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leonw4nter · 10 months ago

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Holding Our Dreams As You Lie To Rest

Dad!RE4R!Leon x F!Reader

“Time of birth, 2:31 AM.”

“Time of death, 2:31 AM.”

The nurse lays his newborn daughter on her mother’s still chest, the first and final time his daughter would ever get to feel her mother. Her unbroken cries drowned out the beeping of the heart monitor, a stark contrast to the state of eternal peace her mom will forever be in. They kept their daughter on her chest for a few more moments before lifting her back up, her cries growing louder as her tiny hands stretched out to try and hold on to her mom as if she knew she would never see, feel, hear or be with her again. Leon felt as if he’d been killed twice, losing a life in the same moment he gained a new one; he wanted to cry, to scream, and gently rock your body back and forth but he can’t– he has to be a father. He has to. He bends down, taking her cold hand in his trembling ones and presses kisses as he looks up at you. Eyelids curtained your eyes that once held a brightness greater than a million suns, pale lips fixed into a straight line; lips that would never smile again. He moves over to your face; you’re still beautiful, even when death stole the color and life from your features. He hugs you tight and buries his face in the nook of her neck, softly sobbing and whispering apologies as he strokes your hair one last time; you always loved it when he did that. Doctors come in and unplug her from the machines, fixing her before draping white linen over her body and taking that bed out of the hospital room. A nurse approaches Leon with a small voice, her own eyes slightly glossy as she extends her arms and gently moves the baby to Leon. He takes her in his arms, a flurry of overwhelming emotions overriding his ability to process this moment.

“I’m sorry, my dearest daughter.” he whispers. “I’m sorry for robbing you of the chance to have a mother.”

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

“She’s growing so fast, honey. She’s a strong girl just like her dad,” you softly say as you pat your growing belly. Leon is splayed out right on top of you, situating himself on your legs and nuzzling his cheek into the side of your belly.

“Yeah. 3 months more and I’ll have two girls in my life,” he softly says with a smile.

“Baby?”

“Hm?”

“Have you thought of names for her?”

“Hm… no. Not yet. I want you to be the one to name her. I mean– you’ll know her best. You’re going to be carrying her for nine months, it’s only right that you’ll get to name her.”

“Don’t you have any ideas for names?”

“I have some in mind.”

“Like what?”

“Araminta, but we can call her ‘Minty’ for short. It sounds cute, right? What about ‘Cassandra’? I was asking Hunnigan for some ideas and she offered that and I think it’s nice too. ‘Jewel’ sounds great too. Oh– what about ‘Stella’? I think it’s a very pretty name.”

A twinkling laughter escapes your lips as Leon lists out all the names he finds pretty, musing about possible combinations that sound prettiest. Another hand moves to the top of his head, gently ruffling white spun-sun strands in between your fingers, a pleased hum reverberating throughout Leon’s chest. The laughter stays short-lived when you feel a kick to your rib, causing you to jerk and yelp.

“You alright, Y/N?” Leon asks as he sits up, eyebrows creasing in concern.

“Yeah. The baby just kicked,” she says with a small smile. “Nothing too serious.”

Leon bends down as he places a kiss on the top of your bump, his hands resting on your waist as he draws small circle patterns with the rough pads of his fingers.

“My precious daughter, don’t kick your mom too much, okay? Don’t keep her up at night and give her some time to rest. Daddy’s going to be here for you, don’t worry. We can’t wait to meet you too.”

Leon would give up anything and everything if it means keeping his girls safe and sound. He’d hold the sky up if it meant providing a secure sense of safety and happiness for his wife and daughter.

“Oh? She stopped kicking.” you softly say with an amused lilt to your voice. “Guess all I needed was for you to speak for her.”

“She’s a smart girl, just like her mother. God, I’m too lucky to have you both in my life.”

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

“Claire, can… can you come over? She won’t stop crying and I don’t know what to do…” Leon hoarse at the other end of the line as he holds his daughter with one arm and his phone in the other. His daughter has been crying endlessly, depriving them both of sleep. He’s tried everything– soft singing, rocking her back and forth, feeding, checking her diapers, burping, readjusting the swaddling of her cloth but none would calm her down.

