#but it triggered the memory of 6 years old me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

souliebird · 1 year ago

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[[and then I met you || ch. 10]]

Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader || Rating: Explicit

Summary:

A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s and Matt realizes he needs to protect his new family from not only Hell's Kitchen but from the world.

pt: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9

Words: 4.2k

banner thanks to the wonderful @theradioactivespidergwen

When Minnie was six months old, you used to sleep on the couch so you wouldn't wake her up trying to get ready for bed. It would hurt your back - your couch was not very comfortable to sleep on - but you would sacrifice your comfort so she could sleep. No one in their right mind would wake a sleeping baby - even one that was always happy to go down for a nap.

As your mind begins to stir, you become aware of the familiar ache in your lower back and the unfamiliar one pulsing around your eyes. Your hand slowly snakes up from where you had curled it against your chest and press your fingers along the bridge of your nose and up to the curve of your eyebrow, testing to see if the throbbing was sinus related. Nothing is triggered but your memories of the night before creep into your consciousness.

Minnie with her tantrum and Matt with his amazing senses.

You groan into the cushion as it all falls into place. Your eyes hurt from crying, not your sinuses, and you must have fallen asleep on the couch after your breakdown.

Shame and embarrassment course through you. You hate crying and you hate that someone witnessed it. You can't imagine what he must think of you now - losing it like that. You should have been able to handle the news far better than you had and you're going to promptly apologize the next time you talk to him. You had acted so selfishly when it was clear he had control over the situation.

But you don't have time to sit and wallow in your wretchedness - your daughter needs you to get up and be a capable adult, so you will your aching body to sit up.

Your phone is sitting on the table in front of you, so you grab it to check the time. It's half past seven and your daughter has probably been awake for at least an hour. More shame courses through you - you always try to wake up before her so you can take care of her. You can only guess what state she is in.

Your head spins as you stand, but you try to ignore it in favor of heading towards the bedroom. You prepare yourself to find a soiled bed - you didn't bother to change her into her night clothes and a pull-up and she is still mastering waking up when she needs to pee at night.

The door is partially open and as you near it, you hear her tiny voice talking nonsense as she plays with something. You take a deep breath and push into the room, ready to face the start of your day.

Your mind short-circuits at what you encounter.

Both beds are clean and made, far tidier than you usually make them, and Minnie is sat on the floor with Scooby and some of her other stuffed animals, having what looks to be a tea party. To your absolute confusion, she is already dressed, and her hair has been put into pigtails with mismatched bows. You know for a fact she can't reach where you keep her hair supplies - you put them on a high shelf after she got into them to play salon before and managed to get her hair tangled so badly you had to cut things out.

It doesn't even take her half a second to notice you and her little face breaks into the biggest smile, “Mommy!”

Still very much confused, you step forward to join the tea party circle and kneel down to be level with her. “Hi, sweetie,” you greet, trying your best to not alarm her. “Did you get dressed all by yourself?”

“Not-uh! Mister Matt helped! We watched lots of videos about hair and he made me pretty!”

You frown at that, “Mister Matt helped?” Had he stayed the night after you fell asleep? If so, where is he now? Your apartment isn't that big, and the bathroom door is open. Had he left before you woke up? You don’t like the idea of him leaving Minnie unsupervised.

Your daughter nods as she turns back to her toys, pretending to pour you a cup of tea and handing it over. You automatically pretend to take a sip.

“He helped make me pretty,” she confirms after putting her tea pot down, “now he's getting foods. Bagels!”

You turn the statement over in your mind - there is a bagel shop around the corner Minnie loves and if Matt is right about her also having enhanced abilities, maybe, just maybe, he didn't leave her unwatched.

You bite your lip, then dare to push.

“Mouse, do you think you can tell me where Mister Matt is right now? Can you hear him?”

She doesn't acknowledge you right away, fussing with another piece of her tea set. You wait, allowing her to process what is being asked of her and watch as she slowly starts to move her head in minute movements, like she's tracking something. It's terrifying and fascinating to see a look of concentration come over her face and after about thirty seconds, she breaks into another big smile.

“He's talking to a frog!”

“A frog..?” You ask, wondering if Matt was wrong about Minnie having heightened senses and she's playing pretend again.

“Yeah, he says…he says.. He's telling froggy he can't go to work. He's gonna stay with us!”

It clicks instantly. Matt isn't talking to a frog. He's talking to his business partner, Foggy Nelson, and as far as you know, Matt hasn't mentioned him or Karen yet by name to Minnie.

“Can you tell where he is?” You ask again, being sure to be gentle with your question.

“Outside,” is her response, like it is the most obvious thing in the world. “Froggies can't come inside. Do you want sugar?” She holds up her toy spoon and you offer her your tea cup.

“Yes, please.”

She pretends to scoop sugar and you watch her in amazement. You are of course going to have to confirm that Matt was talking to Foggy, but it is so hard to believe your little one can hear that. You can't hear what is going on in your own living room, let alone outside your apartment. You cannot imagine how loud everything must be, how much input Mouse must be getting - but she doesn't seem bothered by it at all right now.

She seems to be completely over her tantrum from yesterday and you want to ask her about it, but you aren't sure how or if she has the ability to express it. You know there are days you get overwhelmed and upset and you can't think of another way to explain it other than “too much”. You can't expect a three year old to articulate it better than you can.

She's got a sweet little smile and part of you fears if you bring up her previous upset, it will spiral right back into a meltdown. So, you watch instead - watch as she goes back to playing make pretend with her toys, seemingly unbothered. You sip at your tea, making up a list of questions for Matt when he returns from his errand.

Minnie plays for about five minutes before she perks up, beaming up at you, “Mister Matt asks if you can open the door, please thank you."

Her statement throws you for a moment and you aren't sure how much you like the idea of her being able to tell you all these things. It scares you - her knowing things you don't and not knowing what she does know.

Maybe it is one of the things you and Matt can talk about - then talk about it with your sweet Mouse. You are going to have to get used to it, either way.

You push yourself into standing and motion for Minnie to come along. She scrambles up and runs out of the room, delighted laughter following her.

You are still in your clothes from the night before and you wish you had taken a moment to check your hair or even brush your teeth. You try to tell yourself it is fine, but your anxiety just argues back, and you feel like a complete slob by the time you get to the front door.

Your stomach and heart both do a funny clench at the sight of Matt, who is still sporting his borrowed shirt. You don't know if you want to fall into his arms or throw up or go hide under your covers so you can pretend all of this is a dream. Instead, you step aside so he can come inside and silently beg your mind to stop collapsing in on itself.

“Breakfast delivery,” Matt says as a greeting, his entire face lighting up with a smile. He's holding a bag from the shop around the corner in one hand and a drink carrier with two large drinks along with a small one in his other.

You can feel your face starting to heat up and force your eyes down to the ground, mumbling, “you didn't need to do that.”

He shrugs as he toes off his shoes, “I wanted to, and someone,” his voice turns teasing as he directs his next comments to Minnie, “wouldn't stop talking about bagels.”

Your daughter erupts into giggles, then turns and runs back towards the kitchen. Matt gives a pleased laugh, and your stomach flips again. He follows Minnie, and after you relock the door, you join them.

They are sitting at the dining table, Mouse watching with a big smile as bagels are laid out on the table. Matt narrates for both of you, “Three egg bagels with plain cream cheese, two large coffees, and one kid’s hot chocolate. Now, is that the right order or was someone taking advantage?”

Minnie giggles more and that relaxes your shoulders. “No, that's right. Thank you, you really didn't -” You cut yourself off as you realize the table is clear of any mess from the night before. There are no plates on the table or in the sink, there's no lasagna stains on the floor, there's no leftovers sitting out. Your eyes drift to Matt.

He must have cleaned after you had fallen asleep. Guilt courses through you - he shouldn't have to be dealing with your messes, especially in your own living space. You are going to need to not only apologize but return the favor somehow. You aren't sure how you'll do that - no one has ever done this much for you before, and Matt has done so so much in such a short time.

You're dragged from your thoughts as a coffee is placed in front of you.

“It's just black, I didn't know how you took it,” the kind, handsome lawyer says, and your heartbeat is so loud in your ears. It beats harder when you remember that not only can he hear your body and mind freaking out, but so can your daughter.

Your instinct tells you to panic at the idea of someone knowing that much about you. You always try to stay calm on the outside while having a meltdown, but that doesn't matter with him. He'll know you're a mess. You can't hide it.

You hear Matt ask Minnie something about her tea party and watch as she skips away from the table, but it's like your mind doesn't process it. You feel completely frozen because you don't know how to act - you don't know how to hide yourself from the man in front of you. You don't know how to hide yourself away from your daughter.

How can you protect her from yourself? Your own body?

Suddenly, Matt is in front of you, cupping your cheeks with his large, warm hands and whispering your name. He's practically right on top of you, gently rubbing his thumbs over your skin, “Hey, hey, it's okay. It's okay. Everything is okay. Can you take a deep breath for me?”

“What?” You ask, so confused about what is going on. You don't understand why he's saying it's okay.

“A deep breath, sweetheart. Can you take a deep breath?”

Your mind will not wrap the reason for the instruction, but you do as you are told. You inhale through your nose and that earns you a soft smile. He continues to pet you, gently instructing you to exhale after a moment and you obey.

“Again?” He prompts and you nod. You feel shaky as you try to focus on breathing. You've always hated these exercises - they've never worked for you and have only served to frustrate you, and now you are just trying to make sure you are doing it right. How embarrassing would it be to fuck up breathing in front of Matt?

“That's it,” he says so calmly, “Just breathe. I know it's a lot. I know. One step at a time. Let's have some breakfast, okay? Let's sit and have coffee and we can all talk. How's that sound?”

It sounds good, it sounds like the right thing to do, but your throat is clenching and not wanting to produce words, so you nod instead.

You close your eyes to try to center yourself and somehow calm down. Matt lingers, keeping a hold of you until you hear Minnie coming back to the kitchen. It seems like he waits until the last possible moment before pulling away.

Seeing your daughter looking so happy helps to reset your mind. She's fetched Scooby and Pig and runs up to the table to put them in their chair. You smile at the sight.

She really does seem like she's perfectly fine and maybe Matt is right and everything is okay. For now, at least.

You force yourself into action, moving to set one of the bagels in front of Mouse, setting it on a napkin. You're going to need to transfer the hot chocolate into a mug or Mouse will spill on herself.

“Thank you, Mommy!”

She practically dives into her bagel, picking it up and taking a big bite and getting cream cheese on her cheeks. She is completely engrossed with her food.

“Thank Mister Matt, he got us breakfast,” you advise before going to get a napkin. While you are in the kitchen, you grab your creamer from the fridge.

“Thank you, Mister Matt!” she chimes before barreling on. “Mommy, did you know Mister Matt can braid hairs!”

Guilt courses through you and you remind yourself you need to thank Matt for everything he has done for you. But you tell yourself to not think of it right now - you are terrified of Minnie sensing your panic and that somehow shuts your mind down and you go into parent mode.

“No, I didn't. Did you ask him to braid your hair?” You ask as you move in to wipe her face. She obediently tilts her face towards you and closes her eyes as you clean away the cream cheese. In the corner of your eye you see Matt sip from his coffee, a smile forming in his lips.

“She wanted puffs,” he advises, “I learned a lot of new hair terminology today. Minnie is a very good teacher.”

Your daughter preens at the praise before taking another bite of her bagel. More cream cheese gets on her face. You decide to wait until she's done eating before tidying her up again. It will be pointless otherwise.

Instead, you start to fix your coffee, removing the lid to add creamer. You eye your daughter as you do, letting yourself finally take in her appearance.

“You're a good stylist,” you tell Matt, and it is true. Her pigtails look even and as smooth as can be expected for a toddler. You don't see any tangles and if Minnie is happy, you have no grievances with the outcome - only guilt that Matt was the one who dealt with it.

“I have some experience,” he hums, before taking another sip of his coffee. Then he directs his smile to his daughter, “my best friend used to have long hair. He has little nieces and they used to do his hair at Christmas, and I got roped into helping. I'm told I do a pretty good French braid.”

Mouse giggles before gasping and pointing at you, “do Mommy's hair!”

Embarrassment floods you - you don't think anyone has done your hair since you were Minnie’s age, and your current hair is a gross greasy mess and you don't want anyone touching it.

Matt hums as he tilts his head towards you, “I think Mommy is better at doing her hair than I would be. But maybe next time?”

“Maybe next time,” you agree, hoping that will be enough to deter your daughter from this path.

Luckily, she quickly parrots, “Next time!”

You offer her a smile and take a much needed drink of your coffee. It not only warms you but helps to ground you back into reality.

You remind yourself nothing has actually changed - you are just more aware of the world. To Minnie, this is the same as any other day and you need to get yourself back on track.

Which means you need to confirm some things with Matt.

You set your coffee down, then pick up Minnie’s hot chocolate and bring it to the kitchen to transfer into one of her kid-friendly tumblers. You clear your throat, then dare to try, “Minnie said you'd be spending the day with us?”

“You told the froggy!” Mouse happily adds.

Matt looks confused for a few seconds before it must click, “Foggy, sweetheart, not Froggy. Foggy is my best friend - the one who had long hair.”

“Froggy!” Is the defiant response and you know better than to argue. Once something is named, the name sticks. But of course, Matt doesn't know this and you decide to let him learn.

“Foggy,” he tries. “Like a cloud. Not a frog.”

“Froggy!”

“Fog. Foggy. No ‘r’.”

“Frog. Froggy! Froggy! Froggy!” Minnie bounces in her seat, starting to giggle. You return to the table, securing the lid to the sippy tumbler before placing it down.

“Ribbit ribbit,” you add and that gets you a delighted burst of laughter.

“Ribbit ribbit!”

Matt practically pouts but seems to realize he isn't going to win this. “But yes, I… told Foggy I wanted to spend the day with you. When I was in the phone, outside.” His dramatic sad face turns into something soft as he tilts his head towards Minnie, “Did you tell your Mommy you heard me?”

“I, uh, asked if she could,” you say, feeling silly for admitting it. But you know this is the path you need to take to start understanding what enhanced senses mean.

“I can hear everything,” your little one proudly says, and you've heard her say it before - but now you know she isn't just playing pretend.

“Yes, you can,” is Matt's soft reply. Unlike your underlying panic, his voice seems to carry a fondness about the whole situation. He is the one with the experience and you want to trust him with the lead on this, but it's still absolutely terrifying.

But you know you need to set the ball up, so you gently push, “Did you know Mister Matt can also hear…everything?” You know it's not everything, at least by what Matt said, but you aren't going to get technical with a toddler. “Mommy can't, though. Mommy’s hearing isn't as good as yours and Mister Matt's.”

Mouse looks between the two of you, pursing her lips up as she thinks, then she reaches out and pats your arm comfortingly, “I'll tell you what I hears, Mommy.”

Your heart soars with so much love and you turn your hand so you can take hers and give it a gentle squeeze, “Thank you, baby.”

“I can hears a bark-bark dog and a woofy dog,” she starts, “and there's a puppy going ‘yip-yip-yip!’”

Matt laughs a little and your focus is ripped away from Minnie and over to him. He absolutely beams at you, looking proud as can be. You wonder what this like for him - having someone else who can hear what he can.

“There's a doggy day care about two blocks north,” he informs, and it is so hard to wrap your mind around the fact your daughter can hear that far. “Clients are starting to arrive, and they are lively.”

There's a flash of brown and Minnie is waving Scooby at Matt, “Bark bark bark!”

“Is Scooby a barky dog?” He asks, leaning forward towards her and putting his elbows on the table. “Not a woofy dog?”

“Bark bark!” Is the response before Mouse makes him growl. You finally allow yourself to sit and watch the sweet interaction. Everything still feels like it's too much and swirling inside you, but seeing Matt and Minnie bond is soothing - even if it's over something you can't understand yet.

“What about Pig? Does he go bark-bark or woofy?”

His question gets Minnie to gasp as if she's scandalized. “Pig isn't a doggy!”

“Oh, he isn't?” Matt teases, “I can't see him. What is he?”

“He's a piggy!” She snatches up Pig and clutches him to her chest beside Scooby. You hope she doesn't have cream cheese on her fingers because cleaning her toys is always an adventure. She hates when they have to get washed and now, you guess, you understand why. They probably smell different after being washed or the texture is off. It's something you'll have to explore later.

“What type of noises do piggies make?”

“Oink-oink-oink!”

“Oh, that makes sense,” he hums, then hunches forward more and lowers his voice, like he's talking in secret, “And what sounds do little girls named Minnie make?”

You finally get to take a bite of your bagel as you watch her contemplate the question. Her face screws up in thought before lighting up when she decides her answer.

“Ooogie-boogie-boo!”

Matt throws his head back with laughter, which makes Minnie dissolve into happy giggles. The sheer joy between the two of them pulls a smile out of you and the heaviness in your chest starts to lighten more.

“Ooogie-boogie-boo?” You question and your daughter giggles more.

“Ooogie-boogie-boo! Like Scooby!”

You don't understand what that means but you just let the positivity continue.

“What about Mommy? What sounds do I make?” You ask, curious what her response will be.

“Bumbum-bumbum.” They aren't words, but you instantly get it is supposed to be your heartbeat. You feel yourself start to flush. Matt had told you that Minnie listens to your heart to ground herself, so of course that is what she associates you with. But hearing it from her mouth and getting that confirmation still rocks you.

“It's a good sound, isn't it?” Matt asks Minnie and you can imagine how red you are turning. You try to hide behind your coffee.

“The bestest,” Minnie agrees before adding, “After Scooby Song. Scooby Dooby Do! Where are you!”

“We've got some work to do now,” you half mumble, half sing with her.

“I've never heard the Scooby song,” the man beside you says and that triggers Mouse into action. She slides off her chair, and still clutching her toys, hurries across the room to the television. She knows how to bring up what she wants, so it only takes a few seconds before there is an episode starting to play on screen.

She drops her toys and the remote before running back to Matt and tugging on his - technically yours - shirt. “You gotta listen!”

He barely gets to stand up before being pulled into the living room. He does not resist in the slightest to being directed to sit on the ground and you watch as Minnie begins to explain the intricate lore of her favorite show. To your wonder she describes each character by their voice first and you can tell Matt is completely enthralled by what he is being told. Scooby gets moved from laying on the floor to being shoved into Matt's lap so he can hold onto him.

You realize without fanfare that you can barely hear the television. It is still on low volume from last time you had it on, and it dawns on you that you never really have it turned up too loud. Minnie can probably hear it just fine and doesn't need it blasting throughout the apartment. You never got to really watch television as a kid, and you wonder what the normal volume for watching things is supposed to be.

You sip at your coffee, watching as Minnie plops herself next to Matt on the floor, going on excitedly about mysteries and different sounds. Both of them are smiling and laughing like they don't have a care in the world.

This is what you want your life to be like, you decide.

You want your family to be full of love and joy and you have fought so hard to get to this point. You've climbed your way out of a cold and distant household to make your own little corner in the world and right now you need to enjoy it instead of letting your mind be taken over by darkness and despair.

So, you set your coffee down and move to join your daughter and her father in front of the television, asking in a teasing voice, “So who is the blonde man again?”

tags:

@midnightreids @cloudroomblog @yeonalie @thychuvaluswife

@dorothleah @mattmurdocksstarlight @mars-on-vinyl @mywellspringoflife @sleepdeprived-barelyalive @simmilarly @soupyspence @darkened-writer @akila-twt

@murc0ckmurc0ck @groovycass @sumo-b98 @just3rowsing @tongueofcat @zoom1374

@theclassicvinyldragon @aoi-targaryen @lunaticgurly @nikitawolfxo @shireentapestry @snakevyro @yondiii @echos-muses @honeybug-victoria @the-bisaster @ristare @mrs-bellingham @eugene-emt-roe @cometenthusiast @stevenknightmarc @hunnybelha @

Specialagentjackbauer @yarrystyleeza @ofmusesandsecrets

@mayp11-blog @danzer8705 @thinking-at-dusk @remuslupinwifee @akila-twt @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @dil3mma @allllium

two-unbeatable-beaters @kiwwia-wiwwia @1988-fiend @xblueriddlex @loves0phelia @ninacotte @lovelyygirl8 @littlenosoul @ednaaa-04 @ astridstark13

#soulie writes #fanfiction #daredevil #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock

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lostintransist · 2 months ago

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Secrets Are For Grown Ups | Part 6

Part 1 can be found here. AO3

Shout out to @xbirdiex

Saturday moved with ease, John and Nyla joined you in taking the boys to the planetarium and lunch before dropping by the park for the regularly scheduled play date with other neighborhood kids.

