#I felt it SO so so so much in my mid teen years. All the time. I am intimately familiar with it.

[jorvikzelda]

yeah like I might actually not be trans. It’s pretty likely I haven’t been repressing, I’ve just come to find I’m comfortable living as a woman. hey why are you bringing up the fact that I feel horrendously shitty in the specific way that, when I labeled myself as trans, I thought of as gender dysphoria every time I meet a transmasculine person in real life? I don’t think that’s relevant

[flamingpudding]

Not my Circus

A/N: I hate my brain and it's suckish timing...

Danny was a circus kid. He knew that, and so did his parents. Well, the once that took him in when he was five. He knew he had a loving family before the Fentons. Yet he doesn't know himself why he never put in more effort to return to them. No, wait, he had an idea what his five years old mind could have been thinking.

If Freakshow and his mockery of a circus had never shown up in Amity. Then Danny might have pushed the thought of his original family to the side forever. He had been a foolish kid back then, reckless and tempramental, unlike his older brother. He had tried to follow into his parents' and brother's footsteps, but he wasn't as graceful or acrobatic as they were. It was irony really with how much he liked flying and doing tricks in the air now. But still he remembered having a lot of frustrated fights with his brother about his inability to be like them.

When he got reminded he started to do a bit of a more serious research again and when he found out about his originals parents death half a year after he was first declared missing from the circus as well as his older brothers having gotten adopted too, he had dropped it all again. Pushing all of that back into the deepest depths of his mind again. His older brother was doing well. There was no need for him, for Danny.

That went well until Jazz went to university in Gotham and convinced him to go there to collage too, when he sort of forcefully retired from being a teen hero. It went well for a couple of years until his mid twenties.

Because despite Gotham being a city way bigger than Amity, there were still chances of you running into certain people.

The moment he entered the coffee shop and saw the others face, everything he had pushed aside in his mind came right back to the forefront of his mind.

How he foolishly trained in acrobatics behind his families back after another fight while they were moving towns and fell off the wagon.

How he had felt like he enjoyed not feeling presured to be like them and didn't put too much effort into returning to them when he was with the Fenton as well as thinking that his elder brother was probably happier without a stubborn little brother.

How when he looked them up he dropped it just as fast when he learned about their deaths and his elder brothers adoption.

He blinked wide-eyed at the man that stood before him a teen next to him while he held two cups of coffees. He, too, was staring at Danny frozen.

Now Danny had several options of how to handle the situation. And he most likely didn't choose the best one at first as usual. Because what he did in response at seeing Richard 'Dick' Grayson was to turn tail and run even using is invisibility and intangiblity.

What Danny didn't know was that Dick's first, thought, was someone cloned him and not that his missing brother from his days before the Waynes was back.

Thus a game of mouse was started...

[that-gay-jedi]

Save me imaginary younger siblings I made up as motivation to make responsible choices to bridge the gaps from when I didn't have sufficient self-love to do that shit for its own sake

save me imaginary older brother i made up as a positive male role model to account for the lack of a positive and present father figure

[annabelle--cane]

i wasn’t here when tma reached the height of its popularity (i only joined last year) so could you describe the Vibes (how bad the drama was, did it feel like there were too many people, etc.)

only if you want to :]

I've said this before, so this may be a familiar spiel to longer term followers, but 2020 tma fandom was honestly not the worst fandom I've ever been in, it was just by far the biggest thing I have ever been actively into at peak popularity and so the 1% of insane people that are found in every fan space were 1% of a much bigger total population. most people were fine and chill, but there were a vocal minority who Weren't.

major ingredients in the discourse pot:

from my observations, tma had a small but devoted listener base for its first few years, then it got a little bump in mid 2018, then a considerable bump in late 2019, then hit proper virality in early 2020, so there were a lot of people with hipster complexes about being Real Fans who were there first and weren't just part of the masses.

at this point I'm not even sure if this part was true, but the above was compounded by the perception that the earlier og listener base were mostly adults and the new wave of fans were mostly tweens and teens. whether the different waves actually fell along those age lines or not, a lot of people felt like the fandom was split into 80% Cringe Zoomers Who Are Here For Ships And Memes and 20% Millennials and Gen X'ers With Media Literacy Who Are Here For Horror. nice dichotomy, idiot, now what lies outside it, etc and such and such. our blessed fandom etiquette vs their barbarous dni lists.

which isn't to say that suddenly having a huge number of people, including young people, become interested in a single piece of media at a time of global stress where everyone had to be much more online and the content of the media itself was at its darkest and most socially relevant had no downsides. oh no. Oh No.

"my headcanon is not only objectively the best headcanon but it actually invalidates all of yours and if you hc something different then it's an act of bigotry against my Correct Headcanon." / "I have drawn up a list of Good Characters you have to like and aren't allowed to criticize and a list of Bad Characters you have to hate and can't acknowledge exist unless it's to make fun of and completely condemn them." / "I saw her username in the kudos of a jonelias fic" "girl what were YOU doing in the kudos of a jonelias fic" / "this latest episode handled a social issue unforgivably badly, I haven't experienced it myself but the vibes were off, everyone demand accountability and boycott the rest of the show" "hey that one was actually based on jonny's personal experiences" "ah fuck not again. well boys let's remember this for next time. this latest epis--"

honestly most of the discourse was down to like two or three friend groups. there was one group of people who you will probably remember if you were there at the time whom I have sometimes seen referred to as the Clown Gang. Clown Gang were ground zero for a good 90% of fan discourse ("hcing melanie as ace is ableist and lesbophobic" "fan content that focuses on jon's asexuality is biphobic. what's pansexuality I've never heard of it." "desolation tim aus are inherently ableist and racist"), but eventually they had a big falling out with Clown Prime and things calmed down. to be very clear I hold no ill will towards any of these people for four year old bad takes, hence why I'm not using any names, but god was it a time.

and this is only about the tumblr side of things. I was barely active of twitter so idk what it was like there but I was on tiktok for about a year during that time and the vibes were wildly different. iirc people there were less confrontational and there wasn't really a callout culture like on tumblr, but the extremes of the takes were FAR worse.

[dark-night-hero]

Imagine Kamisato Ayato who was in a good term with his former/ex significant other. Sure you were mad at him at first because why, why couldn't you be enough for him? Why can't he choose you over his family? You used to be so mad at him. Used to.

Imagine accepting the fact that the two of you were not meant to be together. Sure you were each others half, a perfect piece of puzzle that just suit each other but you were not what he needed and probably never. But he does needed you, it was just he was selfless. He needed you but they needed him too, his family needed him too. You were just aren't the best choice for his family. You used to hate him. Used to.

Imagine having to come up with the fact that he still loves you. Even after all the heartbreak and tears, he still care about you. But not as openly as he does anymore.

"You know. You don't have to do this anymore." You hate him. Looking at him kneeling in front of you trying to inspect your perfect fine ankle after accidentally tripping when you saw him in front of you. "I know." He replied, not looking up at you. "Then why-" "It doesn't mean that we're done that I stopped caring. I still does." He cut off before standing up. "I think it's all fine." "I told you it was nothing..." You trail off as he gave you a smile, a small sad smile while his eyes looked at you with love. So muh love that disappear in a blink of an eye like it was never there. "I'll get going now. It was nice seeing you again." You hate that even without asking, you forgive him. "Hey commisioner." He stop mid walk but never turn around. "Feel free to drop by the cafe if you need a break." Before he could turn around, you turn your back at him.

Imagine Kamisato Ayato who was in a good term with his ex. The way the two of you slowly went back to what the two of you were before. Friends. Acting like none of the heartbreak, tears, happiness and love happened. Things were much better of this way. Sure it still hurt when you saw him with his fiance that would surely bring back their clan to their former glory but. It was fine. It felt weird that it was fine. Not too long after he got married, you does too.

Imagine often coming to the estate with your kids. Life is okay. You are happy on how things played out, you are contented with the life you have. But sometimes, you would often catch gaze of Ayato looking fondly of your children. "Strange." You spoke out of the blue that caught his attention. "Now none of your children looks like you." You chuckle. "It would nice." Is that an insul- "A child that looks like you would be nice." "My spouse said that alot, maybe we should have one last try." "You should." Fool. You thought as you look away, stop looking like that while saying that. "But hey! Maybe you and-" "No. Once is enough." "... You have a twin though.."

Imagine once in a while, a small get together would happened between just the two of you in the first place the two of you met. In that old cafe you and your spouse now manage. "Are you happy?" It was a question that came out of the blue with a very serious tone that makes you look into him as you gently set your drink down. Following his gaze, you saw a familiar teenage blue hair guy and one of your children a few years younger than his son. A chuckle left your lips. That made him turn to look at you. "We're not getting any younger aren't we." You smile and continue to look at the teens from afar, fingers playing with your wedding ring. "I've been living the happiest moment of my life ever since, Ayato." "I see." Once again, there was a small sad yet genuine smile on his lips. "Are you, happy?" You asked back. You then watch him look outside, "I'm fine."

Imagine as you bid him goodbye, staring at his back. Its strange how the man who seemed to have everything looked so lonely as he walk away from you. But then once again, you just turn your back at him like he did. Walking inside your home were your family is waiting for you.

There was a saying that if who people remained friends after ending their relationship. There is a possibility that they never loved each other and the other being one of them still hold a lingerie feeling for the other. But who knows. Maybe in another life. He wouldn't have to chose anything else before you.

[ⓒdark-night-hero] 2024° ;)

:start na ng ojt ko the day after tom. I am so fucking nervous being a front desk trainee, wish me luck on the VIP desk.

[meganmeyers]

POMEGRANATES & WINES

ACT TWO: DRIFTWOOD THRONE

jacaerys velaryon x aunt!targtower oc

word count: 11.5k

previous part: part one

masterlist: intro

warnings/includes: fighting, internalized religious trauma, body dystrophia, angst, self loathing, psychological trauma, alicent is an awful mother and gives averillia all her issues, sexual awakening (not smut she’s like a little baby still.), eye fucking across the dinner table but not really and it’s really awkward, jacaerys causes intense sexual tension but doesn’t realize it because he’s kinda an idiot, averillia is lowkey a freak and severely touch starved, but she’s also afraid of intimacy(?), jacaerys is also a freak but he’s a teenage boy going though puberty so cut him some slack, first kiss, borderline freakiest kiss between two hormonal mid puberty teens i’ve ever seen.

Summary: Princess Averillia Targaryen was the 5th born child of Viserys Targaryen and Alicent Hightower in 117 A.C. Close in age to her nephew Jacaerys Velaryon a close friendship formed in between the two vicious families.

Note: Hello everyone! Thank you for the love on the first part! I’ll mention now that this part will get into some more darker themes. I’ll probably be rewriting the first part of this series as well, I’ve felt that I could have added more to the story than what I had done. Also! This next part is not canon timeline accurate! Instead of six years it will be four years!

Princess Averillia was not seen by the royal court much after the incident at Driftmark. The Princess was hidden in her rooms or upon the skies with her dragon mount. Nobody saw the young princess roam the halls of the Keep or even attend meetings of the court. Some believed that Queen Alicent Hightower had locked her away in her bedroom as a punishment for being involved in the maiming of Prince Aemond Targaryen. As if the princess receiving her first ever course was not enough humiliation for the young girl. The people only saw the princess when she was dragged to the Sept by her mother. During those rare times in public the princess did not ever look happy, more terrified in fact. She would stand as far behind or away from the Queen as appropriately possible. The maids in the Keep gossip on how the only people ever seen entering and leaving the princesses apartments were her personal maids and the lady in waiting she was given. Some noble girl from the Dornish lands of house Dayne, quiet the spectacle considering the relations between Dorne and the conflicts in the stepstones against the crown. The girl was no older than ten maybe when she arrived to the Keep. She was a small girl who was quiet and always kept her head down, the queen must have liked her quiet nature to keep her around in the Keep after these many moons. The only thing the small Dornish girl received from home was pomegranates. The reddish and pink fruit grows in warmer and dryer climates. The girl did receive many fabrics and dresses at times, but no letters or ravens ever arrived for the young lady, many in the court speculated something scandalous happened but in Dorne and that’s why the young girl was sent to serve in enemy territory.

“My Lady, you mustn’t stain your dress now! I don’t need to hear anymore from your maids about how awful it is the try and scrub the juice from your skirts!”, The young darker haired lady complained to the princess. The young princess turned to look at the girl from her couch, “How many times have I told you Elia! It’s Illia to you not ‘My Lady’. You are my only friend not someone my mother and father employs.”. “Friend or not, you still mustn’t stain your dresses.”, The young girl hit the princess on the top of her head with a letter. The darker girl made herself comfortable on the opposite end of the couch across from the blonde princess.

“I’ve found some news that shall brighten your day. Possibly get you to stop lounging around your room, draped in fabrics that barley cover you.”, The girl had teased the princess for her habits. She did indeed lounge around in her room draped in fabrics Elia’s family sent her. Modesty was lost on her return from Driftmark, especially after the princess had Elia arrive as a lady in waiting for her services. The two girls had shared stories with one another during the early nights in each other’s company. Elia had told her about how women and men dress and act down in Dorne and the differences of women and men here in the crownlands. Averillia had found the stories fascinating and thought the fabrics in the dresses Elia wore were the softest fabrics she’d ever felt. The princess often wore the fabrics in lounge wear or had them made into the underskirts of her dresses. The fabrics were very sheer, only to be worn in the privacy of her personal staff.

“What news do you bring me that will, as you say brighten my day?”, Illia ended her sentence in a sarcastic tone. “Court is to be held on the legitimacy in the driftwood throne on who will inherit, now that the sea snake has fallen ill. W-“ The lady had been interrupted by the princess letting out a loud and annoyed sound of disgust. She rolled herself off the couch and over to the table filled with drinks and other treats to pour herself a glass of wine. “Must you drink now? Gods Illia, its barley mid-day and I haven’t even finished the news. You may grow a gut like Aegon’s if you intend to drink this much.”. Illia turned around towards the girl who now leaned over the arm of the couch she had just been resting upon, a disgusted face greeted the girl when the princess turned. “Never compare me to that disgusting drunkard again! Gods do you hate me so to wish that fate upon me?”. Elina had rolled her eyes at Illia’s dramatics and just went back to the letter, “Because court is to be held, the princess Rhaenyra’s family will be arriving in Kings Landing on the marrow and be staying for a weeks’ time while court is being held. Isn’t that exciting Illia? You’ll get to see Rhaenyra, Jacaerys, and-“, “I’ll have to watch my mother and grandsire completely belittle my sister and nephews again because of some resentment my mother and sister hold. Sounds like another fight waiting to break out again.”. The blonde took a long drink from the glass of wine she poured, “Illia why can’t you see the good in this? All you do every day is lounge around and read books or work on silly needle work.”. “My needle work isn’t silly! You’ve told me many times that it’s beautiful and quiet elegant and that its even more elegant than Helaena’s work!”.

Elina was often seen asking the Queen for permission to either leave the castle grounds for errands for the princess or sitting in court without the princess to hear of what news and gossip is shared among the ladies in high court. While she’s out she does often run into the Queen in Princess Helaena’s chambers with the two young children the princess carried. She’s seen the beautiful needlework Illia’s sister created that decorates the twin children’s clothes and blankets during her few times in the chambers of the elder princess.

“Illia can you at least try and see the good in this? For an entire week you get to visit with your eldest sister and those two boys of hers who adore you! So quit being such a poisonous viper and enjoy their company while they are here.”

“Fine. Whatever, but if my mother makes any comment- “, “Oh gods Illia! I’ll be right there with you, I won’t let you face that cruel women alone.”

The family arrived half by ship and the other half by dragon back on the following marrow. The dragon shadows that had flown past her windows confirmed the princess’s waiting’s.

Two carriages had pulled into the courtyard of the Red Keep while the Princess was seen sprinting and hopping steps in a blur of light blue, white, and golden honey blonde with her Lady following in close proximity in a blur of dark blues and gold with black hair flying behind her.

The family was exiting their carriages, while waiting for them was the Queen dressed in a dark color of green and her three other children dressed in the similar shades of greens. Other members of the court stood waiting to greet the royal family. As they had settled themselves on the ground and had their traveling cloaks and dress covers removed, they turned back to the members of the court. The doors of the castle opened quickly and an out of breathe Princess Averillia and an equally out of breath Lady Elia Dayne had rushed to stand in line with the green-styled family. Frantically adjusting their hair and dresses, trying to at least be a bit more presentable.

Prince Jacaerys Velaryon wouldn’t have recognized the princess if it wasn’t for her opposed color palette to the rest of her family. Her hair had gotten longer, and her face slimmed out of the childish fat he had last seen her with. She had truly grown into a more women body for a girl at the age of three and ten. Her hips had widened, and her breasts had gotten into a larger womanly shape, but they might just only look bigger compared to the slimness of the rest of her, he could see her collarbones from across the courtyard and her ribs were slightly visible through her gown. She was still beautiful, nevertheless to him. The girl next to her was a girl he did not know. She was a slightly darker skinned girl with black hair and purple eyes, she looked Dornish, but the eyes did not resemble the color of Dornish people. She had on a gown of dark blue fabrics with golden lace decorations and goldish color necklaces and headwear. She had a dark blue veil on as well. He did not recall a girl that looked like her during his years at the Keep.