Oh, Y/N. I don’t know what to do. She needs you. I need you too. Can you come back to us? Please?

“Have you tried laying her near some of Y/N’s sweaters?” Claire suggests. “God you’re so stupid for not considering that. She might be missing her mom,” Leon thinks to himself. Placing the phone down, he rushes to his and Y/N’s room to find her favorite sweater. He lays the pastel lime-green sweater on her crib before placing her down, gently patting her belly and pressing kisses to her puffy cheeks.

“C’mon honey. Please… please stop crying. I-I don’t know what to do, I’m sorry that mom’s not here right now- Dad’s really sorry, sweetie.” Leon quietly says as he feels some of his own tears stream down his cheek.

Eventually, she stops crying and falls asleep. Leon looms over her, her tiny hand holding on to his thumb. He feels pity for her; he broke the promise of making sure she grows up in a perfect family. He feels as if he doesn’t deserve his daughter, he couldn’t even grant Y/N the dream of becoming a mother. She had long wished for a child of her own, to be able to be a mother and he couldn’t give her that. She carried his child for nine months, enduring morning sickness, swelling ankles, and every single bodily hysteric and he didn’t even give her a chance to see your daughter.

The faint noise of the doorbell from downstairs shakes Leon from his thoughts, putting on a shirt and going downstairs to pick up the door.

“Claire?”

“You just suddenly dropped the call after I suggested the sweater thing so I came down and went here. How’s she? Is she asleep?”

“Yeah. The sweater did just the trick.” he bitterly says. A silence lingers between the two for a bit before he speaks up. “I miss her, Claire. I miss Y/N. I don’t know what I’m doing, I don’t know if–” his voice cracks. “I don’t know if I’m up for this without her.”

Claire moves to Leon and engulfs him in a tight hug, tears of her own flowing down her freckled cheeks. Y/N’s death was not easy for everyone who gracefully waltzed into her life– Chris, Claire, Rebecca, and Jill all hurting in their own way but not as profoundly deep and scarring as Leon.

“I know you do. We all miss her, Leon.”

Leon sobs into her shoulder, his body shaking as choked sobs leave him. Truly, he felt like the worst person in the world.

“Claire, look at me. Look at her– I took Y/N away from my own daughter. I stole her own mother away and she’s never fucking coming back! I’m lost and nothing without her, I don’t even know how to stop my daughter from crying. My daughter needs Y/N and I can’t give her that. All I can provide for her are pictures and her clothes because there’s no mother to sing and hold her.”

Claire holds him tighter, her hands gently patting Leon’s back as she stays silent and lets Leon spill all of his feelings.

“She wouldn’t be fucking dead had I brought her to the hospital two hours earlier. If only I listened to her and took her there when she started bleeding instead of choosing to mow the damn lawn I wouldn’t have ruined my daughter’s life from the start. Her heart would not have failed her– I wouldn’t have failed her if I was actually a decent man, Claire.”

“Leon, you’re more than decent. You’re doing everything you can for your daughter and that’s what matters–”

“But I’ll never fill in the Y/N shaped hole in her tiny heart. No one and nothing ever could, no matter how hard I try.”

Leon’s fought all kinds of monsters and abominations, barely making it back each time but it was worth it to see his Y/N’s brilliant face beaming at him everytime he stumbled home. If he could save someone from the horrors of bioterrorism, why couldn’t he save his own wife by simply sending her to the hospital two hours earlier than he should’ve?

Claire couldn’t say anything. It’s not that she agreed with whatever self depreciating fact Leon said but whatever words she would say won’t make anything feel better. Y/N shaped Leon into who he is now– changing and transforming him into a person no one knew Leon could be capable of becoming and her death simply left Leon a shattered and broken person; a shell of his former self. Leon would go through that fateful night in Raccoon City a hundred times again if it meant having her back– even if Y/N would fall out of love with him or be destined with someone else, as long as she was happy and alive. Happiness is the last thing Leon deserves right now. Standing at the doorway of his home, Claire held the shattered pieces of the blond and offered him a shoulder to cry his broken heart on.