Nyla stretched upon climbing out of your van. The ride from downtown to the park closest to your house had taken much longer than expected. There were several accidents on the freeway that delayed you by nearly an hour.

“I’ll be taken myself on a walk, you youngin’s watch the bairns.” With that, she strode with purpose on the path that circled the park.

The boys released themselves from their seats and took off screaming like only a seven-year-old can. Sharing a look with John you grab your park blanket from the back before locking the van.

John rubbed the back of his neck; he had been stuck in the back with the boys who talked the entirety of the car ride.

“They sure do have a lot of energy.”

Laughing you lead the way to a relatively flat spot of grass and lay out your blanket.

“They sure do. If you can believe it this is less energy than they used to have.”

Aghast John stares at you deep concern etched between his brows. It triggered a whole ‘nother round of laughter. Wiping your eyes free of the joyful tears you go on to explain.

“Toddlers have more energy but fewer words and are arguably much harder to care for. They are attracted to death, finding things that can kill them everywhere.”

“How did you manage?” He glances from you to the children crawling over the park equipment like ants over a corpse.

“Larsen mostly.” You smile softly thinking of your best friend.

John leans back on his hands, crossing his feet at the ankles.

“Tell me about him?”

“Larsen?” You question, surprised.

“Mom!” Mac comes racing up to you, “There is a kid that is throwing bark at people.”

“Okay, is he still doing it or did his grown-up take care of the problem?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright, so it sounds like it has been taken care of right?” You lift a brow in conjunction with your question.

“Yeah,” Mac nods once before taking off at the same speed he arrived.

Blowing out a breath you glance to John and roll your eyes about your child’s antics.

“What do you want to know about Larsen?”

“Let’s start at the beginning, how did you meet?”

You can’t help the smile that blooms across your face.

“We met in second grade, about the same age the boys are now. We became the best of friends and were thick as thieves. Larsen lived outside the boundaries of our school but his parents used one of his grandparent’s addresses to get him into a ‘better school’.” You roll your eyes at that but continue. “We stayed friends all through school. He was my best friend. So many people in high school thought we were dating. Made it so hard to get a boyfriend.”

John laughed at the bitter cast to your voice. “Seems like it turned out well for you though.”

Canting your head side to side you decide how to explain.

“Larsen didn’t like the idea of romantic love; never had a partner because of it. When I got the news I was pregnant he was my first call.” You chuckle at the memory now, “I told him everything that had happened and you know what my best friend did? He offered to marry me over the phone.”

You pause your tale to yell at Jace to get down, the outside of the equipment is not meant for playing.

Picking up the story where you had left it you continue, “I said yes, obviously. He was the best partner I could have asked for. You are staying in his old room actually. We didn’t have a conventional marriage but he loved the boys fiercely; said he would be their father before anything else in his life. Damn man nearly passed out during delivery though.”

The memory still makes you smile, both your mom and Larsen’s had come to help with delivery. He didn’t even hold a leg as you pushed out the boys but one glance at your nether regions and the blood gushing from your vagina had him pale and had his mom shoving him into a chair with a ‘you are not going to pass out, we are all busy right now.’ The midwife team had laughed at that with you as you laughed out Jace. Mac had already been whisked away to get cleaned up.

“He sounds like a good man, the boys talk about him sometimes,” John is contemplative in his tone.

You curl your knees to your chest, wrapping your arms around them and resting your chin down too.

“His death shocked us all. He had an aneurysm at work, gone before the paramedics arrived.”

“Not a bad way to go all things considered,” John mused aloud.

“Noah MacTavish! Get down now!” Mac makes a guilty face as he is caught scaling the play structure. “No, it could have been worse. He left us with a healthy chunk of life insurance and because he passed at work we got all the life insurance money from that fiasco. I paid off the house and invested the rest. I opened my cake decorating business within a few months of his passing to pay for our daily expenses, got all three of us in therapy, and then the boys started Kindergarten soon after. Larsen’s mom, Crystal, and my mom both stepped up in amazing ways.”

John is looking at you when you glance his way, the depth in his gaze sends shivers across your skin. The last time you had seen that look on his face had been in the weeks you were avoiding Simon on base. A deep contemplation as he mulled over his thoughts, you thought even then that it made him more attractive than should be reasonable.

Turning back to watch the boys you finish your thought.

“They both take the boys one day a week for a few hours so I have time to clean house or make deliveries or go to the doctor without an entourage.”

“Now Nyla is here and hopefully soon they will have more people to share the load,” John whistled, the sharp sound had both boys stopping their poor choices.

Speaking of Nyla caused her appearance avoiding the need for you to reply that you didn’t know if Simon and Johnny would want to be involved.

The boys played for a while longer before the three adults hustled them into the car and home for dinner.

Sunday morning saw you waking early with the boys, feeding them before sending them off to play in the backyard. Nyla and John were both able to sleep later than the six am wake-up you had.

Nearing nine am, Jace tore in through the back door as you work on the cake due today. He is holding his groin, a face of slight panic as he busts into the downstairs bathroom. You don’t remember the problem with him using that toilet until John’s startled voice sounds from the open door.

“Hello?”

“I have to go potty,” comes Jace’s quick reply.

“Ah.”

“Does your penis ever get stuck in your clothes?”

Oh no, now they are having a shower conversation. All of your focus is on the sounds drifting from the now-open door.

“Sometimes it does kiddo.”

Fuck. How do you deal with this? Jace will be done soon and John should have locked the door.

“Huh. Okay.” The toilet lid slams and you can hear Jace washing his hands before he reappears to go back to playing.

Now the question is, do you flush the toilet and shut the door? Yes. John deserved to shower in peace. As you reach the door you announce yourself.

“Don’t mind me, I am just going to take care of the step Jace missed.”

“Thanks, dove,” John’s voice drifts down over the shower curtain and you stop yourself from imagining anything that might join that thought.

“I am also going to lock the door so Mac doesn’t do the same thing to you.” Flushing the toilet you step back out of the room. John laughs as you lock the door and pull it shut tight.

Turning you find Nyla looking at you all concerned. By way of explanation, you say, “Jace busted in on John.”

She laughs with you at the absurdity of the situation and follows you back into the kitchen as you wash your hands and prepare to keep decorating a cake for a teenage birthday order. Their parent would be coming by in two hours for their delivery.

“I am going to visit with my boys.”

Your stomach tightened painfully at those words. The small smile you give her doesn’t mask the tension in your body. She pulls you into a motherly side hug, touching her head to yours before wandering from the kitchen. The front door opens and closes in near tandem with John stepping from the bathroom.

Fully clothed, steam billows around him as he shoves a bundle of clothes under one arm.

“That cake is the ugliest set of colors I have ever seen,” his brows nearly touch as he stares at the orange monstrosity sitting atop your counter.

“Oh I know but it’s only going to get worse,” you grab another container filled with your homemade frosting and begin to whip in a pale mint color.

“Worse?” John moves into the kitchen and around the counter to look down into the bowl you are using your hand mixer on. “Is that some kind of green?”

“Mint, but yes. Kid is turning thirteen and their two favorite colors are orange and mint. Mom wanted to combine both on the cake. Sent me reference photos and everything.” Turning off the hand mixer you set it to the side and ready your piping bag for a transfer. “Any fun plans today?”

John moves back around the kitchen island and settles both himself and his bundle of clothes onto a chair.

“I have a few stops I need to make but then will be back around lunch.” He is watching you as you spin your piping bag and start to drape strings of mint icing along the edge of the cake.

“Okay my mom will be here soon for the boys,” you glance at John as you tell him why, “She likes to take them to church.”

He pulls a face as he mutters, “Lovely.”

“I feel the same but if it keeps the peace and means she will take them on a weeknight too, I will allow it for now. I will probably use the time they are gone to deep clean the house before Simon and Johnny come over tomorrow.”

A scream from the backyard has you checking out the kitchen window to confirm no broken bones or blood, finding none you shift back to what you are doing.

“Do you clean because you’re stressed or because they are going to see more than the front room?” John lightly tapped his fingers against the counter, the sound barely traveling to your ears.

Sticking your tongue out in lieu of an answer John laughs. He rises as the knock sounds at the front door. Your mother comes in and chats with you a moment before collecting your boys who both give you a hug and a kiss before trailing out the door after grandma. John pokes his head into the kitchen to let you know he is leaving. And then you are alone.

Blasting music through the house you finish decorating, send a text to your client that she can pick up the cake any time before two pm, and set about cleaning the house. When Nyla reappears she jumps in by stripping all of the beds and starting the wash. By the time the boys and John appeared the house looked cleaner than it had been for Larsen’s wake. The scent of cleaning chemicals masked with lemon could be smelled in every room in the house.

Your pickup happens neatly at one, the mother gushing that the cake matches the vision and her kid is going to be so pleased. Nyla made sandwiches while you had finished cleaning the last bathroom. Sitting down at the table John announced that he would be sending both you and Nyla to a movie and then dinner.

“Are you sure you want to handle the boys?” They both grin up at you like innocent devils.

“We will have fun, won’t we boys?” John winks at them as they cheer.

At Nyla’s shrug, you accept the offer. A quick shower for yourself and the two of you were out the door, giggling at the thought of John managing the boys. The movie was your choice followed by Nyla’s pick of restaurant. Darkness had fallen by the time you both made your way through the garage and into the TV room.

Flung across the couch were three sleeping bodies. Jace slept sitting up against John. Mac rested his head against John’s thigh. John sat upright, head notched over the top of the couch and hands still gripping the controller for the game console that showed they had died again while playing Minecraft.

You lifted Jace first, fighting your way up the stairs with his body koala tight to you. Settling him in bed you turn and find a squinting John stepping into the room Mac wrapped around him. He settles your boy down with a gentle touch and even covers him to the chin with his blankets.

Waiting at the door, you pull it closed after John has slipped from the room.

“How were they tonight?” You whisper in the dark hallway.

“Good, we played board games, hide and seek, read some books, ate dinner, and then fell asleep playing video games.” His tone is even, steady beyond the sleep in his voice.

“Thanks for keeping them tonight John, it was nice to go out with Nyla.”

You can’t see what he does but his fingers find yours for one squeeze.

“They are good boys. I am happy to spend time with them and give you more time to get to know their grandmother,” he whispers back to you.

Tightening your fingers on his you fight the warm ball growing in your chest.

“Goodnight John.”

“Goodnight dove.”

Part 7

A/N: The next chapter is The Talk™ 😬

Secrets Masterlist | Masterlist

@love-kha1 @sweetlike-sugarplum @vmaxis @splaterparty0-0 @momowhoo @talia-the-gemini @redkarmakai @aethelwyneleigh27 @asexualbuthorny @sleep101 @callsignbumblebee @lucienofthelakes

#cod #fanfiction #cod x reader #john soap mactavish #soap cod #price x reader #soap mactavish #john price x reader #simon ghost riley #lostintransist #lostintransit writing

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historicity-was-already-taken · 1 year ago

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What I'm actually furious about, isn't just the anti-Semitism I've dealt with here.

What I'm furious at is the Israeli government and military. I am furious that they have the nerve to perpetrate war crimes while appropriating the memory of the 6 million. It makes me sick. It feels me with rage. It fills me with feelings of betrayal (those are complex and require deconstruction, discussed briefly below). How dare they massacre children, civilians, and fucking hospital patients; and how dare they do so while using the 6 million as a rhetorical shield?

The edgelord who left me a snide remark comparing the situation in Gaza to the Warsaw Ghetto wasn't the first person to make that comparison to me. It was actually the Palestinian woman who translated two major sources from Hebrew into English for me.

She was translating a biography of Tossia Altman when her three nephews and sister-in-law were murdered during the IDF action in Gaza. I asked her if she wanted to stop working on the project (with no impact on her fee for the project, of course; that's where about $4000 of the money y'all helped me raise went, fyi). The brand of Zionism practiced by Tossia and her comrades is very very different from the version embodied in Netanyahu, and it was those schools of Zionism which mostly died in the Holocaust (I said), but I would completely understand if the material was too triggering for her.

She said "I’m not sure about this triggering me, I think holocaust survivors and Gazans are on the same boat to tell you the truth. It could be an opportunity for me to actually fathom the full picture, in a way." And I haven't stopped thinking about it since.

I'm not going to post the rest of our conversation here, for what I hope are obvious reasons. And for concerned parties, this woman has been living away from Gaza for a very long time.

But this is why I'm so angry and emotional.

And I'm over here having these, frankly, very painful, personal feelings (if my posts over the last 4 months haven't made it clear, I spent my teen years in an extremely manipulative right wing Israel "education" program, and was raised surrounded by first and secondhand Holocaust trauma which inevitably impacted how my elders educated me about The Conflict none of which I was fully able to deconstruct until I became a Holocaust Historian in grad school). Especially with my knowledge of how SHITTILY Holocaust survivors were treated when they got to Palestine in the mid-1940s; of how fucking disgracefully Yad Vashem treated Rachel Auerbach and Yitzhak Zuckerman. Of the way the Jewish fighters actually died in the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising. I became a Holocaust historian because I am the great/granddaughter of survivors and I do this work because it's a fucking calling, not something that brings me joy. And the goddamn Israeli government, the government of a nation which likes to say it exists for all Jews (when it barely even represents the Jews who live there but that's a different conversation); the way that government manipulates and misuses that history to excuse their actions in Gaza make me fucking sick. And, as demonstrated by some of you actual fucking pieces of shit, puts Diasporic Jews in danger. (side thought: Does Netanyahu WANT to put Diasporic Jews in danger?? He knows how this fucking shit works, and I wouldn't be surprised if he WANTED Jews to feel deeply unsafe and respond to that by fleeing to Israel).

And WHILE I'm experiencing all of this and trying to keep it all together while writing the what may be the most important thing I've ever written in my career, you fucking [word I don't use out loud or in writing] come in here and to throw your anti-Semitic bullshit at me when I ask you to please not spew it at me via my (year old) fucking Holocaust Remembrance Day posts, and when I ask you to be fucking mindful of it in your political speech.

So let me make it fucking clear, as far as I am concerned there are 4 separate conversations at play rn.

1) October 7 was horrific, genocidal, and traumatizing for Jews on a global basis.

2) Israel is committing heinous war crimes in Gaza right now which, if its own military's statements are anything to go by, are actively genocidal.

3) You shouldn’t harass random Jewish people because you’re disgusted with Israeli governmental and military decisions and actions.

4) The Israeli government’s appropriation of Holocaust memory within its larger state building project doesn’t give you [collective: non-Jews] the right to abuse Jews for discussing and generally having feelings about the Holocaust.

And FRANKLY I think all those conversations are accurate and valid. I also don't think I'm obligated to tear my heart open give you all my intimate feelings because a bunch of pieces of shit on this site can't grasp points 3 and 4.

So fuck that right wing program I belonged to as a teen, fuck you fucking left wing anti-Semites who can's grasp that you're touting the ideologies of people who would have wanted you dead, and fuck the Israeli government for committing war crimes. fuck them for their ongoing abuse of palestinian civil and human rights, and fuck them for invoking the memory of the 6million while doing it.

I've fucking had it with that fucking State, I've had it with you goddamn Jew-haters, and I've had it with the Jewish ppl who might want to destroy my career upon seeing this post.

I am mad as HELL.

I'm not even saying my mental health break is over. I've just had a moment of clarity, my period is over, and I'm pissed as hell. i'm tired of policing myself to make the gentiles who hate me comfortable; and I'm tired of policing myself to make my coreligionists who'd destroy me for having these thoughts comfortable. and there are 122,000 if you, so i don't care if you're so fucking fragile that this post makes you hit the unfollow button.

tl;dr:

youtube

#historians are impacted by their work #shocker

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shakespeareanwannabe · 1 year ago

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As You Wish, Chapter 6

Summary: When arriving at Camp Silver Star, Abby Floyd was anticipating a summer of adventure with an ocean separating her from the three people she loved most: her mom, her Uncle Bob and her Aunt Natasha. But after a run in with Charlie Seresin, an extremely familiar looking and irritating camper in a different cabin, her summer plans take a turn that neither girl ever could have expected.

Potential Trigger Warnings: reader's children are described as being blond with green eyes because genetics are wild and Jake's genes are strong, reader is canonically Bob's sister (but biological relation is never discussed), reader goes by Buttercup and is tattooed, angst, sadness, reference to divorce, kids doing sneaky things, references to babies, swearing, references to the hospital

Sharp Memorial Hospital, almost 12 years ago

The skies were painted shades of lilac and rose, golden hues dancing just above the horizon as the sun played peekaboo with the clouds, not quite willing to give up the daylight just yet. Jake watched through the small window in the private hospital room, two small, warm weights resting against his bare chest. His wife of less than a year slept soundly in the uncomfortable hospital bed next to him.

Bob and Natasha had left a few hours before to get dinner, the WSO arriving the second he was invited to meet his new nieces, his partner following close behind. The two were never far from each other, and Jake knew that they preferred it that way.

“Knock, knock…”

Jake looked up and immediately rolled his eyes. Under his arms, Javy had two massive teddy bears, one pink and one purple. Behind him, Rooster stood with a bundle of balloons, looking like he’d rather be holding anything else.

“Hey fellas,” Jake whispered.

“Jesus, Hangman, don’t you ever put on a shirt?” Rooster scoffed playfully.

“It’s called skin to skin contact, dipshit. It’s supposed to be good for them,” he retorted, shifting Abby (or was it Charlie?) in his arms as she cooed softly.

“Easy with the language there, papa bear,” Javy laughed, depositing the two bears beside the side table and moving to stand behind Jake’s chair. “You’re gonna have to watch the swearing with these two little angels around.”

Jake chuckled softly. “Yeah, I know. Buttercup’s already given me sh—lip for it.”

“That’s why I love that girl,” Rooster nodded. “She knows how to keep Bagman in line.”

“Just for that, Javy gets to hold them first,” Jake cocked an eyebrow at his friend and rival.

“But there’s two of ‘em,” Rooster complained. “Why should I have to wait?”

“Because I’m his best friend? Because you can’t keep your mouth shut? Because I’m superior in every way?” Javy laughed, tugging the other chair in the room over and plopping down. “Alright, little ladies, come to Uncle Javy!”

“Better pick just one, or the Prodigal Son over there is gonna start pouting,” Jake smirked in Rooster’s direction, cradling his daughters closer when he flipped him off. “I can give you neither of them,” he reminded.

Rooster huffed. “Fine. Just gimme.”

Jake handed Charlie (it was definitely Charlie, he remembered now: Charlie was on his left side because her name has an L in it) over to Javy, who immediately started cooing at the infant as he cradled her head in his big hand.

“Hey there, girlie,” he whispered to the sleeping infant. “I’m your Uncle Javy, and we are gonna drive your old man nuts together. You just wait until you’re a little older and I’ll teach you all the different ways to make the vein in his forehead pop.”

“I regret everything,” Jake muttered, handing Abby over to Rooster. “Watch her head, man. Hold her like a football.”

“I know how to hold a baby, Bagman,” Rooster gripped, looking slightly awkward as he cradled the newborn.

“Coulda fooled me,” Jake returned, standing with a groan and pulling his shirt on. “Don’t hold her like you’re afraid of her, dumbass.”

“Dude, she’s like…fresh,” Rooster grumbled, tucking Abby a little closer to his body. “I’ve never held anything this new before.”

“You get used to it,” a quiet voice yawned behind them.

“Hey mama,” Jake grinned, swooping down to kiss his wife’s forehead. “How you feeling?”

Buttercup groaned and stretched, her joints popping. “Like I just went through 27 hours of labor and pushed two of your giant kids out of a 10-centimeter hole in my body?”

Javy shuddered. “A little graphic, Buttercup.”

“A little accurate, Coyote,” she shot back, leaning down to fiddle with the controls of her bed, raising herself higher. “Anyhow, its time for me to try feeding them again. And, before you ask, no. You’re not allowed to watch,” she glared playfully at Javy and Rooster.

“We have to go?” Javy pouted but handed Charlie back to Jake to deposit in his wife’s arms.

“Sorry, man,” Jake grinned. “But whatever she says, goes. I won’t be arguing with her for a long time after what she just went through.”

Buttercup smiled at him, exhaustion shining in her eyes as she accepted her daughter into her arms. “Thanks, baby,” she whispered. “Rooster? Can we get Abby back please?”

Jake turned to see Rooster standing stock still as he stared down at the sleeping baby. “Do…do I have to?” he whispered.

Jake chuckled. “Who woulda thought that it would only take my daughter to shut down Bradshaw’s attitude?”

Rooster shot him a glare as he handed Abby over to her father. “I’m with Javy…I’m gonna enjoy working with these two to turn that blond hair grey.”

“Sure, Rooster,” Jake laughed, cradling Abby to his chest as he waved them off. “Whatever you say.”