“Princess Rhaenyra! Welcome back to Kings Landing. I hope the journey here was not to much trouble?”

Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen was dressed in a dark red gown decorated with black trims and lace; in her arms she held a bundle wrapped in a blanket. Prince Daemon Targaryen stood next to her holding a small white-haired boy, Illia had heard the news of her sister and uncles’ marriage but nothing about children born of said marriage. Next to them four children stood, three boys with black hair and a girl with white curly hair wrapped into a updo that looked like something Illia would not sit through. Her eyes had turned to Jacaerys, He had grown sense she’d seen him last. He had gotten taller and slimmed himself down, his jaw was more angled than before and his cheeks he had were gone. His hair was short but had curled locks upon it rather than the thick fluff of hair he used to have. He was holding a small boy who also had dark hair, it had to be Joffrey Velaryon. She remembers seeing him the day of his birth but never again, not even at Driftmark four years ago.

“Thank you, Your Grace. It is unexpected to be back so soon.”, Queen Alicent had given a smile and quickly rushed her children dressed in greens back inside with members of the court following, leaving only Averillia and Elina in the courtyard. The princess waited for the doors to be closed before starting off sprinting at Jace. The teen prince quickly handed his younger brother to Rhaena before capturing the golden-haired princess in a tight embrace. He had taken a couple staggered steps back at the force of the impact from the teenage princess but nevertheless held her close. A few laughs were heard from the elder couple at the princess’s excitement. Lady Elina had walked up to the royal family offering her greetings.

“Princess Averillia, I believe there are other members of the party who also wish to greet you.”, the princess had loosed her embrace on the teenage boy and turned to her friend with a very unamused face, which in turn made the lady laugh at her friend before pointing her head towards the eldest sister. Illia had broken herself from Jace’s arms and walked to Rhaenyra and hugged her, avoiding crushing the small bundle in her arms. “Is this your mothers old dress, little sister?”, the girl had given a small smile before confirmed her eldest sisters’ suspicions.

“Come sweet girl, we must catch up. It’s been far to long sense we’ve spoken.”

The family had gotten comfortable in the elder princess’s old apartments, maids had hurried to bring in sweets and refreshments for the royal family before making their leaves quickly.

“Now sister who are these two children? I don’t believe we’ve been introduced!”. “This one is Aegon, and the newest one is Viserys.” Rhaenyra had passed her sister the small infant to hold. Elina leaned over Illia’s shoulder to look at the infant closely. The babe slept peacefully in the princess’s arms, “Sister when shall you have a girl? You’ve had far too many boys, I may be sick of seeing boys between my brothers and your sons.”. Rhaenyra laughed at her sisters jokes knowing in truth she was correct. Jace and Luke who had been sitting on the opposite couch let out a few remarks back towards the princess who in turn just poked her tongue out of her mouth. “Now who is this lady sitting next to you, Illia? I’m afraid I don’t recognize her.”

“I am Elina Dayne, of House Dayne in Dorne, Your Grace. I am Lady in Waiting to Princess Averillia Targaryen, Your Grace.”, Illia turned to her friend with only a few words to reply. “Quit calling me Averillia, It’s to much of a mouthful.”. The family had all laughed at the girls’ antics, “She is also my only friend and companion here in this dreadful place. Isn’t that right Viserys?”. The girl had talked to the young babe in a silly voice to try and entertain the babe, but he just kept sleeping peacefully. “Sister, I must retire now. I have lessons to attend, and Gods forbid I miss them.” The princess handed her youngest nephew back to her eldest sister before making her way out the door.

“Elina, you can run any errands you need too. My lessons will take up much of my time.”. The dark haired girl nodded before going in the opposite direction of the princess through a different corridor. The girl made haste to her own apartments after her friend left her sight. Closing the door of her room closed, she found nobody inside her chambers. “Thank the Gods.”. Illia had looked towards her desk at the stack of papers, scrolls, and books from her Septa. She hated many topics they taught her, they bored her entirely. She would rather fall upon a sword than be stuck learning forever.

Her complaining would not make the books and scrolls go away anyways, she has learned that the harder way. She just grabbed her needle hoop and went back to the blanket she was decorating. She found a place along one of her rooms windows and had gotten comfortable. The window gave her a clear view of the training yard which was always much of an annoyance hearing the men yell and the metal hit against one another constantly but it’s different when she caught a glimpse of Jace and Luke standing along the outskirts. Even from up high she could see how much Jace had changed in the last four years. He had indeed grown into a handsome man. His curly hair did amplify his looks and aided well with his face shape. Gods she has not seen a man look so handsome in years, or possibly ever. His Valyrian features was one of the seller points for her sudden attraction towards him, his jaw, cheek bones, and the dark purple eyes had made him look even more like someone to belong to the Gods than with Man. She did wonder what was hidden under his doublet, did he also lose the boyish fat and built muscle along his upper torso and arms? Did the Gods bless him with such beauty for the rest of him as they had for just his face?

“Ouch!”

She had stuck herself with the sewing needle in her realm of thinking. Blood droplets quickly collected to the surface on her finger and dripped down to the floor.

“You foolish girl! You’ve ruin yourself for your future!”

She flung herself from the cushions she had been sitting on and quickly examined the cushion. No blood.

Those were the last words Alicent ever said to her. Months after the incident Alicent could not even be in the same room as her, she would just walk out of the room or have someone remove Averillia from the room. It was always one of Alicent’s maids to enforce her to get dressed to go to the Sept with her after she had gotten over herself. The entire trip she would not speak a word to her. She would just give the girl certain looks when she would do certain things. Dinners had turned sour fast, if the girl spoke any words or do anything unproper she would give Averillia this intense stare. If Alicent was angry enough she had the guards remove her from the table and sent to her chambers without being able to finish her meal. Soon she had started to be subjected to eating alone in her chambers. Isolated completely. Sometimes her father would have her join him for a meal in his chambers where they would have small discussions; but his condition has worsened, and he was unable to make it to the table. She was soon invited to her fathers’ chambers just for discussions, but her mother soon found out and forbade her from attending her own fathers company.

Complete Isolation.

After Driftmark her Septa, this older woman whose chin hung far over her neck covering; had taken her to the Sept for prayer, but not the normal prayer. Prayers that had talks of purity and virtue and how sacred such a gift is, how giving it to a man you’re not married to will destroy you. How the stranger will take you away and burn you for your sins. Pleasure and lust were sins against the Gods and blood was the punishment and shame for such a girl to bear if she ever thought and engaged in such sins. The girl cried during such prayers and sermons for still being shaken up by the events just mere weeks earlier. She had been isolated from her sister Helaena during this too. “She is to be a married women and lay with her husband before the Gods as a virgin maiden. Do not corrupt her as you have done for yourself.” She had not been allowed to Helaena’s wedding either due to that fact. She had that Septa for two years until Averillia had knocked over a lit candle stand causing the Septa to catch fire and soon strike the girl across the face with her hand. Her father had removed the Septa from the princesses’ services and replaced her with younger and peaceful Septa. She would sit and work on needlework while Averillia worked on her own studies and never brought her to the Sept for prayer.

Aemond would not speak to her ever. He never admitted to the truth of what happened that night either. The only family member she was able to speak to was Daeron. She would send ravens at least once every few weeks to him in Oldtown considering he was the only sibling who would even speak to her. She had the fear that her mother was going to ship her away to Oldtown for what she had done but her father did not allow it. Her grandsire Otto never spoke to her, even so he never did before anyways. He just hid in the shadows along the walls like a spider in a dark corner.

Illia was used to so little company that she did not need any at all.

Elina had returned hours later carrying in gowns and a bright smile, “Illia! You will never believe it.”. The girl had taken the gowns and thrown them on the couch before joining Illia on the mattress. “Rhaenyra had stopped me in the corridor, and she had insisted that you join her family for supper tonight! We must get you ready!”. Before Illia could even refuse the offer, Elina had dragged the girl from her bed to her washroom to an already filled tub of warm water. “Take off your clothes before I wash you with them still on!”

Elina had scrubbed her skin and covered her with soaps and oils with warm scents from the Dornish lands. She dried the princess and then started her hair and using even more oils to have her curls be more prominent. She had seen Elina do it to her own hair but never hers. Elina had made her standby her long mirror exposed before going and finding a gown suited from the ones she had just picked up today. Illia had laughed at her friends’ antics before turning back to the mirror. She looked at herself before moving downwards. ���Elina? Have my ribs always been this exposed?” No answer came. She had traced each individual rib under her breast, and her collar bones had now shown more prominently than before. Elina had come back with arms filled with a pile of dark blue and gold fabric. “It’s the perfect gown.”. The gown was of golden fabric underneath dark blue, a long train skirt and sleeves that draped from her elbows to mid skirt. Gold needle work lined the trim of the gown. Elina insisted on a golden belt for her waist and a golden pendant for a necklace.

A knock came from the door of her chambers to which both girls had whipped their heads too. Elina quickly rushed to see who had been outside and in hush whispers had spoken to the stranger outside. The girl beckoned Illia to join her at the door. She opened the door wider to find not one but two boys standing before the doorway. Lucerys Velaryon and Jacaerys Velaryon were standing outside her chamber doors. Lucerys was dressed in a lighter blue doublet, similar to the color of her dress earlier in the day, with white tunic sleeves. Silver detail covered the doublet. Jacaerys had on a black doublet, it was more fitted than Lucerys was. The shoulders had been more set to give him a wider frame and black detailing lined the collar and chest. Dark black fabric hung from one should and across his back in a cape like motion. It complemented him more than the black and red doublet he had on during his arrive. Jacaerys hair had been put more together than after his journey on dragon back here. It also hung in defined curls, hardly longer than the nape of his neck and past his ears. He did not stink of dragon either, he smelled of salt and smoke in a way. He looked even more handsome up closely than at a distance from her window.

“My Lady, the princes have come here to escort you to dinner.”, Elina had given her a look before gently guiding her out the door. Jacaerys had been the first to offer his arm to her with a slight bow of his head, “My Lady, would you be so forgiving in allowing my brother and I to escort you to dinner this evening?”. Staring at him with wide eyes she had only given a nod before taking Jaceaery’s arm in hers. Lucerys was quick to take her other arm, putting her in the middle of the two brothers. “Well then, we shall be off My Lady.”

Daemon, Rhaenyra, and Rhaena were the only other ones in attendance for supper that evening. Jacaerys had led her to her seat and pulled her chair out before pushing it in and making his way back around to the other side of the table to sit across from her. Rhaenyra was sat to her left and Rhaena was sat to her right, while Daemon and Lucerys sat across from them. Cups of wine were poured for the parents and two older children while water was given to the younger two. Maids and Servants filled the families’ plates with meats and vegetables. The family had started to quietly eat their portions of the meal while Averillia sat with her hands in her lap. She had touched nothing in fear of angering her sister or her uncle.

“Illia? Are you not going to eat?” The girl’s attention went to Jace who had been putting his wine glass back down, staring intensely directly at her. He had licked his lips getting off the dark red wine residue that had been left behind. Rhaenyra had looked to the girl and she had looked guilty of being caught of something. “Illia? Sweet girl, are you alright?”, the older women grabbed the girls hand to get her attention. Her head whipped quickly to her and ripped her hand away, starting her in the process. “I- I am sorry!”, the younger princess was quick to say aloud. “Illia, you have done no wrong to warrant an apology. I was just making sure you are feeling well, you have not touched anything on your plate.” The older women ran her hand over her younger sister’s hair in attempt to comfort her. “Oh, sorry ‘Nyra. I was just simply lost in a thought.” The girl had quickly picked up her fork and started to pick at some of the vegetables on her plate. The women had not quiet believed the girl, especially when a young servant boy had walked up from behind Daemon and whispered a few words into his ear while he filled the older prince’s glass of wine. Daemon’s lips had tightened into a fine line before he drank more of his wine. A conversation was indeed meant to happen later about what had been shared.

“Father? When will Baela and Grandmother be joining us?” Rhaena was quick to change the topic of conversation, “On the marrow before court is to be held.”. “Oh Averillia! You must show me your needlework, I was told you have quiet the talent for it.” The white blonde had turned herself towards the golden blonde during her talk, “Please Rhaena call me, Illia. We’re family.” The girl drank from her glass of wine while the younger girl let out a giggle and falling back against her chair. Illia had forgotten the girl next to her was only two and ten. Such behavior was to happen, even if Illia was only a year older than her.

The girl had gone back to her plate of food only to look up and see Jace staring right at her. He looked away after a few pauses. That is how supper had continued, a few conversations were held with one another and stories were shared, and Jace and Illia had been sneaking glances back and forth across the table.

Once supper had ended and the two younger had been ushered to their chambers, Jace had offered to escort her to her chambers himself. Illia had said her goodnights to Rhaenyra and Daemon before being pulled out the door by Jace. He had walked a few paces before stopping the pair, “How would you like to show me the gardens?” She had turned to him at the request, her lilac eyes wide and her mouth parted open. “What?”, “Oh please Illia! It will be fun, just like old times sake. Come on let’s go!”. She did not even have time to refuse the prince before he pulled her through halls to the gardens outside.

The night sky was quite clear tonight, Illia could see almost every star in the sky and the moon all clearly. The gardens were tall bushes adorned with flowers and vines in an elaborate maze placement. “Come on Illia!” Jace had let go of her arm and taken to running ahead of her into the gardens entrance. “Jace wait!” the girl cried, she watched his cape disappear behind a wall before picking up the bottom of her skirts and running in behind him. She heard his laughs and encouragements for her to keep following him. She had truly lost the boy, she must have taken at least two wrong turns before coming upon a deadened wall. She had thrown down her skirts and let out a frustrated cry.

“Jacaerys Velaryon, this isn’t funny!” She cried to the sky before turning around. In a moment Jace had ran towards her and grabbed her under the waist, lifting her into the air while going around in circles. The golden haired princess let out and terrified shriek and cursed the boys names. She had thrown her hands against the prince’s head and back in fits of rage. He had just laughed at her as he placed her back down on the ground, before he could settle his footing the girl had given him a rough shove causing the prince to fall upon his rear onto his back. He laughed even more at the actions the girl had taken to him. “Oh that’s it Averillia Targaryen. You better run.”

The girl didn’t hesitate to start running. She gripped the front end of her skirts turning corner after corner not remember the way she came. She heard the prince’s heavy footsteps behind her getting closer. She made the fatal mistake to look behind her, she had unknowingly slowed down enough for the prince to grab her dress skirt and pull her to him. He wrapped him arms around her and had thrown her over his shoulder. Defenseless against the older boy she just wiggled her body to try and make her escape. He walked her through the maze to the opening in the middle of the garden. He placed her onto the dirt and untangled himself from her, in the struggle she had kicked his one supporting leg and caused him to fall right onto the blonde. Pained grunts were shared between the two before Jace supported himself again, face to face with the blonde under him.

“How do I look from down there?” he asked her. The blondes face had been flushed a bright red from underneath him, she just stared with her mouth agape staring at him. Her chest started to feel very hot in the moment, unsure from the embarrassment or attraction. The boy had let out a loud laugh and rolled himself onto his side. Illia sat up after Jace rolled off of her and had gone to fix her skirts. Once Jace had his laughs did he sit up and notice the girls pout. “Oh Illia, I’m sorry. I was just trying to brighten your mood from dinner. Something was obviously troubling you. Please don’t be mad at me.”

The blonde had turned to him and saw him looking up at her through his curled bangs a slight pout on his lips. She took a sharp intake of breath at the sight of him. She looked away faster than she had originally looked. Her ears must be red at this point from him. Jace did not like the answer she gave him and instead got up behind her and hugged her. She let out a small quiet squeak from the embrace. “Illia. Please forgive me.” The boy had whispered in her ear. She felt his hot breath on her neck and his arms tighten around her waist. “Jace, you must not do this. Someone will see.”

The boy removed himself to be sitting next to her and facing her during it. “Illia, we are doing nothing wrong.” He grabbed her face in his which was equally as warm as his breath on her skin. She closed her eyes and held his hand making him drop it from her face and instead lay in her lap. “I have missed you ever so dearly, Illia.”

“I have also missed you quiet dearly too, Jace.”

“Daemon what had the servant boy tell you?” Rhaenyra had been changed into her night dress undoing her hair when she asked the question. Daemon turned to her to see her looking at him through the mirror. “Exactly what the green dressed woman had put Averillia though during theses past four years.”. “What would you mean by that?” Rhaenyra had turned her entire body around on the stool to look at her husband as he started to tell her about the temperament Alicent had with the girl after Driftmark.

“I- I must go speak with my father.”

The blonde women rushed out of the from their shared quarters and the door closed quickly behind her.

The bright light of morning followed soon. Elina had wasted no time in getting into her ladies room as soon as the dawn broke. She had ripped open shades letting the bright morning light shine directly onto the princess. Illia had let out a loud groan at the unannounced sudden light that blinded her. “It’s time to get up my lady! Court in to be held today and you must attend!” In turn she had pulled the princess from her warmer sheets to get her into the bath. She had made Illia sit through a torturous twenty and two minutes of defining her curls and leaving a braided hairband crown onto of her head to pull her hair away from her face. “I should be receiving a hefty price for putting up with your antics my Lady. – the girl had turned towards the box of jewels and headwear before continuing - You sit worse than a small child does.” The princess in offence had taken the hair comb and thrown it at the lady hitting her straight in the chest. An eyebrow raised in return to the girls pathetic attempt. “You’re now acting like a child. A girl of ten and three should not be throwing fits over having their hair done.” “You pull hard!” Illia had replied but Elina had already turned her back towards the wardrobe. “You are just tender headed, my lady!”