Later that night, Leon laid down on his side of the bed whilst he moved his daughter to Y/N’s side so that she would be around her scent. He enjoyed silent nights with you, just laying in the same bed and smiling at the fact that he married the maker of all his dreams but now the silence was a painful reminder that a half of him perished forever. He left her things as they were before the two headed to the hospital, not wanting to wash the clothes she wore just to have some form of her around for just a little longer. He left the mug she drank from untouched as well and he didn’t bother to hide the bath products Y/N left behind in the shower. Her makeup products were still neatly lined up on the counter and he often wore her hair ties on his wrist but he avoided looking at the wedding band she took off. Y/N’s fingers have started swelling and on doctor’s advice, she took it off but kept it around her neck with a chain. The funeral was especially difficult, seeing her lie so stiffly with her features looking a little different. He didn’t have time to grieve because her parting gift needed him the most. Speaking of parting gift, he finds himself thinking that she left him a tiny version of herself to keep him company. She’d absolutely berate him if he gave up now so he hanged on with what little might he had left in him, giving his all for their daughter. He goes to sleep with the prayer that he’ll see Y/N, even for just a quick moment. Even if it’s just in his distant dreams.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

6 years later.

“Do you want more sandwiches or is that enough already?” Leon asks his now 6 year old daughter.

“Nuh-uh. I’m full already.” she responds. Leon moves from his place and inches towards his daughter, a wet wipe in hand to wipe some crumbs from the corner of her lips before pulling out another wipe to wipe her greasy fingers.

“Wanna know something, daddy?” she suddenly asks.

“Hm? What is it?” he responds.

“Auntie Claire told me that our loved ones in heaven send us signs sometimes. She says her own mom sends her and she says she feels a lot better when her mom does. Has mommy ever sent us a sign?”

The question takes Leon off-guard, his gaze drifting to your marble headstone before returning back to his daughter. With a pained grin, he responds to her question.

“Yeah. Mommy likes simple things that make us happy, so to me, she appears as a warm drink on a cold day. Sometimes she’s a particularly nice ray of sunlight. Sometimes, she’s the rain that waters plants. I guess those are signs she sends us.” and I hope you send some more, Y/N. I still miss you.

“So does that mean Mommy’s sign can be a good bedtime story?”

“Yeah.”

She thinks a little more, getting up and giving her mom’s headstone a small pat. With a tiny finger, she traces her name and date of birth.

“We saw a tiny kitten with blue eyes on the way here, right daddy?”

“Mhm. Why? Do you want a kitten?”

“Maybe. But Uncle Chris told me that mommy’s favorite color was blue. I found it weird at first because blue is a boy’s color but Aunt Jill said that it’s a color for anyone. She also said that blue is mommy’s favorite color because it’s the color of your eyes.”

Leon fights back tears, a surprised laugh making its way through his throat despite a lump forming. He nods, his heart fluttering at the fact.

“Yeah, it was, though a lot of her things weren’t blue. Mommy’s an interesting person that way.” he fondly remembers.

Y/N’s death anniversary doesn’t get easier any year, the unbearable pain of remembering her longer than he’s known her weighing on his tattered heart. His daughter finally comes back to him and sits beside him on the picnic blanket, a tiny hand reaching out to hold Leon’s. He can’t believe his own daughter would want to hold the same hand that gets dirty with the blood and muck of biological hellions.

“Auntie Ashley told me you also used to have a friend named Luis when you were in Spain. She said he was funny and smart and nice. Do you think Mommy and Luis are best friends in heaven? She needs someone there too because we’re both still here.”

“Yeah. I hope they’re friends.” Leon had to respond in a more hushed voice to keep his voice from cracking and his tears from spilling, his daughter’s innocence both warming and shattering his heart. “You have her eyes and her lips. Your eyes wrinkle the same way as hers when something makes her smile bright and you scrunch your nose when something makes you laugh. In your face, she is alive.”

NOTE - First angst on this blog!! Woooo!!!! I blasted Mitski while writing this and luckily I did NAWT cry (-> cried in the shower instead). If you're feeling a little sad now that I wrote this, feel free to check out my other fics that are NOT angst (shameless self-advertisement /j). That's all and thanks for reading!!!!! :) UPDATE: Leon photocards haven't arrived yet.

The wave dividers are made by @cafekitsune , the images are made by me (sourced from Pinterest).