Clifton, Texas, Now

Bright sunlight streamed in through the small gap in the purple curtains, slicing across Abby’s face as she yawned and stretched before sitting up.

It took her a moment to remember where she was. The furniture in her bedroom was supposed to be walnut, not grey. Her window was certainly not east facing, and she did not have that many plaid shirts hanging in her closet. It was only when she heard Rooster’s heavy footsteps above her that she remembered. She was home, technically. Home in Texas, with her father and her uncles, as she had been for the past few days.

Abby’s cheeks ached as a wide smile tugged at her lips. The last few days had been so wonderful. Her dad was everything she ever could have dreamed and more. She’d spent the previous day just hanging out with him in the ranch office, eating sandwiches that Rooster had made for lunch and making each other laugh. The day before that, she’d tagged along with her dad to one of Javy’s football practices. She may not completely understand football yet, but she’d had a great time watching her dad and Javy coach the team of high school players. Every night, she hung out in the kitchen with Rooster, helping him make dinner and prep lunches for the ranch staff and the guests staying in the cabins. Each day had been better than the last, and she couldn’t wait to see how the rest of the week played out.

That day, she knew, would be the best day of all. Her dad had promised to take her out on a trail ride through the forest that bordered one side of the property. He had said that he had something important to talk to her about, and that phrase had sent her heart racing. She didn’t think that he knew about the swap (mostly because Charlie had reassured her in a late-night call that nothing about her dad’s behaviour seemed out of place), but she wondered if maybe he would tell her about her mom and sister. Maybe he was going to share the news that she and Charlie had been waiting to hear from their parents.

Anxious to hear whatever it was that her dad needed to talk to her about, Abby raced to get ready and made her way downstairs, only pausing when she heard an unfamiliar voice in the kitchen.

“But sugar…”

“I know, baby, I’m sorry. But I promised that I’d take Charlie out on a ride today, and I swear, I’m going to tell her today.”

“That’s what you said yesterday. And the day before that. And the day before that,” a high pitched, southern drawl responded, and Abby poked her head around the corner to sneak a peek at whoever was speaking. All she could see was her father, his hands cradling the hips of a tiny woman with bleach blond hair and painted on blue jeans.

“I know, baby,” Jake sighed. “I planned on telling her last night, but she passed out early. And I was definitely going to tell her about you the day before that, but Javy waylaid me and invited us to football practice. Rooster’s been keeping her busy in the kitchen after work too, so it’s been hard to get a moment alone with her.”

“Hard to get a moment alone with your own daughter? In your own house? On your own property?” The pout was clear in the woman’s voice.

“Savannah, don’t start,” Jake sighed again, removing his hands from her hips and turning. Abby pulled her head back around the corner before he could spot her. “You know that Rooster, Javy, and I own the place together. And she’s known them since she was born, so they’re as entitled to spend time with her as I am, especially when she wants to spend time with them.”

“I’m sorry, sugar. I’m just so excited for her to know.”

“I know, baby. Me too. I’ll tell her today, I promise.”

Abby poked her head back around the corner in time to see Jake kiss Savannah, and she felt her heart sink.

Turning on her heel, her feet pounded up the stairs and she launched herself onto her bed, scrambling for her cell phone.

A: Does dad have a girlfriend?

The answer came almost immediately.

C: LOL no he’s got no game

C: Why??? 👀

A: Because there’s a random blond lady hanging out in the kitchen and he’s calling her baby

C: You sure it’s him and not Rooster?

C: Uncle Roo has lots of hookups 🤢

A: Pretty sure I know what he looks like, thanks 🙄

C: You didn’t until a couple of weeks ago, smartypants

A: Thanks for the reminder

A: Are you sure he doesn’t have a girlfriend?

A: He wants to talk to me about something

A: What if it’s her?

A: Charlie?

C: Sorry, gotta go! Mom’s taking me to one of her book signings, and then we’re going to dinner and a show! Good luck!

Abby threw her phone onto the mattress and groaned, watching it bounce.

“Super helpful, sis…” she muttered, burying her head in her hands.

Her dad wanted to talk to her about something, and that something seemed to be a pretty, tiny woman with a grating voice. And, for all of Charlie’s reassurance, they had seemed pretty friendly and familiar with each other in the kitchen. The memory made her stomach churn.

What if he wanted to tell her that he was dating this Savannah lady? What would that do to their plan to make their parents see each other again? They had always known that their parents getting back together was a long shot, but they had hoped. And what if Savannah didn’t want her dad to change the current custody arrangement? What would they do then?

Abby felt her heart crack a little in her chest. She couldn’t imagine going back to the way things had been before, not now that she’d gotten a chance to love her dad and be loved by him in return. Not now that she’d gotten to cook with Rooster and coach with Javy and watch the three men barbecue while she swam in the pool. It was both fresh and familiar, terrifyingly new and heartwarmingly recognizable. She couldn’t go back to live in London, no matter how much she loved it, not when she knew that Seresin Ranch was waiting for her in Texas.

But what if her dad decided that he wanted Savannah more than he wanted her? It would be too much for her to bear.

Abby shook her head. No. That wouldn’t happen. No matter what happened, or why their mom decided to take her, and their dad decided to take Charlie, her dad loved her. She knew that as surely as she knew her own name. Once her dad found out that it was her, not Charlie, he’d want to make sure he saw them both an equal amount of time. He just had to.

A playful knock sounded against her door and her dad stuck his head inside.

“Hey, punk,” he grinned, the lines around his eyes and mouth deepening into crevices that spoke of a lifetime of joy. “You ready to go?”

She grinned back at him, the burden on her heart lifting instantly. Her dad loved her. If she was sure of anything at all, it was of that.

“Yeah, dad. I’m ready.”

Her backpack weighed down with sandwiches, apples, carrots, and enough water to feed a small army, Abby trekked into the stable, where Charlie’s paint mare, Lovebug, was standing, already tacked up. Her dad’s horse, a large grey gelding named Firewall, stood behind her as Jake finished cinching up his saddle.

“Hey, Charlie-girl, you all ready?” he called out, patting Firewall’s flank.

“Yeah, dad. Just give me a second!”

“More than a second, you two,” Rooster called, strolling in behind her. “Dude, there’s an issue with the AC unit in cabin 5. You want me to handle it like normal?”

“Cabin 5? You mean the same cabin that’s been giving us holy hell since they got here?”

Rooster nodded, a large hand reaching out to ruffle her braided hair as he passed her. “That’s the one.”

Jake sighed and rubbed at his forehead under the brim of his white cowboy hat. “Nah, shoot Toni a text and let her know to head in there and double check it. If there’s no issue, she can read them the riot act about wasting our time.”

Rooster grinned. “I wish I could be a fly on the wall for that conversation.”

Abby tuned out their conversation as she slowly approached Lovebug. According to Charlie, the mare was an easy ride, but loyal as all get out to Charlie, never allowing anyone else to mount her. Charlie had gotten her as a gift for her fifth birthday and the mare hadn’t allowed another rider since. Hopefully she looked and smelled enough like Charlie to be able to fool the mare.

“Hey Lovey…” Abby murmured; her eyes lowered as she held one hand out for the mare to sniff. “Easy girl…please let this work…”

The mare’s eyes widened, and her nostrils flared as she anxiously pawed at the soft stable floors and whinnied, tossing her head back and retreating as far as she could, almost bumping Firewall.

“Whoa!”

“What the hell?”

Jake grabbed Firewall’s reins as he surged backwards to grab Firewall’s reins before he could retreat too far. Rooster leapt forward to grab Lovebug’s reins, easing her head down and petting her muzzle gently.

“Charlie, are you okay?” Jake called, clipping Firewall onto a long lead attached to the wall so he wouldn’t wander.

“Y-yeah…I’m okay,” Abby replied softly as her heart sank. She’d known that tricking Charlie’s horse was going to be one of the more difficult parts of their plan, but she’d never thought that the horse would react like that to her. If she couldn’t get Lovebug on her side, their plan was as good as done.

Rooster clipped Lovebug onto the wall and stared between horse and would-be rider curiously. “I’ve never seen her react to you that way before, kid. Anyone else, sure. But not you.”

“M-maybe she smells Champ on me,” she offered weakly, remembering how Charlie had taken a shine to the palomino at camp. “I…I don’t think I’ve washed this shirt since coming back from camp.”

Jake approached, cautiously patting Lovebug on her withers as he passed her. “Could be. Six weeks is also a long time for her not to see you. Maybe she’s trying to readjust. She’s always been a sensitive horse. Here…let’s try again.”

Calmly, Jake took Abby’s hand in his and slowly approached the mare, extending their hands for her to smell. Cramming her other hand in her pocket, Abby anxiously crossed her fingers and held her breath.

With a twitch and a nervous tapping on the floor, Lovebug extended her graceful neck and sniffed the tips of Abby’s fingers. After a tense minute, Lovebug released a long, almost weary sigh and nibbled on Abby’s fingertips with her velvety lips.

“There,” Jake said happily, releasing Abby after gently squeezing her shoulder. “She just needed a minute to forgive you for leaving her for six weeks.”

“Yeah…” Rooster murmured, staring at Abby and Lovebug with a piercing gaze. “I guess that’s it.”

“Thanks for the assist, Rooster,” Jake called over his shoulder, unclipping Firewall and leading him out into the bright sunlight. “We’ll see you around noon, alright?”

“Bye Uncle Roo,” Abby waved timidly, all too aware of the way his heavy gaze rested on her.

The green grass swayed in the cool summer breeze as the horses strolled among the trees, birds singing a sweet song as they flitted from branch to branch.

Everything was perfect…or it would have been if not for the burden on Abby’s mind. The image of her dad kissing that blond lady was running through her mind on a loop, burning itself behind her retinas, churning the scarce remains of her breakfast in her stomach.

“You okay over there, Charlie girl?”

Abby glanced quickly at her dad before turning her eyes back down to the pommel of her saddle. She’d been grateful that the trail was wide enough to ride side by side when they’d set out, but now she was wishing that it was narrower.

“Yeah,” she sighed quietly. “Why?”

“You’re never this quiet on a trail ride. Usually, you’re talking my ear off about something or another. That’s kinda why I wanted to go on this ride with you. Rooster and Javy have kind of been monopolizing your time since you got back from camp. I wanted some daddy-daughter time before you go back to school and realize how uncool your old man is.”

“I thought you said you were always cool,” she sniffed.

“Oh, I am,” Jake grinned at her. “I’m very cool. But 12-year-old girls don’t always recognize that.”

“I’m not 12 yet,” she mumbled.

“Trust me, I know and I’m very grateful for that. You turning 12…” Jake sighed. “I can feel the grey hair popping up.”

When she didn’t laugh at his joke, they lapsed into silence. All that had happened that morning had left a sour taste in her mouth and, try as she might, she couldn’t seem to shake it.

It’s not that she didn’t want her dad to be happy. She did, just like she’d always wanted her mom to be happy. But she couldn’t help feeling like she’d just gotten her dad back, that her dad owed it to her and Charlie to give their mom a chance. They deserved to be a family, especially after the almost 12 years of not even knowing about the very existence of the other half of their family.

“Do you remember the day I was born?” she asked suddenly, looking over at him.

“Of course I do, darlin’. Hard to forget the best day of my life.”

“Then you remember my mom?”

Jake reined Firewall in sharply, urging his horse to a stop as he stared at her. “Charlie, of course I do. Where is this coming from?”

“You never talk about her,” she replied simply. “I’m almost 12, dad. I think I deserve to know about the woman who gave birth to me.” She watched as his Adam’s apple worked in his throat, his eyes skimming over the terrain, the sky, anywhere but over in her direction. “What, was she not a good person? A one-night stand? What?” she pushed, knowing none of it was true but the image of Savannah dancing in her mind was turning her anxiousness into anger.

“Charlie, your mom…” Jake sighed, his free hand rubbing at his eyes under the brim of his Stetson as he lapsed back into silence. Abby clenched the reins in her hand tightly as the silence dragged on, but she refused to push. Even though it had only been a few days, she knew Jake well enough to know that he would fight back when he felt cornered. It was the military man inside him, the pilot who knew how to stay on objective, and if his objective was to keep his daughter in the dark, Abby knew that not even God himself would be able to convince Jake to change directive.

After what felt like hours, she peeked over at her father to find him staring down at the reins in his hand as he chewed on the inside of his cheek. He looked…old. Now, Jake Seresin rarely looked his age; the deepening lines near his mouth and eyes, and the sparse sparkle of grey that decorated his thick hair and trim beard like tinsel being the only things that really gave the impression that Jake Seresin was anything other than eternally young. Charlie had shown her photos of her father in his flight suit, in his dress whites, in his khaki uniform, and the man in front of her looked like a shadow of that man. He wore no confident smile, no cocky raised eyebrow, no green eyes sparkling with a challenge. He just looked…sad, and Abby felt the last smoldering ashes of her anger sizzle out.

Reaching out carefully, she grabbed her dad’s wrist, and he looked up in surprise, like he’d forgotten she was there.

“Never mind,” she whispered. “I…I’m sorry.”

Before her eyes, her father transformed, building a cocky smile and heaving it into place. “Don’t be sorry, punk. You’re allowed to be interested in your mom. But right now, all you need to know is that she loved you something fierce and that things between me and her just…didn’t work out. Boring adult stuff that you don’t need to worry about, alright?”

Abby sighed. “Alright. Thanks, dad.”

And suddenly, he looked like he was on the right side of ageless again, flipping his grip to squeeze her hand. “Hey…I know I should tell you about her, and I promise I will eventually because you deserve to know. But for now, don’t worry about it, okay?”

“Okay. Thank you.”

He squeezed her hand once more before releasing it and urging Firewall forward, Lovebug following suit easily.

“There is something we do need to talk about though,” Jake added in a quiet voice as they crested the ridge they were climbing and came to a beautiful lookout, the ranch and all its grounds laid out below them.

Abby’s blood froze in her veins even as the sun shone down upon them, and the memory of the conversation in the kitchen hit her full force. Savannah had been pushing her dad to talk to her about something, something important, something that left a dark feeling in the pit of her stomach.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about it since you got home, but you’re a pretty popular kid around here.” Jake sighed. “Listen, Charlie girl, you know you’ll always be my girl, but…I mean, it happened pretty quickly, so it’s not like I meant to keep it from you…I just…”

Blinking against the harsh sunlight, Abby zeroed in on a truck just pulling into the ranch and the words flew out of her mouth before she could stop them.

“Uncle Javy’s back from practice! Race you to him!”

Before Jake could react, Abby kicked Lovebug into action and the mare surged forward, following the steadily declining path down the ridge back to the ranch.

“Charlie!”

She could hear the rapid hoofbeats of Firewall as he galloped after them, but she didn’t slow or turn to look where her father was. Ducking low on Lovebug’s neck, she urged the mare even faster, half wishing she could run her all the way back to London and her mother’s loving arms. She had been so deliriously happy the past few days, getting to know Seresin Ranch and the men who ran it, the men who were her family by birth. But now, with this Savannah person encroaching on her newfound happiness, she found that she missed her home more than ever. She wanted both worlds, Texas and London, her mom and her dad, and she didn’t want to share it with anyone but Charlie.

So, they ran, each hoofbeat bringing her closer and closer to the sanctuary she had come to call home.

After years of ranch living, Lovebug seemed to know the unwritten rules of the land and slowed to a canter, then a trot, and finally to a walk as they passed by the paddocks and came to a stop beside a red truck branded with the Seresin Ranch logo, Javy pulling a gym bag from the bed as they finally came to a stop.

“Whoa, girlie! Where’s the fire?” Javy exclaimed as she dismounted and bounced towards him, all too aware of the cantering hoofbeats following her.

“Nothing, Javy! How was practice? Do you need a hand with your bag? Do—”

“Charlotte Delta Seresin, what the hell was that?” Jake huffed as he hopped down from Firewall.

Abby felt herself flush. “I…I saw Javy, and—”

“I know, but I was trying to talk to you!” Jake sighed, handing Firewall’s reins to a ranch hand who had scurried out of the stable. “I’ve been trying to talk to you since you got home, but we keep getting interrupted. Baby, this is important.”

Javy groaned. “Jake, man, I told you that—”

“Coyote, all due respect, I’ve heard your opinion on the matter, but this is between me and my daughter,” Jake shot a look at his wingman, a look that clearly told Javy to stay out of it, but Javy refused.

“I know, man, but—”

“What on earth is goin’ on out here?” a sugary sweet voice called from the back door of the ranch house, and Abby watched as both her father and Javy bit back a groan.

“Can’t a man have five minutes of privacy around here?” she heard Jake mutter to himself before turning and pasting a wide smile onto his face. “Nothing, Savannah. I was just trying to talk to Charlie when she spotted Javy.”

“You mean you still haven’t talked to her?” Savannah pouted as she crossed the yard to stand a few feet away from them. “Sugar, you promised…”

Abby bit back a giggle as Javy rolled his eyes behind her back.

“Savannah, I know I promised, but this is a delicate situation and I want to ease my daughter into it.”

“Why is my kitchen a mess?” Rooster hollered, stomping across the yard to join the mini congregation that had now formed.

Jake rolled his head and groaned. “Five minutes…I swear, all I need is five minutes.”

“Oh, sorry, Brad,” Savannah smiled saccharinely at him. “I was just bakin’ a cake to celebrate my welcome into the family.”

“It’s Bradley. Brad-ley.”

“Savannah…” Jake hissed in warning, his eyes flashing.

“I’m sorry, Jakey, but I’m just so excited to be marrying you!”

In an instant, everything seemed to freeze. Abby could see her Javy moving, could see her father’s lips moving as he spoke to Savannah, but it all seemed to be in slow motion.

She had expected to learn about a relationship, to have her father come to her about the new girl he was seeing and discussing it with her. But marriage? Her stomach churned and her vision tunneled, red seeping in on the edges of the landscape. Sound returned with a roar, and she found her lips moving.

“Marrying you?” she was finally able to choke out. “You’re getting married?”

Jake sighed and turned his back on Savannah, who was still smiling despite the dressing down she had surely received from Jake.

“This isn’t how I wanted you to find out, but…yes. Savannah and I are getting married.” He reached a hand towards her with a bittersweet smile.

Every muscle in her body trembling, she stepped back from her father. “How could you?” she whispered.

Jake’s eyes slid closed, and he crouched down to her level. “Charlie, I know this will be an adjustment, but—”

“An adjustment?” she barked out a laugh. “You think that this is an adjustment? Springing some random woman on me and saying she’s going to be your wife?”

“And your stepmother, honey,” Savannah added, smiling brightly at her from over Jake’s shoulder.

“Like hell you will be!” she snapped, the slight British lilt to her natural voice almost slipping through the cracks. “You won’t even tell me about my real mom, but you think that you can just shove whatever woman looks your way into her spot in my life? That’s crap!” Abby dashed her eyes before stepping back again. “Is she even old enough to be my stepmom? Because she looks like she would’ve been a kid herself when I was born!”

Javy and Rooster both ducked their heads, their shoulders shaking slightly, but Abby could take no joy in their amusement, not with the betrayal stinging in her heart and the look on her father’s face.

“Charlotte Delta Seresin, I taught you better than to speak to me like that,” her father snapped, raising himself up to his full height and staring her down, shaking off Savannah’s hand as she tried to grab his arm.

“You didn’t—” Abby cut herself off before the rest of her sentence could escape. “You didn’t raise me at all.” That’s what she had wanted to say. This man, the man she had wanted to meet for her entire life, hadn’t raised her at all, either by accident or by design. He had left her and her mom behind, taken Charlie, and never looked back. It wasn’t fair. None of this was fair. “You didn’t think about me at all, dad,” she whispered, tears choking back any other words she may have wanted to share before she turned and fled, racing towards the stables.

Jake stepped forward, ready to chase after her, his heart sinking in his chest, but a firm hand on his shoulder stopped him.

“Just leave her be, man,” Rooster sighed, his eyes following his niece over the landscape. “She’ll come around.”

“Will she?” Javy scoffed. “Way to break the news, man.”

“I…I should talk to her,” Jake murmured, all too aware of Savannah retreating back into the house. “I should explain.”

“Let me talk to her first,” Rooster offered. “Let me test the waters before you boil yourself alive.”

Running a hand over the back of his neck, Jake finally nodded. “Alright. Thanks, man.”

“Don’t thank me, man. Not yet.”

Abby huddled in the office in the stable, the door locked tight against her and the outside world. A wave of shame washed over her as she remembered how she had spoken to her father. She never spoke to any adult that way, her mum had taught her better. Her mum…

Abby’s heart clenched with homesickness. She ached for her mother’s arms to wrap around her, for the sound of her Uncle Bob’s laugh or Auntie Nat’s teasing.