The bigger fight was the dress Elina had made for Illia to wear. “That is to extravagant Elina! What makes you think I will wear that?”  The gown was of a fuller skirt of light grey silk under a dark greyish blue overdress of satin. A corset had also needed to be worn for such a cut in the neckline. The sleeves just feel into what looked like waves from her elbows. Silver needlework decorated the bodice and sleeve cuffs. Small silver chains decorated the neckline in pairing. The gown looked like a torturous contraption for Illia. “You are to be presented in front of the entirety of the court and more importantly it is blue. No green, a silent support for prince Lucerys Velaryon today.” The princess still was not sold on the idea, no matter how much she knew it would make her mother lose her mind. “Also if you do care to know, A maid friend of mine told me that the elder prince is to be wearing shades of greys and reds and he looks quiet charming in his outfit.” Elina knew just the right words to make the princess agree to her minor demands. “You are a cruel woman, Elina Dayne.”

“The princess looks more like she would belong to the houses of Velaryon or Arryn in her color choice in gowns for heaven’s sake! She fits better to be a princess of King Viserys and Queen Aemma then the lady Alicent Hightower.”

“Is that the Dayne girl with her? Why would his Grace the King allow such a girl into our lands?” “I heard she had been casted out for killing her own baby brother in his sleep! How would they allow her to be in Keep with the Princess Helaena’s children here?”

“I am surprised they kept the simple princess even near the family! Did you not hear about what she had done to prince Aemond with his grotesque scar?”

“My word, my Lady. I thought I had seen more vipers in Dorne, but I fear I’ve been mistaken.” The princess let out a snort at her companion’s comment. A few heads of the court turned to her before looking back away. “You are quiet right, my friend. About more than on thing.”

Elina followed her friend’s eyes to see them land upon the royal family across the room, specifically at the eldest prince in the pack of dragons. “Oh, my Lady. He could have been dressed in nothing covered in sheep’s dung and you still would have found him charming.” Illia had turned around to face her. Eyes wide and her cheeks and ears a bright pink tint. “You mustn’t speak like that in public Elina! Someone may hear you!” The Dayne girl laughed at how easily she had made her friend flustered by a simple image.

The princess huffed at her friend and turned back around towards the front. Her eyes slowly went across the way to Jacaerys. He did indeed look charming in his attire. The darker grey doublet was once again fitted to his form, it was trimmed with red fabric and grey needle work was decorating the red. He wore a belt on his waist and a sword hung from the belt. He hadn’t had one on the day before and in her eyes it made him look more grown. His hands rested on the hilt of the swords handle, veins protruded from the tops of his hand being very visible in the light shinning through. The same hand she had held the night before in the garden. Illia had wished later on after she had retired to her chambers that she hadn’t moved his hand. That they still held her cheeks for the entirety and did not let her go. Oh how she wished he had held her longer in the embrace they had shared before she had forced him to break it. Averillia felt a tightening and intense heat in her breasts, her breathing labored as she felt the tightening feeling crawl up from her breasts to her neck. Choking her in a way. Oh how the Gods would punish her for thinking of such sinful thoughts.

“Though it is a great hope of this court that lord Corlys Velaryon survives his wounds, we gather here with he grim task of dealing with the succession of Driftmark. As Hand, I speak with the King’s voice on this and all other matters. The crown will now hear the petitions. Ser Vaemond of House Velaryon, please start us off.”

“The seas foulest serpent gets to place his poison.” The lady Dayne had whispered just loud enough for the Targaryen princess to hear. She delivered a small smack with her hand to the girl next to her causing the two to break into small audible giggles. The eldest black dragon prince had looked over towards the two girls draped in blues when he heard the giggles. They had both been looking at the sea snakes’ brother who was walking up to the front of the court. He furrowed his brows in confusion on what could be so funny in this moment, the lady of house Dayne had seen the princes confused look and had taken her two fingers and curled them over. She made a sharp motion with the two fingers as if she were piercing something. He was even more confused at the girls action, he had clearly missed the joke shared.

“The history of our noble houses extends beyond the Seven Kingdoms to the days of Old Valyria. For as long as House Targaryen has ruled the skies, House Velaryon has ruled the seas. When the Doom fell on Valyria, our houses became the last of their kind. Our forebearers came to this new land, knowing that were they to fail, it would mean the end to their bloodlines and their name. I have spent my entire life on Driftmark defending my brother’s seat. I am Lord Corlys’s closest kin, his own blood. The true, unimpeachable blood of House Velaryon runs through my veins.”

The princess has certainly had enough of Lord Vaemond’s words. The show he was putting on had almost made the princess turn and leave the court room. She looked to the dragon brothers and saw Lucerys scared face and his elder brothers face had also seem to have had enough of Vaemond’s words.

“As it does my sons, the offspring of the late Laenor Velaryon. Or have you forgotten that in your own ambitions?” Princess Rhaenyra had interrupted the man before he could continue.

“Maybe if the sea serpent did care so much about his own houses blood, he would not be so bold in spreading his venomous accusations against its rightful heir.” The girl next to Averillia had commented, but clearly she had spoken to loudly as the mans eyes had turned around right towards her as well as both families in black and green. “Lady Dayne, do you care to repeat yourself and share loudly of your witty comments?” Vaemond had asked the lady, a clear look of evil in his eyes.

“Of course, Ser Vaemond.” She stepped out from around Averillia closer to the middle of the group. “I had said, ‘If the venomous Sea Serpent did care for his own houses blood, he would not be so emboldened in to spreading such poisonous accusations against its rightful heir’. Must I make clear what fatal accusations you speak of? His Grace, King Viserys would not take kindly to such accusations against his own grandson, his own heirs second born son. Would your brother Lord Corlys Velaryon take such gratitude in your rebuttal against his own heir that he’s upheld sense the boy was born from his own mothers womb?”

“What do you know of accusations, Lady Dayne? Considering you come from Dornish land where men lie with men and women lie with women. Men and women produce bastards and they get to inherit still. Your people know nothing of our customs – the man had gotten closer to the young lady, chest to chest talking down to her - and for such an opinion of a dornish girl, what do you know of Velaryon blood, Lady Dayne? I could cut my veins and show it to you and you still wouldn’t recognize it.”

“I shall gladly provide you the blade, Ser Vaemond. Maybe in that case you can remove your tongue with the same blade for the king and I’ll present it to him on a sparkling silver platter!” The eldest princess had pushed herself between the two tempered people as Prince Jacaerys had pulled the lady Dayne and the princess Averillia behind him with the help of Prince Daemon.

“Princess Rhaenyra, you will make your own petition for your son but have the courtesy of allowing Ser Vaemond’s to be heard. I also apologize ser Vaemond for Princess Averillia’s lady in waiting and her out of turn words. She will be sure to keep her lady in check.” The Queen Alicent had walked over to guide Vaemond away from the princess Rhaenyra and continue on the conversation.

“Of course. My Queen and my Lord Hand, I humbly put myself before you as my brother’s successor, the Lord of Driftmark and Lord of the Tides.”

“Thank you, Ser Vaemond. Princess Rhaenyra, you may now speak for your son, Lucerys Velaryon.”

Rhaenyra walked up to the center of the room after Vaemond had walked away. She looked in the embodiment of a dragon. Draped in a black dress and dragon fire like needlework and beads designed the bodice. “If I am to grace this farce with some answer, I will start by reminding the court that nearly 20 years ago, in this very-”

“King Viserys of House Targaryen, the First of His Name, King of the Andals, and the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm.”

The crowd had turned to see the king enter in. He walked with a club foot like limp. He would try to stand tall but would go back down with every limp. Coughs racked him into stopping and taking a hard lean onto his cane as he walked. “Father…”

The princess draped in blues was fast to go to her fathers aide with her lady following quickly behind her. Both girls standing on each side of him to help him stead himself. “I will sit the throne today.” The weakened king had called out to his Lord Hand. The king looked to his youngest child, “I have always delighted in when you wear blues, my dear girl. You look much like my late Aemma.”. The princesses eyes had gone wide and gathered lightly with tears at his words. The girl has not seen her father in almost two years because his condition was worsening. He has mistaken her mother for his late wife Aemma Arryn a couple times, but he never compared her to the late queen before that moment. He smiled to his daughter before turning to his daughter’s lady in waiting, “Lady Dayne, please allow me to walk myself. I will be fine.” Averillia and Elina shared a look of uncertainty before letting the old king walk himself.

He continued his path up to the throne before having yet another coughing fit. He hunched over himself having the Targaryen crown fall from his brow to clatter on the floor. The girls in blue were quick to aide the old king but his younger brother had beat them to his aide. Daemon had signaled the girls to back away in which they were lead by Rhaenyra and Jacaerys back towards the pact of black dragons.

Daemon helped his brother to the seat of the throne and placed the golden crown on his brow.

“I must… admit… my confusion. I do not understand why petitions are being heard over a settled succession. The only one present… who might offer keener insight into Lord Corlys’s wishes is the Princess Rhaenys.” Behind the pact of dragons came out the Princess Rhaenys, followed behind her was the young Baela Targaryen. The girl had grown into a beautiful girl since Driftmark, she had grown taller and filled into the brighter blue dress she wore.

“Indeed, Your Grace. – she had taken a pause before continuing - It was ever my husband’s will that Driftmark pass through Ser Laenor to his true born son… Lucerys Velaryon. His mind never changed. Nor did my support of him. As a matter of fact, the Princess Rhaenyra has just informed me of her desire to marry her son Lucerys Velaryon to Lord Corlys’s granddaughter, Rhaena Targaryen. A proposal to which I heartily agree.” Both Rhaena and Lukes heads had turned to the other one after that statement. Luke was quick to turn away after Jace had given the boy an encouraging shoulder bump, face flushed a bright red color. Illia had only turned to the younger girl and gave her hand a squeeze and a gentle smile.

“Then the matter is settled. I hereby reaffirm Prince Lucerys of House Velaryon as heir to Driftmark, the Driftwood throne, and the next Lord of the Tides.” The king broke into another coughing fit before a voice spoke up.

“You break law… and centuries of tradition to install your daughter as heir. Yet you dare tell me… who deserves to inherit the name Velaryon. No. I will not allow it.”

“”Allow it”? Do not forget yourself.”

The man had walked closer to the pact of dragons making the children take a few steps back, “That is no true Velaryon, and certainly no nephew of mine!” Elina Dayne had been the one to step up to the hot tempered man before he had gotten closer to the younger prince. Rhaenyra had quickly put herself before the girl, “Go to your chambers. You have said enough.”

“Do not lose your tongue Ser. You are only no more than a second son of Driftmark.” The Dornish lady had a pause before the hand of the Sea Serpent had struck her across the face. “Elina!”

“You may run your house as you see fit! But you will not decide the future of mine! My house survived the Doom and a thousand tribulations besides. And gods be damned, I will not see it ended on the account of this!”

“Say it”

“Her children – he had paused and taken in a deep breath – are bastards! And she is a whore!”

Gasps had been heard from the court before the king demanded the mans tongue.

In an instant Daemon had moved to the man and swung his sword, Jace was fast to push Illia behind him with his younger siblings. Blood had flown through the air from the blade of dark sister falling onto the children. Jace and Illia being covered the most after the body fell and the blood had sprayed from the mans exposed inner skull. Jace’s boots had fully been soaked and the entirety of Illia’s skirts had been covered. The blood went from the fallen body through the stones cracks right to the bloody blondes shoes.

“You foolish girl! You’ve ruin yourself for your future!”

Averillia’s chest started to tighten and taking in rapid breaths. Her hands had started to tremble and her eyes darted from the body to the trail of blood that led right to her. This was how the Gods punished her for such impure thoughts. Her sins are paid in blood.

“Illia!” Her eyes snapped to the prince who had been trying to get her attention. Blood had gotten onto his face across his cheekbone, his eyes looked at her with complete concern at her labored breaths and trembling hands.

“Sins are paid for in blood. You mustn’t touch me!” The princess pushed herself from the prince. She backed faster to turn to the door and quickened her pace.

“Averillia?”

“My Lady!”

“How good is it to see you all tonight, together.”

The table had been set for all 13 family members. A family divided by black and green cloaks and gowns. Both of the head women sat on either side of the king across from their children. She had been placed on the end next to Aemond. Why the seating had to be so she did not understand. She was across from Rhaena and Luke so she had a familiar friend at least. Baela was next to her and Jace was sitting between her and Aegon.

Jace had changed from his bloody court wear into a finer doublet, it was another black one, it had from even halfway down the table fit him nicely. The hook clasps of the doublet were of silver and the draped fabric along the back had been of a dark purple, almost black. Darker than her own purple dress but matched the beads and needle work along the collar of the dress and also the bands at the bottom of the shoulder puffs into long tight sleeves.  The gowns neckline was square cut but had dipped lower than some of her other gowns. When the gown was tightened to the proper tightness it made her breasts more prominent. Elina had insisted on the gown for dinner that night. Illia was starting to suspect the minor connections in their outfits had been more intentional than her friend was letting on.

He was quiet a beautiful man, in the candlelight his face held more definition. His eyes looked much more black than purple in the dimly lit room. She had started to wonder if they would still look like this blackened shade if he was in the moonlight that casted through her chamber windows right onto her bed. Would the curls of his hair cast such shadows on his eyes or would he had his hair pushed back for her to get a clearer look at his face as he laid under her in the moonlight? Would he have held her in a warm embrace without the feeling of clothing layers blocking them. Before Illia had been able to indulge deeper into her sinful dreams her father had interrupted with his speech.

“My grandson, Luke will be the future lord of the tides with his cousin Rhaena by his side. Further strengthening the bond between our families. A toast to the young couples betrothal!”

“Hear, hear”

“I also have another celebration to announce.” The eyes of the table had once again turned to the old king. “I have decided… to betroth my grandson, Jacaerys Velaryon to my last daughter, Averillia Targaryen. A strong future king needs the right queen by his side and I am certain that Averillia will stand by faithfully.”

Averillia had taken in a quick breath at her fathers announcement. She looked to Jace who had already been looking at her, he formed a smile before turning away and drinking from his glass.

“Husband, you cannot be truthful. You never consulted me on a choice of husband for our daughter.” Alicent had been quick to rebuttal the kings news. “The daughter you have not spoken a word to in about four years? I wasn’t going to wait around for our daughter to become a spinster because you can’t seem to forgive her for a accident that happened when they were children. I wish to be present watching all my daughters be wed and happy with their new families before I am cold and dead in my grave.” The elder women had been taken aback by her husbands outburst as had the rest of the table. Nobody spoke of the woman’s grudge for her own daughter.

The king let out a loud sigh before continuing, “Let us no longer hold ill feelings in our hearts. The crown cannot stand strong if the House of the Dragon remains divided. But set aside your grievances. If not for the sake of the crown… then for the sake of this old man who loves you all so dearly.”

Everyone at the table had gone silent with awkward glances around the table to one another before Rhaenyra had moved to stand up, “I wish to raise my cup to Her Grace, the Queen. I love my father. But I must admit that no one has stood… more loyally by his side than his good wife. She has tended to him with… unfailing devotion, love, and honor. And for that, she has my gratitude… and my apology.” She seated herself back down before Illia’s own mother stood, “Your graciousness moves me deeply, Princess. We are both mothers… and we love our children. We have more in common than we sometimes allow. I raise my cup to you… and to your house. You will make a fine queen.”

The table seemed to be at peace until Jace had slammed the table and jumping from his seat, a certain glare at Aegon. He quickly grabbed his glass and held it up for a toast. “To Prince Aegon and Prince Aemond, we have not seen each other for a few years but I do remember the fond memories in our shared youths, and as men – he paused for a moment before continuing – I hope we can see eye to eye and place any harmful intentions behind us to possibly be friends and allies for our families good health, dear uncles.” A smirk had played on his face before sitting himself down.

Illia had let out a quiet giggle at his joke. Unaware of Aemond’s small glance at her. Attention had been changed to Helaena who had stood herself up. “I would like to toast to Averillia and Rhaena. They’ll be married soon. It isn’t so bad. Mostly he just ignores you… except sometimes when he’s drunk.”

Illia had realized what her words meant and quickly drank her glass of wine. Music started to play in the background as her heartbeat was in her ears. Would her father have her marry at three and ten as they had done with Helaena? Will she have to carry heirs at such an early age? Will she perish just as Lady Laena did in childbirth?

A hand poking at her wrist had changed her attention to the man next to her, Jace was standing there holding out his hand to her. She took his hand as he quickly guided her to the open area of the floor. “Are you feeling well?” He asked her as they walked. She gave a quick nod with her head before the dance started. They spun around and taken little hops together to the song that played. He also in the moment taken to catching her waist and spinning her around in a few fast circles in which the girl had burst into giggles.

A bang had paused any movement in the room. The young couple had stopped dancing to see Aemond standing having all the attention drawn to him. “Final tribute.”

“Aemond.”

“To my sister and nephew, Averillia and Jacaerys. They are to be married soon, let us drain our cups to my sisters health and usefulness in delivering him healthy and… strong boys.” “I dare you to say that again.” Jace had straightened himself out putting Illia behind him. “Why? ‘Twas only a compliment. Do you not think my foolish sister won’t be able to understand even the act of making a child correctly?”

