

“Looking good, Em.” I cooed, leaning over the counter to press a quick kiss to her cheek.

Emily smiled in return. Despite the clear exhaustion, she managed to keep her typical happy-go-lucky demeanor. “Renesmee and her parents will be joining us.” She whispered, looking over to the living room. “Jake conveniently forgot to mention anything until this morning.”

“We’re crunch baking.” Kim added, looking slightly distressed with her current task from the kitchen table.

“Crunch baking?”

“Sue said she ran out of flour last night and didn’t have time to go to the store, and Sam wouldn’t let me leave to bring her some, so we’re making muffins.”

I nodded, ducking down to the bottom drawer to fish for one of Emily’s aprons, “What can I do?” I asked as I pulled my hair into a low ponytail, pushing my sleeves up to the elbows. We spent the majority of the afternoon in the kitchen, listening to the boys converse back and forth in the living room. Each time someone arrived, another beer was opened for each of them. By the time my brothers arrived, I was certain the group was feeling pretty tipsy.

Jennie hung her coat over the back of a chair and ran towards me with open arms, “I miss you!” She squealed quietly, holding me close.

“Miss you, too, mom.” I sighed, wrapping my arms around my mother’s slender frame. She was wearing the same blue shirt from Billy’s birthday, her hair pulled back into one of her infamous buns paired with a matching set of hooped earrings. It was moments like this that led me to believe I would age just as gracefully as Jennie was – I would be so lucky.

“You should come home.” She chided, pulling me to the table. “We miss having you at home.”

I tried to look empathetic, but the truth was, I was perfectly happy with Embry. “I’ll visit more often, I promise.”

Jennie pressed her lips into a firm line, watching me carefully. “You really love this man?” She asked quietly.

I looked past my mother to where Embry stood, talking to my brothers. He looked simply gorgeous in his blue jean button down, with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and his hair freshly cut. I offered to trim it down, and then we got a little distracted and I ended up buzzing his entire head by accident. Not that it bothered Embry – we both seemed to like it.

Jennie followed my eyes and smiled. “He is pretty.” She noted, taking the beer Emily had just placed down in front of her.

“He’s the best,” I lamented, placing a hand on my mother's arm, “you really don’t have to worry about me.” It went on like that, the pair of us swapping stories of what had been going on over the last few weeks. Jennie had cut back on hours to spend more time with Billy and TJ, only working nights on bi-weekly rotation instead of every week. I mentioned being finished with my school work for the term, having plenty of free time to look for a part time job to keep myself occupied and busy while Embry was working. Jennie seemed to appreciate this.

“It’s just happening a little fast, don’t you think?” She asked quietly with concern feathering her features. “I’m happy you found someone that respects and loves you, baby, I really am. But it’s not good to isolate yourself –”

“I’m not.” I said quickly, shaking my head. “He doesn’t stop me from seeing anyone, I choose to spend my time with him.”

We watched each other for a few moments before Jennie lifted her gaze: Embry had come to stand behind me, letting his hands rest on my shoulders. TJ had followed his suit, seated next to my mother.

“Jennie,” Embry started, leaning down the slightest bit so she didn’t have to look too far up, “looking beautiful as always.”

“Oh, Embry.” My mother waved him away, folding her legs over one another. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”

“So they tell me.” He laughed nervously. I looked up at him, raising a brow. “Do you mind I steal you for a sec, hon?”

“Uh, sure.” I stood up, pressing a quick kiss to TJ’s cheek as I passed, following Embry out of the front door and into the cold. He could have at least warned me. “What’s up, Emb?” I asked once we stood near the hood of my Jeep.

“It’s about Renesmee’s parents.” He started, pulling me towards the passenger side, away from the house. Embry pondered for a few moments, not seeming to care for the bitter wind nipping at our exposed skin. “They’re .. different.” He said the word slowly, trying to add emphasis on how different without actually implicating anything.

“Isn’t everyone?” I asked, uselessly folding my arms to keep myself from getting cold.

Embry seemed to struggle with something, watching me with weary eyes. After a moment he signed, “I need you to keep an open mind. And any questions you have, any questions at all, I will answer later.” He promised. “When we’re home.” Embry added quickly, glancing over my head to the house.

“Why would I need an open mind?”

“Just, please?” He pleaded, pulling my hands to his lips to kiss my fingertips. The warmth was heavenly. “For me?”

“Okay.” I said slowly. When he smiled, I felt my chest expand twice its size and I relaxed. I had no idea why he would be so worried in the first place – it wasn’t as though I had a habit of judging those around me.

Well, not entirely.

It wasn’t until an hour later that Emily reminded the group that dinner would be ready shortly when I noticed Renesmee standing in the kitchen with Jacob and a few others I didn’t quite recognize. I leaned back a little bit, trying to rear my neck to look at the strangers I had yet to meet. They must be her parents.

“Honey,” Embry chided, kissing my neck to pull my attention away from the kitchen, “it’s your turn.”

I looked down at my hand, then to the table quickly. “Check.” I mumbled, looking at Jared for his final response.

“Check.”

“Alright, show your hands.” Quil clapped, looking at Jared expectantly.

Jared grinned ear to ear, “Read em and weep, sucker!” I looked down at his straight hand, and smiled.

“Cute.” I replied, placing my hand on the table. “But I’ve got a flush.”

“Fuck off!” Jared yelled, leaning over the table to reread my cards. Twice. He dug into his pocket, pulling a five from his wallet and handed it to Embry.

“Thank you.”

“I’m winning my money back,” Jared grumbled, pushing the chips towards mine and Embry’s growing pile. “Your girl’s a shark.”

“Nah, you just have shit luck.” Embry mused, counting all of the fives he had managed to weasel out of Jared’s pocket that afternoon. “Really, Jared. Eight years later, and I still don’t feel bad about taking all your money.” Embry’s mouth twitched into a smile, finishing the remainder of his beer. He looked at me and winked, fingers curling into my hair, rubbing my scalp appreciatively.

“He’s my good luck charm.” I smiled, leaning into my boyfriend’s side.

Sam had suggested playing something other than poker, seeing as some members of the group couldn’t afford to bet the way others could. We ended up playing Bullshit, which also didn’t end well for Jared. I was beginning to wonder if Kim was the only lucky thing that he had in his life.

When Emily called to her husband for help with the turkey, the group slowly stretched their limbs and stood, preparing for their retreat to the kitchen lineup to fill their plates. Embry rolled the joints in his arms, yawning loudly before he reached his hand down to squeeze my backside, offering me an innocent smile when I reared around to shoot him a glare. He leaned over Billy’s frame to grab us plates, while I dropped low to hug my uncles shoulder’s.

“Not you, too.” Billy grumbled, looking at Embry when he wrapped his arm around my waist.

“Oh, leave him alone, dad.” Jacob chided, folding his arms, “It’s what he’s wanted.”

“Ainsley!” Renesmee called, and suddenly my arms were wrapped around Nessie’s thin frame, head whirling with just how quick the tiny woman could be. “You’re here.”