She fumbled for her cell phone, tugging it clumsily out of her pocket before opening the little green app and dialing the now familiar long-distance number.

“Hello?”

“Dad’s getting married!” she nearly shouted down the receiver, despair coating every sound she uttered. “He got engaged to some blond woman who looks like she’s half his age!”

“Abby?” Charlie yawned. “What are you talking about?”

“I told you! The blond woman from this morning is wearing a rock the size of my head and hanging off of dad! She said that they’re getting married, and he confirmed it!”

“Wh…what? No! It…it’s not possible!”

“Except that it is! He told me it was happening whether I liked it or not!” Silence greeted her claim, and she felt that red hot rage start to creep in again. “Would you say something, please?”

“What do you want me to say, Abby?” Charlie whispered, and Abby could hear the tears in her voice. “Dad’s getting married, and he didn’t bother to even introduce her to me.”

Abby sighed, the anger dissipating as quickly as it came on. “I know…”

“But he loves mom!” Charlie groaned. “I know he does! You don’t shut down that often about a person if you don’t care about them!”

“He shut down on me today too,” Abby agreed. “But it’s not like I can just tell him that he loves her. He would never go for that.”

“Can you find something to prove it?” Charlie’s desperation was clear. “Something to remind him?”

“Like what?”

“I dunno…a photo? Their marriage license? Anything that might remind him of her?”

“Where would I even find something like that?”

“In the office in the stable.”

Abby looked around. “I’m there right now, I don’t see anything.”

“In the safe under his desk. Or in the filing cabinet. I don’t know the code to the safe or where he keeps the key to the cabinet though.”

Abby sighed. “I’ll figure it out. I’ll let you know what I find.”

“Thanks…I’m sorry you have to deal with that while I’m having fun with mum.”

“It’s okay. Do…do you think mum still loves dad?”

“Abby, all her adult books are about a military guy falling in love with the woman of his dreams and the obstacles that keep them apart.” Abby could practically hear the eye roll in her sister’s voice. “She either loves him or she doesn’t know what else to write about.”

“What if you’re wrong?”

“I…I don’t want to think about that. Find proof. I’ll find proof too. Then we’ll tell them about the switch.”

“Okay.”

“Okay. Good luck.”

“You too,” Abby hung up the phone with a sigh before turning to face the little black safe that was tucked under her father’s desk.

“Alright, you…what could your combination be?”

She cycled through the obvious choices first: Jake’s birthday, her and Charlie’s birthday, her father’s military employee number, her great-grandfather’s number. With a wish in her heart, she even tried her mother’s birthday, but no such luck. So, she tried less obvious combinations. Javy’s birthday was a no-go, as was Rooster’s. Her grandmother and grandfather were also a bust. And it turned out that Jake Seresin was not the type of guy to use 1-2-3-4-5-6 as his combination.

“C’mon…c’mon, what are you?” Abby grumbled.

“Try 02-14-19.”

The sudden voice made her shriek and lurch away from the safe, turning to see her uncle chuckling from the doorway.

“Uncle Roo…you frightened me!”

“I frightened you, huh?” He sauntered forward, kicking the door shut behind him. “See, two months ago you would have said ‘You scared the crap out of me’ or ‘I’m gonna get you back for that, Chicken!’ Not, you frightened me.” He perched himself on the edge of the desk. “My girl Charlie doesn’t talk like that. She knows the words, smart as a whip that kid is, but being around a bunch of air jockeys on a ranch didn’t exactly lend itself to 20-point words like frighten.”

She felt the blood rush to her cheeks. “W-what do you mean? I’m Charlie. Did you hit your head or something?”

“See, now that is something Charlie would say. You almost had me. But Lovebug doesn’t shy away from Charlie. Never has, never will. And Javy could almost make Charlie an assistant coach with how much she helps him out with his playbook…but not you. You don’t seem to know the first thing about football.” He fixed her with a stern look. “You’re not Charlie…are you, Abby?”

The dam inside her—the one that had been holding back all her fears and anger about her father’s surprise engagement, and the ache of her homesickness—broke and the tears burst forth. Quickly, she buried her face in her hands and sobbed.

She heard a heavy sigh before she was wrapped in a hug, strong arms pulling her against a lean body.

“S’alright, kid. I’m not gonna tell anyone.”

She pulled back slightly, trying to meet Rooster’s eyes but he kept them firmly on the ceiling. “R-really?”

He shrugged. “I figure you and Charlie have your reasons for this insane switch. Where the hell did you two meet, anyway?”

“Camp…” she hiccupped. “P-Penny invited both of us at the same time.”

Rooster sighed, but there was the slight twang of a chuckle hidden inside it. “Yeah, that sounds like Penny. She was pretty pushy about me mentioning the camp to your dad. Shoulda known she was pulling a Maverick level stunt.”

“Y-you’re not mad?”

“Nah…” he shrugged, releasing her and sitting back on the edge of the desk again while Abby straightened in the desk chair. “Just, tell me one thing. Is Charlie okay?”

Abby nodded. “She’s in London with my mum, Uncle Bob and Auntie Nat. She’s having a grand time.”

Rooster nodded thoughtfully. “So, what is the plan?”

Abby bit her lip. “Get to know our other parent, tell them about the switch at the end of the week, force them to meet to switch us back, and have them fall in love with each other again so that we don’t have to live with an ocean in between us again?”

Rooster sighed; his eyes drifting shut as his head rolled back. “Jesus…”

“Are…are you going to tell dad?”

She held her breath as his eyes opened again, this time turning to her with a fixed determination that sent a shiver down her spine.

“No…I’m not.”

“Really? But…why?”

Rooster shrugged. “One, because making your dad’s life a living hell is still one of the greatest pleasures of my life. Two, I always thought that the way your parents handled the divorce was wrong. Hell, I think they never should have gotten divorced at all. And three, Savannah pisses me off and I don’t think I’ll be able to keep living here if your dad actually goes through with it.”

“So…what does that mean for me?”

“It means, I’m gonna help you. And so will Javy.”

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#jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin #top gun maverick #top gun fanfiction #parent trap au #glen powell #as you wish fic #jake hangman fic #jake hangman x reader #jake hangman imagine #jake hangman x you

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em-writes-stuff-sometimes · 2 years ago

Text

gevivys (beauty) │ Chapter 4: Love

terms of endearment ‘verse: see my Masterlist for the correct series order!

Chapter 1 │Chapter 2 │Chapter 3 │Chapter 4 │Chapter 5 │Chapter 6 │Chapter 7 │Chapter 8 │Chapter 9 │Chapter 10 (COMPLETE!)

Synopsis: Daemon returns to King's Landing after ten years in exile, intent on rekindling his affair with Rhaenyra. He wasn't expecting you - the revelation changes everything.

Here be the fourth chapter of the rework - you’ll all recognise this one! There’s some minor changes made to flow on with the previous stuff, but beyond that, it’s the OG third chap. Thank you to @ewanmitchellcrumbs, my slap daddy lobster Ange, for reading through this chapter for me and making sure I’m not uploading total shite!

TRIGGERS: incest, purity culture, objectification of women, age gap.

Daemon supposes it is true what they say about Targaryens—that they are proud and violent and easy to incite to desire and madness. He lives up to the name, he supposes.

Now that his want has come to light, he cannot erase you from his mind. He withdraws to his chambers for the next few days, making his presence around the keep as scarce as he can so that he might avoid you. The prospect of looking at you—your wide-eyed innocence, trusting open expression, still his littlest girl beneath all that ripening—and recalling the depths of his degeneracy each time he meets your eye seems an insurmountable task.

But a new issue arises. He finds he quite literally cannot rid the image of you from his musings, the enemy that is his own thoughts discovering some new wretched path to you in all he does to seek distraction. His books remind him of your love for old Valyrian histories and poetry, of sitting with him, a great tome spread out further than your little arms could extend and reciting the letters in a halting tongue. Training with the sword strikes memories of how you’d fiddle with the pommel of Dark Sister whenever you stood by him, alerting him to your presence far easier than his own eyes ever could. Attempting to govern a bout of cyvasse is utterly dull with only himself as an opponent, and—blast it all—prompts reminiscence of how you’d choose to sleep soundly in his lap as a tot, wet smacking mouth darkening the front of his doublet as he’d match minds against Viserys with only one hand free, the other keeping you chained to slumber with gentle pats to the bottom.

Resistance is fruitless. And so, he gives into the desire. For the first time in years, he unfastens his breeches and takes his cock out with the intention of spending in his own hand.

How mightily I have fallen, he thinks drolly, spitting in his palm, grasping his shaft and allowing his imagination to conjure the likeness of sweet eyes and full mouth and shapely breasts, a precious little gift just waiting for the right recipient to unwrap and play. He thinks of your soft little hands and soft little voice, how darling you would look with those same hands on his cock and your stare wide and trusting, whispering his name in naïve question as he coaxes you to his completion, gifting you a pretty pearl necklace for a pretty little girl—

“Fuck!” he moans, seed splattering over his fist.

It stains his breeches and drips over his boots, inspiring sudden gladness that he hadn’t thought to revisit Sirille’s whore or seek out another of his old haunts, for not bending some meaningless fuck over and exerting his lusts on a cunt worth mere coppers in coin. The speed of his release would have been thoroughly humiliating. Wiping his hand distastefully upon his shirt, he wonders at how best to resolve his growing problem.

It is a problem. How you have unmanned him! How insipid it is to long for a girl of seventeen as though he is some pockmarked, upstart lad of lesser standing! If he were dull-witted, his ire at himself might very well drive him to rail at you for the manner in which you’ve ensorcelled him. But doing so will not aid his particular malady.

The brothel…Perhaps the answer lies in the past. The instant he thinks it, he wishes he hadn’t.

No. He shouldn’t ruin you. He will not ruin you. Besides, you had been deterred rather than encouraged by even his lightest provocations, his half-hearted flirtation failing utterly. In the face of his veiled innuendos and covetous stares, you had retreated into yourself, pulling away and levelling him with that soft, reproaching little mouse-glare of yours. Any other maiden and he would double down, pursue until he had overrun them and given them little choice but to lift their skirts and let him steal away their virtue. Yet, this brings him distinct discomfort. He cannot abide the notion of despoiling you so ignobly.

Daemon wonders at the hesitation, for it had brought him little pain to do the same to his eldest niece. He considers that because it had always been his intention to shore up his own succession—by either wedding Rhaenyra or destroying her reputation, getting her out of his way—the thought of doing the same to you had never crossed his mind.

Hm. What can he do, then? Wait for this—this feeling—to pass? He is the blood of the dragon, true; and, like the flame from which those winged beasts were born, he burns hot and bright and stinging—until the flame flickers away, doused by the merest brush of air or touch of water. In moments of want, it becomes a need, something he would kill and die to possess, and then another obsession takes hold. Men of passion—men like him—are so rarely faithful to their fancies.

Alas, you are no ordinary woman. It stands to reason that his lust is no ordinary yearning. You are everything he has ever envisioned in an ideal bride. The right bloodline. The right family name. The right temperament. These things alone…

It does not even take into consideration the simplest fact—that, though time and circumstance has changed so much, there is nothing that can destroy his deepest affection for you, his sweet little niece.

No closer to devising his way forward, Daemon does what he can to evade encountering you. It is hardly an effort, for you seem to perpetually cycle between the same activities and yet, simultaneously, are nowhere to be found. He shuns the obvious places—the library, your Hightower siblings’ rooms, Rhaenyra’s solar, the courtyard, the garden—and even deigns to add the training yard and the kitchen to the list. Luckily, he seems to have either frightened you off or had simply chanced upon a rare occurrence in which you were discoverable.

After four more mornings, he is unsurprised to see you absent once more from your father's table to break your fast. You have missed the previous occasions, too. A sennight and a day had been more than enough time for him to decide that he detested these mealtimes. Quite obviously an attempt on his brother's part to foster unity between the squabbling factions in his family, he is usually faced with the choice of either indulging in the bickering of the children or pretending he gives a fuck about anything the Hightower woman has to say. Not that Her Grace has been particularly interested in engaging him in conversation. Instead, she carefully plays the part of ignorance, watching him from directly across the table with her beady little eyes each time he so much as moves. Loathsome bitch. She must have a magical cunt for Viserys to have managed to pump four of those wretched spawn into her.

This is why he is startled when Rhaenyra and Laenor enter with their two boys, followed swiftly by you and that idiot Cole. You have an air of irritation about you, as though you had been interrupted at your leisures when your elder sister had come to collect you for the first proper meal you would see in days.

The sight of Rhaenyra—as lovely a sight as it is—sends a weak thud of hurt through his chest. But it is the sight of you that inspires a far greater reaction.

You are no less striking in the morning light that streams in from the open balcony. Garbed in a short-sleeved gown of powdered blue and wild hair pulled back in a simple braid, the adjustments only serve to emphasise the parts of you that had changed in the ten years since he had last seen you. Half-convinced that his first meeting with you was an inexplicable fever-dream sent by the gods to taunt him, he is once more besieged by the sight of your rose-bloom lips, your bare throat—why the fuck do you not wear jewels to cover up all that exposed flesh, the sight is positively lewd—and charming little tits peaked in maiden's flirtation. The dress does little to hide your endowments from his rapacious gaze, for all its modest bodice and looser fit.

He does his best not to let his turmoil play out on his face as you move further into the room. Laenor drops into the empty seat beside him, narrowing his eyes in a manner that suggests he’s noticed where Daemon’s attention has been focused. The lad’s fair to suspect him—his exploits in the Stepstones hadn’t been limited to warfare, after all.

“Father, Daemon,” Rhaenyra greets, settling herself down next to her husband.

He finds the noted absence of greeting to the Hightower woman wildly entertaining. While it is not lost on her, the queen has deigned to overlook the arrival of her once-best friend. Instead, she turns to survey her ailing king in an affectation of care. He decides it is only polite to return his eldest niece’s salutation. Rhaenyra smiles in response to his well-wishes, an acknowledgement of his words and nothing more.

“Good morrow, daughter!” Viserys says to his eldest, looking fondly down the table as his grandsons are settled in at their seats. His gaze moves to you. “Ah, child! We haven't seen you in an age!”

He has brightened in excitement at his first glance of you, and you smile sweetly at him as you pass by to press a kiss of greeting to your father's balding head.

“My apologies, Papa,” you say to Viserys warmly. “I have been ever so preoccupied with my studies, you see. I did not wish to fall behind.”

“Studies, my girl? I had rather thought you were avoiding Lord Denys again!”

He has to grit his teeth at the mention of that idiot. What in the seven hells is Viserys thinking, allowing a lackwit like the Rose of Highgarden anywhere near you? To think that he’d be willing to ship you off to so ordinary an existence as the Lady Tyrell.

The blood of the Freehold, forced to mingle with farming stock. What dishonour!

At the mention of the lord, your earnest little stare transforms into a myriad of quick-vanishing demonstrations of your distaste for the man. Daemon is savagely glad to see it.

“That, too.” You beam when your father laughs. It is a most pleasing expression on your features, a guise that erases the lingering pensiveness clinging to you like a second skin—one that you should always bear.

Would that he could replace the gloom that reclaims you so soon after.

“Darling.”

Alicent frowns at him from her position at his brother’s side. She appears to have caught him looking, not that he cares overmuch for her judgement. It intrigues him that she appears to be addressing you. He had thought the family quite divided by old and new—and as Aemma’s last living child, that places you firmly in the former category.

She smiles up at you, gesturing you toward her. “Come sit by me.”

Clearly, his assumption is incorrect. You happily proceed around your father to sit in the empty seat beside the queen, placing you next to the youngest one, Daeron. He can only remember the name due to its similarity to his own. You grin fondly down at the boy, and it is easy to imagine you doing the same one day with his own son. You ruffle his hair when he makes an exclamation of your name, disregarding the snide glances offered to you by the older two. Ah, that is more like it.

“What are you working on currently, sister?” Rhaenyra interrupts his musings from next to Laenor, wordlessly reminding young Lucerys to pause his chatter while eating.

His mouth upturns when he sees you brighten, stopping in the middle of selecting fruits and cheese and pastries to pile on your plate. The shame feels like a distant memory as he watches you, dish aloft in your hand while you enthusiastically turn to engage with your older sister.

“I have been consulting with Ser Lysan on writing a compendium of the Dothraki language,” you say excitedly.

Who the fuck is Ser Lysan? And what in the seven hells is she doing learning Dothraki? Daemon’s brow raises sceptically as he mulls over the fact that you—a sweet little untouched princess—appear to have dealings with horse-fucking, barbarous brutes in the east.

“There is some debate as to how we will proceed,” you add, carefully side-eyeing the oldest of the Hightower boys as he snickers at your pronouncement, “as our letters do not correspond correctly with the phonetics of their speech. We will have to either take creative liberties or devise additional symbols to signify these sounds.”

Perhaps he has woefully underestimated you. You seem to possess an intellect that may well be formidable—at least when it comes to your philosophies and languages. A fascinating paradox of a girl, he thinks, to be so clever and unknowing all at once. For all your book learning, there is much about the world you lack understanding of. It is tempting to remedy this in the most depraved manner possible.

Not here. Not now.

“That sounds… interesting.”

Rhaenyra sounds anything but interested. Does anyone take interest in your pursuits? Anyone at all? Looking around the table at the uncertain faces of those you call family, it appears not. No wonder you seem so alone.

“Dothraki, of all the languages to learn?” he asks. “An interesting pursuit for a princess.”

You make direct eye contact with him, arranging your features into a facade of polite courtesy. It is closed off, withdrawn, and you return your plate to its place upon the table.

“I am learning, yes.” You absent-mindedly reach across the little one beside you to remove a silver-handled knife from the second-eldest boy—Aemon, is it not?—and place it out of his reach. It is a good call. He had been poking the surface before him with the tip, gouging small divots into the wood. You disregard his protestations, continuing your line of thought. “I would not claim to be proficient, however. It is a complex language, and I have not studied it for long enough to consider myself fluent.”

“It is a savage language.” The eldest of the queen’s sons has an expression fixed in what Daemon can only assume is meant to be a look of disdain. As ugly as the boy is, the effect is rather lost on present company. “No wife of mine will occupy herself with such things.”

This one too? Unbelievable. It would make more sense to betroth you to your brother than to the Lord of Highgarden. If only the brother in question wasn’t so… pathetic. Pathetic now—but when he becomes a man, a true peril to any chance she may have at happiness.

He swallows back bile at the thought. However would you survive being bound to a sneering wretch who sought to stifle any joy you might experience, and all for the sake of control? It is too harsh a fate for someone so pure.

You frown softly, shoulders squaring off in your disapproval. “Just because their culture is different, Aegon”—ah, yes! No wonder he is naught but a disappointment with a name such as the Conqueror’s to try and fail to live up to—“does not mean they are savages.”

His nose flares with the necessity of suppressing his own amusement. Such guilelessness, such gullibility! You really are too sweet.

“They fuck their horses, don’t they?” Aegon asks disparagingly, echoing exactly what he had been thinking only moments prior.

The younger boy titters beside him. You open your mouth to respond, brow wrinkled in affront, when the queen cuts across you.

“Aegon! That’s enough!” she says sharply, and the boy abruptly withdraws, tucking his head down and quietly resuming his meal with a muttered apology.

As a lull falls across the remaining occupants of the room, all that can be heard is the scraping of utensils over dishware and the hissing admonitions of the queen to her eldest, whispered reminders of how princes ought to treat those they are courting. Given that the recipient is three places down from her—and you are, in fact, between them—her words are neither quiet nor tactful. Your head bows, lower lip quivering only once, pretending not to hear as you pick apart the remnants of food on your plate.

“An intellectual, my daughter is.” Viserys breaks the stillness with forced joviality, engaging him in conversation once more.

He had paid little attention to the spat—no doubt avoiding his fatherly responsibilities as he has done since time immemorial, long since used to ignoring the conflict that sparks beneath his very nose. Daemon is simultaneously fond and contemptuous of his brother, the years having done little to change the spinelessness so central to his personality as man and monarch both.

“Always learning something new,” the man says merrily, “always needing books and tutors to satisfy that mind of hers. She would be a maester of the Citadel, methinks, had she been born a man.”

She would be Prince of Dragonstone if she had been born a man, Daemon snorts to himself, and I’d not need be sitting here with the Hightower bitch and her offspring.

“Papa!” A pretty flush reddens your exposed ears and the apples of your cheeks.

He trails the path of the blush as it spreads to your chest, travelling down to kiss the shy swell of your breasts under that damned raised neckline. He has never hated an item of clothing quite so much as he does your gown.