That was the final straw for Jacaerys when he walked up and landed a blow right to Aemond’s jaw. He hadn’t moved but he pushed Jace backwards a few steps. Aemond was ready to throw his punch into Jace’s jaw but Illia had gone to try and catch her betrothal and instead caught Aemond’s fist to her forehead. The young couple had been knocked to the stone floor. Baela had been quick to jump from her seat and come to Illia’s aide as Jace jumped right back onto his feet, bring the unbalanced Aemond to the ground and was quick to get a couple hits back. Daemon and a guard had grabbed the dragon prince and pulled him off the one eyed prince. The boy wiggled free from the men’s hold and went straight to his betrothal.

“Cease this fighting at once!” The king had yelled aloud to the room. “To think that you’ve all grown you yet still act like children! It shall be final. Jacaerys Velaryon and Averillia Targaryen shall be married a moon after her six and tenth nameday. No later. Aemond Targaryen shall be sent to reside on Storms End until the wedding. I will not allow theses acts of violence to continue occurring in my own home.” King Viserys of house Targaryen had fallen back against his chair in exhaustion.

Back in her chambers the princess was being closely looked at by her lady in front of her vanity. “Elina I am fine! Please stop fretting over me.” “Illia you had been hit to the floor by your own brother, back home my brother would have had his hand cut off for striking his own sister.” Illia had rolled her eyes at her friend, “Well the boy already is missing his eye. You can’t take a limb from the man too. Now please just let me go to bed, it’s late.” The girl had let out a huff before agreeing to the girls pleas.

Illia watched her walk out the door before she started to undo her own hair from the elaborate style Elina had put it in. The girl went to take out the blasted dangling earrings that caused her great discomfort before a knocking sound was heard. She turned to the door, not expecting a visitor for how late in the night it was. She opened the door to find no one in the corridor. She closed the door unsure why a knock had been heard. Not a step later, another knock was heard. She opened the door quicker and found not a single soul again. She walked to her wardrobe and opened the double doors to find only gowns and cloaks hanging. Averillia let out a huff in annoyance. For the night she has had, she was especially not in the mood for jesters.

“Did you know it’s rude to not answer your betrothal when he knocks upon your wall?”

The princess had turned around quickly to find Prince Jacaerys in her chambers leaning against her bed post still in his attire from dinner.

“What. The. Fuck.”

“I did not know that my betrothal used such vulgar language.” He had a smirk upon his face at her utterly shocked face.

“How the fuck did you get in here?”

“The wall?”

He moved and pointed to the corner of the room where a chair had now been moved. A corner with two stone walls.

“The wall? I may have been hit in the head but I am not a dimwitted fool, Jacaerys Velaryon.”

The boy had rolled his eyes at her attitude and walked closer to the girl. He reached into her wardrobe and pulled out a black cloak. “Put this on.”

“Why?”

“Must you ask so many questions?”

The girl had listened to him and thrown the cloak on, it covered her entire body with arm hole slits in the front. She had finished tying the cord around the neckline to find him leaning against the stone wall in the corner.

“Do you trust me?”

“What?”

In an instance he had opened the wall as if it was a door and had gone through. Illia was fast to approach him and walk through. She looked around before the door closed behind her.

“Follow me.”

The pathways lead the couple all the way outside the castle to a open plain of grass. “How did you know about those tunnels?” “I had found them before we left for Dragonstone.” A sudden sound of two dragons landing had made the girl turn to see both Vermax and Silverwing waiting for the couple. “Would you care to go on a dragon fly with me to the little islands?”

“Race you!”

The princess had shoved the prince back before taking off into a sprint to her own dragon.

“No fair!”

The dragons raced through the cloudy night sky across the open body of water towards the collection of small islands. They were to small of land for anyone to live but the dragons seemed to enjoy resting on the islands during their flights. Averillia and Silverwing had beaten the boys to the island in record time. Vermax let out a little huff of fire when he landed, obviously the dragon had known he’d been beaten and wasn’t happy about the lost. “You cheated!”

“I did not! You’re just a sore loser!” Illia had screamed back to the prince at his accusation towards her. The prince was fast to grab the girl and tickling her restlessly. “Jace no! Please don’t! I am sorry! Please no!” the boy had gotten on top of the girl and tickled her sides relentlessly while she begged him to stop. “You have to admit you cheated and then I shall cease the tickling.” “Anything else! Please!”

“Ok fine, You have to kiss me than!”

“What?!”

“Those are your only options, Princess. Either admit your wrongs or kiss me, that’s the only way you are getting yourself out of here.”

The girls giggles sounded louder as he kept tickling her. “Okay! Okay I surrender!” Jace had stopped his hands for one moment to look at her. The blonde princess had wiggled herself to sit upon her bum and grabbed his face and placed a kiss on his cheek. It had been a quick peck upon his cheek, but still a kiss none the less. He had frozen up still at the girls kiss and stared her in the eyes. The moon which started to shine through the clouds shined right upon her. Jace had thought she looked of a goddess in the moonlight, her hair was a beautiful golden color as if a halo around her and her eyes had almost shined pale purple in the light. He had taken her all in and noticed how milky pale her skin was, it looked to be a soft feeling. Her neck looked as if every breath she took was going to break her, her shoulders went up with every intake of breath she took and down with every outtake. She had been leaning back on her hands which exposed her chest in fuller view, He had seen her lower cut dress at dinner but he did not seem to mind, especially not now. Her breasts looked as if they were to spill out from her gown with how much father the gown had been pulled down. He knew it was not polite to stare, especially with how many times his mother had enforced that rule but gods how could he not. She looked of utter radiance and she was to be his, and his alone.

Illia wondered if the prince above her was feeling well. He had been staring at her for a few good minutes without staying a word. “Jace?” The boy had rested his palm against her waist before following the seam of her bodice up to her bust, her neck, and ending on her jaw. “Jace? Are you feeling well?” He had taken his other hand and held the back of her head. “Jace? What are you doing?” her hand held his wrist that was on her jaw. He was freaking her out with how hard he was staring at her. “Do you trust me?” His eyes jumped between her eyes and lips as she gave a slow nod. He didn’t hesitate to bring her lips to his. It was an awkward feeling for the girl, having never kissed or been kissed by anyone before. Slowly she relaxed and had started to enjoy the feeling.

Jace was far to excited to function properly. Her skin was indeed soft, most likely the softest thing the prince had ever felt. Her lips had a comforting warmth to them that he does not think he could find anywhere else. He had inevitably pulled away from her to catch his breath. The girl under him was truly the most beautiful thing ever in this world. Without any hesitation, he again pulled his hand that was tangled in the back of her hair to him in another kiss. He had laid her down in the dirt once more and continued kissing her. His hand moved from her hair down to her waist as her hands had moved to his bicep and his own hair. She had pulled him deeper into the kiss with a small moan escaping her mouth. Jace had felt his trousers tightening at just her simple sound, if he could he’d never wish for her to stop that sound. He had felt her break away from him and quickly flipped him so he was the one in the dirt and she was on top. He pulled her closer by her waist and brought his lips to her jaw, her neck, her clavicle, and end at her breasts. As soon as his lips touched her gown collar, she had thrown herself from his lap and pushing his upper body straight back into the dirt.

She had been only a foot away from him when he sat up, her chest was breathing rapidly, her hair had been a mess, her eyes wide like a doe, and her lips swollen covered in her own spit. “Illia, oh gods. Illia I am sorry, I did not mean for it to be taken so far, and it was not even my intents to bring you out here just for that. I just wanted one moment alone with you before we go back to Dragonstone on the marrow. I-“

“You’re leaving again? But you’ve only just arrived?”

In Jace’s rambling she had herd the words that made her heart sink into her stomach. Tears had welded into her eyes at the sudden news. “You’re supposed to be here for five more days? Why are you leaving me again?”

“Mother thinks its best considering Aemond’s temper.”

“Take me with you! Do not leave me here with those awful people! Do not leave me, Jace! Please do not leave me again!”

The tears had started to consistently stream down her cheeks. “Illia, please do not cry. I can not stand to keep watching you cry like this. I do not want to leave you so soon either. I had begged my mother to take you but she knew it wasn’t possible. Your mother wouldn’t have allowed it.” He crawled over to the girl to try and console her. She had attached herself to him, hoping holding him longer will make him stay.

They sat in that spot for hours that night trying to find comfort in the departure between the two but there was none.

Jacaerys Velaryon, the dragon prince and Averillia Targaryen, the simple princess were once again pulled apart from one another once dawn had broken though over the sea line.

endnote: Thank you everyone for reading! The next part shall take me some time to write but if you’re still interested in reading the story please like or reblog to bring you back to them! (Did you guys also see the Epic reference I put in??? I believe it’s the most fitting lyric in the entire musical) also I had changed Jace’s appearance in this time frame, I love my man but the curls eat more then his season one wig. The finale part to this trilogy shall be released sometime at the end of next week or two!

[barleyo]

*licks teeth and pins u against the wall* so uh...how bout one of those big bro leon fics, *I say with a glint in my eyes*

Purist.

Big Bro! Leon X F! Reader (smut)

A/N: *quivers and covers chest nervously* w-w-well, i-i guess i could write a— a little something... *eyes shift awkwardly, avoiding eye contact with a gulp* uhm... here. i, uh, i hope you enjoy... (some of the dialogue is inspired by the 2007 movie teeth :3)

Tags: incest (brother-sister)/(daddy-daughter mentioned), coercion, dub-con, religious themes, allusion to p in v/a /no real penetration mentioned, fingering (anal and vaginal f receiving), brief mentions of previous sexual assault/abuse

Wordcount: 2.1k

You spent the entirety of your mid to late teen years obsessed with God. With purity. With salvation. Your parents dragging you and your brother, Leon, to church must've eventually struck a cord with you. Ever since the youth pastor chewed up that bubblegum and offered it around to everyone, making the point that nobody wanted a tainted 'treat,' the idea of staying untouched seemed to just click into place for you. Your body was a sacred thing, not to be touched or looked at lustfully by any man. 

Complete abstinence is easier than perfect moderation, as the great St. Augustine said. Why not swear yourself to chastity? A bond of complete celibacy, of purity, promised by you to your Lord.

Unfortunately, your big brother didn't seem to feel the same way.

Leon was your exact opposite, in the way that he couldn't spend a night alone. While you would sit in your room, reading or studying like a proper girl, the wanton sound of a random female companion of his would rip through the paper thin walls of your parent's house. Every night, or what felt like it, he would bring home a 'date,' as you called them, though, he would sooner call them 'easy sluts.' 

You weren't easy. Leon liked that about you. Every crude joke he made at your expense, wether at the dinner table or in the brief expanse of the hallway near your rooms, you shut down immediately. You were too maidenly for your own good, and unafraid to show it. Oh, he really liked it. Not like those other whores he'd snatch up on the way home, were you? His boyish, smug grins did nothing to bring you, his darling little sister, to your knees in the way it did other women your age. 

Maybe that was why he did it— bringing those girls over. He knew good and well you could hear them— hear him— through the thin walls. He could tell based on the way you looked at him with scornful eyes the morning after as he accompanied the umpteenth girl of his to the front door, tactfully kicking her out with the promise of calling her back. Of course, he did no such thing, the womanizer that he was. He'd wink at you. Taunting you. 

Maybe he did all of this to tempt you, to show you what you were missing out on. Maybe he was sending you a message. An offer? No. The more likely option was that he just liked to tease you. Yes, that seemed more 'brotherly.'

It was another night. Another sleepless night of being tormented by the lewd sounds coming from your older brother's room. You could practically hear the individual squeak of every spring in his old mattress as he used whatever girl he had with him now. You heard her muffled voice. Poor girl must've had her face pushed into the pillow. Maybe she was ugly. Leon always let the pretty ones look at him while he sexed them up— you could tell because you heard their voices much clearer in the night. 

It was nearly melodic. Hearing almost every movement between the two. You could piece it together in your mind, and before you knew it, you had your eyes tightly shut, imagining the scene.

You pictured it in more detail than you thought the Lord would be appreciative of. You saw your brother's toned back with his tapered waist, his taut muscles clenching and coated in a slick sheen of sweat as he worked his hips against a faceless girl's heat. It was a dance. You seemed to imagine it more passionate than it sounded. Where the girl next door was certainly getting pounded, your imaginary girl was being treated tender and soft. Gentle strokes accompanied by a firm grasp. 

You were yet again reminded the next day of how much different your real brother was to the version of him your mind conjured up the previous night. Not nearly as sweet, that was for sure. 

You pushed into his room, not bothering to give him the dignity of a knock. That was another thing he liked about you. For how meek and God-fearing you seemed to be, you could be a real bitch to your dear ol' brother. He found it sort of funny, the juxtaposition between how you really were and how his lackadaisical manner made you act. 

"We need to talk about your girlfriends," you said, slamming his door behind you. The breeze caused by the door made a few of his classless pin-up girl posters swish upwards, hanging on for their lives against the black walls of his room by the tiny scraps of tape he stuck them with. 

"Don't have any," Leon said casually, legs spread and arms over his chest. He tossed a baseball up and down, catching it in his palm as he leaned his head against his headboard. 

You huffed and stomped over to his bedside to snatch the baseball. He let you grab it, shooting you an amused grin as you palmed the ball far too big for your hand. 

"Well, whatever you want to call them—"

"Let's just call them whores, yeah?"

"I'm not going to call them that," you spat, eyebrows raising into your hairline. "Your 'friends.' How about that? Your 'friends' need to stop coming around. I can't live like this. I can't sleep!"

"Awh, poor thing. Your grade in 'prissy bitch' class must be dropping now. Y'fall asleep during your stick-up-the-ass exam, college girl?" he asked, nose scrunching teasingly as he eyed you. He reveled in how your offended look grew. 

"Can you take anything seriously, you ass?" You dropped his baseball to the floor and kicked it under his bed, to which he mumbled 'bitch' and an additional explicative or another under his breath. "Last night was ridiculous. I didn't get a wink of sleep. These walls aren't nearly as thick as you act like they are."

"Oh, you heard that? What, it turn you on or something?"

You stilled, arms rising back to cover your chest defensively. It didn't turn you on, per se, but it did something, that was for damn sure. You weren't about to confess that to Leon, though. Not if you had a choice. 

"No, it did not 'turn me on,' Leon. Do you hear yourself when you speak, or does everything come out on instinct?"

"Instinct. So, Virgin Mary, what're you harassing me about now? You don't enjoy the sweet, sweet sound of random chicks getting smashed?"

He sat up straight, back flush to his headboard now as he turned to face you. 

You got a good look at his features. Looked a lot like your dad. Score! Perfect excuse, suddenly coming to mind.

"No, I don't. I'm sure daddy doesn't appreciate it either," you said, trying to guard yourself with the veil of your father. 

Leon snorted. "Well, I guess daddy dearest will just have to come tell me himself then, won't he? Seems like he's too drunk nowadays to hear anything," he said, voice nearing bitter territory. 

"Don't talk about dad like that," your voice taking on a more protective edge in your father's defense. "He's going through a rough time. He doesn't need your shit."

"And I don't need yours. This whole abstinence thing has your horse pretty high, you know." Leon shifted his legs over the side of his bed, elbows resting on his knees. Most of the humor he had left in his voice had drained out, being replaced with a seriousness. "You aren't slick."

You narrowed your eyes at him, eyebrows pinching together. "What are you talking about?"

"Come on, sis," he said, mocking tone lacing the nickname, "we both know who you're saving yourself for, and I've been real patient up until now. I'm not gonna wait forever."

You wanted to repeat yourself, you wanted to ask just what the hell he meant by that, but he interrupted your train of thought.

"You think I couldn't hear you listening like a little pervert? Hell, even before I started bringing girls home. I couldn't jerk off without seeing you peeking through the crack in my door. Like I said, you aren't slick. You act like you're all hard and saintly, but you're just a nasty pervert, aren't you?"

So many thoughts ran through your head. So many emotions. Embarrassment, for one, at the fact that he knew of your dirty secrets regarding him. Anger at how casually he was airing this information. A strange warmth, as well, at how he teased you. You should've been screaming at him, at twisting this around on him, but you couldn't. 

"I'm sorry," you managed to squeak out, eyes dropping to your feet in shame. 

Leon just hummed in response, clearly not in dire need of an apology. In fact, he looked rather unfazed, like it was no problem for him at all.

"If you want to apologize, you can bring your little ass over here. Sit down, pervert."

"I don't know why you're acting so fidgety about this. You give it up to dad all the time, what's so different about me?"

Fuck. Leon really knew everything about you. This entire night was like having someone read your diary out loud to you, hearing every 'secret' you thought you had kept so well. 

"Shut up," you said, eyes clenched shut tightly as Leon curled his fingers up against your g-spot again. You bit back the urge to whine or moan. With how much he was teasing you, you didn't feel that he deserved the satisfaction. 

"Wonder what everyone would think. Daddy's good girl is good for more than she lets on, huh? Bet everyone already knows. There's no way a girl like you hasn't been taken before. Ain't a man on earth who wouldn't try it, y'know?"

You hated how that made you tighten around his fingers. Was that really what made you cum? Your brother calling you rapeable? The entire situation was so far out of your wildest imagination. A far cry from what the other girls he entertained had experienced, you were sure of that. 