“Duh,” I laughed, pulling back to look at Renesmee’s dress. It was cream colored and covered in pretty black designs – more sophisticated than I envisioned when she said she was going for simple.

My eyes drifted behind Nessie’s mountain of hair; two beautifully pale and seemingly flawless individuals stood several feet behind her, nearly wrapped up in each other's arms. Given their pale complexions, I deduced that they weren’t from the reservation, that was for sure.

“Honey,” Embry cleared his throat, resting a hand on the small of my back, “this is Bella and Edward.”

I watched the way their eyes scrutinized me; Bella’s brown orbs were careful, trying to seem open and inviting, however failed miserably. Edward, on the other hand, his golden hues were narrowed just the slightest bit. Neither seemed incredibly comforted by my presence, and I found myself shrinking under their stares.

“These are Nessie’s parents.” Embry said slowly. I could feel his eyes on me, burning holes into the back of my skull.

Nessie’s ‘parents’ didn’t look much older than myself – hell, they didn’t look much older than Renesmee. “You look pretty good for …” I trailed off.

“Thirty-seven.” Bella input, her sweet voice overpowering, very much in a similar manner to Renesmee’s. “We married right out of high school.” She added quickly, looking up at her husband lovingly.

Ugh.

“It’s nice to meet you.” I said with a tight smile, taking Embry’s hand in mine. There was something about the couple that didn’t sit right with me – something different that stirred something inside my chest, in the very pit of my stomach. I entwined my fingers with Embry’s, keeping close to his side as I glanced back over my shoulder from my place next to my mother once we were seated. Something was definitely off with them; the current image I had with the three of them, paired with Jacob, was beyond normal.

I happily perched on Embry’s knee, his left hand wandering from my hip and waist, to my thigh, my skin burning through my jeans. Moments like this, sitting around the table with all of my family, are what really made everything feel so real. Made Embry and his unconditional love for me real. Made my life in this town permanent. Made me believe in second chances and new beginnings.

I watched Leah and Trenton spend the majority of the dinner in each other's ears from across the table, smiling fondly as my brother laughed loudly at whatever his date was saying. I watched Jennie and TJ share intimate looks, paired with sweet pecks of affection.

I watched Edward and Bella stand a little behind the remainder of the group, contently filling in the dead space away from the rest of the family. I enjoyed that they understood their place, and obliged out of respect. My home was with Embry’s warm arms and warm smile, with Jacob’s boyish laugh and wit, with Jared’s incessant need for attention, with Sam and Emily’s kitchen, with Seth and Brady and Collin. With the frequent wonder of how Quil was, due to his absence.

My mother locked eyes with me for the briefest moment, smiling wide.

“She looks happy.” Embry noted, kissing my ear as he rubbed my arms with his massive hands.

As desserts were passed around, I wiggled in excitement as the warm gooey chocolate cookies made their way around the table – my hips moved quickly against Embry’s. His hands gripped my waist, pulling me against him tightly to cease my movements.

“Stop moving.” He breathed quietly in my ear.

I looked down at him over my shoulder, a coy smile gracing my lips, “What’s the matter?” I asked, rolling my hips once.

“You’re bad.” He laughed, hugging my waist. “No dessert for you.”

I snorted, “Yeah, okay.” My arm reached across the table, pulling a cookie from the top of the stack. I turned to look at him, watching his warm eyes as I bit into the warm chocolatey goodness. I hummed in satisfaction, offering a piece to him.

Soon, the table had dispersed; some members left to return home, others retired into the living room. Embry and I sat comfortably in the kitchen, feasting on leftover desserts and tea biscuits, making casual conversation with Sam and Paul.

“This was amazing.” I noted, tipping my head back to finish the remainder of my wine. “The stuffing was –”

“Fucking delicious? I know, right?” Paul melted in his chair, hands covering his bloated abdomen.

Sam sipped on his coffee, watching as the couple that spent the evening in the corner approached carefully. “I think we’re going to head out,” Bella started, sharing a quick hug with Emily, “see you around, wolf girl.” She teased.

Four pairs of eyes widened and cut to Bella quickly, then to me.

“What?” I asked, suddenly feeling nervous under the weight of their stares.

Edward, who up until then had been completely silent, moved to touch his wife’s back. “You don’t know yet?” He asked me, brows pulling together in confusion. “But I thought you were his –”

“Edward,” Bella hissed suddenly, turning to face him, “not our story to tell.”

“You know?” I asked sourly, shifting in my seat. Embry tried placing a comforting hand on my arm, which I slapped away.

Edward focused on me for a moment, before his eyes cut to Embry’s. He laughed once, shaking his head, “She really doesn’t know.”

“Unless you’re going to be useful to me in this conversation,” I quipped, pulling my empty glass off of the table, “I think it’s time you leave.”

We stood there, staring at each other from across the room. If he wasn’t going to blab what no one else would, I had very little interest in associating with him. All he had done was bring my anger to the surface, that shift in my core locking back into place, the heat bubbling in my veins – and I wasn’t even touching Embry.

“You really picked yourself a keeper.” Edward stated; he was talking to Embry but was focused on me as I walked into the kitchen. “She hates us almost as much as the rest of you do.”

Renesmee cut her eyes towards me, her gaze slightly disappointed. I stood behind the counter, cutting myself away from the rest of the group. We watched each other for a brief moment, now several more pairs of eyes wandered into the dining area.

“Everything good, Ness?” Jacob asked lightheartedly, rubbing her shoulders.

Renesmee looked at me and shook her head. “She hates us.”

Jacob looked up at me and then to Embry – who sat at the table, head in his trembling hands. “She doesn’t hate you.” Jacob reassured her.

“Dad just said –”

“Edward,” Seth began, “Embry isn’t ready –”

“She deserves to know.” Edward cut calmly, moving his cold eyes back to me. “You deserve to know.” He said again, lowering his chin to his chest. He wanted me to know.

“That’s enough.” Embry suddenly stated firmly, standing abruptly, which sent the chair he was sitting in across the room. His frame shook with heavy breaths, trembling fists clenched at his sides, jaw taunt. His voice, however, remained controlled. “You need to leave.”

“Dude.” Jacob started, looking towards my boyfriend with disapproving eyes. “You need to calm down.”

“Everyday,” Jared started, plucking a cookie from the table before he retreated to his corner next to Kim. “It’s happened everyday for almost three weeks.”

“Aw, c’mon,” Paul teased, watching Embry with a knowing smirk. “Embry hasn’t lost his temper everyday. Maybe two out of three.”

“Go ahead. Get it out in the open.” Edward pressed, taking a step away from Bella.

“Edward,” Jacob growled, “enough.”

Edward shook his head, “Even Bella knew,” he hissed, looking between Jacob and Embry. “She wasn’t even an imprint and she knew. It’s not safe to keep her in the dark.”

“We’ve got it under control.” Sam said loudly, pulling Emily away from Embry’s shaking figure.

“Time to leave.” Embry growled angrily, feet pushing him towards Edward.

It had been a long time since I had seen any of the men lose their temper – but I was familiar with how this scene would end. Everyone quickly moved away, and I barely just made it to Embry’s side before Seth shot up and reared me back, “No, you need to stay away.”