#leon kennedy #resident evil #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x reader #leon scott kennedy #leon s kennedy #angst #light angst #resident evil 4 #resident evil x reader #biohazard #resident evil 4 remake #re4 remake #re4r #resident evil angst

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eleni-cherie · 4 months ago

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a thief's origin✨ || bts • kth - chapter 1.2

"you're afraid I won't wait." "I'm afraid you will."

a criminal and a doctor should be as different as the sun and the moon - but unexpected things happened every day. like him finding his safe haven in her.

»»»

masterlist: here

— genre: thief au, gangster comedy, adventure, romcom, humour, angst, fluff, sexual tensiON, slowburn, mutual pining, strangers to friends to lovers s2f2l

ALTERNATIVE UNIVERSE. CHARACTERS NOT NECESSARILY LIKE THE REAL PERSONS. ALSO VERY UNREALISTIC PLOT LOL - JUST PRETEND READING A MANGA/COMIC OR WATCHING A FILM, REALLY.

SUGGESTIVE THEMES. MENTIONS OF VIOLENCE & BLOOD (BUT NOTHING TOO GRAPHIC, IT'S STILL A COMEDY!)

»»»

14th September

Barcelona, Spain

"Do you mind that I'm not calling you any pet name?"

His tired eyes met the ceiling first before gazing down at Cassandra in his arms as she was absendmindedly drawing patterns on his bare skin and contemplating the degree of silliness of her question.

It was late, minds heavy with sleep at this point. They'd spend all evening just laying on the fluffy carpet of her living room, listening to their joint playlist. Until 'Wicked Game' by Chris Isaak started playing and an unserious quarrel had broken out over which one of them has added it there.

But only for a short moment. Because the last thing Taehyung could remember then were her tender lips on his neck and his hands on her hips.

"What do you mean?" he eventually asked.

She turned her head and propped her chin on his chest to look at him better. The tousled waves messily sticking out in all direction along with his unsteady gaze and lazy smile made him look too cozy not to snuggle back in.

Her fingers gently tucked at the small golden tiger pendant that had slid off his neck then, before grazing Taehyung's jaw.

"I mean, I know we both don't really do the typical corny names, but you do call me in charming ways occasionally.. while I.. I don't."

She didn't call him baby, babe, honey, darling, mi amor or whatever else there was. She only called him 'cool guy'. Sure, he always claimed he preferred that over anything else. Yet, she wondered if maybe he wanted something more endearing. Not that he was using any of the forementioned either, it simply was neither one's style. It didn't feel like them, like Cassandra and Taehyung. But sometimes, out of a whim, he did call her 'angel' or even 'my girl' along with the good old 'Doc', which always made her heart flutter.

Humming, he brushed off an unruly curl from her vision. Beginning to understand. And a mischievous smirk tucked onto his lips. "But just ten minutes ago you call-"

Her eyes shot open, cutting him off with flushed cheeks. "That's not what I meant, you idiot!" she whined embarrassed, wiggling in his embrace. And he bursted out laughing, his warm chest vibrating hard underneath her.

"I wonder if 'idiot' counts as one then," he faked musing, chuckling again when seeing her pout.

He gently flicked his finger on her forehead then, a soft smile resting on his lips instead. "Told you, I love you calling me 'cool guy'. Gets me every time."

"Hm, but you are a cool guy. So it's just facts and not really a pet name," she argued with puffed out cheeks. And he poked into them amused. Feeling more awake by now.

It indeed got him when she called him that. He wasn't exaggarrating.

"And it's facts when I call you 'angel' or 'my girl'. So I don't really see the issue here," he retorted with furrowed brows.

Flustered, she bit back a coy smile. "Oh, okay then."

Her head returned to its previous spot, nuzzling into his shoulder and he smiled sleepily.

She always made fun of him being clingy in his sleep but in reality, she could be just as much. Not that he'd ever mind. She could cuddle into him as much as she wanted, it was more like that fire rained down from the sky than him never minding the feeling of her so close to him.

His eyelids fell heavy as his arms wrapped around her smaller frame. Cradling her against himself as he drifted off to sleep to her breath warming his skin.

Tiredness overtook Cassandra's mind as well, the sound of his quiet breathing lulling her.