Or, maybe, the way that he let your face upwards was what did it for you. Last you remembered, the rule was pretty girls faced up, ugly girls got flipped. Guess that counts for something. 

"I'm real fascinated by your pussy," Leon said after a few moments of silence. He was sitting between your legs, cock sprung free from his boxers as he kept his fingers plugged into your hole. He watched as your hole continued to kick and squeeze over his two digits. 

"I can tell. You won't stop lookin' at it," you mumbled, trying and failing to prop yourself up on your palms. 

"Not what I meant. Just meant it's pretty."

You don't know why you blushed at such a meaningless, near-objectifying compliment. A small part of you said that if Leon had seen so many in his life, and he said yours was pretty, then surely that meant something. You felt honored, in a weird way. 

"Bet it'll be even tighter around my cock."

"What? No, no, we can't do that, Leon," you said quickly, pulling away from his finger with a squelch. You tried to pull your panties up, but he stopped you. 

"Who says?"

You thought about it. You wanted it, sure. Really bad, actually. So, who says? Who said that you couldn't take a brief pause from chastity? You quickly told yourself what you said each time your father got a little too drunk a little too late a night and missed your mother a little too much. 

"Just be gentle," you said, exactly how you would on the nights where you looked a little too much like your mother. 

"Don't worry."

You expected to feel his cock swab against your folds. You expected to feel the eerily familiar pinch and stretch of being penetrated, but it didn't come. Your walls clenched almost eagerly around nothing. 

Instead, your eyes widened in shock at the feeling of a finger trailing around your asshole. Leon aimed his head forward and spat a fat glob onto your rim, rubbing it around to coat your hole. 

"Wait— Leon! Don't do that," you whined, feeling him finger sink in and stretch the ring of muscle. 

"You aren't a true-virgin anywhere else, sis. I wanna pop this cherry before someone gets to it before I do."

God, he was cruel. What was crueler was the way he prodded another finger into your hole like it was nothing. At least he had the awareness to spit again, coating the middles of his fingers in an attempt to ease the pain in your end. It worked, as well as spit could. 

His head dipped down and his tongue latched to your clit, giving it a few purposeful sucks before pressing a kiss to it too, piercing eyes looking at you from between your thighs. 

"Besides, anal doesn't really count, right? Isn't that what all you pure-not-so-pure girls say?"

[lilislegacy]

okay here are my own personal headcanons on pjo/hoo characters having kids, assuming certain couples stay together and no one dies. also my thoughts are subject to change lol.

percy and annabeth have three (mostly) planned kids, starting when they’re in their mid to late 20s and spanning about 5-6 years. and then another one comes along when they’re like 40. (total accident). a couple boys, a couple girls - all sassy hyperactive geniuses running around causing mass chaos 24/7. then when their bio kids are mostly grown and out of the house, they foster demigod kids who don’t have homes. i can also see them being in their like 50s and fully adopting a little demigod baby who doesn’t have a family (because they have plenty of love to give). basically at every stage of their life, their house is always chaotic, loud, and full of safe and loved kids. they are parents to anyone who needs them

grover and juniper are gonna have like 7 kids or something. their own little school of children. and all super close together, which is ironic since they don’t have the strict timeline that humans do.

frank and hazel have exactly one kid, probably in their mid 20s. and they are SO happy with their one. the kid is calm, sweet, quiet, and smart. much better behaved than most demigods (although there could be a rebellious phase in the teen years)

nico and will adopt one or two, maybe a set of siblings, but not until they’re in their 40s. because i feel like nico thinks he never wants kids, but then over time, he realizes he does. plus he wants to do it for will.

piper doesn’t want kids. she thought she did at first, mainly because she felt like she was supposed to, but as she gets older she realizes she loves the freedom of not being a full time parent. she can pop in, be fun aunt piper to all her friends’ kids, and then leave. and she’s super happy that way.

i think leo would be scared as fuck to be a dad, and never plan on it, but i can see him having a singular daughter. definitely not planned. maybe even naming her after his mom. i really see leo being a single dad for some reason, idk why or how though. but he would be awesome. he’d expect his daughter to be all troubled and messed up like him, but she turns out amazing (because she has an awesome dad)

[cherryblooom]

Enchanted — OP81 [introduction]

Summary: After being forced of moving mid-year of school, the least thing you expected was getting a crush in a cute boy who loves karting and actually being corresponded. I mean, you have always wanted to have a romance like the books but forgot all the struggles and challenges that comes with it.

Pairing: Teen!Oscar Piastri x Teen!Reader

navigation series masterlist

Warnings: period shaming, bullying, reader has some questionable thoughts and self-contempt, animal abuse (no details). mostly narration.

Author note: This is my very first work ever, please be nice and reblog if you liked it!

Everything felt very surreal. You can feel your eyes stinging, fighting not to let out those tears that you had been holding in since before you left the house.

There wasn't much traffic, but you weren't sure if that was a good thing or if you just wanted to delay the impossible. You knew it was necessary but couldn't help feeling guilty for your parents for having to move across the country and leave everything they knew behind. Your father had lived his entire life working and building his company from scratch and thanks to endless nights, you and your mother were just beginning to see the fruits of his hard work, of course, before all the shitshow happened. Your parents had done everything they could to make you understand that their anger was not your fault and not directed towards you, it was actually the opposite, but you couldn't help feeling resentful and like a freaking failure.

You played with the apps on your phone in a failed attempt to distract yourself but couldn't help to grimace when you opened the Instagram app and saw your now private profile. You followed some famous people but you only had 10 followers as all the others were deleted by your mother.

''I'm sorry for making you move and leave everything behind. Dad, the company...''

''Honey, no. Stop it!'' your father replied after lowering the volume of the radio while your mother, who was in the passenger seat next to him, turned around with a look of concern. ''We already talked about it, you're not guilty of what happened and we're not angry at you. We should have protected you and been there for you but we realized it too late but I promise you that we are going to leave all this in the past and although you don't want to believe it now, we love you and we always will.'' She was right, you couldn't believe her. Your mind was going down a somewhat dark path and you were sure that if your mother had even the slightest idea of what was going on in your head, she wouldn't hesitate to send you to a psychologist. ''Plus, you will love the new house! It has a beautiful patio and a pool where you can practice in case you want to join the swimming team at your new school.’’ She told you slightly excited, trying to pass on the feeling to you but you didn't have the heart to tell her that it wouldn't be possible, so you just nodded and looked out the window again.

You could feel your mother's gaze on you, perhaps waiting for an answer or even a smile but you didn't have the energy to do it or even fake it.

You had become what they call a ''bookworm''. Despite having access to technology and internet, you had developed a great love and appreciation for physical books and the smell of a new book excited you more than what is perhaps ''normal'' but thanks to the fact that apparently not many people shared the sentiment, the library was empty most of the time (at least the one located in the junior wing of the school, you didn't know about the one in the senior wing, but you have heard that it has like three floors and a private cafeteria).

You were reading one of your favorite books again and even though you practically knew the story by heart, you couldn’t stop laughing and feeling your heart flutter at the thought of how it would feel to be loved like that. Would you ever be able to find someone who would love and admire you just for being you? Just for existing? You had a love/hate thing for romance books. You read about how the characters were loved, cared for, how they could let go and turn their brains off to just…be. Exist. You knew you had just turned 14 and that according to your parents and the logical part of your brain, you have a whole life waiting ahead of you, but you can’t imagine that someone could love you like that. You couldn’t even make friends, how the hell are you going out to dates? No idea, but you didn’t want to think about it and fall down that rabbit hole. You turned the page, excited as you were only about 10 pages away from your favorite part but decided to leave it for later to read in the comfort of your room.

The alarm distracted you from your book and with it, you knew that you only had 10 minutes left of lunch (you weren't a big fan of the cafeteria, lots of people and noise so the library was always a good choice) and that you had to go to the biology lab, not forgetting to stop by your locker to look for the essay that you have to hand in today. When you reached for your backpack, you felt a strange tug in your stomach that you didn't know how to describe, you had never felt anything like it before, so you were quite confused, but you ignored it since you knew you didn't have much time left.

Then you saw him. A boy your age was entering the library but you turned around facing away from him, so he was unable see you. You barely saw him for a few seconds but boy, was he cute. Is this what you always read about? You didn't even know the boy's name, but you noticed his short brown hair, his rosy cheeks and how tall he was. Was this your first crush? It’s dumb! You watched him for a few seconds but apparently that was enough to make you fantasize what it would be like to talk to him or what his name would be, if he was nice or a jerk like the rest of the boys in your class (which would be a bummer). All of the other girls in your class have no problem talking to boys or making friends in general but here you are, covering your face with your hair so the cute boy you saw for two seconds doesn’t notice your presence.

You walked out of the library with your coat hanging on your backpack, it wasn’t cold so you didn’t need it at the moment. You had 5 minutes before Biology started so you headed to your locker and you always walked close to the walls, that way you drew as little attention as possible. Apparently, old habits die hard. Up until now, you had done a pretty good job of being a regular girl and not drawing attention to yourself. The girls in your class dangerously reminded you of the girl responsible for you having to move and change schools mid-year and the boys in your class are jerks, is the best way you can describe them. There was no way you wanted to run into any of them. You wake up, go to school, go home, do your homework and then go to bed. Same routine, every day. You watched on social media as your other classmates went out, had fun, went to the mall, bought makeup and clothes, posted photos and videos in groups, laughing, and as much as you wished you didn't care, you felt envious. Why can't you be like that? Why do you have to be the little weirdo who always goes unnoticed, and no one pays attention to?

You had to take one more turn to get to your locker when you heard giggles behind you. You turned your head slightly and saw two boys who were a grade above pointing at you and laughing; your chest started to hurt and you felt like there wasn't enough air to breathe. Anxiety, you felt anxious. You ran to your locker as the laughter intensified behind you and you just knew that you were the reason for it. Suddenly, you felt that same tug at the bottom of your belly.

''Oh no, no, no, please don't...'' you whispered almost on the verge of tears. You felt something hit your head and then fall to the ground. You wanted to die when you looked down and saw a sanitary pad that someone had thrown at your head which made the laughter louder.

''Oh no, the weirdo is bleeding out! I hope she has another skirt because yikes.''

''Hey! You're staining the floor, how fucking disgusting!''

''If I was the janitor, I'd make her clean it up. How disgusting.''

''Hey, honestly, how did you not notice? Didn't you feel your vagina wet or smelly or shit? Fuck, I have to get my book, but my locker is next to hers, imagine if it smells. That will be so gross!''

''In case you prefer to put things inside rather than a pad, weirdo'' Someone had thrown two tampons at your head, one of which had gotten tangled in your curls. At this point, you were already sobbing, not being able to hold back the tears and humiliated, all the while you were still turning your back on everyone with the locker open, with fear and shame eating you away.

Suddenly, you felt someone's presence which brought you out of the little dazed status.

''Honey, come on, I'm going to take you to the infirmary. Come on, you're okay, let's go.'' You could tell by the softness of the voice that it was a woman. She was the school's duty nurse. Apparently, someone was kind enough to call her while the others were scoffing. You let yourself be guide towards the infirmary and could distantly hear the nurse demanding them to stop laughing. At this point, you didn't care anymore, you just wanted to get to your bed and cry, that's all.

5 Months Later

You were in the south courtyard of the school, the farthest of all, with your third sketchbook finishing what would be your second attempt at drawing your mother. It would soon be her birthday and although you had already bought her a gift at the mall, you wanted to give her something that only you could do. Besides, she was the number 1 fan of your drawings and she bragged to her friends that her daughter was a great artist. Sometimes it embarrassed you but at the same time you felt good knowing that you had someone on your side, supporting you. With each stroke, you felt your confidence increase and, you had even opened an Instagram’s account for your drawings, and you felt good knowing that there were people who recognized your talent and encouraged you to continue learning, even if they were strangers. Maybe you were not totally alone.

You felt stuck. You couldn’t draw the hands, and with each attempt you only felt like you were screwing up more. Before you got more frustrated, you decided to take a break and continue in the comfort of your bed after eating. When you were about to start packing your things, your notebook fell open right on the last page that always made you blush. The boy from the library, who you now know also plays on the school soccer team (not that you’re stalking him at all) was looking back at you in an unfinished drawing in your sketchbook. You had only seen him passing by the halls and you couldn’t admit out loud that you unconsciously tried to match your schedule with his, like when he had his sports class. Oscar, that was his name, and you knew it thanks to the fact that he was apparently the star in the games and his name was always shouted by the people in the audience. Apart from seeing him in sports class, you didn't get the chance to see him much since he was in a grade above yours.

It was Tuesday, 3:40 PM according to the alarm you had set. School had ended 10 minutes ago but the alarm reminded you that in 5 minutes the soccer practice, Oscar's soccer practice, would start. Pathetic? Yes, but it wasn't a crime to want to appreciate your crush from afar, right?

Before you could leave the courtyard, you saw out of the corner of your eye a cardboard box which was dirty and you swore that it moved for a second. It looked like trash, but it couldn't be since the school has a zero-tolerance policy regarding that and you can literally end up suspended for throwing trash outside the trash bin. They were really strict about that. You approached it with some caution and jumped a little in shock when you saw that it did move and that it wasn't part of your imagination. Your heart stopped when you heard a small sound...a kitten? You approached more confidently, and your heart skipped a beat when you saw that the box didn't have any holes in it and was in fact sealed with many pieces of tape.

In a hurry, you threw your backpack on the floor and took out your scissors to cut the tape. You could feel the adrenaline and fear of what you might find inside if it turned out to be exactly what you thought but still, you carefully but firmly cut the tape. If they turned out to be kittens, you were going to start crying. You took a deep breath and opened it, feeling your eyes water. There were 4 kittens that looked like they couldn't be more than a few weeks old. One was completely white; another was almost completely black but with a few white spots while the last two were a combination of orange and white. One of the orange kittens, unlike its siblings, wasn't meowing and was just lying there barely breathing. You felt your heart break. They looked cold and hungry, so tiny and defenseless. You have always been a cat person, kittens being your weak point. Quickly, you grabbed your backpack, hooking it on your shoulders so you could carry the box without dropping it and you couldn’t run but did your best to walk fast. When you got to the school gate, you called your mom to come pick you up telling her about the box you found and that you wanted to take them to the vet. Your mom knew there was no way you were going to leave them abandoned after finding them so after 10 minutes you were already on your way to the vet with four beautiful kittens with you.

---------

Your Instagram account dedicated to your drawings has gained 1,000 followers, which was a great achievement for you, but you decided to take that opportunity to post that you had 3 kittens up for adoption. It destroyed you knowing that you couldn't keep the 4 kittens, but your parents had already let you keep Cotton (cliche because the kitten was completely white, you knew it, but you didn't care).

You were appalled while looking at your notifications. Oscar. Yes, that Oscar was messaging you and after checking a little more you realized that he had been following you for a while and you hadn't even noticed. You could feel your cheeks turning red, but you took a breath and remembered that he was only doing that because he wanted to adopt a kitten, you were of zero importance.

my_cherryblossom

Liked by Oscar_piastri and 57 others

A few weeks ago I found a box sealed with tape that contained 4 kittens inside. It's obvious that the intention of whoever put them there was for them not to survive but I found them just in time. Sadly, I can only keep one, which is why I am giving up the other 3 for adoption! They are so cute and playful.

If you're interested, write me.

P.S. These kittens are my life so if you give me weird vibes, I won't give you one lol

view all 10 comments

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

Radio Check: As mentioned above, this is just the first part of what I hope will be a series telling Oscar x Reade's story. If you'd like to be tagged, let me know! Please Reblog and like!

[trippinsorrows]

with me + part one

authors note: well, i got some type of writers block working on two other RR wip's so opened a new google doc and ended up with this. prob gonna be 3 parts, maybe 4. there's an almost five year time jump after this one, can you guess why? also, joe's wife is an oc, not galina.

first time posting my roman writings on here and trying not to freak out tbh

warnings: angst, infidelity, language, suggestive content

song inspo: with me by destiny's child

word count: 4,000

You know that assignment everyone at some point in their education where they research what they want to be when they grow up and share it with the whole class for a grade? Yeah, that big mammoth of a question that somehow you’re supposed to have confidently answered before even reaching double digits.

That was always super easy for you.

From as far back as you can remember, you wanted to be a teacher. It took until you were in middle school, almost high school for you to settle on an elementary school teacher, college for a specific grade. But, the teaching profession always called to you.

You chalk it up to your grandmother, undoubtedly one of your favorite people in this entire world. She was also an elementary school teacher who taught until she was expectedly called home when you were 14. Some part of you wonders if you’ve never even allowed yourself to entertain any other professions because of her loss. She was your best friend, and following in her footsteps was wanted but also felt somewhat necessary. Like you had to in order to honor her and her legacy.

A couple years into your career, you still think about that, how you’ve known from such a young age what you wanted to do with your life. Well, one part. 

In other areas, maybe the most important areas, you were lost as all of the outdoors. Mostly in one area, if you’re being honest, and truthfully, it’s not even what you want in as much as it is how you get there. The path is relatively simple: find a man, fall in love, get married, have babies, live happily ever after.

It’s such a stereotypical trajectory, but one you’ve also envisioned for yourself since your late teens. You’d gotten partying all out of your system during the early college years, somewhat in high school as well. Now in your mid 20s, soon to be late 20s, all you want to do is prepare to eventually settle down. Sooner rather than later.