Jacob blocked Embry’s path, slamming into his body.

“Jake, move.”

“No.”

Another tremor rolled down Embry’s spine. “Move, dammit!”

Jacob’s fist reared back and collided with the side of Embry’s jaw; at first, the group stood in shock, and then we were frantically scattering out of the way. Bella pulled Renesmee back, hiding behind Edward. Emily and Sam stood in the furthest corner, Kim stood behind Jared.

I was the only one who struggled against Seth, trying to use my elbows to inflict some sort of damage (I didn’t).

“That was incredibly stupid.” Edward remarked from behind Jacob, watching Embry slowly bring his head forward again. His fingers hastily unbuttoned his shirt, taking the fabric away from his body as he kicked his boots to the other side of the room.

“Get Ains and Em out of the room.” Embry growled, but the voice didn’t sound like it belonged to Embry at all.

Jacob, who realized his mistake all too late, began to walk backwards through the open door to the outside with his hands raised in the air as a sort of truce. Embry definitely didn’t care for it.

There was a loud growl, Embry’s body slamming to the ground in visible tremors and convulsions. Halfway to the floor, there was a loud ripping noise and Embry exploded. Dark gray and black fur blew out from his body, coalescing into something more than five-times his normal size - a massive, crouched shape that was ready to spring.

The wolf’s gray muzzle wrinkled back over his teeth, and another growl rolled through his colossal chest. His warm brown orbs had been replaced with nothing but black, focused solely on Jacob’s retreating figure. In an instant, Jacob’s figure shimmied – far more gracefully than Embry’s had – and he exploded, too.

I stood, wrapped in Seth’s firm grip, mouth ajar.

The wolves met in the middle head-on, their angry snarls echoed like thunder off the trees behind them.

“Stay where you are, Ainsley.” Sam ordered as he darted outside. It was hard to hear him over the roar of the fighting wolves. They were snapping and tearing at each other, their sharp teeth flashing toward each other’s throats. The Jacob-wolf seemed to have the upper hand – being visibly larger than Embry, but Embry’s current emotion had clouded his vision. His frame was easily sleeker, muscle mass much smaller than what Jacob bore on his frame. He rammed his shoulder against the grey wolf again and again, knocking him backwards into the trees nonetheless.

Despite not being in direct eyesight, I could still hear their snarls and growls as though they were right beside me, in my ear. Emily crouched beside me, hands on my arms comfortingly, “Ains, hon, breathe.”

I hadn’t realized I had sunken to the floor; I snapped my eyes to Emily’s, seeing my reflection in her dark brown orbs. Wide eyed and terrified – I could feel my stomach roll and flip angrily.

“You need to leave.” Emily hissed over her shoulder towards the trio of pale faces. Much to my dismay, Renesmee looked concerned. “Now! You’ve done enough!”

I leaned over Seth’s arm – who was still trying to keep me upright – and emptied the contents of my stomach onto Emily’s kitchen floor. I was moved quickly then, Seth rushing to get me upstairs to the bathroom in time before I heaved again, this time into the porcelain bowl of the toilet.

Warm tears burned my eyes, a sob breaking through my chest. “Fuck.” I croaked, taking Seth’s hand tightly in my own as I braced the other on the side of the tub. I hated puking.

“Guess the wolf’s out of the bag.” Seth joked.

I shot him a glare, before I felt my stomach roll again and I forced the bile to rise from my throat into the toilet. “Remind me to kill you later.” I sobbed, hanging my head over the bowl.

I sat in the bathroom with my back pressed to the tub. They left me alone after nearly an hour of listening to me sob and kick and scream; Emily had made the executive decision to lock me in the bathroom alone so I could calm down.

Seth had spent most of that hour trying to constrict me from lashing out against him, holding me tightly to his body. He kept whispering about keeping an open mind, how he needed me to not completely make any judgment about Embry because we needed each other.

He was trying too hard to make sure I wasn’t going to leave Embry.

Here is what I knew:

One: My boyfriend – and my cousin – could morph into horse-sized wolves. Which likely meant others could, too.

Two: Edward and Bella definitely weren’t normal – if they were even human at all. I still didn’t like them. Three: I was absolutely terrified about what was going to happen next.

#embry call #embry call fanfic #embry call x oc #series: SAH #* mine #lee writes #twilight fanfiction #embry call imagine #embry call x reader #kiowa gordon #jacob black #paul lahote #seth clearwater #playing around with the banners .. was not vibing with the original one tbh #may or may not replace it but for now we're minimizing things

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theforgottenmcrmy · 2 years ago

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Vipers~ Part 1/3 (Ser Harwin Strong x Reader)

᯽ Please note that this is an overall part 13 of the series “Growing Strong”. The masterlist, and part 1, can be found HERE. ᯽

Pairing: Ser Harwin Strong x Tyrell! Female Reader

Warnings: GOT typical sexism, canon divergence, mentions of of previous death of characters, Larys Strong is a warning in and of himself

Summary: As the family heeds Princess Rhaenyra’s extended invitation and travels to Dragonstone, Ser Vaemond’s petition to be declared heir to Driftmark creates a sudden need for a side venture to King’s Landing. This does not sit well with Harwin. At all.

A/N: Guess who's back. I apologize for my particularly long delay this time. For compensation, I hope you accept these next three parts. They're pretty hefty, and there's a great deal covered. Took a while to put the entire parts together, but I'm happy with how they turned out, and I hope you can enjoy them as well. I’m so excited for y’all to see what happens over these next few parts.🖤

Part 2 will be posted on Wednesday 12/21, and Part 3 will be posted on Friday 12/23. Until then, I hope you have a good week!🖤🖤🖤

PS, I recently hit 800 followers, and I’m literally shooketh. Thank you sm, love each and every one of yas🖤🖤🖤

It had been a long evening in the Red Keep.

But for Lord Larys Strong, Master of Whisperers, the night had only just begun.

“Are you certain?”

Larys appraised Queen Alicent Hightower thoughtfully in response to her question. The Queen looked sufficiently weary, with her hair undone and falling freely, and her typical fine-pressed gown wrinkled from the day’s wear. The news he had confided to her only caused her distress, and thus, further weariness.

“A regrettable turn of events, but my sources have confirmed it so.”

“Your sources?” Queen Alicent scoffed, not able to fully conceal the panic that threatened to break her otherwise icy composure. “I have seen the men under your employ, Larys. They do not have tongues with which to speak. How have they relayed this information to you? How do they relay any information to you at all?”

Larys smiled placatingly, neither offended nor threatened by her line of questioning.

In her personal chambers especially, Larys ought to have felt like he was on less than equal footing. But he and Queen Alicent had reached an agreement many years past- a mutual assurance, so to speak. In addition to this, Larys’ reach had extended in great strides since he had followed his father to King’s Landing in his youth. Larys allowed himself to briefly contemplate if his own influence had come to rival, if not surpass, that of the Queen’s.