There in Taehyung's arms, she felt safe. It was the only place on earth that made her truly feel at ease, like everything was alright. Like everything was going to be fine.

And that thought comforted her as she fell asleep.

It hadn't been even five hours. The leaves outside rustling in the strong wind when Taehyung woke up from his phone screen illuminating the darkness of the room.

With a light grimace, he reached over and blinked his eyes a few times to adjust to the sudden brightness.

rich kid (4:39am): meeting place C

rich kid (4:39am): see you in 2 days

It was from Jimin, informing him which hideout they'd meet at their designated location.

With a sigh, his gaze wandered to the woman sleeping silently beside him. Having slid off of him in their sleep.

The screen's light got reflected on her pale skin and he noticed the curled hands in front of it. Fists balled towards herself. He knew by now what that meant from all the cold nights he'd spent with her. So he pulled the cover over her shoulders and tucked it right under her chin.

For a moment, he simply observed her breathing quietly. A heavy feeling lying on his heart. Not only because yet again he had to leave her, but also an overall anxiety that kept nagging in the back of his mind.

First that car chase and shoot-out she'd accidentally partaken, then the embassy heist she'd been compelled to participate in and to top it off, interpol interrogating her. A dragged out sigh left his nostrils out of frustration. About the situation, about himself.

At least he knew her save by interpol observing her. It was a blessing in disguise really. Of course he had noticed the obvious car with an agent inside near her entrance door and at work. He had anticipating them doing something like this after the interrogation since they couldn't pin anything on her and she couldn't provide them any useful information. Surely, it complicated things a little bit for him since he could only come and go with disguise (his preferable one being the old neighbour) but it was a price he was willing to pay with ease if it meant there was someone watching after her when he couldn't. He actually appreciated it and who knew, maybe one of Seokjin's intentions had been that and not only spy on her in case Taehyung showed up.

So far, he hadn't told her about the car with the agents though. It shouldn't look like she knew and he also didn't want to worry her. Telling her the disguise when going or leaving the apartment and him not picking her up at work anymore would just be a precaution. Just like them always going to different places to hang out at in the city. He didn't like leaving her in the dark but it wasn't a complete lie either.

Perhaps a white lie more than anything.

With a sigh he slid away from Cassandra's side.

End of summer was approaching fast, announcing itself with strong coastal winds picking up in the first light of dawn. He could clearly hear it outside, behind the blinds as he got up.

A quiet whine left her lips then as her sleeping body wiggled under the covers, making him tense up for a moment before exhaling in relief. It seemed he hadn't woken her up after all.

He knelt down in front of her adorably scrunched up face and pushed away some coppery curls to press a tender kiss onto her temple. It was her first free weekend in weeks, she deserved to sleep in.

He slowly rose again, contently making his way to gather the rest of his clothes and his gun - only to stumble over something in the sparsely lit room. His shin hit against the leg of her makeup mirror with a thud and he winced in pain, quickly covering his mouth to muffle the sound.

Had her clumsiness rubbed off onto him?

It was already too late, however, because as the light sleeper she was, Cassandra stirred up. Dishevelled curls sticking out of her ponytail as she blinked her eyes, trying recognising the source in her still draws state.

"Tae?" she yawned, rubbing her eyes. Falling back into the pillow then. "What time is it?"

"Sorry, angel," he whispered, "Remember? I gotta leave early to catch the train." He picked up his shirt from the floor after groping for it in the dark and slid it over.

A disatisfied hum was heard behind him followed by the rustling of the bed sheets. And suddenly the room was bathed in the warm light of the cloud-shaped lamp on the nightstand. His gaze wandered over his shoulder, seeing Cassandra having sat up again, resting against the bedrest. She did her best rubbing the sleep out of her face. And the thief exhaled softly. "Go back to sleep, Cas."

However, she only shook her head. Refusing and simply sitting there, watching him as he continued getting dressed with a gaze full of wistfulness. Like every time he had to leave her. She tried masking it, but nothing could be hidden in those big doe eyes. And it always pained him.

Pausing from buttoning his shirt, he met her eyes. Her brows arching curiously as she watched him walking up to her and taking a seat next to her. The matress dipping under his weight. But before she could question it, his hands had already gone behind his neck, unclasping the necklace with the tiger pedant. Placing it around her neck instead.