And the issue isn’t even having no prospects. You have a prospect, he’s just unavailable. 

Because he’s already fucking married.

But can you even call him a prospect when that implies there’s some chance? Because there’s zero chance. You know this. You know this very well, too well. So why you still allow him into your bed and inside of you is beyond you. Yes, the sex is out of this world, but you desire more than that. Maybe not at first, but almost three years deep into this arrangement, most definitely.

You still think back to your first meeting.

Your best friend won a contest that not only granted her two front row tickets to a Smackdown show but backstage passes as well. You met so many wrestlers that night, some you grew up watching on TV as the little tomboy that you were as a kid. But, it was one wrestler in particular: tall, muscular, hair more beautiful and silky than any silk press your beautician mother could ever style, that changed your life. Whether for better or worse remains to be seen. 

He was attractive, extremely, possibly one of the most beautiful men you’d ever met. But, the attraction was short-lived when you spotted the wedding band on his left hand. You’d be lying if you tried to say that was when the attraction sizzled out. It diminished, but it was still there. Still, you didn’t think much of it, that was until you received a call from a number on your phone that you didn't recognize. 

Why you even accepted the call is still a mystery. You never answered random calls, yet that one was an exception, an exception that resulted in you having an unexpected phone conversation with Roman fucking Reigns. He explained that he got your number from your friend who’d exchanged contact information with a wrestler she met that night as well. They were messing around too, that much you knew. And good for her. He, unlike Roman, was not married and therefore free to fuck around.

The conversation lasted much longer than it needed to, especially given the flirtatious nature it quickly took on. It was wrong, you knew this well, very well. He took vows, but you were also aware of those vows. And heat no point pressured you into anything, you could have cut it off. Flirtatious he was, but forceful he was not.

The conversations increased in frequency and length over a matter of weeks that turned into months, and before you knew it, your day started and ended with either a text or phone call from the wrestler. 

A small part of you knew that it would eventually escalate into more, a man like him seemed like he needed more. But, you stupidly tried to tell yourself that when that time came, you would remain strong and draw the line in the sand with just communication. Even if it was just as wrong as anything else.

It was a silly thought. 

Your resolve was weak.

You absolutely did not need to accept his invitation to fly you out to one of his shows, and you damn sure didn’t need to allow him to take you back to his hotel where your legs ended up wrapped around his waist as he pounded into you—among other things—until the early hours of the morning.

The days after that were rough. You felt absolutely disgusted with yourself. It was one thing to flirt with a married man, but it was an entirely different thing to fuck a married man. He wasn’t yours. He belonged to someone else. He had a life with some other woman. You had no right to insert yourself into that union, so you decided to sever contact with him, deleting his number from your phone and shoving the experience in the ‘biggest regret of your life’ box with no intention of reopening it.

Unfortunately for you, Roman, Joe, as he asked you to call him, was a persistent bastard.

You ignored his texts, so he called. You ignored his calls, so he texted. You ignored both, and this motherfucker showed up at your goddamn door. There were multiple times you could have and should have ended things, that being another perfect opportunity. If you told him to leave that night, not allowed him into your apartment, he would have listened. He was stubborn and resolute but also respectful. If you told him to leave, really told him, he would have done so.

But, you didn’t. You allowed him into your place and similar to the last time you were in his presence, ended up spread out on your bed with him balls deep inside you until you couldn’t feel your lower half. 

Now, fast forward three years later, not much has changed. You two don’t communicate quite as much in the day, and his visits are more spread out given the company’s current efforts at pushing him as the new face of the company. But, that doesn’t stop his visits to come see you and flights he puts you on to come see him, both of which always end with him leaving your legs jelly and throat raw.

All the while his wife sits at home unaware of her husband’s consistent residence between your legs.

The thought alone makes you sick, revolted at yourself, at how you’ve allowed yourself to reach this point in life. Closer to 30 than 20 and going on 3 years of being a mistress to a married man, a man who can never give you the future you want yet refuse to let go. 

Not that you’d ever allow yourself to really acknowledge why. 

That’s….that’s just too much.

________

Pillow talk was just something that naturally happened between the two of you. It made sense given that your relationship started out with just talking. He seemed interested in knowing more about you, about your likes and dislikes. He shared his as well. You weren’t beyond admitting that Joe was insanely easy to talk to, the flow of conversation always natural, never forced. There never seemed to be a dry spot between you two. 

And whether it was an innate ability to pick up on the emotions of others or just his, you could always tell when something was bothering him, could see when he came to you with a burden he didn’t want to discuss.

Not that that stopped you from asking. If he declined to talk about it, you respected it, didn’t push. But, more often than not, he would end up sharing things with you, mostly concerns regarding his career.

It seemed he visioned one thing for himself, while Vince McMahon saw another. He felt frustrated at times, especially when the fanbase started pushing back more. He never admitted as such, but you could see it hurt his feelings. How could it not? Kayfabe or not, Joe was still a real person with real feelings, regardless of the role he played.

And at some point, his visits to see you stopped always involving sex. That happened majority of the time, but there were occasions when he just seemed like he needed someone to be around, a distraction, someone to talk to. 

Someone like you.

“Come on.” You jumped up off the couch and offered your hand that he looked at with disinterest. “Don’t make me drag your big ass. It’ll probably break my back.” He lifts his brow, and you roll your eyes. “Joe, come onnnn.”

“Where are we going?” He finally asks, all the while sighing heavily and standing up. Though unnecessary at this point, he still takes your hand. You try not to think too much of the gentle squeeze he gives.

“To my kitchen.” 

Glancing over, he gestures with his thumb. “The place that’s like 3 feet away.”

You suck your teeth and shove against him. “Don’t be an ass. We’re gonna bake cookies.”

“Bake?”

“That’s what I said.” Though clearly skeptical, he follows you into the kitchen and watches as you start gathering supplies. “I spent a lot of summers with my grandma, and whenever either of us were having a bad day, she’d take us into the kitchen and we’d bake chocolate chip cookies. She’d always say there’s nothing a good chocolate morsel can’t cure.” 

Reflecting on those memories, so fond and cherished, brings a despondent smile to your face.

His eyes fall on you, sensing the sudden sadness. “You miss her.”

“Every day….” Shaking your head, you make a conscious effort to not make this about you and your grief. “Now, we need music.” You settle on some random “cookout” playlist that aids in setting the playful mood. To your surprise, yet not surprise, Joe keeps up without struggle. He's a fast learner, easily following along to your detailed instructions and explanations. Things get messy at times, as one does when baking, but it only causes the two of you to share laughter. Especially when you ‘accidentally’ get flour on each other. For you, it was an accident. His was definitely intentional. 

Still, between the laughter, light conversation, and New Edition serving as backdrop, it’s a sweet moment. 

“And now we wait,” you announce, plopping down on the sofa. “Wrestler by day, baker by night. Who’d a thunk it?”

He chuckles. “I never knew you could cook.”

At that, you nearly choke on the water bottle you’d grabbed off the coffee table. “Me? Cook? No. Not at all. There’s a reason every thanksgiving, my family only asks me to bring the drinks. My mom is the cook. Grandma was the baker. I can make cookies and a few select items. That’s it.”

You can still hear your grandma’s voice in the back of your head, chiding you for never allowing your mom to teach you how to cook. It just never garnered your interest, even when they swore up and down you’d never find a husband without knowing how.

Maybe they were right.

He joins you in the living room, settling on the other end of the sofa. “Maybe I could teach you then.”

His words—and offer—suprise you. “You can cook?”

“Don’t look so surprised.” He rolls his blue eyes. Some days you love the contacts, others you hate them. Today is a love day. They make his beauty even more exquisite. “Because of the big age difference between me and my siblings, it was just me and my mom a lot of times. They were either out and about or had either moved out. She’d ask me to help her out in the kitchen, and I picked up on a couple things.”

“You’re a fast learner.” That much is very obvious, in several areas of his life. “Was it ever hard? Like, not really having them around?”

He seems to think about her question before answering. “Yes and no. The twins moved to Florida when I was like three, and we became close instantly. It was like suddenly having two new brothers. Obviously, they didn’t live with us, so they weren’t always around, and those times were hard, I guess. But the older we got, the more we did together.”

The Usos. Also wrestlers trying to make names for themselves. He really does hail from a legendary dynasty. “I get that. It was just me and my mom, and she worked a lot to support us, so that’s why I spent so much time with my grandma. And I loved it, but sometimes it got lonely not really having siblings.” You look over at him, studying this massive specimen of a man who seems so unsure of himself right now, unsure of his future. He’d hinted at such during their prep, but you bookmarked the comment to revisit. “It’s all gonna work out, you know.”

His gaze is on you, partially disinterested, mostly in disagreement. Joe knows what you're referring to. He chuckles, darkly, “you sound sure.”

“I am,” you counter calmly. Moving to sit on your knees, you continue, “no matter what it takes, you make them respect you. You can do it, and when you finally find your footing, you’ll be one of the best to ever do it. Mark my words.” 

You’ve never been one to build up false hopes in anyone, far too familiar with the sting of disappointment. So every word leaving your mouth drips with sincerity. Joe is so much more than a “pretty face” or someone who got lucky by being born into a wrestling dynasty with a golden spoon in his mouth. He’s worked his ass off, you see how he works his ass off, so the last thing you’d want to witness is him become his own worst enemy by getting too into his head.

“You’ll see. They boo now, but pretty soon they’ll be cheering.” Moving to your knees, you lift your arms in a theatrical display. “Roman, Roman, Roman.” You yelp when his strong arms pull you into his lap, legs spread on either side of his thick thighs. “Would you let me hype you up? Like, damn.”

His smile, so beautiful and genuine, warms your soul. His spirits are lifted, and that’s all that matters. Joe’s hands are on your hips, palms massaging you through your shorts. You move your arms around his neck, resting on his strong shoulders “Thank you.”

It’s at this moment, you foolishly allow yourself to wonder. Wonder what it would be like for this to be the norm, for him to always return to your place when he has time off or in between shows. Wonder what it would be like to consistently be this safe space for him, to be in his corner and not just in the shadows, but in the light. To be supporting him ringside. To be his.

And for a second, you pretend. You pretend that you are his, and he’s yours. That this is your man, and you’re his girl. Just the two of you. Nobody else.

But the comedown from that is devastating, like a boulder sitting on your chest, a butcher knife to your heart. Because he isn’t yours. He never was, and he never will be. 

Mood sullen, you lower your arms to separate yourself. “I should…” You clear your throat, climbing off of him. The air is suddenly too stuffy, the room too small. You need space. “I should go check on the cookies.” 

Joe’s not stupid, far from it. You know that he has to pick up on your 180 in mood, yet he doesn’t pursue you, doesn’t ask questions, and you’re thankful for that. You need to not be around him right now, not so close, not so connected, not so in love.

You need to let him go. ________

“I can’t do this anymore.” 

Joe’s in the midst of sliding his shirt over his head, sitting on the edge of the bed when your voice, low and quiet, stops him mid movement. “What?”

“I said.” You blow out a big breath, unsure why your chest suddenly feels so heavy. “I can’t do this anymore.”

At that, he angles his body so that he can look at you, assess your face. He’s a big eye contact person. “What are you talking about?”

Irritation piques. “You know exactly what I’m talking about, Joe.” Gesturing between the two of you, you kick the blankets off and quickly reach for your t-shirt that got discarded last night. Being naked in front of him suddenly feels uncomfortable. “This. It’s done.”

He pauses for a second and then shakes his head, resuming his dressing. “Okay.”

His tone is dismissive, like he doesn’t believe you. Like he thinks you’re playing around. Of course he would be in one of those moods, where he’s more irritable, less receptive and fucking stubborn. “I’m serious.”

“I’m not doing this shit with you right now.” Joe gets up and continues dressing himself, prompting you to climb out of bed and move in front of him. 

He can’t avoid his way out of this. You won’t allow it. It’s time to finally rip the bandaid off. 

You’ve sat on this for the last two weeks, since he last left your apartment and you realized you’d stupidly allowed yourself to fall for this man. Fall for a man who walks around with a wedding ring on his left hand, who’s always had that wedding ring from the moment you met him. You’re not upset with him, not as much as you’re upset with yourself.

You grew up the product of an affair, felt the stinging pain of being rejected by a parent whose selfishness resulted in the creation of life, a life he wanted no part of. Seen how your mom literally begged your piece of shit father to be in your life, to play some role. Heard how he cruelly rejected her, rejected you, calling you your mother’s bastard. A mistake.

It devastated you so deeply that you still can’t really talk about it without getting emotional. 

And yet, you idiotically found yourself playing the same role you used to judge your mother for: the other woman. 

It’s a role you stepped in, and one you must now step out of.

“There’s nothing to do.” You run your hands over your face and shake your head. Choosing to have this conversation at almost 4 o’clock in the morning probably wasn’t the best move, but you also know that if you give yourself more time, you’ll find a reason not to do it. And you need to do this. “You have a wife, Joe. A whole ass woman who loves you and would probably let you fuck her just as much as you like to fuck me. Go be with her, and if not her, find someone else, cause I won’t be that for you. Not anymore.” 

You’re not exactly sure what part of what you just said registered with him, but it’s obvious something did by the change of tone he takes. “Where is this coming from?”

“It’s coming from where it should have come a long time ago,” you answer, crossing your arms over your body. “This was never right, and I refuse to partake in it anymore. I won’t be your whore anymore.”

You didn’t expect hurt to flash in his beautiful eyes nor for him to move closer to you, that hurt intensifying when you back away. He can’t touch you. You can’t allow that, because all it takes is only touch, one longing gaze, and you’ll be putty in his hands. This has to end. “Is that really what you think you are to me?”

“I don’t know what I am to you, Joe,” you answer, honestly. It’s something you’ve battled back and forth with for nearly three years. Just what is it about you that keeps him coming back, keeps him in your bedroom, inside of you. At face value, it’s the sexual compatibility between you. Below the surface level though, there’s maybe more. You’ve never allowed yourself to venture there, and you’re certainly not about to right now. You know how you feel about him, but you refuse to really ask yourself how he feels about you. “And truthfully, it doesn’t matter, cause it doesn’t change anything.”

“So, that’s just it?” His voice is wounded, handsome face painted into a mixture of scowl and a frown. “Almost three years, and you want to throw it all away, for what?”

“For what…..Joe, you are married. You have a whole wife at home. Whatever issues you have that cause you to step out, work that shit out. Learn how to be with her. Cause I’m not doing it any more. I—I can’t.” Emotion imbues your voice toward the end, and you hate that shit. You don’t want him to see, to know, how much this has been eating you up as of lately. “I’m gonna be 30 in a few years. I want to be married. I want to have a family. I deserve that, and I’ll never have it as long as I’m messing with you, so I’ve gotta let you go.” You swallow the deep lump in the back of your throat. “And you’ve gotta let me go.” 

This time, this time you can see the part that wounds him, that digs into his chest. You’ve gotta let me go. 

Joe is fast, fast enough to move directly in front of you, large hands holding your face. He says your name, desperate almost. “Tell me what to do, tell me what you want, and I’ll do it. Just….” He stops, and you close your eyes, refusing to see if it’s his own emotions coming up. You can barely handle your own cascade of feelings right now and refuse to take on his. “I can’t lose you.”

What you want…..

What you want is for him to never leave. What you want is for him to stay with you, to be with you. What you want is for him to have never met Jadah, never married her, never committed his life to her. 

What you want is for him to be yours and only yours, but what you want….is also what you can never have. 

“I—I want you to leave, Joe.” The words burn your lips, scorch your throat, ache your soul. “And this time….don’t come back.”

You can’t bring yourself to open your eyes, to see the result of your heartbreaking, even if honest request. It’s because you know seeing him hurt will only cause your resolve to crumble, and you can’t have that. You have to be strong, have to be the woman your mother couldn't.

So, you remain there, remain silent as he steps away from you, his touch vanishing. There’s such an emptiness in his wake.

It’s only when you hear the front door of your apartment shut that you finally feel it, the caving of your stomach, the heavy lump move from the back of your throat, the release of the loud sob you didn’t realize you’d been keeping at bay. 

It’s when you finally allow yourself to feel all of the emotions of a woman who just told the only man she’s ever loved to leave. 

If only you knew his departure was just the beginning of the rest of your life.

[borninwinter81]

Queer horror from my teens

I periodically wonder whether these books are still known and read by young goths and horror fans as they were all extremely important to me in my teenage years, so I thought I'd share them.

Though I'm cishet, during the mid 90s two of my favourite authors wrote primarily queer fiction: they were Anne Rice and another author from New Orleans who is now known as Billy Martin.

He came out as a trans man in 2011, however these books were published prior to that so unfortunately you have to search for them under his deadname. This is why I've used that name in the tags on this post. I don't believe the books were ever reprinted with his current name.

Though I loved Rice, I always felt a more immediate connection with Martin due to his vivid portrayal of subcultures like goth and punk, and how it felt to be a teenager who was part of them. I could see myself in many of his characters as I had the same interests, listened to the same music, and shared the same sense of social alienation. Remember in the 90s the Internet was still a reasonably new thing, and many of us didn't have a home Internet connection at all. There was certainly no social media, no YouTube, and no real way to meet and interact with like-minded teens unless you were lucky enough to have another "weird kid" at your school. If you were a weird kid, you likely had very few friends and were bullied.