Though they may be drawing nearer to equal power, Larys never felt called to acknowledge such a sentiment with anyone, least of all her. He was rather content with the role he had crafted for himself at Court, and later, the small council. It was a role that had been skillfully crafted in the wonderfully efficient tools of blood, deception, and most important of all, whispers. Larys had a purpose, one that gave him all the sense of self-sufficiency that mortals could not help but desire.

And what greater purpose could one strive for than to be the Queen’s most dutiful servant?

“The written word is one oft overlooked, My Queen. But for those who have traded their tongues for life, it is the only way. Who am I to begrudge them for that?”

Her brows furrowed; she was too preoccupied with news to have any patience for his whimsical musings.

Sensing this, Larys continued without delay. “This has been my method of communication with them for years, My Queen. Like me, they are true and loyal servants of the realm. Has any of their intelligence relayed to me, which I have in turn used to secure you, and your interests, ever proven to be false or malicious?”

Queen Alicent did not answer, for she knew it had not.

“I have every reason to believe the written whispers I have received tonight deserve no less credibility than their predecessors, My Queen.”

Queen Alicent sighed, and stiffly lowered herself onto the nearby sofa. “Forgive me, Larys.”

“There is nothing to forgive, Your Grace.”

“When will she be arriving?”

“It is hard to decipher the timing of these matters.” Larys unabashedly ogled Queen Alicent as she reached down to remove her slippers. Later, he scolded himself abruptly. “My brother and his family were being hosted by Lord Footly in Tumbleton when the raven from Princess Rhaenyra arrived. I imagine my Good Sister will arrive in the capital within the next day or so.”

“And you suspect she will come alone?”

“I do not know Lady Y/N as well as I should like. But I do know my brother, My Queen. He protects his own. He is likely to be reluctant to let his wife enter the Red Keep by her lonesome, but he will relent. He would not forcibly subject their children to these halls by accompanying her.”

It went unsaid that his brother would also be wise to make himself scarce, particularly given the circumstances. Were the rumors about Harwin’s alleged intimacy with Princess Rhaenyra true? Larys did not know, nor did he care. The legitimacy of Princess Rhaenyra’s sons had been dubious since their birth, and if it was going to be officially called into question, Larys knew it would be easier to work with the situation rather than against it.

“We must use this opportunity to our advantage. Without your brother’s watchful eye, your Good Sister may yet be persuaded to confide in you. Speak with her, Larys. Ensure that neither she, nor your brother, believe the fire at Harrenhal to be more than a tragedy. No one must know.”

“I am certain your wish has already been granted, My Queen. They say my brother nearly went mad after the death of our father, the Lord Hand. And for all of his efforts, he was unable to determine the culprit. Rest assured, Your Grace- for if my brother knew the truth of the matter, he would have stormed the Red Keep himself to exact his justice.”

That had always been Harwin: act first, think later. Always, always driven by emotion rather than logical thought. Larys supposed he was rather appreciative of his brother’s inferior nature; had Harwin been focused on anything else but the emotional blow the death of their father had done to him, he might have been able to capitalize on Larys’ own oversight and discover the truth he so desperately sought.

But that’s what Larys deserved. Flawless execution was a fool’s dream the moment he decided to recruit his helpers from the lowest of the low. He may have taken their tongues in exchange for freedom, but those would not be of much use if they were reclaimed. Truthfully, Larys should have expected one or two of them to disappear after they razed Harrenhal. While most returned to be in his service, a few stragglers were never heard from again.

Fireflies would shine and dim. Like them, the men Larys recruited would come and go.

Perhaps it wasn’t fair to judge his elder brother so definitively. Harwin, for all his shortcomings, had always been kind to Larys, despite their differences. But life wasn’t fair, and Larys knew that better than anyone. As true as the skies were blue, Harwin was a simple man. If he hadn’t discovered the truth of the fire at Harrenhal by now, Larys doubted he ever would.

Despite Larys’s confidence, Queen Alicent remained unconvinced. For as well as Larys could read her, he could concede that she had grown able to read him nearly as effectively.

She bent down once more, slowly removed one stocking, and then the other.

His mouth involuntarily watered, prompting him to speak. “Of course, I will confirm the validity of all of these conjectures by speaking with my Good Sister, Your Grace.”

For the first time that evening, Queen Alicent smiled. Though it was a small one, Larys deemed it to be a victory nonetheless. “Good… good. I must impress upon you the severity of this matter, Lord Larys. Handle it with the utmost care. Ensure that no suspicions remain about the fire that claimed your father’s life in Harrenhal.”

Larys waited in silence as the Queen paused. Her request was straightforward, and in both of their best interests; Queen Alicent need not defend her position so vehemently. He knew there had to be another, more compelling reason behind her request.

“I tried to convince her to see reason once before,” Queen Alicent confessed quietly, staring blankly into the flames of the roaring fire across the room. “But I fear I was too… brazen, then. Such an oversight cost me dearly. I will not make that mistake again. There may yet be another chance to sway her to see the truth. She is a mother now, and no mother desires her children to live through times of war.”

Ah, yes. The children. Two of which had almost become collateral damage in Larys’s unyielding quest to appease his Queen. They were safe, for now, but there was no telling what would need to be done. All three of the children might still become pawns in the larger scheme of the game that he and their parents played. But what Queen Alicent did not know would not always hurt her.

Larys would protect her. He would protect her interest by ensuring that his brother and Good Sister were none the wiser about the tragic fire at Harrenhal. And, if there were any lingering suspicions, well…

Larys was no gardener. But he thought himself more than capable of pruning a few roses.

“Your humble servant shall do as you command, My Queen. And I will not disappoint.”

“I do not like this.”

The plan had been a relatively simple one.

Having not left the confines of Highgarden too frequently over the past several years, it was quickly decided that the trip to Dragonstone could serve more than one purpose. Whilst you, Harwin, the children, some of your retainers, and the escort of guards accompanying you traveled across the Reach, you would pay a visit to noble houses you had not had the chance to speak with personally in some time.

Though it delayed the overall amount of days spent traveling, it was a good plan, and an effective one at that. Not only did it allow for you to rekindle relations with your bannermen, but it also benefited your family more directly. Luciya was just a young girl, and unaccustomed to long days of travel. Stopping to sleep in a castle every couple of days did wonders to keep her from being “finicky.”

Yes, the plan was going well- up until a few days ago.

The family was being hosted by Lord Footly in Tumbleton when you had received a raven carrying a scroll of parchment sealed by the Targaryen crest. Princess Rhaenyra had known about the family’s plans to visit other noble houses while traveling to Dragonstone, so her letter intercepting you along the journey made Hariwn’s gut sink. It could only have been bad news.

And bad news it was. Instead of calling upon Lord Rosby together, as had been agreed upon, Harwin was forced to watch you and a few of your guards gather your things and prepare to separate from the traveling party for a few days.

King’s Landing loomed ominously in the background. You could already smell the stench from where you stood.

“I do not like this,” Harwin insisted once more. His voice was quiet, so as not to be overheard by the many people around you, but no less firm. “Something is off here. Not all is well within the Red Keep- I can feel it.”