“That Ser Lysan Marios of hers,” the king explains. “A man from the Free Cities, do you know? She was ever so delighted when I solicited his services.”

A tutor, then. But what is his place in your life? This is what Daemon wishes to know.

“He is a respectable gentleman,” Rhaenyra says, no doubt having witnessed his perplexity. “Though it’s quite amusing, really. For an old man like him, he is rather adept at making his way about the keep unnoticed. You’d think someone with such poorly knees would be easier to find.”

He hadn’t truly believed your tutor to harbour untoward feelings for you, but relief suffuses him, nonetheless. An elderly man with weak joints could hardly muster the energy nor stamina to seduce his young charge—especially a burgeoning little nymphet like you, so reserved and restrained, desperate for release from the bonds of propriety. His gut tightens at the image he has conjured.

“We always leave a note, ’Nyra,” you say, your posy-petal lips frowning.

“And by the time I send someone to find you, you have moved off elsewhere.”

You hum an agreement, picking still at the remainder of your meal. Daemon spies the Hightower woman’s pointed glare over you, the quailing of the eldest boy. The lad clears his throat and turns to you.

“Sister. Would”—he pauses to clear his throat again—“would you… care to take a turn around the garden with me? At, er—the hour of the boar?”

How the fuck has he managed to make it worse?

Daemon almost preferred his snobbish spite over this pitiful attempt at flattery. If he’d been uncertain as to the boy’s success at winning you over, he’s not anymore. There’s scarce to be any maiden who would accept such a snivelling offer.

You appear rather baffled. “Oh. I appreciate the offer, Aegon… but I am afraid I have plans then.” A polite smile of contrition curves your lips.

Your brother does not like this. With a barely restrained sneer, he begins to respond. “But—”

“—I am intending to visit Athfiezar,” you cut across, placid as ever. “You are welcome to accompany me there, if you wish?”

The boy blanches. “No!” He says, shaking his head.

You make a soft noise of acknowledgement, allowing your focus to drift to the small one immediately beside you. And, with that, the conversation ceases entirely.

Rhaenyra was right in asserting her inability to pronounce the name of your feral mount. The guttural inflections in your honey-sweet voice speak to something wild and untamed, a spark of the magic that had brought his line to life so long ago.

“Interesting name.” Daemon is unable to help himself. You blink disconcertedly at him as he speaks. It is the second time in as many occurrences that he has seen your countenance alight with startlement at his address. A nervous little morsel, she is. “A Dothraki word, is it?”

He can only assume this. Based on his few dealings with the horde of savages during his time in Essos, the word sounds similar to the harsh utterings of the khalasar.

“Yes,” you say with a pleased look. “It means ‘love’.”

What a name for such a monstrous creature. A little girl christening her first barn cat, all soft skin and sweet smile and doe-eyed delight. You squint at Rhaenyra when she chuckles softly. It seems he isn’t the only one to have such a thought.

You turn back to him. “He does not take well to others, I fear.”

That is an understatement. From all his existing knowledge of the wild leviathan, from his experiences with the beast growing up, from tales he had gleaned from around the capital, from accounts of old acquaintances and the from gossip of his family, your dragon—the fucking Cannibal, and isn’t that a story he’d like to hear—is an utter lunatic, as unhinged and vicious as he always was. Except, it seems, with you.

“A right bastard, too,” Laenor murmurs under his breath, just within Daemon’s earshot. “Do you know how many keepers we’ve had to replace since that thing came to King’s Landing?”

He can imagine. Dragon, livestock and human alike, the dragon had little care for what it slayed, seemingly fulfilling itself on the blood-and-gore high of butchery. The thought of laying eyes upon such a creature thrills him to the bone.

You levy him with an inquisitive look, head tilted slightly. “Would you like”—you hesitate—“would you like to meet him, Uncle?”

Only a fool could refuse a proposition like that. Not in the least because of the Cannibal—well, so few would ever have the opportunity to come close to the beast and live to tell the tale. Through you, it may well be possible that he would get that chance.

But, moreover, how can he say no to your timid, earnest entreaty, the proverbial hand of offering held out and just waiting for yet another rejection? Hope draws your brows in a pleading arch, lips wet and parted, and it calls to mind a much younger version of you, far freer in begging for his attention. Who could possibly deny you?

His mouth settles the matter before his mind has decided. “I’d be glad to,” he says, warmed by the sunny beam that stretches across your face, bringing bright light to your eyes and a merry flush to your skin.

It occurs to him then that he has just invited himself to an entire span of unaccompanied time alone with you. You—the object of his waking reveries, his darkest deliberations, his filthiest wants.

Perhaps this will be what finally drives him mad.

The wheelhouse ride is a revelation—and not quite for the reason he expected.

You are surprisingly easy to converse with; high praise, coming from him. He is not one to enjoy casual discussion, finding most people utterly insipid, especially those of suitable station. Princes and lords and magisters are always far too concerned with crowing of their riches to be of much interest—and the women are hardly worth engaging with unless it is to persuade them to drop their smallclothes and let him bend them over in some abandoned hall.

It might just be his fixation upon you that makes you so fascinating. He cares not for the reason. Instead, he chooses to enjoy the rarity of the moment, listening to you talk about the weather, the food, the changes made to the city since his departure.

“We have been getting an increase in grain from the Reach, I believe, in return for silks and spices from Driftmark,” you say, filling the transport with the dulcet tones of your pretty little voice.

He wonders at how you have come to know this information.

“Papa allows me to be his cupbearer during small council sometimes.” Pride overtakes your expression. “I am not present often, but it is nice when he asks.”

It is expected of Rhaenyra as the heir to attend in her youth, but no such presumption falls upon you. How interesting that Viserys has chosen to allow his second daughter to be involved in the running of the realm, small a part as that may be! Daemon had not thought his brother observant of you in any capacity whatsoever. In this, he’s happy to be wrong.

When you arrive at the Dragonpit, your faithful guard-dog Cole is waiting for you, having ridden ahead to secure the location for his young charge. Daemon rolls his eyes as the knight offers you his arm, assisting you down the steps and to the ground. You gratefully thank the white cloak—he has to clench his jaw tightly to resist saying something snide at the look of slavish devotion on the whoreson’s face—and take out leather gloves of deep black, a stark contrast to the blood red of your riding habit. You wear the Targaryen colours exceedingly well.

“Now, Uncle,” you say seriously, turning to him. “I do not usually meet Athfiezar at the Pit, so it is imperative that you do as I say.”

It makes sense that the dragon seeks refuge outside of the Dragonpit. The beast did not seem one to willingly enshrine itself in chains. His brow quirks in entertainment at your command, a war general in the shape of a little girl with a woman’s body, but tips his head regardless.

“Of course.” He has no wish to die for the sake of pride.

The dragonkeepers have already begun to shift nervously in the open, unprotected space. What follows illuminates him as to why. He is startled when you stop in the middle of putting your gloves on to place your fingers at your mouth and release a loud whistle. The sound echoes toward the cavernous entrance of the building before you and sets off a cacophony of ringing screeches and roars from within. He cringes as the blast of noise assaults his ears and wonders what in the hells you were intending by doing such a thing.

Suddenly, a low rumble resonates through the air. He casts around for the origin of the din, seeing nothing cresting the horizon. Out of nowhere, there is an unearthly shriek. A hulking black shape tumbles from the cover of cloud, rapidly gaining size as it approaches.

The dragonkeepers bark panicked orders to each other, rushing to clear the space before his little niece. “Inkot selās! Inkot selās!” Move back! Move back!

Daemon wonders through a wave of sheer panic if he ought to follow the keepers’ example and dive for shelter, dragging you with him. The dragon isn’t showing any signs of slowing down. It is now close enough for him to make out the grim scores of scars marking its head, the eerie verdigris orbs glowing ominously within its immense skull, the sheer musculature forming one of the largest specimens of Old Valyria alive today. The dragon is quite dissimilar to the other Targaryen specimens, he notes, stouter and stockier and yet more serpentine than the winged creatures the Conqueror had brought to Westeros some hundred years before. He wonders if it is true that this one is from a different lineage entirely. He had never gotten close enough to survey it before now.

The great lumbering thing alights upon the dome of the Dragonpit, crawling with surprising agility to the edge of the structure and peering down. It sends a clatter of rubble spilling from the sides of the great dome as it crackles under the weight of it. At the sight of the keepers huddled behind dragonglass shields, curled to the ground in vain protection of themselves, the Cannibal opens its mouth and screams. It is a haunting, hair-raising resonation that sends chills down his spine and near freezes the blood in his veins.

“Athfiezar!”

His gaze, having been transfixed upon the most terrifying entity he had witnessed in years, shifts to you. You have stepped forward, seemingly without a care, arm outstretched and calling happily up to the reptilian brute. He is about to pull you back toward him when he observes what might be the most deranged, impossible scenario imaginable.

The dragon stops.

It stops.

“Kesīr māzīs, Athfiezar!” you call again, bouncing lightly on the balls of your feet. Come here!

Emitting a deep keening, its eyes split to you, pausing its rampage as it takes in the sight of you below. Daemon huffs an exhilarated laugh as the winged serpent cocks its head, pauses, and then begins scaling its way down the stone formation. It is heedless of the damage it is doing to the establishment as it tears its way through rock like parchment, wiggling down to touch down upon the ground before the mouth of the Pit. The beast is surprisingly light upon its feet for its sheer size, second only to the great she-dragon, Vhagar.

He can only watch on in amazement as you stride forward to meet your mount. The famed Cannibal bends its massive frame down so that you may lay your hand upon its snout and coo something tender and indeterminable from a distance away. The wyrm growls softly, slowly pressing itself against you as you talk. The dragonkeepers have not yet moved from their protective stances, spaced out around the yard and cowering behind obsidian safeguards.

What the fuck.

And then, you are walking back toward him, an air of contentment unlike any he had witnessed about you emanating from your person and echoed in the radiant joy on your face. With your giant beast as a formidable backdrop, you look every inch a Targaryen conqueror. It is a most unexpected evolution in the child that had preferred to entertain herself by reading than by journeying to the Pit to see Syrax or Caraxes. The sight makes him breathless.

You are glorious.

“Kepus,” you say, reaching out to him. He is somewhat amazed to see you are the same person, the same girl with the same charming eyes and delicate features and alluring form, that you have not somehow metamorphosed into a goddess from ancient Valyria. “Would you like to meet him?”

His answer is immediate, wordless. When he grasps onto your hand, he notes that your grip is much firmer, more solid and more real than it had been the week before. You are in your element here, at peace within yourself and with the dragon feared by the entire world. You pull him gently with you towards the creature, unfaltering even in the wake of the chitters and low hisses it emits when it observes a newcomer heading its way.

“He will not hurt you,” you say kindly. “You are with me.”

The affirmation warms him. When you are a small distance away, you release his hand, stepping in front of him to murmur softly to your mount once more.

“Ñuha kepa bisy issa, ñuhus taobus,” you call mellifluously, once more extending your palms to stroke along the dragon’s head. It nudges you lightly, and you laugh in response. “Ziry ōdrikō daor.” This is my uncle, my boy. Do not hurt him.

There is an absurdity in hearing you kindly entreat this monstrosity as though it were a prize hound, born and bred to spend its days on the lap of a noblewoman at high tea. What’s more is that the wyrm appears to enjoy it, nuzzling into your touch like a kitten.

Athfiezar growls in warning as Daemon approaches, soothed only by the quiet humming you are making and the light affirmations of peace you are whispering. Shifting its weight around, it grumbles in irritated obeisance as it allows him near. When he is close enough to hear the beat of its heart, feel the waft of its breath on his skin, smell the typical scent of dragon stink upon the air, he stops and takes in the view.

From this angle, he cannot see the beast’s hind legs, so vast is the length of its anatomy. The dragon’s powerful front legs and sinuous snake-like neck occupies his vision, the head bowed low to the ground in cooperation with its mistress’s will. Its sable scales ripple like onyx in the sun, flashing shades of coal and silver and gold as the light dapples upon their surfaces. The creature is maimed in several places, no doubt from its long history of aggression against its own kind, but the old injuries serve to heighten its aura of petrifaction.

It is a horrifying representative of its kind. It is everything he had ever adored stories about as a child. And it is yours.

“How is this possible?” he breathes, stepping closer to you. You glance back at him, mouth quirking gently at the expression of wonderment on his face.

You lightly entwine your fingers with his. When his eyes snap to yours, you tug him forward easily, placing his hand upon the Cannibal’s snout with your small hand laid on his own. He laughs quietly at the sensation of dragon-scale under his palm, a mixture of bewilderment and disbelief and sheer childish awe colouring his tone. To lay his hand upon the Cannibal and live… It is the stuff of dreams.

“Raqnon jorrāeltas—hegnīr ūī zijot irughin.” You stare wistfully at your mount. He needed love—so I gave it to him.

Though it is a relief to hear his ancestral tongue spill from your lips once more, a reminder that the years had not washed away all that is familiar, Daemon wonders if there is more to this unlikely pair than anyone had assumed. Both isolated, both starved for affection, both cleaving to each other for warmth and surety. The notion makes him unhappy.

My poor, lonely little girl… You never need be lonely again now that he had returned.

He looks back up at the beast, Athfiezar the Cannibal, this wretched saviour of desolate maidens and broken dreams. The creature snorts, a puff of smoke jettisoning out of its nostrils in a sneeze. He jumps out of the way, startled. You giggle, laying your head fondly against its snout.

“Kara iksā,” he says. You are magnificent.

You smile as you look up at your dragon, your hand lightly caressing its colossal jaw—but Daemon’s eyes remain firmly affixed on you.

Read on AO3:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/42100623/chapters/105935892

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screamingatanemptyroom · 6 months ago

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Feelings (not related to writing)

So this has nothing to do with writing, but I just want to get something off my chest.

Today was rough. Really rough.

So the thing is, two years ago... something bad happened. It was the worst 48 hours of my life. My memory of those days are still very fuzzy, but what I clearly remember is the 6 months following it.

Whenever something happened that even slightly reminded me of that day, I would have a panic attack. Curled up, fetal position, sobbing mess. Fortunately (or unfortunately) the triggers for these were mostly at home, so no one at my job knew that I was mentally hanging on by a thread. The emotional exhaustion, the terror of not being in control of your own mind and heart... it was not a great time, to say the least.

But I survived! Got therapy, and that plus time did the trick. I stopped having panic attacks, went back to normal life. But healing from trauma isn't a pretty thing, and its never so clean cut.

Today was a bad day. Something happened, pretty intense, and all of a sudden I was back at day 1, barely holding on. Wanting to scream, to sob, to pull back. It happened at the worst time too, when I had to go up in front of a hundred people and pretend like everything was normal.

And no one saw my hands shaking.

No one saw how broken I was, because I can smile really well when I have to.

I'm doing better tonight. I've calmed down, hugged my loved ones, drank some water. I know that one bad day doesn't undo all the hard work, the support and the healing.

It does really hurt, though, to have an old wound tear open. It a painful, terrible thing.

But it will heal again.

#not writing #personal #tw: panic attack #emotions and feeling #because I feel better writing them out

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carlos-in-glasses · 1 year ago

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Where All This Love Comes From

I'm so excited to share what has been known as Flashback Fic! 107k words, with all 14 chapters here on Ao3, rated E.

Six months after Gabriel Reyes’ death, TK grows concerned about Carlos’ drinking and brings him to a meeting at the Y. Afterwards, over omelets at the diner, the husbands open up to each other. TK reflects on meeting Carlos after years of addiction and self-destruction, while Carlos has continued to seek closure by uncovering two unknowns: The identity of his father’s killer, and how his father truly felt about Carlos as his son.

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

Carlos puts his arms around him from behind and holds him still, kissing his neck. TK tries to twist in Carlos’ grip, but he won’t let him. He starts walking him towards the bedroom. “I’m desperate for you,” TK says, his blood hot, cheeks red, eyes pricking with tears. “I know.” “Make me forget everything.” “I will.” “I only want to think about you.” “You will.” Carlos stops for a breath. He smells TK – his clean hair, his evanesced cologne, his natural man scent, his salty tears that have imbued his skin, the sweat of stress. Sad, but still beautiful to Carlos. TK, delicious. “I never thought I’d have you. I never thought–” he can’t speak anymore.

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

Chapter 1: A Trail to Follow

In 2023, TK discovers something that triggers memories of heroin withdrawal seven years before – and Carlos makes amends with Gutiérrez after accusing him of his father’s murder.

Chapter 2: A Very Nice Sweater for the 'Y'

TK takes Carlos to the N.A. meeting – but when things don’t go as hoped, he instigates another method to get Carlos talking.

Chapter 3: Snowballing

A messy situation in 2010 causes TK as a high school junior to lash out. In 2023, Carlos realizes it's time to tell TK about one more secret.

Chapter 4: Original Sin

In 2013, Carlos accidentally destroys Gabriel’s oldest friendship. Nine years later, he attempts to make peace after he and TK get engaged.

Chapter 5: Between Two Bridges

In 2022, a grieving and struggling TK is compelled to talk to Owen about his 2020 overdose, which leads him to remember when his addiction nearly killed him years before. In 2023, TK asks Carlos about his history with alcohol. (Note: Chapter features TK using and gets fairly graphic)

Chapter 6: One Tequila, Two Tequila, Three Tequila, Floor

TK and Carlos compare notes on when they first came out – with Carlos spiraling in 2011 after an unexpected outburst, while TK in 2008 is embraced (and embarrassed) by his parents. In 2021, both handle the raw days of their breakup differently too.

Chapter 7: A Boy's Best Friend

In 2009, Gabriel attempts to connect with his increasingly distant and unhappy teenage son. In 2013, the fallout of Carlos leaving Iris has begun, and he knows his relationship with his parents will never be the same. In 2023, TK tries to talk to Gabriel about the bombshell revelation that Carlos doesn’t want kids.

Chapter 8: Your Heart, As If It Was My Very Own

In 2011, TK is left bewildered after he loses his virginity. Years later, with Carlos, TK's mind (among other things) is blown in a whole new way. In 2022, TK has an important conversation with a certain visitor when he wakes from his coma.

Chapter 9: Coffee with Gutiérrez

In September 2023, Carlos seeks an important but painful truth from Gutiérrez, and finds an unexpected ally within the 126. Two months later in Blue Moon Diner, TK gets ready to tell Carlos more about his past in New York.

Chapter 10: The Day Begins Like Any Other

In 2016, after TK experiences an assault and sees an old friend again under devastating circumstances, he makes a life-altering decision when his dealer suggests he try something new. In 2009, TK is attacked at school. (Note: Please heed the tags and the chapter note. Reader discretion advised. Look after your hearts).

Chapter 11: Lonely as a Sparrow in the Rain

When Carlos confesses to TK about where he went with Judd back in September – and why – TK has to tell Carlos something he won't want to hear. In 2014, a rift develops when Carlos shows off his new Camaro to his parents.

Chapter 12: Happy For You, Son

Before moving to Austin, TK falls out with his parents over his relationship with Alex. In December 2020, it's a different story as Carlos hosts Owen and Gwyn for TK's birthday meal. In 2012, Carlos has some unexpected news for his own parents, but Michelle tries to intervene. When TK and Carlos get engaged a decade later, Gabriel has something to say about it.

Chapter 13: The Risk of Love

In May 2023, Owen and TK save a spiraling Carlos from making the biggest mistake of his life when he thinks he’s found his father’s killer. In 2020, TK and Carlos become boyfriends beneath a sky full of aurora borealis.

Chapter 14: A Night Worth Celebrating

On a rainy night in 2020, TK and Carlos meet for the first time. In 2023, weeks after their big talk at Blue Moon, TK celebrates his thirtieth birthday with his husband, their family and their friends by his side – and Carlos is a little bit better at sharing his secrets.

Read on A03

#Where All This Love Comes From #Flashback Fic #cig fic #my fic #Tarlos #tarlos fanfic #tk strand x carlos reyes #I've been working on this since March so I'm beyond delighted and relieved to share it #Thank you so much for reading if you do - I cannot explain how much I appreciate it

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matan4il · 1 year ago

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Daily update post:

The IDF's spokesman in Arabic, Avichay Adraee, has shared a vid of a rare demonstration by Gazans, where they protest the ruin Hamas has brought on them, and demand for its leader in Gaza, Yahya Sinwar, to releaste the Israeli hostages.