That as much as anything else led me to seek solace in books written by an author who I felt understood me, and characters who became my friends.

Lost Souls is about vampires in a kind of Lost Boys/Near Dark way. Fans of the YouTuber OfHerbsAndAltars might be interested to know that this book is where the name of his channel comes from - it's a description of the taste of Chartreuse liqueur.

Drawing Blood is about ghosts, a "murder house", computer hacking, comic art and a very beautiful (if rather messed up) romance. This one is probably my favourite of the three.

Exquisite Corpse is about serial killers, set against the AIDS crisis of the 90s. If you like the Hannibal TV series you'll probably enjoy this one - imagine if Dennis Nilsen and Jeffrey Dahmer had somehow met.

Martin doesn't pull any punches when it comes to descriptions of blood and gore, violence, abusive parents or his portrayal of toxic romantic relationships (of which there are many in his books), but if you can deal with those things there is also a great deal of beauty, phenomenally good writing, and a somewhat unique perspective on the supernatural.

Maybe I'm biased, looking at these through the lens of my teenage self. Maybe they'd seem horribly dated to today's young audience. But I still wanted to make this post in case there's someone out there who will end up loving them as much as I did.

[liexki]

𝐒𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐖 + 𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐒 : 𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐎𝐓

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: When the first division of TOMAN, Keisuke Baji, passes away, the Commander, Manjiro Sano, take his younger sister, Y/N Baji, in and soon forms a gang in their mid 20s. Now being the leaders of the criminal organization BONTEN and entering the gang scene with a federal bounty on her head, what if love with her No. 2 and a bit of the past resurfaces?? What if there was a little sorrow and betrayal?? Some gang shit in the mix too!?

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: various substances (vapes, weeds, cigarettes, pills, ect.), curse words, mentions of sex work if you squint

“Sanzu, Y/N, respectfully, please calm down on the amount of drugs.” Kakucho said, sitting across from Sanzu. Stubbly looking over to Mikey at the right of him — strangely attending the meeting at the head of the table — asking for approval to question such big figures in the way he did.

TO KEEP READING, YOU UNDERSTAND THE CONTENT WARNING MENTIONED ON THE TOP OF THE SCREEN ARE PRESENT IN THIS POST AND FUTURE EPISODES.

Y/N sent a sharp glare towards despite being on the other head, about a metre away from the number 3. Sanzu gave a cheeky smile that people would relate to the Cheshire cat. His pearly whites showed while Y/N rolled her eyes at the boy’s antics.

“I’ll only stop if I bring Mikey and the princess an issue. I do think Y/N should stop. She’ll age really badly!” He responded to Kakucho while a bit of fake sympathy laced his voice.

“I’ve bought enough for Y/n to not age badly. Great retinols and I’ve even showed her some botox places that were rated well. She gave me the same little pretty glare she’s giving you now.” Ran pitched into the conversation.

“Shut the fuck up Ran no one cares about you and your issues about being an old hag.” Sanzu bites the 31 year old to his side, the banter flowing freely among the trio.

“For once I believe I have to agree with the dunce.” Rindou reluctantly admitted.

“I think we should get back to the main problem right now.” Kokonoi started, “We need to start making connections with different gangs at the moment and we also need to work on our financial issue which is being affected with the substance use from all of you.”

“I don’t do drugs!” Mucho stated in defence of his use.

“You dumbfuck! Substances aren’t just drugs. I’m saying those shitty cigarettes you smoke, the vapes that teens these days use, to edibles or drugs that Y/N and Sanzu are using. They’re all substances and FUCK WE SPEND TO MUCH ON THAT SHIT!” Kokonoi explained with frustration.

“So, all you want is for me to stop using drugs? Well then, I’m out of this then. Mikey, Kakucho, Kokonoi, and Takeomi. Make an event sending regards and invite the top 15 gangs to an event at one of the Haitani's clubs. Ran and Rindou, you guys can decide a club you’re fine with being used.” Y/n ordered.

With a click-clack of her MIU MIU heels, Y/N pushed her chair back and walked out of the room. The sound of her footsteps echoed through the room as Mikey watched her leave. As a small grin decorated his face, entertained by the events. A quiet chuckle left Sanzu’s mouth with the same idea.

✈︎ ˖°ʚ 🐈‍ ɞ·˚ ✩

"You guys know the BONTEN event, right??" Kimiko sat with her legs crossed on top of a table.

"Yeah. One of my workers told me when their number 2 was high." Shu replied taking another hit of his blunt.

"OMG DON'T TELL ME YOU GOT US AN INVITE? KIMI!" Aria squealed with excitement while shaking Kimiko's shoulders rapidly.

"Yes, yes, yes. I was able to get myself on the list and asked the man if I could bring you. I also said that I could provide smokes and shit so Shu, you need to be there with something for about 150 people." Y/n rambled. "Aria, keep on the low though. You're not a present figure."

"Yes ma'am!!" Aria chorused.

Kimiko shot her an annoyed look but secretly felt a sense of happiness.

"What's the deal. Why would they hold an event?" Shu interrogated.

Kimiko didn't know but she had one thing on her mind. Build connections with the gang. The others in the room had a similar idea as well but they'd never admit that. As the leader, she needed to step up.

"BONTEN is uptight so I doubt they'd let anyone know but I'm thinking it's about business."

She glanced over to Shu and he cracked a grin to her gaze.

"Let's take this opportunity to talk to them privately and introduce them to us. Aria, you step down on this one. Me and Shu will do the talking, don't expect this to be free time though. Make sure you study the other people at the event."

Aria nods. Shu focuses.

'Y/N should be wary of who she messes with.' Kimiko thought.

✈︎ ˖°ʚ 🐈‍ ɞ·˚ ✩

“Hey, Kakucho. Who told that one bitch about our event?” Mochizuki asked him at the VIP section of the bar as they just finished the final few touches of the event.

Kakucho and Kokonoi got confused about what he was talking about. The 2 walked over to try and look at the phone he was holding and Y/N just took a glance from her side across the room.

“I told them.” Y/N said.

“Wasn’t it supposed to be underground?” Kakucho asked, “It kinda makes us look desperate…you know?”

Mochizuki looked at the phone in confusion as everyone was on the same page of this being laid-back and secretly trying to find someone to ally with. Nothing too public. That was indeed not the case though and Y/N had other plans that differed with the group.

“It’s just for a bit of excitement. We haven’t said shit or made any moves in a while. Keeps the people thinking and people might less pussy and actually talk to us.” Y/N explained.

The time had now been 10:45 and the rest of the members were doing their own thing while Mikey looked at you with his cold eyes. He was curious about the way you stood silent and looked at the ground instead of scrolling on your phone as usual.

The B2 tweet really got the people going insane and some envied the groups and those who had come out saying they were going. Your ego was as big as a pool but your cold demeanour covered it up. He thought you’d look at them as a laugh.

“Y/N. Let’s talk outside.” Mikey asked.

✈︎ ˖°ʚ 🐈‍ ɞ·˚ ✩

“LET’S GET THIS PARTY STARTEDDDD!!!!” Sanzu barged in holding a bottle of beer in front of the crowd of gang members who had arrived.

The crowd went insane after seeing the bubblegum crackhead’s words. Rindou was playing DJ that night and the EDM was echoing throughout the speakers set around the building. Girls were sitting on the speakers still looking pretty to attract the gangs and get them to feel themselves.

Mikey watched everyone from the VIP room. The security cameras had 8k quality. The average company could only wish to own the amount of cameras they have. He thought back to the conversation he had with Y/N. Something she had known.

“You have some plan. Something smartass type shit.” Mikey confronted her softly so she wouldn’t feel as if he was enraged.

“Mhm. Wanna know or something?” Y/n questioned back.

Now Mikey was faced with a sense of curiosity. He had trusted Y/N because it was mutual. She’d put her life for him and he’d do the same but they knew they’d never be in that situation. Y/N was smarts enough to cover for both of their hellish lives. Despite this, in that moment that was something that he wanted to question her on.

What Mikey didn’t realise is that Y/N knew his every expression. Even his pitch black eyes that held no emotions was something that didn’t stop her from figuring out how he really felt. His eyes staring into the ground was enough to tell her he was pondering about asking.

“I’m thinking of making small changes so we can catch these big gangs hitting their most vulnerable moments. More girls around to see how they respect women, seeing how they react under the influence of alcohol. It’s small things that set it up.” Y/n clarified.

What she said really had made a difference in how the delinquents around the club and bar were acting. Some were straight hooligans and some had acted like how old friends of his probably would’ve if they still were here.

As Mikey was attentively watching the cameras he soon realised all the members had left the room, he decided to walk out himself and become a little more social.

✈︎ ˖°ʚ 🐈‍ ɞ·˚ ✩

“I guess we have a lot more in common than I thought. Shu Yamaha, correct?” Kokonoi clarified to the man in front of him.

‘Insanely famous for exporting drugs across Hiroshima to Akita. We could use that. His brother’s motor company could be useful but I doubt he still talks to them when he’s doing shit like this.’ Kokonoi thought

“Yes Mr. Kokonoi. I’m glad I was able to talk business with someone in this industry. No one seems to think about the future in our work. All they do is think about throwing fists and updating their body count just to go home and hook up with someone they barely know!” Shu chats to the executive.

“Agreed. You can never know about what comes next but it’s still vital to stick to the present. Time is of the essence, am I right? Most of the people tonight are on wanted lists. Especially BONTEN. The moment this doesn’t work out we won’t be able to get proper jobs without people fearing our past.”

“Of course. I think I’ll be taking my leave.” Shu said

Shu walke away but before he could go too far, Kokonoi walked over behind him and tapped his shoulder.

“Do you mind if I got a business card?”

Here's the OPENING POST !!

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 : @burntmarshmallowchishiya @anahoyingkawata @yeppeun-riaa @miss-kayy @dystop4in14nd @butyfigers @oreologyx @rukiasluver @Itsruki @bbyspiiice @shoyosdoll @haitanibros0007 @pinksilk @Sunshine768 @itsruki

if you'd like to join the taglist, please fill out this form !! or copy and paste the following link; https://forms.gle/fMnDA3NS4kzp85Kq5

[simp999]

Ahem. Since my last request was a fumble, could I ask for a more platonic x reader where the reader is in their mid teens? They are pretty good at fighting, and almost never complain under any circumstances, but one day they come down with an illness that was worse than any other sickness they had ever had before. They try to tough it out, but end up breaking down in an isolated corner because they can’t take it anymore. Idk, after that I was just hoping for a Medic-centric comfort story.

Medic, Engineer, Sniper x Sick! Teen! Reader

Wc: 0.7k

A/N: No worries my guy!! Thank you for requesting!! I changed a few things up a bit and chose a few characters, I hope that cool- and I hope this isn't too short! I think I might start doing shorter fics from now on

Masterlist

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Your head throbbed and pounded as your clothes became more drenched with sweat by the minute. But you had to live up to their expectations, you had to continue making them proud. You heaved as you dragged one foot in front of the other, doing your best to drag your compound bow to the respawn room after cleaning it the night before, preparing for today’s battle. You had woken up like this- pain filling every inch of your body and barely able to walk on your own without the aid of the walls surrounding you. 

You had managed to make it just barely into the game room before immediately collapsing to the cold, hard floor. The last thing you heard was a few shouts and hurried footsteps, along with the sound of your bow clattering to the floor. 

You woke up in the lab’s bed, drenched even more. You felt somebody wiping a stray hair that was sticking to your forehead away, then it went to check your temperature. The action was cut short when they noticed your eyes flutter open, quickly beginning to ask you lots of questions. Your eyes darted and your brows furrowed as you tried to make sense of his words that seemed to mesh together. The lights being so bright and everything seeming so loud wasn’t helping. Medic quickly took note and did everything in his power to ease any pain or annoyances. He dimmed the lights, and only allowed two mercs to stay in the waiting area. You felt a nice cold, wet cloth on your forehead, calming you immediately. He spoke with a much softer tone, asking you questions slowly. He was still a bit panicked- this had never happened to you before. 

You had been with the mercs nearly a year now, replacing Scout as the youngest. Despite him being pissy at first, you were now closer than ever with a sibling-like dynamic. It was nice being the teen of the group, almost feeling like you had nine scary dads protecting you; but it also had its downsides, mostly stemming from the fact that you’re still all cold-blooded killers. Which meant the expectation was that you could do great in battle, or so you assumed. You placed all these high bards for yourself, always wanting to make the mercs proud. Some were harder to please than others, such as Spy compared to Pyro who would often clap and grow excited at any little thing you managed. Soldier was the hardest on you out of them all, seeing that you had lots of potential at such a young age. There’s a reason you’re here. Medic and Engineer often had to remind him that you were still a teen.

You did your best to never complain, even when you felt like you were too exhausted to keep doing pushups or run around the base for the 100th time. You had placed the expectation that you had to keep up with the grown men on your shoulders, and you’d gotten used to it.

“Did something happen?” 

You tried to speak, but your voice was caught in your throat. It burned. You lightly shook your head, and it felt like it was spinning. 

Medic’s brows knit with worry as he studied you, deciding to allow the two other mercs in for support in aiding you. Even just for moral support for yourself. With the sweetest Texan accent, one of them spoke;

“Awh, Honeybee, ya shoulda told us ya weren’t feelin’ well, sugar.”

The other one nodded and he adjusted his sunnies, continuing to wipe a clothe over your prized bow. He knew you did your best to take great care of it, so he opted to do it himself. 

“Mhmm. Worried ‘bout ya, Roo.”

Engie listened to Medic’s every word- from getting you water to removing or adding a blanket, while Sniper- despite not being a big fan of physical contact, allowed himself to hold your hand in his with a very loose grip, running his thumb soothingly over the back of your hand. He rarely whispered small nothings to you, reassuring you.

“You're gonna be okay, bunny. You’ll be okay. We’re here for ya.” 

.

.

.

Mar. 6. 24

[steviebbboi]

Once Upon A Friendship: Bittersweet Symphony

Pairings: Childhood Bestie!Steve Rogers x F!Reader

Word Count: 3.2k~

Rating: Teens and up!

Disclaimer: Surprise, shawtyyyy~ submitting this sad lil number to 🍂Winds of Autumn Challenge🍂 made by @the-slumberparty // Chai latte ☕ caught in the cold rain // Melancholy ☁️ as the trees shed and the flowers wilt, we feel a sense of loss. Write a tragic tale. *this is a part to my fic Once Upon A Friendship. You may need to read it to get the full gist, but it could probs be read on its own-ish. *I wanted to submit a 3-part to this where it's a sad prequel, hope prequel, and then a post-OUAF fic for Chip and Steve. But not entirely sure, feel free to lmk if anyone would even wanna read that for these two <3 *i was inspired by Bittersweet Symphony by the Verve if you wanted to listen while reading!

Summary: Visiting home for the holidays has left you feeling sad and alone. Is it really the end of your friendship with Steve?

***I don't give any permission for this to be reposted anywhere! Pls do not steal work, plagiarism isn't cuteeee~~~~

Warnings: 18+ for the explicit language. This is a sad one y'all get ready for the angst, explicit language/curse words. ends with some kind of hope. this is not beta'd so please be kind!

*Any comments/reblogs are much appreciated and are so encouraging - more than you know. Pls don't hesitate to interact with me <3

“Shit!” Ducking underneath the small alcove, you exhaled a sigh of frustration as you tried to wrang your damp hair, trying to rid it of the sudden extra moisture thanks to the abundant waterfall that was the rain. 

It was a rainy Autumn season this year, it was out of character considering that the weather around your hometown was usually well-adjusted. You were just out to go to the grocery store to see if you could scramble a last minute grab for some cranberry sauce. With Thanksgiving being so close, you knew that the shelves would likely be empty but your stomach outwon logic once again.

When you saw the gloomy clouds and the wind-blown fall leaves scattered all over the neatly trimmed lawns of other people’s houses, you should’ve known that you fucked up by not bringing an umbrella, much more, by not wearing appropriate clothing.

Leaving the house, you figured it would be a quick trip, in-and-out. Have hope and then feel disappointment (or if you were lucky, leave the store just skipping down the sidewalk with the dreams of eating the can full of gelatinous tart of cranberry goodness that would be clutched in your hand). Naively, you left the house wearing a pair of thin leggings and a crochet sweater.

Now, as you sat along the rainy road, seeking shelter underneath the small bus stop corner, you cursed your craving stomach and realized that you needed to listen to your intuition a lot more than you have been. The thick sweater left you feeling even muggier than you were before with you getting drenched in the rain and your thin leggings left you shivering with nothing to protect you from the gusty autumn breeze.

Trying desperately not to cry at how frustrated you felt, you sat there trying to replay the last few days. You were currently on mid-semester break, back home to celebrate the Thanksgiving weekend. Since you booked your flight tickets back home, you were dreading coming back as you knew that this would be the first time since graduation that you would see your family. Not only your parents, but Natasha and Bucky.

Steve. 

Natasha, being the friend that she is, tried to comfort you the best she could over the phone before you went on your flight. Apparently, Steve may not even be there for a long period of time since his semester was scheduled differently from all of yours. Word from Bucky was that they also may be visiting his mom’s side of the family’s Thanksgiving celebration. 