“Prince Lucerys’ claim to Driftmark has been challenged, Dearest,” you reminded him patiently, speaking just as softly and steadfastly as he. “We both know how grave the implications resulting from his displacement in the line of succession would be. Not just for him, but for Princess Rhaenyra. For you. For me. For our children. Ser Vaemond’s will must not come to pass.”

“I do not disagree,” Harwin conceded effortlessly. “But, please, My Love- enlighten me on what assistance you are personally hoping to provide?”

You were enough paces away from the traveling party that you felt comfortable speaking freely with Harwin. “Vaemond Velaryon means to build his argument and bolster his claim to Driftmark upon the rumors of Prince Lucerys’s illegitimacy. And we know that Vaemond, among many others, suspect you to have had intimate relations with Princess Rhaenyra. If I present myself at Court and stand by Princess Rhaenyra to show support for Prince Lucerys’ claim, would that not lend some credibility to the truth as we both know it- that you are truly not the boy’s father?”

Your presence could reinforce the position that Princess Rhaenyra had ascertained for years. Or, it would just make you appear senselessly blinded by your loyalty to the lady you once served. But Harwin was far too reluctant to tell you that. He knew you had always felt compelled to support Princess Rhaenyra in whatever way you could, just as much he had always felt compelled to keep you safe.

It was unfortunate for all when both of your desires clashed.

You could tell Harwin was unswayed, so you continued. “Go on, as we planned- pay your respects to Lord Rosby for a night or two. His father was a friend of your own, was he not? You should be able to find some common ground. Then move on to see Lord Darklyn at Duskendale. Princess Rhaenyra has informed me he is a kind man, and that he insists that any friends of hers are friends of his own. Should I be delayed here for longer than I intend to be, I do not think Lord Darklyn will mind hosting you and the children for a little while longer until I am able to join you. With any luck, the Princess and her family will return to Dragonstone in a few days' time. When I join you in Duskendale, then we can finally set sail to join them.”

Yes, yes, all of that had been the plan. With the exception of the unexpected stop in King’s Landing. A side trip in which Harwin was restricted from joining you, much to his dismay. He did not believe Queen Alicent would harm you directly, but he did not doubt the lengths her supporters would go to appease her. And whilst the Queen’s party posed a threat, so too did those in Princess Rhaenyra’s company. Prince Daemon was cut from another cloth. His motives and next course of action were seldom expected or socially appropriate. The thought of you being anywhere near the Rogue Prince without Harwin by your side made him extremely uncomfortable at best.

“There is nothing I would desire more in this moment than to accompany you,” Harwin professed seriously. “But-”

“It would not be wise,” you finished for him, understanding exactly what he was trying to convey. “I fear your presence would be more of a detriment than an assistance, Dearest.”

Harwin could only imagine the looks that he, Princess Rhaenyra, and her sons would receive if he attended the petitions regarding the succession rights to Driftmark. Most everyone in the Red Keep still suspected him to be the true sire of Prince Lucerys. What would they think if he stood by the young Prince’s side, whilst his mother and Harwin’s rumored lover defended his birthright? The opponents to Prince Lucerys’s claim might view Harwin’s mere presence as goading, if not incendiary.

“Besides,” you added after a thoughtful moment of silence, “The children need you. Yours are the safest hands for them to be in, especially with them being so near the capital.”

“Second safest,” Harwin jokingly corrected, though his heart was not entirely in it. “They’d be safer in the far more capable hands of their mother, I’d imagine.”

Harwin watched as you looked longingly behind him, where Derrik and Selwin were atop their own horses several paces away. Their swords, which you and Harwin have gifted them for their respective fourteenth name days, were secured at their sides. Every day of the journey thus far, Harwin prayed to whatever gods would hear him that your sons would not need to use them. Derrick and Selwin took in the sight of the city, which they had not seen in many years, with more than mild interest. But every so often, they snuck in worried glances towards you and Harwin.

Harwin continued to watch as your eyes drifted over to one the carriages, where you both knew Bryna was keeping a watchful eye on Luciya. The young girl had been in remarkably good spirits today, but Harwin suspected that was soon to change.

It was painfully clear to Harwin you were reluctant to leave your youngest child, who had yet to go without your presence for more than a day. But if not even the pleading eyes of your daughter could convince you to not separate from the traveling party, it only spoke to how strongly you felt going to Princess Rhaenyra and offering her your support.

“The horses are readied, My Lady.”

You smiled your thanks at Ser Alren. Alren was the second son of the Lord of Oakheart. Though he was closer in age to you and Harwin than your other escorts, he had been knighted for many years. The fact that he was a prodigy with a sword at such a young age was only embroidered by the fact that the young man was chivalrous, honest, and loyal to a fault. Before his knighthood, he had been your brother Derron’s squire. Harwin was at least able to take some small comfort in the fact that one of your escorts accompanying you to the Red Keep would be a man who had served you and your family dutifully for years.

While you thanked Alren, Harwin tried to resign himself to his reality; he was about to watch you ride away into the nest of vipers that resided in the Red Keep, with little more than a few hand selected guards to accompany you. You hadn’t even allowed your handmaiden to accompany you, as you insisted that your stay at the capital would be short-lived. And that there would be plenty of other staff you could ask for assistance from, should you need it.

To further Harwin’s distress about the situation, you insisted on riding into the capital on horseback, and forgo a carriage altogether. Commandeering one of the few carriages for even a short while did not sit right with you. You had reasoned that the inconvenience to other members of the traveling party outweighed any potential benefit to you. That was good and well for going to the Red Keep, but Harwin was more concerned about what would occur when you left King’s Landing. You and your escort would be traveling on horseback to return to the larger party, and you would be doing so in a much more vulnerable state than you otherwise would have been.

At least you would carry something with you that helped placate his worries.

Harwin wordlessly shifted your traveling cloak to the side, revealing the belt strapped around your waist. His eyes fell to your favored side, and he felt instant relief when the sun caught the small bladed weapon there.

The dagger was a gift to you for your first wedding anniversary. Harwin had sought out some of the finest craftsmen in the Reach before commissioning it. When he had presented it to you, you were stunned by the metal work. Even to this day, it was a work of art; what appeared to be intricate vines twirled up the hilt, with a single rose carved into the pommel.

An unusual gift for a lady, perhaps. But after your collective history, you appreciated the gift from your husband more than you could ever convey, and Harwin appreciated the opportunity of teaching you how to wield it. If such a dark day were to come, you could both rest easier knowing that you had additional defense at your disposal.

“You know,” you said, your tone light and teasing, “Some people may deem carrying such a weapon as unbecoming and not very lady-like.”

Harwin readjusted your traveling cloak, concealing the dagger from view. “‘Tis most fortunate that I value your safety more than I do the opinion of others.”

Your escorts mounted their steeds, inaudibly signaling that they were ready to set out when you were.

Time was of the essence, and Harwin could feel every moment of it slipping through his fingers. He took your hands in his, and promptly kissed both of them. “Be careful, My Love.”

“I promise I will be,” you assured him, though your efforts were not entirely successful. “And do not fret, Dearest; I am in good hands.”

For additional reassurance, you gave Harwin as passionate of a kiss as you dared with an audience. When you pulled away, Harwin was momentarily stunned by your forwardness, though he could not truthfully say that he minded.