Regarding the 24 Israeli soldiers killed in Gaza the other day, here are the details to the best of my understanding of how 21 of them were killed in one incident (based on reports on Israeli TV). It seems that the soldiers were preparing a couple of multi-floor buildings to be blown up, because these were close enough to the border, that snipers could use them to shoot at Israeli civilians without even crossing over. The soldiers were laying out the explosives, and there was a tank nearby, guarding them. A terrorist squad came out of a terror tunnel shaft that hadn't been located by the soldiers earlier, and fired an anti-tank missile at the buildings, triggering the explosives, which also caused the buildings to collapse. Every soldier who was inside, was killed. That was how 19 soldiers died. It took hours for a search and rescue team to retrieve their bodies from the rubble (including a group of fire fighters who had to be "drafted" in order to allow them into Gaza). The tank recognized the source of the fire, and was turning to shoot back at the terrorists, but they fired an additional anti-tank missile at it, and killed another 2 soldiers. Out of the 24 soldiers killed, 16 were already buried yesterday.

One of them was 35 years old Elkana Wiesel.

He left a last letter to his loved ones: "If you're reading these words, something must have happened to me. First of all, if I have been kidnapped, I demand that you do not release a single terrorist to free me. Our decisive victory is more important than anything else to ensure our safety, so please keep going full force to make our victory as decisive as possible. Maybe I fell in battle. When a soldier falls in battle, that's sad. But I'm asking you to be happy. Don't be sad when you say goodbye to me. Sing a lot, nourish each other's hearts, hold each other's hands and strengthen each other. We have so much to be proud and joyful over, we are a generation of salvation! We are writing the most meaningful moments in the history of our people and of the world. So please, be optimistic. Keep choosing life, all the time. A life of love, hope, purity and optimism. Look into the eyes of the people you hold dearest, and remind them that everything we're going through in this life is worth it. That they have a lot to live for. Live! Do not stop the powerfulness of life for a single minute! I was already injured during [Operation] Protective Edge. I had the choice to stay back. But I do not regret for a moment that I returned to being a fighter. On the contrary, this is the best decision I've ever made."

May their memories be a blessing.

A report from South African news site News24 claims the International Court of Justice will publish its decision on SA's request for 9 provisional measures regarding the war in Gaza this Friday (Jan 26). Israel says it has not received any official notification on this. In any case, the ICJ will be publishing its decision by Feb 6 at the latest, because that's when the time of several judges at the ICJ will come to an end.

For the second time this month, Israel has stopped Arabs from East Jerusalem, who identify as ISIS terrorists, from carrying out an attack against Israelis. Another terrorist attack was prevented from taking place yesterday, when the terrorist was eliminated

This is 19 years old Shay Levinson.

He was a star volleyball player, who believed in coexistence, was studying Arabic, and chose to play for the Arab team of a Christian Arab town situated close to his own. Here he is (standing third from the left) with his Arab team when they won the state championship:

Shay was believed to have been kidnapped to Gaza on Oct 7. Here are his Arab coach and team manager with his mom Shlomit Levinson (a volleyball player herself), holding up his hostage poster together:

It was confirmed the other day that Shay was murdered by Hamas on Oct 7, and his body had been kidnapped to Gaza, and is held hostage. His coach Sma'an said: "It's a very hard blow. This is a kid who was a part of our family. Our heart hurts. We're not functioning as a team. We're unfocused, we can't concentrate, training sessions have been canceled. We want to be by the family during these difficult days. We champion coexistence, sports brings hearts closer. Our language is common. We don't care about distinctions like Jews, Arabs, Christians, Muslims."

May his memory be a blessing.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

#israel #antisemitism #israeli #israel news #israel under attack #israel under fire #terrorism #anti terrorism #hamas #antisemitic #antisemites #jews #jew #judaism #jumblr #frumblr #jewish #israelunderattack

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syaolaurant · 6 months ago

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YO THIS IS THE COOLEST THING I DID TODAY!!!!!

I went to Chiang Kai Shek memorial hall in Taipei today and saw THIS!!!!! I was like yooooooo!!! I didn't know there is a Fantastic Beasts exhibition in Taipei before!!! This is so unexpected I jumped and smiled like an 8 years old hahaaa 🤣🤣🤣🤣

The exhibition is called "Monsters and the Fantasy World of Nature", display original props and from the HP and FB movies. And from that highlights the connection between the fantastic beasts featured in rhe movies and real-life natural creatures.

1. Newt Scamander's outfit and Fantastic Beasts and Where to find them book.

3. Unicorn core wands belong to Ron, Draco and Lupin.

4. The Erumpent (It's funny I need to press the "bottle cape shape" button to trigger his action just like the movie haha)

5. The Mermaid from Prefect Bathroom.

6. Mooncalves 🥹 They look too cute irl.

7. Newt's suitcase with Tina's photo inside. I remember I was so happy seeing this scene in the 2nd movie they're my OTP 😭😭 Seeing this today made me so happy 😊

8. The happy 8 years old 🤣🤣

#also I saw 2 teenage girls dressed in Slytherin uniforms 🥹#I planned to post a diary blog after I comeback home but Im just too hype bahaaaaaaha #hogwarts legacy #harry potter #fantastic beasts #taiwan

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youstopmyheartfrom50feets · 2 years ago

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Violets for Roses (Part 2)

Part 1:- The Other Woman

Paring:- Remus Lupin x reader, James Potter x reader (formerly).

Trigger warnings:- Cheating/Infidelity, Divorce, kind of villianising Jilly but I love them with all my heart.

Angst/Fluff (Kinda). 5194 words. Longest piece I have ever written. Idk how to feel about this one. Let me know your feedback in the comments. They are really motivating.

Also, if you have any fic ideas, please let me know. I would love to give your ideas a proper shape.

A/N:- Sorry for the delay, I planned on posting part 2 right after the poll ended but I got busy with my college work (I'm starting my 3rd year in law school so my schedule is packed). Anyways, now that I have finally posted, I hope you enjoy this one-shot.<3

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Play the above song for better reading experience<3

3rd Person POV

"No! I chose him before." She shouted at her twin, clutching the stuffed bunny tighter in her embrace.

"But I want it!" Lily whined throwing a tantrum.

"No! I won't give it, you didn't want it a minute ago." She protested.

"But I want it now!"

A bitter smile formed on her lips when the memory of their 10th birthday danced in her mind.

Her parents had brought them two stuffed bunnies, one pink and the other one yellow.

Lily had chosen the pink one and Y/N was happy with the yellow one but after a few days when Lily was bored of her toy, she wanted the other bunny, which Y/N had grown fond of. Despite her protests Lily had taken away the bunny that belonged to her.

A simple and silly memory but it held so much significance over the situation both the sisters were in again.

She was still laying on bed, facing the wall without a wink of sleep in her eyes.

All the tears she had formed and preserved in her eyes for the past 5 years of being with James, flowed freely tonight.

Now, she neither had any tears or any energy to spare.

She could see the light of the dawn seeping through the window. She got up from the bed. Her head was pounding and her eyes felt like fire so she decided to get a relaxing shower and headed straight to the bathroom.

When she looked into the mirror, she could barely recognise herself, she saw an exhausted and frail woman with dark circles and chapped lips.

She felt a ball of pain in her throat but her eyes were bone-dry. She had seemed to lose the ability to cry.

She tried to ignore the figure staring back at her from the mirror and started tending herself.

First she took a nice hot shower to fend off the exhaustion from her body. Then she put several potions and creams to make herself look presentable. She applied a potion to give her face a natural glow, a cream that instantly vanishes dark circles and so many more.

After half an hour, she was once again in her old, perfect form. Fiery, red curls complimented her face-cut, her cheeks looked like plump strawberries and lips appeared like soft rose petals, body clad in a beautiful white cardigan and pair of na y blue jeans but there was something off about her appearance. Her emerald eyes lacked the shine they once had. It seemed as if the rivers of sorrow that flowed through them last night took the bright sunshine from them, leaving a gloomy shadow over them.

She climbed down the stairs and glanced at the grandfather clock in the living room. It was 6 in the morning. It was Sunday so James wouldn't wake up before 9 or 10 so she decided to delay the breakfast and go look after her floral garden.

Flowers have always been her favourite creation by mother nature. They were sweet and beautiful, they were like her. She had what many of her friends called a green hand. Whichever plant she potted would grow up to be lush and healthy. She had used this talent to grow a beautiful garden in the backyard of the Potter Manor.

Her garden was now beaming with different colours of roses. But she didn't like roses, they were overly sweet smelling for her. She prepared different colours of bright violets. They were her favourite flowers but James insisted upon planting roses and she did what he asked her to without any questions. It didn't even click her back then, that roses were Lily's favourite.

Shaking her head, she got busy with her gardening but her mind kept on running a series of thoughts. She couldn't decide if she should confront James or if she should act like living in her bubble.

She started contemplating the possible outcomes from both the situations.

If she confronted James, there were two possible outcomes she could expect. First, James would feel guilty and decide to get separated from each other. Second, he would get defensive, and somehow manage to make her believe that she is the one wrong in the situation.

They had been in a similar situation when she has asked him about his past feelings for Lily in their seventh year.

They were in the Gryffindor common room, cuddling by the fireplace. The question had been bugging her for months and she knew she had to ask him or else it'll eat her form inside. It was simple question really,

"Do you still have feelings for Lily?"

To which he had replied in a very aggrevated tone,

"No! Whatever gave you that idea? I did fancy her at one point but now it's only you, y/n/n. No one take your place, it actually hurts me that you still don't trust me."

The next half an hour she had spent trying to convince him that she loved him and trusted him more than herself.

She knew she couldn't confront him. The thought of separating from James made her feel weird and sick in her stomach.

She knew it would be liberating, getting free from a bond that just takes from her and gives her nothing back but she didn't want liberation, she wanted to be imprisoned in his love, she wanted to be her Jamie's prisoner.

But she knew if she kept her feelings within her and act as if nothing's wrong, those jarred emotions will slowly kill her. They will suffocate her until she forgets how to breath.

She knew that if she chose to act as if nothing happened, life would become a living hell where she will degrade herself and stay with the rotting corpse of her dignity but she would get to keep James, even if she wouldn't have him all but at the end of the day, she will be associated with him as his wife and she will carry his name with her in the society.

She had to make a choice. A choice between suffocation and liberation. She was in a dilema but deep within she knew she would choose suffocation.

She was pulled back from her thoughts when she heard the loud crack of apparating that came from the front yard.

Upon reaching the front door, she saw the bright smiling face of her husband's bestfriend, Sirius Black.

"Hey Y/n/n. Sorry for not wishing you yesterday but I gave my wishes to James and told him to give them to you." Sirius explained whilst hugging her.

She had always been fond of Sirius, he was a living ray of sunshine, always bringing happiness with him. He always managed to make her laugh or atleast bring a smile on face. Today was no different. Even in a gloomy state of mind, he managed to make her smile a little.

"So what's in the menu?" Sirius asked plopping down on the couch.

It had become a tradition now. Sirius, James and her always had breakfast together every Sunday. She liked it, she liked to see her husband carefree and cheerful, joking around with his bestfriend. She always prepared a large buffet of breakfast for the three but with all that happened last night, she had forgotten about today.

"You tell me, I haven't started cooking yet." I respond from the kitchen.

"Hey, you know, let's just stall it for now, let James wake up and let him decide, yeah. Now come here and talk to me." Sirius suggested.

She knew he had noticed that something was wrong. Sirius never really asked her to sit down with him and have a talk. Their relationship was casual, she wasn't really a friend to him, she was his bestfriend's wife. Their relationship dynamics was as it was supposed to be so his suggestion took her by suprise.

"What do you wanna talk about?" She questioned him, eyeing his demeanor.

"Well, I don't know, how was last night, how did you guys celebrate." He asked her carefully.

"There wasn't much left to celebrate as he was he was already drunk when he came home, stop pretending as if you know nothing about it." She let out a bit of her anger and frustration.

"I wasn't with him yesterday, I was with Moony....." Sirius seemed a bit surprised at first but then trailed off mid-sentence.

She would be lying if she said that she wasn't shocked to know that James wasn't with Sirius but then the realisation dawned upon her. He was with Lily last night, the night of their wedding anniversary.

There was a moment of deafening silence when she finally spoke.

"You know about her, don't you?"

Sirius gulped and replied,

"Who are you talking about?"

"Stop pretending Sirius, I know he's having an affair with Lily. He...... He took he-her name in bed last night." She croaked with a heavy voice, tears threatening spill.

Sirius was flabbergasted. He couldn't understand how to reply to that. He just sat there, his head hung low, unable to look into her eyes.

"Back in 6th year, when you made him ask me out, you knew he hadn't moved on from her." She questioned Sirius.

He didn't say anything and just shook his head in yes.

"And yet you let him be in another relationship. Why did you do that Sirius?"

Sirius lifted up his head and she could clearly see the guilt and regret in his eyes.

"I'll not hide anything from you and be honest. Y/N, we thought that you'll be a nice distraction for him and also serve as a jealousy-inducing factor for Lily." Sirius explained.

"But then, when she stood her stance, James thought you'll be the best replacement, so he proposed you." He continued with a quivering voice.

She couldn't do anything but take a long, shuddering breath. She waited for him to continue. To defend himself but as if reading her mind, he said,

"Y/N, I won't defend myself or justify my actions. I won't say that we weren't in our right minds because we knew what we were doing, I knew what I was doing. I could've stopped it, I could've stopped it all. I could've stopped him right there when he suggested you as a rebound, I could've stopped him from proposing you, I could've stopped him from marrying you and ruining your life but I didn't. A part of me thinks because I feel indebted to James. If it weren't for him and his parents, I don't even know if I would be alive, I owe him my life Y/N. But now, I realise that as a friend, I should've stopped him from doing such a big mistake." Sirius poured his heart out, his voice and eyes wet with tears.

There was a heavy silence between them. She didn't know what say. All of this was becoming hard for her to process. She felt the weight of the universe on her chest. Suddenly, Sirius broke the silence.

"I did stop him once, I asked him not to get with Lily behind your back once I got to know about it. He had told me about it after he had spent a night with her. When he insisted that he was still in love with Lily but couldn't just leave you now that both of your families were involved, so he had decided to go behind your back. Trust me Y/N, I wanted to slap some sense into him but then that feeling of indebtedness came upon me and I did what I had done since I was 11, I agreed with him and supported him."

"Y/N, I won't ask for your forgiveness because I don't deserve it but I want you to know that I feel guilty and I know that I am your criminal and I will forever be sorry to you." Sirius apologized.

"James tells you everything, doesn't he?" She questioned and he nodded his head.

"When and how did all of this start?"

Sirius just stared at her for a moment but then looked away from her and started speaking.

"When the two of you got married, Lily understood that she wanted James. So, she confessed to him about her feelings but James denied her because he really wanted to give you a chance. But now Lily was adamant, so she would try and woe James, using his past feelings against him. She would make suggestive comments, pay extra attention to him during family gatherings, visit him in the ministry and what not. James tried to avoid her until one day he caved in and the both slept together for the first time."

She felt like the world around her was collapsing and she couldn't help but sit in the middle of the apocalypse and watch.

After a few minutes Sirius got up and gathered his jacket, ready to leave.

"Sirius please, at least have breakfast." She pleaded.

"It's ok Y/N. I don't think I can eat or look James or you in the eyes." Sirius reasoned.

"Can I trust you that you won't mention this conversation to James." She inquired.

Sirius smiled a little and said,

"Yes you can, I'm a trustworthy dog."

This made her smile too. She went up to the door to see him off. Before leaving he turned around and said something that would keep her awake for several coming nights.

"I'm sorry Y/N. I should've just let Moony ask you out."

"What do you mean?" She asked with furrowed brows.

"Remus, he liked you, he was too shy to say it out loud, I almost convinced him to ask you out but then you started dating James so he kept quite." Sirius revealed the truth to her.

Those words wreaked havoc inside her. Weirdly enough, It made her stomach flutter. Why did she feel heat on the back of her neck?

"So you helped James to ask me out but also almost convinced Remus to ask me out. What was going in your head Sirius?" She questioned him, frustration laced in her voice.

"I helped James because I felt obliged to do so as a best friend, but I genuinely wanted Remus to date you because I knew he would have really kept you happy." Sirius explained.

"James and him had a huge fight before your wedding. Moony accused him of using you as a replacement and James asked him not to come to the wedding if it bothered him so much." He continued.

"Y/n/n, let go of James. I know it will be difficult for you but staying with James will slowly but surely kill you. Give Moony a chance, he'll show you what real happiness is." Sirius said in a serious voice.

"What if he has moved on?" She voiced her concern.

"He hasn't Y/n/n, I know he hasn't.

With that Sirius apparated with a flick of his wand.

There once again was a storm brewing in her but this time the storm promised to bring enough rain to quench the parched land suffering from drought.

Did Remus really like her? Did the guy who she had a crush on since 3rd year really liked her back.

It was true. She had always been fond of Remus. She even tried dropping hints at him for three consecutive years but when he didn't respond to any, she moved on. But there still was a fragment of her huge crush, hidden in deep, dark corners of her heart.

It seemed like today Sirius had illuminated that corner.

"Who was it?" James' groggy voice brought her back to reality.

"Sirius, he remembered some work so hel left." She lied to James avoiding eye contact.

"Huh, that's unusual but then again it's Padfoot so nothing's really unusual." James chucked.

It pinched her how James is just acting as if nothing drastic happened last night. He probably doesn't even remember what happened last night.

His presence, his voice, his existence was making it difficult to forget about last night.

All she could remember was how he moaned her name. She also remembered how he let her touch him last night. Only that the gesture wasn't meant for her, it was meant for Lily. It crushed her soul knowing that her husband forbade her from touching him while intercourse but let her sister touch him, provide her with the intimacy which belonged to her.

However, she decided to go with the flow as she was unable to fanthom the gravity of the situation she was thrown into overnight.

This haze went on for two weeks. Their anniversary was on 12th of January, today was 28th.

These two weeks were life-changing for her. She slowly kept loosing all the affection she held for James.

They say that it's easy fall in love but difficult to get out of it but she didn't feel the same.

Yes she fell for James easily but getting out of it didn't seem difficult. It hurt no doubt but slowly she had almost lost all the love and adoration she had for James. Now, she had nothing for him. She didn't hate him or dispise him but she didn't love him either. She had become numb towards him.

She shared her feelings with Sirius, who almost regularly visited her. They had grown quite close and she cherished this new-found friendship.

When she told him about her indifference towards James, he had remained quiet for a while and then asked her a question.

"What made you fall for him?"

She was taken by surprise because she didn't' know what made her fall for her husband.

After thinking about it the whole night she had come to the conclusion that she fell for James because of the extravagant efforts he would put into pleasing Lily and show his love for her. That's when she noticed him, and unbeknownst to her, she fell in love with the man who would go to any extent to show his love for his women. She craved that kind of love and when James asked her out, she saw a little ray of hope that she might get her portion of unconditional love from James.

When she didn't get that kind of affection from James, her mind created a bubble of false comfort that James loved her just like she wanted him to as a coping mechanism. This bubble was the reason she showered him with wholehearted affection and zeal because she thought he did so as well.

But since her bubble had burst, she knew James didn't really love her, so automatically her love for him diminished too.

Ever since she had accepted the fact that she was out of love with James, the world around her changed. She changed. The colours become brighter and she became more beautiful. She started caring for herself, cooking dishes that she liked and not just what James did. She started getting ready and dressed up, not for impressing James but because she wanted to.

It was as if she the moment she fell out of love with him, she fell back in love with herself.

She suddenly didn't feel like suffocating in her big house, she felt that there was a crack in her cage, letting in some fresh air. She would imagine her self roaming the streets of Hogsmeade, people around her happy and satisfied with their lives, a never-ending spring that brings nothing but joy.

Though, often while thinking of the outside world, she would see a man peering at her from the corners of the streets. A tall man with tawny hair and scarred face.

He had constantly been in her thoughts ever since Sirius told her about his liking for her. She had let go of any feelings she had for Remus back in Hogwarts, and now, somewhere it felt illegal to think about him. Whatever the situation is, that doesn't change the fact that he was still her husband's very close friend, though their contacts were limited.

But whenever she would allow herself to sway a little, she would remember the times they spent hours in the library, studying, chatting and giggling, how Remus would sneak her out of the castle to go to the Honeydukes sweet shop.

These memories would make her open to a possibility where they could do all of this again but with a little more intimacy.

There still were a million thoughts in her head but they didn't weigh her down.

She was lost in her thoughts, doing some household chores when the doorbell rang. She wasn't expecting anyone, 10 o'clock on a Monday morning.

When she opened the door, her eyes met with a pair of amber ones. Those eyes held a large amount of hope in them.

"Remus?" That was all she could whispered with a hollow voice.

"Hey dove, can I come in?" Remus greeted her with his usual charming smile.

Dove. That was the nickname Remus used for her all the time. Early on it use to be endearing but today, it made her stomach flutter, the same way it would when James called her 'love'.