You did your best to coordinate dates and times so that you wouldn’t see him but one scolding from Nat bucked you up. 

“It was your decision to leave the way that you did. People are going to be naturally curious and so will Steve. It’s time to pull up your big girl pants, and come home.”

You knew that she was right, however cruel her words sounded– you knew that she was speaking from a place of reality. It was your decision to leave suddenly, even though you knew that the escape wouldn’t last forever. Your families were all so close, it was inevitable to see him again.

You just didn’t think that you would be feeling this much pain at this point. 

Grief is a funny thing - you’re still mourning this person who is alive, but in your eyes, Steve was basically gone. Seeing him there in that dimly lit bedroom, the thumping sounds of the music downstairs just reverberating in your ears, seeing Sharon’s lips on his as she laid on top of Steve. 

Tears brimmed to your eyes just at the image of it burning in your mind’s eye. The shock, anger, and hurt flooded through you as if you were still there. You didn’t regret what you said at the party. 

“I wish that I had never met you.” 

The words escaped you in such an impulsive fury. You never imagined that you would be the kind of person to ever feel that much hate. Towards anyone, but especially towards Steve, your best friend. The person that would never fail to make you laugh and would always help you feel less alone.

A wave of genuine sorrow washed over you because you weren’t spending the holidays laughing with your friends. You weren’t smiling. You were wet, cold and sad. 

And you were certainly, and most definitely, alone. 

You could feel yourself distance from what was happening around you slowly as you opted to wait out the rain. It was too much effort to call one of your parents, or Nat, even Buck – to come up and pick you up. Then, you’d just have to explain all the reasons as to why you’re wet and sad and you didn’t really feel like receiving that look of pity again.

You sighed again as the sounds of car’s splashing against the wet roads came back to you. After some pondering, you ultimately decided to head back home and took a look at when the next bus would be coming. Looking through the bus’ schedule on your phone, you heard footsteps rush in your direction but you assumed that it was another person just trying to outrun the rain. It was only when you felt someone sit next to you on the bench did you turn to the person.

Steve.

He was panting hard, his breath fogging in the air with exhilaration. He looked over at you as he sat down, he looked hesitant– as if he were attempting to say something. Your mind and body couldn’t move all of a sudden, you couldn’t help but just stare at him. 

You haven’t seen each other since that night – seeing him in the flesh, to see him in his stature just made the pain more real. 

Out of pure fight or flight instinct, your body broke the frozen barrier as you got up with lightning speed and turned to walk away. Before you could take one step, Steve’s strong grip clutched onto your wrist before you could go. 

“Wait, chip, don’t–” Steve pleaded at first until you whipped around to roughly take back your wrist from his touch.

“Don’t touch me!” 

The words felt like they echoed despite the loud platters of rain on pavement. You clutched your hand in reverence of his warm touch on your cold skin. Like you were clutching a burn, you held your wrist close to your heart where you felt it once again break like it did that night. 

Underneath the heartbreak, you could feel your younger self just utterly despair at the look on Steve’s face. He seemed to pale even in the ghastly weathered temperatures and fog-ridden air. His eyes held a shock that you recalled was present on the same night that you told him those shelled words. 

“I wish that I had never met you.” 

The words echoed again now too. It touched both of your ears whilst you stood there in mild panic as you both stared at each other. It truly felt like your friendship together really had never existed. 

Time passed a bit until Steve’s chapped pink lips suddenly moved, “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to grab you like that.” His speech was slow, as if he was trying to be very careful of what was actually coming out of his mouth. 

You only broke your stare away from his to look down at the darkened pavement, still clutching your wrist to your chest. You could feel the torrid rain from earlier brisk down into a soft mist, droplets catching in your eyelashes as you flit your gaze back to Steve. 

“What are you even doing here?” You mumbled to him, eyes wandering back and forth between him and the pavement.

Steve looked embarrassed before he stood up to meet you at arm's length. Both of you withstanding the mist falling from the sky. With a frown, you noticed the shortened distance between you two and attempted to back away until Steve reached his hands out as if to placate you. 

His resounding sigh let you know that he wasn’t going to come any closer as he responded, “Buck told me you were back home. I went over to see you and your mom told me that you left for the store. Figured I could try to catch you mid-route, and I did.” His words left a clear mark on what had transpired from the time since you came back home.

Steve was keeping tabs on you. Steve went to visit you. Steve came out in the rain to try and catch you.

Your eyes glazed over with a mist thicker than what was coming down. A burning sensation and tingling in your eyes overpowered you as you recognized the grief of missing him once more. More than anything, you wanted him to chase you. Follow you. But he never did, hadn’t for a long time. Until now. 

Grief, that’s an old friend. 

Doing your best to mask up your tears, you couldn’t catch the one that rolled down your cheek as you eagerly wiped away at your face. You tried to pretend you were wiping away the rainy mist but from the look of devastation on Steve’s face, you could tell that you didn’t do a good job of hiding your tears. 

Ignoring his look, you sniffed harshly against the cold air and a stoic expression overtook your flushed face. “Okay, and? What do you want?” 

He blanched further at your reduced and stoic tone but his eyes took a hopeful turn, “I was hoping that we could talk, chip. Last time that I saw you, I didn’t get the chance to explain or talk to you.” 

You frowned at his words, “You’re hilarious if you thought that I’d even want to talk to you, Rogers.”

Steve took the opportunity to say, “Well, I mean, we are technically talking now…” His eyebrows raised in attempts to invite humor into the space. His expression fell when he saw your furrowed expression.

Suffice to say, you were not buying it nor did you want to engage in humor about your pain with Steve.

“Chip, I want to apologize for what happened. I never meant for you to run into Sharon and I…especially not in that way. I mean, of course, at all– I never wanted you to run into Sharon and I doing anything–” Steve stumbled upon his words as he ran into a word salad in his brain. 

Your annoyance at his continued rambling cut through his random speech, “Rogers. What do you want from me?” 

Steve cut himself off at your decisive tone and said, “You never, never, deserved for that to have happened. It was a complete accident. I’m so sorry.” 

Fury. It was the only emotion that was coming through as you let Steve’s dead apology deliberately hang in empty air. 

You couldn’t hold it back.

“You’re sorry? You’re sorry?! Steve, the way that you looked at me when I walked into that fucking room–,” Steve’s eyes widened at your speech and he flinched as he saw your crossed arms fall to your sides dangerously calm. 

“It was like you didn’t want me to exist. As if my very presence annoyed you,” you continued, your breath coming in hot and fast. You didn’t even seem to notice your feet leaning and stepping closer into Steve’s space. Something else took over you. It was the former best friend of Steve Rogers that was in so much pain. 

“If you really ever truly cared, instead of chasing me out here to give me this half-assed apology, you would really need to apologize for the fact that you treated your best friend like shit for a long time, way before I even found you in that stupid house! When you blatantly ignored my calls and when you brushed me off in the library. For when you would stand me up at the diner or for when you would break so many promises that you couldn’t keep! For the times that you said that you would never betray me but then you did. For the times when you promised to protect me from bullies, like Sharon– until you went and became one.”

You couldn’t catch your breath. You could feel your chest heaving and the rain wasn’t misting anymore. The air was dry and stale and lingered a sour and gray aftertaste that could only be translated into a bitter melancholy.

Your body was only one step away from Steve now. Unbeknownst to you, you threateningly crept closer to Steve as you spoke at him. For all of Steve’s bravery, he planted himself like a tree as he wreaked your havoc. Your angry words washed over him like the rain, it felt truly deserving and sad.

“You shouldn’t be apologizing for what happened in that house Steve. What you should be apologizing for is for ruining a friendship that we can never, ever, get back. You did that. You.” 

Your accusing pointed finger poked harshly at his dampened chest. Your last resounding accusation of ruining the friendship made Steve harshly flinch once more. Bitterness didn’t allow you to break your gaze from his. A sweet and vicious victory started to fill your chest at the sight of Steve’s blue eyes tinting with unshed tears, the space in your heart that used to be sustained by love and adoration was replaced by pure resentment.

You stuffed down the pain as you finished off, “I don’t give a flying fuck about your apology. You were dead to me the minute that I left that house. I don’t want to be friends with you. I don’t even want to be around you. There isn’t anything here anymore so if I were you, I’d go back to Sharon and your other friends. Don’t worry! You could celebrate your untethered friendship with the loser nerd that you always just felt sorry for – you’re obviously really good at pretending.”

Sarcasm and disdain dripped from your words as you sneered at Steve’s now dulled eyes. He gave a slow shake of his head as if to try to reject your words and what he was witnessing and hearing from you. 

Steve blinked away his tears harshly as he shook his head again, almost like he resolutely decided on something. “You don’t mean that, chip.” 

Quickly, you corrected him with your name. Steve gave one last hurt flinch at that. “You don’t get to call me that anymore. Only my real friends get to call me that. And I did mean it. God, why do you even care anyways? You’re free! You obviously never cared about me. So I don’t care about you either. That’s it!” 

You frowned and grimaced bitter tears away as you made your claims. Looking back in Steve’s eyes, there were tears still present but something was different in them. A glint that you’ve only seen a few times in your friendship growing up. 

Steve determinedly shook his head again and refused to consider your cutting remarks, “That’s not true. I’ve always cared about you and I still do. You’re right – I treated you like crap and you didn’t deserve that. So you can keep insulting me and hurting me, chip. I deserve it. All those times that we protected each other, I wasn’t trying to protect me. I was always just trying to protect you. It was you who never deserved to be treated like that by anyone, most of all, by me. But I know that I failed you and betrayed you, and I am so sorry. I’m sorry.” 

His tone was hopeful once more and you couldn’t believe it but– you couldn’t help but recognize  the undying, caring nature that was Steve Rogers. You just said the ugliest and most horrid of things to him, beat him down, terrorized him – and he was still trying to meet you with compassion that you would allow, and he seemed to know it too. 

It was your turn to experience disbelief as your vision blurred, it was like the clock turned back time as you took in his words – you didn’t see the stocky and tall build of the man in front of you now, you could only see the skinny and small Steve Rogers. Your best friend. 

“I’m not free, chip. And I don’t want to be. I miss you. I don’t deserve to have a friend like you, but I’m not going to give up. I’ll do whatever I need to do to earn your forgiveness and trust back. Anything to be in each other’s lives again.” Steve seemed to regain the confidence that he needed since the beginning of this reunion as he stood at his full height, broad and statured. His face was determined and his voice was steady. The reverence in his body and words made you draw back again as you took one step back. 

“Just please, don’t give up on me.” His eyes downcast again as he desperately clung onto the tense silence that held the potential for repair. 

You didn’t know what to feel. Numb heaviness took over your body and it was like any words or response was trapped inside of you. You said all that you could’ve said, it felt like. You frantically tried to find the anger and bitterness again but they seemed to retreat into far enough depths where they couldn’t be found. 

But with his words sinking in, his seemingly urgent request touched something inside of you. The only thing that seemed to shine was a halting jolt of reluctant hope. 

Almost as if he could see it too, Steve allowed his own small hope to seep through as a small smile endeared his handsome face. Silence continued to fill the space as it became clear that you weren’t capable of responding, he took two steps back as he finally gave you the space that he knew you didn’t ask for, but now respectfully gave. 

“I’ll go back home now. I’ll see you in a few days at the party.” He nodded at you, his eyes shining with glimmers of promise as he turned the walk back from where he came. The same direction that you would have to go down too eventually. 

You remained frozen with bated breath as you watched Steve’s form slowly distance farther and farther as he walked away, until you couldn’t really see him anymore. 

It wasn’t until later during the party, you plated your cranberry sauce and dipped a selfish spoonful into your mouth did you fully register what happened. You got what you wanted from the taste, but this overall unsatisfied feeling overcame you. Unsure of this feeling, you glanced over at the living room filled with laughter and cheer, the air smelling of mouth watering food – your wandering eyes froze again as you stumbled upon Steve. He was standing with Bucky and Natasha, laughing with them but his blue eyes seemed to have already been seeking yours. 

Even from afar, you could tell that the promise in his gaze from earlier was still there. 

A/N: What are our thoughts? Chip really let him have it! This is one of those interactions that they have had together before the main fic where she would try her hardest to not speak with him. But as we could see, Steve is always persistent! I think that this may satisfy some of y'all who have been feening for a more angry-at-Steve response lol I'm hoping that it can satisfy some of the anger at him. He knows he fucked up, but he isn't going to give up their friendship! And as we know, he could do this alllll day. Thanks for reading laddies~

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[dasha-aibo]

This is gonna be long and rambling, but it's something very personal, so strap in, I guess.

My "trans awakening" was in the mid-00s, back when a lot of language was not set, the community was atomized and it was just not an Accepted Thing To Be.

Back then, you had to scour shady self-hosted websites to get in touch with anyone. But because I was not ready to go out of the closet, I mainly lurked. And, because I was a horny teenager, I consumed a lot of "magical gender transformation" erotica.

Being trans overall was rough back in the mid-00s. Trans men were basically invisible and trans women were assumed to be either predatory drag queens, parodies of women, or demure housewives.

To this day I feel uneasy around drag queens, through no fault of their own. I didn't want to be a parody of a woman. I didn't want to be loud and over-the-top and exaggerated in femininity.

I just wanted to be Me, but a cis woman.

True, I probably would've allowed myself a more feminine expression than I even allowed myself during my brief skinny and on HRT stint. But I would've still acted and had the same interests as myself.

Now let's get back to that pesky erotic fiction.

Mostly I consumed written erotica. There was just more of it and with the lower entry barrier, it was easier to find. It was also, for the most part, garbage.

There were four main types of stories. The Bimbofication, the Stepfordication, the one-off stint and The One I Actually Liked.

Bimbofication and the one-off were mainly sex-based. Focused on the pleasure you would experience in the woman's body and how much you would be driven mad with lust. Obedience and shame kink were also pretty heavily involved.

The Stepfordication went a step further and involved a complete mental shift into a 50s housewife stereotype, complete with a pregnancy fetish.

I never liked those. They never spoke to me and, frankly, grossed me out. They had the same general vibe as the drag queens I feared. An adoption of shallow stereotypical femininity and an embracing of all the sexism that came with it.

The few stories I actually liked were more thoughtful. They never destroyed the protagonists' personality and even if the newly-acquired womanhood influenced them, it was more subtle and never radically changed them. Oftentimes it was about the internal struggle, the acceptance, the contemplation, with some sexy times thrown in.

What can I say, I was in my teens.

But those stories were rare. And as the time went on and I tried interacting with more trans people, I found that the majority of them I found online kind of aligned with the first three types more. I felt alienated and withdrew into myself.

Then the 2010s came. I was an adult, I had my own views and my own very complicated relationship with gender. And I saw a wave of very young, for the lack of a better word, punk people, treat being trans as a fun game of dress-up.

I lashed out. I was an asshole to them, when I didn't need to. I felt like they were making a mockery of my complicated journey of self-acceptance.

I made a some transmed friends. Mostly angry trans dudes, who loved slinging shit with me. But then the community fell apart. Some of it was just people getting exhausted. Some, like me, realized the pettiness and the pointlessness of it all. Some did a 180 and went full TERF.

And, once again, I was left alone.

To this day, it's hard to me to interact with other trans people. Especially trans women. I feel othered and alienated, because their experience doesn't resemble mine. Regardless of how much erotica I consumed, it never was a fetish for me. I just... Tried to explore my sexuality, while accepting that I can't be called a cis straight men, like the society expected me to identify.

I don't fit in with the old, I don't fit in with the new.

I just feel isolated and I don't know how to break this.

All through the lens of my horny teens, 20 years ago.

Being an adult trans person sucks, kids.

[eatbread-besoft]

it occurs to me, after thirty minutes standing at the stove caramelizing onions, that I love cooking.

I recently mentioned to a friend that I wished my parents taught me more about cooking when I was growing up. he was surprised; he assumed my parents had taught me. well, sort of, I told him. my parents made sure I knew how to feed myself, how to prepare dinner for the family, how to chop and peel and boil and roast. what I meant, though, was that I wished they'd taught me how to love food and prepare food I loved.

my mother did not teach me to caramelize onions. my father did not teach me to make a meatless meal. my parents did not teach me how to make vegetables interesting, or how to create balanced meals that satisfy emotionally as well as physically, and they certainly did not show me the simple pleasure of homemade bread and real butter. (we were a margarine household. NEVER AGAIN.)

the last time I had friends over, this was the menu:

penne with scrambled tofu in a roasted red pepper & garlic sauce

creamy carrot soup with peasant bread for dipping

apple galette and vanilla ice cream

I am very much a home cook. my meals are elevated basics, nothing too fancy. but they do take time. and it is one of the best ways I spend my time.

so I can't help but think, what would have happened if I'd found this love earlier? it was only in my mid-twenties, after I bought a home and had my own kitchen, that I really embraced cooking. but what if it had been during my teen years? what if I could have processed my big feelings in the kitchen? what if mealtimes were sacred? what if I hadn't tracked all those goddamn calories for all those years???

I know not everyone will love cooking. I sometimes hesitate to talk about the life-changing impact it's had on my life, lest I sound like I'm proselytizing. but I was standing in my kitchen after a long day at work, caramelizing onions...and I felt so at peace. when my friends were at my kitchen table, eating my apple galette, I felt contented.

all I want, truly, is to find a lover I can invite into my kitchen who will recognize it as a site of peace and pleasure.