Ser Alren took advantage of the moment and approached you silently, handing you the reins of your designated horse for the short trip. The subtle action was enough to break Harwin from his stupor. Though you did not need it, he assisted you with a lift, and you saddled the horse with a somewhat familiar ease.

“Take care of your sister for me,” you requested of Derrik and Selwin as the horses began trot forward.

Your sons nodded in confirmation and smiled. Harwin tried to force himself to do the same.

But when you looked back over your shoulder at him, suddenly his smile did not feel so forced. You called, “I will have a raven sent when we mean to join you.”

“I will eagerly await its arrival,” Harwin called back truthfully.

Harwin stood tall and watched as you and your limited escorts disappeared from his view. When the Tyrell banners became blurred in the distance, he found himself hoping that he had not made a grave mistake.

“Lady Tyrell.”

“Ser Criston.”

That was the lone figure who had gathered to receive you upon the escort's arrival into the Red Keep. To be truthful, you had not expected any audience at all; only a few even knew you rode for the capital. You wouldn’t have dared to impose upon the royal family as an uninvited guest. But you weren’t uninvited at all; Princess Rhaenyra wanted you here.

Somehow, being greeted by Ser Criston Cole felt like more of a slight than having been greeted by no one at all.

You dismounted your house and appraised Ser Criston thoughtfully. It had been almost seven years since you had been made to suffer the sight of him. Unfortunately, it appeared as though time had been particularly kind.

Pity.

“Welcome back to King’s Landing, My Lady. We have been expecting your arrival.”

You cocked your head to the side. “Have you now?”

“Your Good Brother is the Master of Whisperers, My Lady. It seems as though very little happens throughout the realm without him learning of it in one way or another. Least of all the business of his brother and his family.”

Of course, Larys. Neither of you had written to him about your impromptu visit to King’s Landing, but you had promised Harwin to see how his younger brother was faring. However, it appeared as though Larys did not need his elder brother to keep an eye on him anymore; if Larys had informants who had already made him knowledgeable of your unannounced arrival, they were effective ones indeed. Just the type of informants your Good Brother ought to have at his disposal if he desired to fulfill his role as Master of Whisperers with any sort of proficiency.

“If you will all gather your belongings and follow me, so that your horses can be given food and water in the stables. In anticipation of your arrival, Queen Alicent has already had rooms prepared for you.”

The Queen? “If Queen Alicent was also knowledgeable of my intent to visit, did she not wish to join you in welcoming us?”

Ser Criston did not take the bait. Dryly, he replied, “The Queen keeps a busy schedule these days, acting as a steward in the name of His Majesty, King Viserys. As we speak, she convenes with the small council. Her Grace the Queen thought it more fruitful to dedicate her time to the struggles that face the realm, and has entrusted me with the honorable task of welcoming you in her place.”

You bit back the scoff that threatened to slip from your lips, and forced a smile instead. “Very well, Ser Criston. My escort and I would be honored if you would show us to our accommodations.”

You and your escorts gathered the packs that had been tied to the saddles of your horses, and once the steeds were led away by stablehands, you all lined up to enter into the Red Keep. You decided to linger behind the group, though Ser Alren strategically positioned himself at your side.

The rest of your party entered through the courtyard doors without a fuss. But when you and Ser Alren went to pass Ser Criston, who had remained posted at the doors, you were stopped.

“I must confess, Lady Y/N, Queen Alicent did not know whether to expect the rest of your family as well.”

“To assuage the Queen’s concerns, please inform her that I do not intend to stay in the capital long. My husband thought it best for him remain with our children, and I intend to return to them in a few days.”

“Ah, yes, your husband,” Ser Criston feigned forgetfulness. You knew it was all for show, for how could a man forget another who had bludgeoned his face? “Tell me My Lady, how does Ser Harwin fare these days?”

“My husband, the Lord of Harrenhal, is very well, thank you. I shall pass along your kind greetings and well wishes when I speak with him next.”

Ser Criston’s eyes narrowed briefly, but he received his composure just as quickly. “If that is your wish. Shall I show you to your rooms now, My Lady?”

It was relatively easy to slip from your rooms whilst Ser Alren and the rest of your escort settled into their own.

The stone corridors you used to frequently roam should have felt more soothing than they did, but the air of the Red Keep felt… off. Long gone was the place you had once called home. In its stead was an imposter, a true likeness in appearance, but a terribly inaccurate depiction of its soul.

A cold, joyless place, you declared to yourself bitterly.

You decided not to bother any staff with questions; you were fairly certain of your destination regardless. After a few minutes of meandering through the halls, you overheard a pair of familiar voices, and knew at once that you had hit the mark.

“You must have patience, My Love.”

“īlon issi se ānogar hen zaldrīzes. īlon issi vēttan syt action, daor patience.” (We are the Blood of the Dragon. We are made for action, not patience.)

“We are guests of the King and Queen, though it is only the Queen who is able to walk these halls anymore. Now, lower your voice, lest she or anyone else hears you.”

“Why should I care if I am heard? I only speak the truth. My brother is the King, and you are his heir. Yet neither of you sit the throne. Instead, it is being warmed by a fanatical queen and her forked-tongue father for that drunkard and complete and utter waste of a dragon that they call your half-brother. This cannot stand!”

“Shhh!”

“As if I care what that self-righteous zealot thinks of me,” the man snarled darkly. “That… līve hen iā dāria-” (whore of a queen-).

“My Valerian is quite rusty,” you called down the corridor in a controlled tone. Your pace was a calm one as you walked towards the two blonde figures who had been conversing at the opposite end. “But I know of an insult when I hear one.”

Princess Rhaenyra whipped her head in your direction, visibly tense at the prospect of having been overheard. But when her wide eyes focused upon you, her shoulders slouched with relaxation.

Prince Daemon turned to you with an indiscernible look on his eyes. “Lady Tyrell,” he greeted, perfectly cordial. He took a few steps forward to meet you halfway, with Princess Rhaenyra perfectly in time beside him. “What a surprise to see you here.”

“Is it, My Prince? Then you are among the minority, I fear. It seems my Good Brother shared news of my impending arrival with our Queen, who in turn declared the lone presence of her sworn shield to be an adequate greeting party.”

“Ah, yes. Ser Crispin,” Prince Daemon recalled with a playful smile. His tone was deceptively pleasant sounding, considering the subject matter.

Princess Rhaenyra’s face soured at the mere mention of the man who had bludgeoned another to death at her own wedding feast. But perhaps that was not the only foul memory that came to her mind at the thought of Ser Criston Cole. To Prince Daemon, she said, “We should take our sole greeting from Lord Caswell as a compliment, in light of what the other prospect may have been.”

You raised your eyebrows, mildly surprised. House Caswell of the Reach was loyal to Princess Rhaenyra, no doubt. But- “The Queen did not welcome you personally?”

Prince Daemon ignored your question altogether. “Tell me, Lady Y/N, how does the Queen’s lapdog fare these days?”

“Ser Criston looks to be in good health.”

“Does he? Such a shame. Perhaps I ought to see to that myself.”