"Yeah sure, come in." She let him in the house, taking him to the living room.

"What will you have, tea or coffee?" She asked him politely.

"You know neither right, I always prefer hot chocolate over the two." He smiled at her.

A big smile took its place on her lips too. He hadn't changed one bit.

She prepared two hot cups of cocoa and sit sat on the sofa chair in front of him.

"So, what took you two years to come visit me?" She taunted him slightly.

"I had my reasons and I guess you know them." Remus answered looking in her eyes.

"I'll cut to the chase y/n/n, Sirius told me about your unhappy marriage and I know what I am about to do is wrong and as a friend to James I shouldn't do it but as your bestfriend I have to. Dove, leave him." Remus said all of this in one single breath.

She kept quite as she knew he wasn't quite done yet.

"Y/n, I have...... I have loved you for years. Dove I wanted to ask you-."

"I know Rem, I know everything." She smiled at him softly.

"You do?" Remus was taken aback. He never told about his feelings to anyone except......

"Sirius played matchmaker again but this time with the right person." She explained.

She was in a constant war with herself on Remus's topic for the past two weeks but seeing him today ended the war in the favour of eternity with Remus.

"Rem, I think I wanna breath again, I wanna be free. I wanna be yours. I wanna be with you." She confessed.

She could see the happiness flooding his eyes and before she knew it, she was in his tight embrace. His hug felt like fire on a cold winter evening. She wanted to melt into him and be their forever.

"Wait a second." She went upstairs to get something.

She came back with a big envelope in her hand. Remus could see the shiny ministry logo on it. It was a legal document. He had his guesses as to what it could be.

"This is my gift for Lily. It's our birthday in a few days and I'm gonna gift her my husband." She stated.

"Dove, do you mind me asking what lead you to realise he was the wrong person for you. I mean, didn't you guys celebrate your wedding anniversary a few days ago." Remus asked.

"Yeah we did. That very night, he said her name when he was in bed with me."

Her words weren't explicit but Remus understood what she meant.

"Dove...." Remus whispered sympaticaly.

"Don't be sympathetic Rem, I'm actually glad this happened early on in our marriage and not late into it. James and I never belonged together, he belongs with Lily and I am the only obstacle in between them. Soon, I'll clear their path." She had confidence in her voice.

"Remus, I want you there, during my birthday." She insisted.

"Ofcourse." He replied sincerely.

After a few minutes of chatting, Remus left with a sweet kiss on her forehead.

She could still feel his lips lingering on her. It felt good.

The rest two days, she spent organising a small party with only their close friends.

The day before her birthday, James had an 'important work' out of town and had to stay there overnight. She knew what important work he had. He wanted to be there with Lily at the midnight to be the first one to wish her.

She didn't mind though because of her numbness toward James. She didn't even insist him to stay.

As promised, James had returned in the evening for her party. He entered with Lily by her side.

"Look who I brought." He had said enthusiastically.

The party wasn't a wild one but everyone who came enjoyed.

She had only invited close friends, whom she imagined knew about James and Lily. There were the Marauders, Frank and Alice, Marlene, Dorcas and Mary.

The party went on for a long time and after cutting the cake, everyone started giving out presents. At the last, only the birthday girls had to give each other their presents.

Lily had bought her a beautiful heart shaped locket which smelled like her favourite colone.

It was now her turn to give Lily her gift.

So y/n/n what did you get me?" Lily asked her.

She looked at Lily, then James and then towards Remus. He smiled at her and gave her a nod.

"Just a second." She replied and went upstairs in her bedroom.

When she returned, she had a big envelope in her hamds. With thudding heartbeats, she approached her twin. She handed over the envelope to Lily and whispered,

"Happy Birthday Lils."

Lily smiled at her and started opening her gift.

She held her breath with anticipation and waited for Lily to read the papers.

When Lily looked up, she had tears in her eyes.

"Y/n/n, why would you do this." She whispered with a teary voice.

Maybe it's the twin thing or maybe it's her old habit of crying if a person in front of her cries but she could feel tears prick in her eyes.

She took a long breath and spoke,

"It's for the best Lily, I wanna be free, I want to be able to breathe again." She explained.

The atmosphere of the room had suddenly changed, James had gotten worried seeing both sisters cry.

"What is it Lily, what are the papers about?"

James enquired.

"They're our divorce papers James. I'm leaving you so that you both don't have to sneak behind my back anymore. You two can now be together without me coming in between." She said, trying to control her crying voice.

"WHAT?! Have you lost your mind Y/n, what are you talking about, who provoked you? James yelled, side-eyeing Remus.

"Nobody provoked me James, it's just something that happened that cleared my doubts." She explained in a calm tone.

"What happened?" James demanded.

"You wouldn't want me to say this in front of your friends."

No I want you to tell me the reason, I don't care if it's in front of my friends, you've already created a scene, what's the worst that could happen."

"Fine, you want the reason, so here's the reason. On the night of our anniversary, you moaned my sister's name in my ear while making love to me." She stated sternly.

James didn't say anything and just hung his head low. He doesn't remember anything of such sort but he knows that he must've done it.

"James, I don't hate you for this, I could never hate you, it's just that I don't love you anymore. So staying with you will be a waste of time and energy for both of us. Lily, I don't have any hard feelings for both of you either. You'll always remain my favourite sister and that's why I want to see you happy. I know you'll be happy with James."

"What about mom and dad and what about Fleamont and Euphemia, they'll be heartbroken." Lily sniffled.

"Should've thought about that before cheating on your sister Lily." She sighed.

"Tell them it was my fault, that I didn't want to stay with you anymore. I've signed the papers and given my testimony to the ministry officer. You'll have to do the same and the procedure will be over." She addressed James.

"Can't we work this out?" He asked her sincerely, not meeting her eyes.

"We don't need to James, I'm not mad at you. James, we both are two different people. I didn't realise this earlier because I didn't wanted to. I really wanted you to love me the same way you love her. But you traded my violets for her roses. You wanted y/n to be Lily. The things that you love are the things I hate. It's simple James, I'm choosing this life. I'm choosing myself."

With that being said, she got up, went upstairs to get her already packed suitcase and left the Potter Manor once and for all. She apparated straight to Remus's house.

Remus followed her shortly but before leaving he had to say what he wanted to say for the past five years. Remus looked into James' eyes and said,

"I can keep her happier than you ever did and I will. No hard feelings mate."

With that he apparated back to his house as well.

When they finnally sat down on Remus's couch, she looked at him.

He had nothing but pure adoration for her in his eyes.

"Can I kiss you dove?" He whispered quietly.

She didn't say anything but leaned into him. Their lips fit each other like puzzle pieces and the bliss she experienced was like never before.

At that moment, Remus did make her happier than James ever did.

One Year Later

There's something in the air of Hogsmeade. It felt fresh and sweet. Maybe it's the first summer breeze. Summer was her favourite season.

She didn't want this sweetness to change, she wanted it be real, she wanted it to be beginning of something happening.

"You ready dove?" Remus's sweet voice came from behind her.

"Yes" She replied taking in a deep breath.

They both held eachother's hands and apparated to the same barn where she married James.

The wheat field shone like gold under the sunlight.

"The camera's all set, let's do it." She excitedly.

They both sat down on the ground, the sun shining over them and looked deep into each other eyes.

Y/n then thought to herself that she won't be all alone, she'll always have her Rem by her side.

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ellzilla · 1 year ago

Text

An extreme warning for everyone in the Creepypasta community, especially the Creeps Comic sub-community

This is a post 6 years too late, but I've finally gained the courage to speak up. Trigger Warning for: Pedophillia, child grooming, suicide and beastiality There are two manipulative pedophiles in the creepypasta community that go by the name Kori [Konpeito-Starfox on tumblr, korgifemboi on discord] and Michael [kitsuneaniki on discord] who have: Dated a minor, have been sexual in the presence of minors, exposed minors to hardcore pornography and have drawn pornography FOR minors. When I was 15 back in 2018, I was invited to a creepypasta discord after I was found because of my Old LJ ask blog. I remember Kori and Michael [Trixi at the time] were 21 and 24-25 and were 'tame' at first, but they slowly became more and more sexual as months went by. A few raunchy jokes turned into full on porn posting. They talked about sexual situations with Creeps characters with two 16 year olds and a 17 year old. I felt uncomfortable with it, but I couldn't get why. This next part may be worded poorly, as it's extremely emotionally hard on me to bring up the memories, but I'll try my best and will be the most coherent I can make it. As a dumbass 15 year old, I didn't get the difference between being gay and being sexual due to the homophobic town and family I've grown up around I had never been told otherwise, so I thought it was fine, that lgbt people in their 20's being highly sexual around and directly to lgbt teenagers was fine! Everyone was happy! And me bringing up the uncomfortableness was just me brining everyone down! But then Kori and Michael made porn for a 16 year old's oc having sex with their sonas. And something in me finally shouted "Something is wrong." I didn't know how to word it, but I approached my family [good!] and said "My friends are being a little too gay, what should I say?" [bad!!!] and so I was told "tell them to stop that." And so, in I said "can you stop being gay?" in an attempt to say "hey stop being sexual" [I know, I know, point and laugh at 15 year old me for being confused] and obviously got kicked out for that. There was shit said by them that made me want to commit suicide [thought I must stress they never directly told me to kms] And then got death and rape threats that MIGHT have been from them on my old LJ ask blog after that, but that's a side note. In the same year, the 16 year old who was given porn of their oc, [who I will refer to as Victim 1 and censored in black] started dating Kori and Michael. Note: Victim's 1's birthday is in October and this screenshot is from September

It is of note that Kori and Michael are extremely manipulative and hav convinced Victim 1, that it's better to lie to me and tried to say they were 17 when they started dating, despite me knowing their age and not correcting another [I will refer to as Victim 2 and censored in red] mentioned it in a conversation. There are two other victims who I will also censor the names of.

Below is a continuation of this conversation to show that Kori and Michael have convinced Victim 1 that them showing porn to minors is okay.

I also showed Victim 1 that what Kori and Michael did is VERY ILLEGAL, let alone immoral, but was brushed off. Granted, I should have showed him more but I was rushing to the hospital because of my heart issues and was not thinking straight due to the stress.

Michael has also been proven to quite literally speak for Victim 1 as well. [The sibling comment was because they thought Victim 2's [trans] sister was Victim 2 referring to me]

This is the end of the post, and I hope this is enough to show how much of a threat Kori and Michael are to minors, but I physically cannot show the mountain pile of trauma without putting myself in a medical emergency. There is far more receipts of Kori and Michael's emotional manipulation, but again, if this post went on for too much longer I could end up in the hospital because of them and I don't want it to be a fourth time. If you or someone you know are friends with Kori and Michael, please distance yourself from these pedophiles and show your friend this post. If I could, I would personally report them to the police, however they are in America and I am in Australia with no knowledge of how to report across-seas. If you can, please report them to the proper authorities, although I do not know if they can get into legal trouble for what they did to us years ago, it will stop any on-going child grooming. Please note, I will not be mentioning this or replying to anyone specifically IN MY INBOX until AFTER I recover from making this post. Do not send me anon messages if you're going to tell me something private, instead, message me. If you have a public issue with this post, say it with your chest and off anon. Before this hell is through, I have three more screenshots to share. One of Victim 2 being shown drawn Beastiality while they were still a minor [I have been informed Victim 2 was still 16], one of Kori [with a pfp of LJ having sex with Will in a server full of minors] mocking me while I was still 16 and against them being sexual [and mocking me for my LJ design and having a non-sexual lizard hyperfix], and a miscellaneous message of Michael admitting he likes dog genitalia and mocking me for not liking porn but being fine with gore. WHILE I WAS STILL A MINOR. I will put them under the cut as two of them are censored but still visual images of nsfw. IF YOU ARE A MINOR, DO NOT CONTINUE THE POST AND PLEASE STAY AWAY FROM THESE PEOPLE.

Grown ass adults talking to and about children...

#cw: pedophillia #cw: grooming #grooming tw #pedophillia tw #child abuse tw #public service announcement #i don't know what else to type.

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teecupangel · 1 year ago

Note

We have put Desmond in a lot of situations, but seeing the recent ask about Ratonhnhaké:ton becoming a Templar got me thinking: What if after a few years on the run, Desmond gets discovered by Abstergo early? But instead of kidnapping him, they set up a scenario, where Desmond gets offered a job by them and he accepts. Eventually they convert him to the Templar mindset(wanting order isn't a bad thing, right?) and maybe a cell of assassins find out about Desmond working at Abstergo and rush to try and kill him. This, alongside his shitty upbringing, gets Desmond to finally fully throw himself into becoming a Templar(he was reluctant before, Templars are the bad guy, that' what his father slways said... right?). He could even train with Daniel and become an assassin hunter. :D

Everyone knew who Desmond Miles was.

It was hard not to considering he was William Miles’ son.

But no one would ever dare say that to his face.

William Miles was a forbidden topic in the presence of Desmond Miles.

Vidic ordered it himself.

Daniel hated him before he even met him.

He only heard the gist of it from Vidic.

A sixteen year old runaway who didn’t even know just how dangerous the real world was, found by Abstergo because he caught a fever that left him bedridden and sent to the nearest free clinic which was, fortunately for Vidic, under Abstergo control.

And now he was finally meeting Desmond Miles, 6 years later, to be his instructor.

6 years was a long time to indoctrinate someone but Desmond Miles was supposed to be a skittish boy so Vidic made him his pet project.

A son.

He called him.

How laughable.

Daniel knew how that play goes, having been the focus of it before.

But unlike Desmond Miles-

No.

Desmond Vidic.

The name made Daniel want to vomit.

Unlike that idiot, Daniel had no choice.

The trigger they place on him made him kill the last mentor. He was the Brotherhood’s number one target.

And Daniel’s sanity could only be preserved by the Animus under Abstergo.

He had no choice and he didn’t give care.

Dr. Sung always furrowed her brows whenever he said that.

Was it the truth?

Was Daniel lying to himself?

Who knows?

Who cares?

What he does know is that he hates Vidic’s adopted son.

He had the choice.

He’s just stupid enough to fall for the indoctrination.

No.

He was weak.

William Miles and his lovely (his neck throbbed at the reminder of that bitch managing to graze the side of his neck, that sniper rifle only missing its mark thanks to Daniel’s quick reflexes and Eagle Vision) wife had made him weak.

And now he was to become like Daniel.

An Assassin turned Assassin Hunter.

He sees him before he even got to the meeting room they were supposed to meet.

A nice suit that hugged his form, most definitely tailored and expensive.

He could afford it.

Daniel saw in his files that he had a salary larger than a supposed assistant for someone like Vidic should have.

Another way to keep him in their grasp, he supposed.

Money.

Connection.

… Family.

Vidic really went all out.

Why wouldn’t he?

Desmond was the perfect Animus candidate. The scion of the Ibn-La'Ahad and the Auditore. What mysteries they could uncover from the memories of his ancestors.

Vidic was bidding his time though.

He still had other Animus subjects to torture and Desmond was better off hunting what remains of the Brotherhood in the meantime.

“Daniel Cross?”

Daniel’s feet stopped before he knew it.

Their eyes met as Desmond slowly turned to face him.

His lips curved into a polite smile.

The kind of smile the receptionist always gave whenever she had to talk to someone.

But his eyes.

Those were the eyes of someone who had killed before.

For a moment, Daniel thought that Vidic had ordered him to kill someone.

But no.

Vidic was more meticulous than that.

He must have orchestrated the situation in which Desmond would have no choice but to kill someone.

And then he would come in moment’s later, pretending he had rushed to the scene as soon as he heard, perhaps even bring a few men with him in an attempt to make Desmond believe he had tried to save him.

Yes.

That was more like Vidic.

Daniel hated the fact that he wanted Vidic’s acknowledgment even after knowing the man that he was.

And here was the boy who held Vidic’s ‘fatherly affection’.

Would he break if Daniel was to tell him Vidic orchestrated it?

Or would he not believe it and try to kill Daniel?

Daniel won’t tell him though.

Because that would only disappoint Vidic.

So he took a step towards the young man.

“Call me ‘mentor’.” He ordered.

Something appeared in Desmond’s eyes but it was snuffed out before Daniel could see what it was.

Annoyance?

Amusement?

He couldn’t be sure.

Desmond’s (fakefakefakehehatesitfakefakefake) polite smile stayed as he replied.

“Sure. If you’re into that kind of roleplay.”

Daniel’s lips twitched as he remembered.

The annoying thing about Vidic’s adopted son was that…

He was a brat.

(this can totally be the ‘prologue’ to this idea if you want to add time travel to it)

#assassin's creed #ask and answer #teecup writes/has a plot #fic idea: assassin's creed #desmond miles #daniel cross #he's talked about a lot that i feel okay to include #warren vidic

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witchersmistress · 6 months ago

Text

Someone like you

hello my darlings! i was in a bittersweet mood this morning when I wrote this. Having to say goodbye to someone is never easy, especially with someone you love so dearly. this Adele song just hit the right way this morning

Do not be alarmed i still will be writing about Henry. no panicking aloowed my darlings.

word count: 849

Trigger warning: warm and fuzzy feeling, along with bittersweet and nostalgia

My heart hammered in my chest for the entire show, we sat on opposite sides of the stage but even then that felt too close. He had gotten what he wanted, absolutely everything. I'm so proud of him and happy for him. He’d make an incredible husband and father someday,but it was time for me to let him and the past go for good.

Standing at the microphone waiting for the lights to turn on, I felt a strong hand at my waist, as he placed a kiss on the spot where my shoulder and neck met. Rolling the tension from my shoulders as he took his place, I nodded as the lights turned on and the piano began to play.

Glancing in Henry’s direction as i began to sing;

I heard that you're settled down

That you found a girl and you're married now

I heard that your dreams came true

Guess she gave you things I didn't give to you

Old friend, why are you so shy?

Ain't like you to hold back or hide from the light

I could feel his blue eyes focused on me while i laid my soul bare for him to see

I hate to turn up out of the blue, uninvited

But I couldn't stay away, I couldn't fight it

I had hoped you'd see my face

And that you'd be reminded that for me, it isn't over

Never mind, I'll find someone like you

I wish nothing but the best for you, too

Don't forget me, I beg

I remember you said

Sometimes it lasts in love, but sometimes it hurts instead

Memories of us as kids playing in the yard, our first kiss played in my head as I put every once of power and feeling into this. The time I was holding his nephew Thomas and they way he just looked at both of us. The first of real love feelings we shared came flooding out, the dam had broken and I could only ride it out.

Nothing compares, no worries or cares

Regrets and mistakes, they're memories made

Who would have known how bittersweet this would taste?

My voice broke as I moved with the song, remembering when we walked away from each other at Heathrow Airport, he was going off to L.A. to work on his acting career and I was off to Ireland to go to university. We’d promised we would meet one year from now at our spot on the channel island Jersey, as the one year approached we made the plans but never followed through, then one year turned to 2, then to 6 and ten years had gone by. I never saw him again

Never mind, I'll find someone like you

I wish nothing but the best for you

Don't forget me, I beg

I remember you said

Sometimes it lasts in love, but sometimes it hurts instead

My breath hitched in my throat as i struggled to finish the last chorus of the song, the tears were streaming down my face, thank the lord for waterproof mascara or id be a mess, my whole body was shaking, my knees screaming to give out but i needed to finish and walk off this stage, the strong woman I had become.

Never mind, I'll find someone like you

I wish nothing but the best for you, too

Don't forget me, I beg

I remember you said

Sometimes it lasts in love, but sometimes it hurts instead

My entire body began to tremble, as lights faded and warm arms encircled my waist as the audience cheered. Turning his arms to his chest, the scent of leather, bergamot and cedar filled my nose as I began to relax. The steady stream of tears began to slow as the lights came back up. Pulling back, I saw the other guest clapping and whistling for me, but Henry was perfectly still. Walking back to join the others as the show drew to a close, we stood for a final round of applause, Lachlan hugged me pulling me off the floor, wrapping my arms around his neck. My eyes met with Henrys again, his blue eyes glassy with unshed tears and the loss of what could be. I nodded at him, he nodded back at me as I took my eyes off him. Losing myself in the comforting scent of Lachlan, the love of my life, I lifted my eyes to see a glimpse of the young girl I used to be. She was standing there with tears in her eyes and her hands on her heart. She was joined by the younger version of Henry. They held hands and walked off the stage. “ A stor’ mo Chroi” Lachlan spoke, drawing my attention back to his presence “ Let's go home” feeling lighter than I have in years. I looked at Henry one last time before shutting the door on our past and moving on to forever.