You didn’t dare to wonder what the Rogue Prince was suggesting by that statement. Your feelings about the younger brother of the King were complicated at best.

Princess Rhaenyra must not have deemed Prince Daemon’s threat credible, despite how plain it was. She merely frowned at him with a fondness a mother might have displayed towards her misbehaving, but well meaning, children.

Prince Daemon glanced between you and Princess Rhaenyra thoughtfully. “... I sense my presence is not needed here. I shall leave the both of you to it, then.”

Prince Daemon made one more remark in Valerian to Princess Rhaenyra, but you did not catch it, as it was said under his breath. Without another word, he slunk past you and disappeared down the corridor from where you’d come and out of sight.

With her husband gone, Princess Rhaenyra’s focus was able to be solely on you. Her violet eyes looked you over thoroughly. As she took in the sight of you, you did the same.

At last, she smiled, and took your hands in hers. “I am glad to see you, my friend.”

After returning the smile, you squeezed her hands once before releasing them. “The feeling is mutual, Your Grace.”

Despite the passage of time, Princess Rhaenyra looked the same as you had last seen her. Except for-

Princess Rhaenyra’s hands fell to rest upon her protruding stomach. You felt your composure slip with the shock; you did not know she was with child again.

“You look well,” you observed. “Are you?”

“I would not dare risk my health to entertain this folly of a proceeding if I was not.” Before you could think of how to respond, Princess Rhaenyra took a step forward to your side, and linked your arm in one of hers. “Come, Y/N. We have much to discuss.”

Princess Rhaenyra guided you without force, as you were very much a willing participant, out into the gardens. Though many things about the Red Keep seemed starkly different, the worn paths of the gardens you used to tread years ago had remained much the same, despite the passage of time.

Nostalgia arose as the two of you became surrounded by the familiar greenery. Once you had made a fairly decent headway into the gardens, Princess Rhaenyra felt confident broaching the first of many topics that were to be discussed, albeit quietly.

“We arrived a few days ago. Lord Caswell, gods bless him, was the only member of the Court who cared to greet us.”

“Such blatant disrespect for the future Queen,” you muttered disapprovingly, imagining the scene she described in your mind’s eye. “‘Tis shameful.”

Princess Rhaenyra teased, “Now you sound like my husband.”

You faltered at the comparison, but quickly recovered. “Have you been to see the King? How is he?”

It was Princess Rhaenyra’s turn to falter then. She put on a neutral face, but it would not fool you. You had been friends for years, and it was far too simple to detect the hurt behind her words.

“The King is not well. Queen Alicent, in all her good intentions, along with her gaggle of maesters handpicked from Oldtown, have deemed it necessary that milk of poppy be incorporated into the King’s daily treatment… When I spoke with him on the day of our arrival, he scarcely recognized me.”

The troubling images of King Viserys confined to the chains of sleep and completely baffled and dazed when he was not flooded your mind. How had he not been able to recall his own daughter, his own blood? An awful fate for anyone, especially for a king. Awful for a child too, to be deemed a stranger in the eyes of a parent.

Had King Viserys truly been that ill? Princess Rhaenyra once confided to you that her father had frequently sought the insightful care of maesters. But you had always ventured that it had been out of caution, and a means for the King to preserve his existing health more than anything else. With Princess Rhaenyra’s latest concerns, it seemed more likely that King Viserys and those closest to him had gone through great lengths to disguise his existing ailments, as they might have been doing all along.

“I am so very sorry, Your Grace.”

Princess Rhaenyra shook her head. “It matters little. I expect none of us will be here for long- Ser Vaemond’s petition is to be heard by Queen Alicent and the Hand in a few days time. Once that has concluded, my family and I will return to Dragonstone with great haste, and the Queen can continue to treat my father as she deems fit.”

You surmised by Princess Rhaenyra’s flippant tone that the matter was nowhere near as settled as she attempted to portray as, but you said nothing.

There was no point in inquiring as to whether Princess Rhaenyra was concerned about the outcome of Ser Vaemond’s petition. But you also knew that she had no other option but to meet his challenge head on. Ser Vaemond’s lust for his brother’s titles and lands could not and would not be obtained at the expense of Prince Lucerys. Princess Rhaenyra would defend her and her late husband’s familial arrangement until the end of her days, for if she did not, she would lose everything.

If fate forced her hand, you believed Princess Rhaenyra could live a life without a crown upon her head. But you were loath to imagine a world in which she was stripped of her children.

“Did you come alone?”

You nodded affirmatively. “Harwin would have joined me, but someone had to stay with the children.”

Princess Rhaenyra grimaced. “When I wrote to inform you of Vaemond’s petition, I only meant to notify you that my family might not be present at Dragonstone when you arrived. I had no intention of pulling you away from them.”

“Which you have not,” you reassured her. “I wished to come and offer you and Prince Lucerys the support of the whole of House Tyrell and House Strong. I would hope it does not come by surprise that Harwin cares a great deal about the both of you. I can say with the utmost certainty that he would have joined me in offering you our support personally, but-”

“There is no need to explain. I would not doubt Lord Harwin’s intentions to be genuine, had he chosen to accompany you here. But maintaining distance was certainly the wisest move for everyone… At least for now.”

Harwin looked forward to reuniting with Princess Rhaenyra and her sons as much as the rest of your family did. But it was understood by all that the reunion would be better served away from the vengeful eyes of those who would deem his care as an admission of guilt to a crime he did not commit.

“There is little else my husband values more than the safety of those he cares about,” you reminded her redundantly.

Princess Rhaenyra smirked, though it was without malice. “You married a good man, Lady Y/N.”

You certainly did. And there wasn't a day that passed by that you didn’t find yourself incredibly thankful for Harwin.

But that only reminded you of Princess Rhaneyra’s losses.

“Words penned to parchment cannot properly conveyconvey my sympathies for Ser Laenor’s loss, Princess.”

Princess Rhanyra’s neutral expression remained steady.

When she said nothing in response, you continued. “I may not have always judged Ser Laenor as fairly as I ought to have, and the burden of guilt I bear for that is a heavy one.”

“Please, do not feel any guilt,” Princess Rhaenyra insisted, breaking her steely reserve. “He would not wish for it. Wherever my late husband is now, rest assured that he is far happier than life as a Prince Consort and as a brother still in mourning for his dear sister would have ever allowed him to be.”

Although you had not been present, you knew most of what transpired in Driftwood that one night years ago, largely in part to Princess Rhaenyra’s own writings and the windstorm of rumors that followed shortly thereafter. Lady Laena was put to rest, only to have her dragon claimed by Prince Aemond that very night. Prince Aemond had tamed the beast that was Vhaegar only to have his eye cut out by his nephew, Luke. Luke, the son that Princess Rhaenyra fondly called her “sweet boy”. And then there was the madness that had ensued after, when Queen Alicent drew blood from Princess Rhaenyra with King Viserys’s dagger and faced no consequences for it, despite assaulting another member of the royal family.