#henry cavill #henry cavill x you #henry cavill imagine #bittersweet #Spotify

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weeeeeekly · 7 months ago

Text

quarter life crisis – ot5 tomorrow x together x afab!reader

˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊

blurb !!! Reincarnation can bring soulmates together despite their time apart. Being a huge fan of TOMORROW X TOGETHER helped you get through the struggles of entering early adulthood. You would thank them personally if you ever could but when you possibly get the chance it’s more than what you could ever hope for.

info !!! txt are still idols, reincarnation au, soulmates au, polyamory, throuple²… they’ll all eventually date each other, mc has mental health struggles, universe assigned lactose intolerance, team no kids, glasses wearer, lives in the middle of fuck nowhere but still a city (just go with it), pet names used are “our love” and princess, & not edited.

wc: 4.1k (idk what happened)

WARNINGS !!! NSFW, MDNI, 18+, extremely self-indulgent, soft yandere!txt, mentions of mental health & self-harm (nothing graphic) for entire series

author’s note !!! This is fiction!!! this is made up!!! I do not condone breaking in, stalking, and other ulterior motives to get close to someone you are romantically interested in.

why are there not more ot5!txt x fem/afab or gender-neutral reader… mandatory note that i do not think txt act like this in real life. I also cannot come up with a blurb for the life of me, so please peep the info tags.

˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊

CHAPTER NINE

extra warning for triggering topics for child neglect, shitty parents, & self-harm.

& general warning for SMUT and sexual jokes!! mentions of afab (assigned female at birth) body parts like tits & pussy, reader isn’t a virgin, men on men action, oral (fem receiving), fingering, handjob, cum eating, PIV (penis in vagina) sex, unhuman levels of stamina & recovery periods, sixsome (??)

You’ve always hated your birthday.

Ever since your 11th birthday, it has become an enemy. A reminder that you are half of both of your parents. A reminder that you’re still here after all these years.

That – despite everything – you’re still you and you have been through everything. Suffering through life events that most people, especially children, should never have to witness.

The memory of your mom letting go of your hand in the middle of the crowd at the busy mall so she could smoke a cigarette leaving your 7-year-old self to wait for her. Or when your dad unscrewed your bedroom door off its hinges and tossed it in the trash after you got a C on a math quiz in 7th grade. Or when your parents spent your college tuition on your 17th birthday to go on separate cruises leaving you at home alone.

You happily spent the night before your 18th birthday in a shitty motel a few hours away by bus, surrounded by two suitcases that held your only belongings. With a box of cupcakes, you bought at the store a few minutes ago, blowing out a pretend candle as you blocked your parents’ contacts to never reach you again.

˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊

A month ago, your life changed for the better when 5 of your favorite guys moved in next door for reasons you still don’t know to this day. The 6 of you also developed a close relationship with each other in such a short amount of time. You guess it could be contributed to the pull Soobin and Taehyun always talked about.

Thinking back on it, you did occasionally get this feeling in your stomach that felt like someone, or something was trying to rip you in half from inside. Usually, you would chalk up any sort of pain in your abdominal region to be period cramp related, however, the feeling would always happen when it wasn’t near your period. The last time the pull happened was right before you left work the day TXT appeared.

You had just gotten into that stupid fender bender right before an 8 AM to 4 PM shift and started to space out around lunchtime. After you had your break, mainly your boss talking about her niece, your stomach started feeling weird after you got back to your desk.

The same feeling as the pull.

You doubt that you’ll ever get a concrete explanation for that, pushing the thought away since you had work to get to.

Watching the sunrise was one of the few positives of living in your town. The rest of the drive to your work was the same old routine as usual. You go through the rest of your motions as you clock in to work. You smile at your phone from the texts your friend sent.

roomie HAPPY BIRTHDAY! 23! I’M SORRY THAT I DIDNT WISH YOU EXACTLY AT MIDNIGHT :((( THEY HAD ME WORK IN THE NICU AND THIS BABY WAS TOO CUTE TO PUT DOWN

roomie ILL SEE U TMRW TO GIVE U UR GIFTS GOTTA WORK AGAIN I LOVE U

you i love you just as much

you don’t overwork yourself <3

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!”

Your metal water bottle drops to the floor from your hands as your boss and coworkers hold a cake and birthday balloons in front of you. There’s the faint hum of a speaker playing a piano version of the “happy birthday” song as the people surrounding you have smiles on their faces.

“Blow out the candle!”

Closing your eyes to make a wish, your mind is only repeating one single thought to wish for.

I wish that everything stays exactly the way it is now.

You don’t want to leave the dream that involves TXT being neighbors, hanging, and kinda being smitten with you.

When you open your eyes, you break into a smile that hurts your cheeks. One of your coworkers hands you a neon blue napkin to wipe your oncoming tears. Letting out an embarrassed laugh, you dry your eyes as your boss hands you the first slice of cake.

It’s exactly the way you want it – cold, triple layers with your favorite filling in between, and a scoop of lactose free ice cream on the side. You never realized that someone paid enough attention to you to get your birthday cake right. Or that anyone wanted to pay attention to you.

This makes you tear up all over again.

“Since I’m the greatest boss in the entire world,” Your boss starts as they eat a slice of cake, “And it is your birthday, you’re free to go home after this to have a 3-day weekend.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah! I got cake. If everyone else leaves early too, I can go see my niece.”

“I won’t keep you from that.”

You thank everyone for surprising you, pack a big slice to bring home for your roommate and the guys, and happily head home.

˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊

The second you unlock your door, Beomgyu pops a mini confetti canister while shouting “HAPPY BIRTHDAY, OUR LOVE!”

Your jaw drops as you take in the sight before you – Yeonjun and Soobin coming around the corner with a homemade cake with candles, Kai throwing rose petals in the air, Taehyun holding a giant gift bag, and Beomgyu taking your stuff from your hands to lead you closer to the middle of the room. Your living room and kitchen area have been decorated with streamers in rainbow colors and bunches of balloons covering the floor.

They sing “happy birthday” to you as Beomgyu hugs you.

“This is almost the best birthday gift ever. Thank you, guys, really.”

Beomgyu leans his head on your shoulder as you blow the candles out “Almost?”

“The best gift was opening my door to see TXT staring back at me.”

“Aw.”

“I really cannot thank you all enough for doing this for me. For even knowing my birthday.”

Soobin feeds you a piece of the cake he baked earlier that day, making sure to watch your expression to see if you enjoy the food. You compliment him on his baking skills as the others share the cake as well.

Since you’re sitting down, you can finally live in the moment as you start to enjoy your birthday, but just a little. It isn’t until TXT starts doing show and tell with the gifts they got you that you stare at them.

You want to blame your hormones.

That you would get your period soon.

Just biology.

But, honestly, you’re not sure what came over you this time. Maybe it was the compression shirt Kai was wearing. Or maybe it was the way Soobin kept pushing his hair back to show his forehead. Or maybe Yeonjun switching his earrings from hoops to studs. Or maybe Beomgyu wearing his glasses. Or maybe Taehyun wearing a crop top.

But it is definitely on you for opening your mouth and half joking, not joking to say, “I want Five Guys to fuck up my guts.”

Soobin’s head whips so fast towards you, “Huh?”

“You want fast food? I can order.” Kai unlocks his phone.

You stare Taehyun dead in the eyes, “Take your pants off.”

Beomgyu starts running around in a circle around the room as he yells “WOAH!” and Yeonjun’s ears turn bright red.

You let out a giggle, “Oh my god, that felt so good to say out loud.”

“Pants off?” Taehyun asks as he starts to pull down his sweatpants.

A beautiful pair of gray sweatpants.

Kai’s eyes go wide as his jaw drops, “Clothes? Off?”

Yeonjun panics as he frantically waves his hands to stop Taehyun from losing an article of clothing. Once he ties the strings into a triple bow for Taehyun, he sits you back down in your chair.

“Please don’t joke about things like that.”

“Why? Are you turned on?”

Yeonjun avoids eye contact as you burst out into a fit of giggles.

“I knew it! We can do a fun group activity! Get STI tested and then buy condoms!”

“CON–”

Beomgyu begins before Soobin smacks his massive hand over his mouth to shut him up.

“Me next.”

Soobin gives you a distraught look as Yeonjun and Kai kneel in front of you.

“I’ve had this dream before.”

Yeonjun face palms as Kai gently holds your hands, “Have you… drank or ate anything…?”

Insinuating if you were tipsy, drunk, or high. You wish, but you were 10000% stone cold sober.

“Nope! Just in a really good mood.”

“Is it okay if we touch you?”

“I consent wholeheartedly.”

Then, with the strength of Greek Gods and Goddesses, Yeonkai pick you up in a shared princess carry as they brought you to your bedroom. They put you on your bed as you smirk at them.

“Oh my god.” Dragging out the last syllable and bashfully covering your eyes, “Just discovered something new about myself.”

Soobin, Beomgyu, and Taehyun file into your bedroom too and close the door behind them.

“It’s great seeing you so happy on your birthday, but maybe we should have a talk.”

Taehyun helps scooch you against your headboard as he sits on your right side with Beomgyu on your left and the Yeonjun, Soobin, and Kai in front of you.

“We,” Yeonjun begins as he holds your attention, “like you a lot. We liked you in our past life and we like you in this current life.”

“I still don’t fully understand how we’re soulmates and reincarnation and everything else, but I like what we have right now. And I would still like you guys if TXT didn’t exist, and we met as strangers.”

“Our beautiful love.” Soobin comments as he caresses your face.

If you could freeze a moment and be able to replay it whenever you wanted it would definitely be this moment. The way the guys are all looking at you with such adoration in their eyes and their soft smiles.

Ugh, you could keel over and die from happiness.

“Speaking of beautiful things, who’s going to take their shirt off.”

“Serious?”

“Yeah. Honestly even a little shoulder peek would make me go rabid.”

And like an animal in a zoo when mealtime comes around, you go crazy when Beomgyu pulls Soobin’s shirt off his shoulder making Soobin shy and causes you to jump off the bed to do zoomies around the apartment. When you walk back, embarrassed at your actions, your bedroom door creeks open as you peek your head in to see the guys turn to look at but with Taehyun completely shirtless now.

You shut the door and run into your bathroom, locking the door behind you as the posters of them stare back at you mockingly. You turn the shower on to the coldest setting and start to take your clothes off.

“Are you okay?” Yeonjun calls from the other side.

“Y-yeah, just need to shower.”

“Okay, we’re going to head out and be right back.”

“Stay safe!”

You stay still as you hear their footsteps head to the front door and leave even hearing the lock click in place. Once their voices fade away, you drop to the ground to hug your knees.

You had always considered yourself funny and liked to make a bunch of inappropriate jokes, especially when you got close to people. Being comfortable around friends allowed you to let loose. Sometimes you felt like you were annoying and weren’t sure if people wanted to stick around, so you’re afraid you’ll drive them away eventually.

Getting back up to look at yourself in the mirror, you can’t help but grimace. You had some scars littering your upper thighs and stretch marks on your stomach, arms, and tits.

Letting out a sigh as you step away from the mirror to take off your bra and underwear to actually shower. The water was freezing cold, but you heard its good to calm down and it is refreshing as you quickly go through your usual showering routine. Heading back to your room with a towel wrapped around your body and another towel around your hair to be met by the guys sitting on your bed in pjs.

“Uh hey guys. What’s up?”

Taehyun holds up a stack of printed papers as you put your new glasses on to read what it says.

“All negative for any STIs.”

“And we paid for rapid results!”

You hold the towel closer to your chest as Soobin holds up a box of condoms and lube.

“Uh… could you guys leave my room for a minute so I can change.”

Kai leans back on the bed as he says, “Drop the towel.”

If there was a camera to stare into for your reaction you would. Your eyes flit from member to member to see their similar serious expressions.

“Do you want to have sex?”

They all talk over each other, but you pick up on the unanimous “yes” coming from each of them.

“But are you sure like you consent to having sex.” The guys all verbally agree as you continue, “Any one can stop if they feel uncomfortable at any time and be able to voice if they don’t like something.”

Taehyun quickly translates for Soobin, Beomgyu, and Kai as they tell you “yes”.

“Safe word is “americano”, okay?”

You snort at the choice of word but agree as you take your now dry hair out from the towel. “I would prefer to keep a shirt on, hate feet touching, slapping, and degradation.”

Yeonjun translates and then informs you, “Soobin hates his ears being touched, Beomgyu doesn’t have anything, Taehyun also doesn’t like slapping, Kai will also keep his shirt on, and I don’t like hair pulling.”

You give a thumbs up as you turn to your closet to grab an oversized shirt to put on. Taking a deep breath, you drop your towel which causes a chorus of “damn” making your face heat up as you slip the shirt on and turn around.

“Oh, shit one last thing. I, uh, have some scars on my upper thighs but I haven’t done it in a while.

Yeonjun solemnly nods his head as he motions for you to come closer.

He kisses your hand and puts it on his cheek, “We just hope you’re feeling better now.”

“Yeah, I am.” You tell him truthfully. “And last thing I promise, I haven’t shaved.”

“That doesn’t matter.” Taehyun says, “You’re pretty.”

And with that compliment from Taehyun, you take your glasses off, place them on your shelf, lean forward, kiss Yeonjun. You caught him by surprise, obviously, but a second later he starts kissing back and wraps your hands around the back of his head. You feel a figure start kissing the back of your neck and hear the rustling of clothes coming off.

Yeonjun breaks the kiss to take a gasp of air as a blur of blond hair snakes around your shoulder to start kissing you.

“Hi Hyuka.”

He stops kissing your forehead to give you a cute smile that makes you want to go into war for him. (You felt that before but now it’s on another level now that he’s right in front of you.)

“Hi princess.”

Your legs get weak a little as your eyes glaze over.

“You like that, princess?”

You feebly nod at Kai as you lean forward to kiss him. You open your mouth slightly wider to let his tongue in. He tastes like the mint mouthwash in your bathroom. You tilt your head back more to let him lead the kiss as you feel another pair of hands wander your body.

Kai leans back from kissing you and smiles at you before kissing your forehead, looking down to see Beomgyu without his glasses kneeling in front of you now and kissing your stomach over your shirt. Soobin then switches places with him, he doesn’t hesitate in putting your hands in his hair to pull his head back. You close the gap between the two of you as your lips hover above his.

“Wait.” You remember, “I have my STI results from my doctor appointment last month.”

Soobin barely lets you finish your sentence before he starts kissing and sucking on your neck.

Yeonjun whispers in your ear as he cups your tits over your shirt, “It’s okay, we know you’re negative too.”

You have to pause from gasping at Soobin’s attention, “What?”

“Your results are on your desk.” Taehyun whimpers out as he palms himself over his sweatpants on your bed.

Nodding your head as you go back to letting Soobin kiss your neck, you’re sure that you put the paper in a folder in your car, but you were negative for any STIs. Beomgyu doesn’t let you dwell on the thought anymore as he starts kissing your thighs.

“Can we, uh, go on the bed?”

Soobin trails kisses up to your face before giving one last peck before Beomgyu moves you onto the edge of the bed and kneels in front of you. Taehyun moves your head into his lap as he smiles down at you. Soobin and Yeonjun sit on both sides of Taehyun and start kissing his neck in turns as Kai stands next to Beomgyu.

You lock eyes with Beomgyu as he begins slowly moving his hands up your legs and stopping at your thighs.

“Can I?”

“Yes please.”

He spreads your legs open, licking his lips when your legs are open for him and positions himself so his arms can stop your legs from shutting. He gives you one last look before surging forward to kiss your pussy. You let out a gasp as begins licking at you moving his head in different directions to get the best reaction out of you.

As Beomgyu eats you out like you’re the last meal on earth and he’s been starving, Kai takes his pants and boxers off and begins stroking himself. You motion for him to get closer to you and grasp his dick in your hand. You haven’t seen that many dicks in real life, and the few you did see were okay, so you’re not sure if it’s because you’re insanely attracted to him or because he really is ethereal but even his dick is pretty. He’s slightly bigger than average and has good girth, you trace the veins as you stare at it.

“That feels… so good.”

“It’s going to feel better in a sec.”

You take your head off his dick and spit in your palm. When you wrap your hand back around his shaft, Kai lets out a sigh as you begin slowly stroking him.

You do your best to gradually speed up but you’re getting closer to cumming from Beomgyu eating you out, but you accidentally squeeze when Beomgyu focuses on your clit.

“Fuck, sorry, Hyuka.”

He hisses as you mediocrely continue jerking him off.

“It’s. Okay. Getting. Close.” He says as he bites his lip.

You feel the pressure building up and getting close to cumming, so you do your best to have Kai cum at the same time you do. Just as you’re about take your hand away to tangle in Beomgyu’s luscious locks Kai throws his head back as he cums all over your hand. Succumbing to your inner thoughts, you lick his cum off his hand as your other hand yanks Beomgyu’s hair to ride out your high.

“Holy shit.”

Beomgyu leans back on his heels as he smirks at you with a dark look in eyes, licking at his lips that glisten from you.

“Thanks.”

As your chest heaves and you lick the rest of Kai off your hand, you thank Beomgyu. “More like I should be thanking you. Best head I’ve ever received.”

Beomgyu gets up and walks out of your room probably to head to the bathroom to wash his mouth. Taehyun grabs your attention as his boner is poking at your cheek now. You sit up as you turn to face the guys – Yeonjun and Soobin are now fully making out and Kai is helping Taehyun take off his shirt.

“People would pay so much money to have this sight.”

Taehyun laughs at your joke as Kai tosses his shirt towards your desk chair. You can’t help but admire his body and how much effort he’s put into working out. The few pictures and teases he’s shown of his abs do him no justice to how crazy they look up close. You could wash their dirty pjs with his abs with how washboard they are.

God, if only they could read your insane thoughts.

“Okay.” You clap your hands together as they pay attention to you, “Who wants to go first to get head?”

They stare at you blankly as you feel embarrassment start to creep up.

“What’d I say?”

Beomgyu comes back with a washcloth in hand as he walks over to help you clean your thighs.

“Silly love.” He kisses your temple. “We’re ready to fuck you.”

Before you can let out a strangled noise, you let out a yelp as Taehyun knocks you down and starts kissing you. One of his hands gropes at your chest causing your mouth to open widen and allows him to explore your mouth with his tongue.

“I hope Taehyun isn’t being too rough.” Yeonjun whispers in your left ear.

You shake your head “no” as you continue making out with Taehyun having your hands roam his shirtless body. Taehyun trails a hand down to cup your pussy and tease his middle finger through your folds.

“You are so fucking hot.” He murmurs against your lips as pushes a finger inside you.

You rest your head against his shoulder as he works another finger inside you to stretch you out a little. It feels a little weird, but you haven’t had any action for a while. The most you’ve done is use your bullet vibe.

“Okay Tae, I’m ready.”

He kisses you again before sitting up, grabbing a condom, and rolling it on. Once it’s on, he squeezes out a good amount of lube on his dick and holds your legs up, positioning himself at your entrance. He sinks into you and you both lout out a moan.

“I have been dreaming about this.”

He slowly sinks into you, inch by inch until he bottoms out and slowly pulls out to repeat the process. After a few times, he switches up the pace and starts thrusting into you.

“Tae, it feels so good.”

“I know, princess. It feels so good for me too.”

Taehyun thrusts into you at a solid pace that feels amazing as Yeonjun whispers dirty thoughts into your ear.

“We’ve been wanting to do this for too long.”

“I missed hearing your moans. Like heaven to my ears.”

“You’re such a good girl.”

The mix of Taehyun speeding up his thrusts and Yeonjun’s last comment helps bring you closer to cumming yet again. You grip Taehyun’s shoulders as he continues fucking you.

“I’m close.”

Taehyun takes this as an invitation to sneak a hand down to rub your clit. Your eyes roll back at the incredible feeling as Taehyun leaves kisses on your face. It doesn’t take that much longer for you to cum and clench around him as he hisses. He fucks you through it as his hips stutter as he cums into the condom. His hand is still playing with your clit until he pulls out and your thighs shake at the overstimulation.

“God. Damn.”

You stare up at Taehyun as he grins at you and begins cleaning your body with the washcloth.

“Hope you enjoyed that.” He says as he kisses you again.

You hum in agreement as you back against your bed.

“I’m just gonna… close my eyes for a little.”

You close your eyes and before you know it, you’re fast asleep.

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author’s note sorry y’all i have to promote safe sex even in fiction because sex health is important to me.

& again, everything is fictional!!! the depiction of sex is written specifically for fiction!! i am in no way insinuating any member of TXT acts like this because this is fiction!!!

#txt x reader #txt x you #tomorrow x together x reader #tomorrow x together x you #txt fanfic #txt smut #ot5 x reader #soobin x reader #yeonjun x reader #beomgyu x reader #taehyun x reader #hueningkai x reader #yandere txt

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