But what took you by surprise the most was Ser Laenor’s sudden death. Your shock had given way to appall when the word of Princess Rhaenyra’s swift remarriage to her uncle, Prince Daemon, reached your ears. You did not believe the Princess to be capable of murder, or even able to conspire to it… but you did not doubt the extended lengths that the Rogue Prince would go to achieve his own ends.

However, if Ser Laenor’s death had not merely been an unfortunate betrayal by his former companion, and if Princess Rhaenyra knew more about his passing than what she had previously told you, she had never said.

… Then again, perhaps she could not.

“I hope the Seven Heavens welcomed Ser Laenor warmly,” you said truthfully, not knowing what else to say. “And Lady Laena, too.”

Princess Rhaenyra gave you a small, sad smile, still offering no further comment on the matter.

You took the few moments of comfortable silence that followed to contemplate your next words. Part of you thought it wise to omit what you desired to say altogether, but the other part of you hated the idea of leaving the topic unaddressed.

“If I may, Your Grace, there is another for whom I wish to express to you my sincerest condolences.” One person had never dared to put your words to parchment about, lest it be intercepted.

Princess Rhaenyra’s smile fell, but her eyes remained keen. “You speak of my companion Ser Royce, do you not?”

It was your turn to smile, and it was a grateful one, as you were thankful she had given you an out. After letting out a light, nervous laugh, you answered softly, “Yes, My Princess.”

Ser Royce Baratheon- the true father of Princess Rhaenyra’s eldest sons.

Ser Royce’s passing the previous year was just as sudden and as tragic as Ser Laenor’s had been. He and his grandfather, Lord Boremund Baratheon, had gone on a hunting trip. In the end, it was a wild boar that had taken town the Lord of Storm’s End and his grandson. In hindsight, you thought it surprising that Lord Boremund had been allowed to go hunting at all; he was one of the oldest lords in the realm at the time. But his stubbornness was legendary. If Lord Boremund had been bested by the beast first, there was little doubt Ser Royce would have been out of sorts after witnessing the death of his grandfather. The boar would have easily taken the advantage.

“Your words are kind, and I appreciate them. I hadn't had the pleasure of speaking with Ser Royce since before Joffrey was born. But we still wrote to one another on occasion, even up to the month before.”

You wondered if Prince Daemon knew about those letters. And you had often wondered over the years if he knew anything about Ser Royce at all.

“Princess, is Prince Daemon aware of the… companionship you had with Ser Royce?”

“Yes. I told him several years ago, in fact.”

As you continued to walk, her head swiveled about, rapidly ensuring that the pair of you were still alone. You were. Just the same, her next words were spoken so softly you had to strain to hear them.

“Prince Daemon forced my hand in the matter, you see. I love my husband, but he is a jealous creature by nature, try as he might to deny it. I quickly grew tired of his off-handed comments about your husband, which only grew fouler once he discovered that Lord Harwin and I still write to one another. I had no choice but to tell him the truth- if only to cease his attempt to sully your husband's image.”

You almost shuddered at the thought of Prince Daemon being anything less than apathetic towards you, Harwin, or your family. How many years had passed with Prince Daemon believing Harwin to be the father of Princess Rhaenyra’s eldest sons? … Probably far too many. The rumors about the Red Keep had been stirring for years, and that was before Prince Daemon had even returned from Essos. Before the fire at Harrenhal.

The fire at Harrenhal…

Surely, Prince Daemon couldn’t have-

“How does Lord Borros fare these days?” you questioned hastily, forcing the dark and troubling thoughts away. “I am afraid there is not much need for me to correspond with him politically, and there are no personal connections between us, either.”

“The man waited a great deal of his life to inherit his father’s throne. Once he did, it came at the cost of his son.”

You couldn’t imagine such a loss. From the heaviness lingering behind her words, it appeared that Princess Rhaenyra could not either.

“Lord Borros still has his four daughters from his late wife, to be sure,” Princess Rhaenyra supposed. “But I suspect it won’t be long before we hear word of his search for a new wife. I dare say he shall have a son once more.”

A son who could never be the replacement for the one he had lost, you thought gloomily.

You realized, “It seems the Stranger has not been unfamiliar to many of us over the past few years.”

Finally, the shrubs around you gave way to an opening. Just up ahead was the balcony on the far edge of the garden. You snuck a glance at Princess Rhaenyra as the pair of you continued on, only stopping once you were before it and able to rest your hands on the cement barrier.

You looked out into the Blackwater Bay, and sighed wistfully. Many years ago, you had watched the Bay as Velaryon ships and several dragons descended upon King’s Landing for Princess Rhaenyra’s wedding to Ser Laenor. Though not entirely sparse of ships now, when compared to your memory, the Blackwater Bay looked eerily empty before you.

So much had changed.

“I really am glad to see you again, Y/N.”

Fortunately, some things never did.

“The pleasure is mine, Your Grace.”

You were invited to have supper with Princess Rhaenyra, Prince Daemon, and their oldest children that evening.

Prince Jacaerys and Lucerys had grown as much as Derrik and Selwin, much to your dismay. But they had become fine young men, and undoubtedly made their mother very proud.

Prince Jacaerys had been very courteous, and had asked you specific questions about trade to and from the Reach. It was apparent he had taken care to familiarize himself with the knowledge beforehand.

On the other hand, Prince Lucerys, though also polite, was noticeably more quiet and withdrawn than his elder brother. But you could not fault him for that. Who would not be, if they were in a position such as his? Both he and his elder brother favored their father’s looks greatly, but Ser Royce’s visage was made most apparent in Luke. It was sad in a way, for neither of them would ever know.

The ladies Baela and Rhaenya were at supper as well. Thankfully, it seemed that they took after their mother, Lady Laena Velaryon, in many ways. You looked forward to getting to know them better over your short stay in King’s Landing, and then again once in Dragonstone.

As you left supper, Princess Rhaenyra bid you a goodnight with a promise to introduce you to her youngest children on the morrow. You could scarcely wait; would you even be able to recognize Prince Joffrey? He’d been only a babe the last time you saw him.

Being surrounded by the Princess’s family did wonders to assuage the emptiness that had begun to brew within you due to the separation from your own. But when you returned to your chambers that evening, and you were left with nothing but silence, your heart felt impossibly heavy.

You tried to alleviate the drowning feeling by writing a letter to Harwin, assuring him that you made it to the Red Keep safely, and did not anticipate to be delayed by more than a few days. You set the letter aside for the maesters to send it by raven in the morning, and took some comfort in the fact that Harwin was sure to receive it as soon as he arrived in Rosby.

You poured yourself a glass of wine, and hoped the small indulgence would help calm your nerves.

As you stood out on the balcony, which overlooked King’s Landing, you heard a knock on the chamber doors. Perhaps it was a servant checking in, or maybe even Ser Alren. Either way, you did not mind.

You called, “Come in.”

The hinges of the door squeaked as the door opened, and you turned away from the balcony to step back into the room. What- or who, rather- you saw halted you at once.

A deep green dress made of luxurious fabric enveloped the very last person you had expected to come calling upon you at this hour of the night.

“Queen Alicent.”

A/N: Thank you for reading🖤 Part 2 will be posted on Wed 12/21🖤

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