"Wh-" She scrunched her nose in confusion and the corners of his lips curled up when seeing her adorably puzzled face.

"Keep it save for me, yeah?"

She swallowed, her features softening as her fingers touched the golden pedant which had joined the heart locket on her collarbone. Feeling the symbolic weight heavier than its physical one. She knew how much it meant to him after all.

"What if I lose it?"

He shook his head lightly. Placing a light kiss on her forehead with certainty in his smile.

"I know you won't."

»»»

15th November

With a fond smile Cassandra discovered a new postcard for the collection on her wall in the mail box. This time depicting a painting of Hongkong's skyline by night.

She flipped it while walking up the stairs to her apartment, eagerly reading the new set of films she either had already watched or planned to add to her watchlist.

Taehyung's charmingly messy handwriting making her giggle. It was quite ironic, as a doctor she was supposed to be the one with an infamous bad handwriting after all.

"some heist and spy films shot/set here:

johnny english 2, tomb raider 2, gambit (the one from 1966), revenge of the pink panther, die another day, vengeance

Wished you were here, you'd have liked it.

Love, T"

»»»

13th January

"Look, who am I?"

Cassandra's head perked up at Taehyung's random question and she almost spit out the hot tea she was sipping on. Her boyfriend was wearing his signature black sunglasses, a lollipop stick hanging loosely from between his lips and he was pointing a finger-gun at her. Causing her to burst out laughing, spilling a few drops of the beverage onto her woolen coat after all.

Of course she immediately caught the film reference but didn't want to give into his - once again - teasing of her guilty pleasure, which frankly was his, too. So instead she pursed her lips and redirected her eyes onto the vast sight of the city in front of them. Non-chalantly sipping on her tea again.

"I don't know, am I supposed to recognise that?"

Taehyung gasped at that, the half-finished lollipop almost slipping from his lips. "Mh, I'm pretty sure you do," he smirked then, glancing over his sunglasses after sliding them down the bridge of his nose. "You laughed, so you do."

She swallowed, the warmth soothing her body from the low temperature as they were sitting on the roof of Casa Batlló - thanks to the museum being closed for another renovation.

Winter wasn't particularly her favourite season. Bald trees, cold humidity and shorter days. She didn't like freezing contrary to Taehyung who enjoyed the cold over the heat of the summer. However, there was also a serenity to it. It wasn't her favourite season, but through Taehyung she started to appreciate it more.

Winter was his season while hers was spring.

She glanced at him from the corner of her eyes.

His hair was shorter, choppy bangs gracing his forehead making him look a lot younger. Reminding her of the night she'd first met him, his hair similar back then. Now looking back at that memory, it felt like an eternity ago.

His face had definitely changed since that night. It got a lot rounder, fuller with soft edges. Perhaps more mature. But the thing that would never change were his eyes. The same sparkling deep-brown almost black irises with the childlike curiosity she had falled in love with seven years ago.

Except in this moment. A sulky expression set on them due to her pretending she wouldn't recognise the film character he was portraying. A cute pout burried behind the evergreen scarf she had gifted him for his birthday. An unusual sight. Taehyung and a scarf.

She remebered knitting it within a month, working on it while watching a show or during tranquil nights at the hospital. And she was quite proud how it'd turned out, after all she'd put a lot of effort into it and even asked her grandmother for advice on how to do braid-patterns during her last visit.

Coming up with a present for someone like him was certainly not easy at all and she could also not bare seeing him walking around in the cold with an exposed neck every winter anymore. Acting like he couldn't sense anything and everytime dismissing her stern: "You'll get sick, wear a scarf!" with a sarcastical grin and a "Is that a doctor's order?" So she figured a scarf would be an ideal gift.

"The scarf.." she began but cut herself off, shaking her head before mumbling, "Nevermind," into her own scarf. Sure, she wondered whether the only reason he constantly wore it was because it was a handmade gift and he'd feel guilty if he didn't, or if he genuinely liked it. Nut at the end, it didn't matter. It served its purpose of keeping him from getting a laryngitis, since he wasn't sharing her 'onion'-style and that was the most important thinf.

His thick brows rose and Taehyung took the lollipop out with a plop before shooting her an inquiring look. "What about the scarf?"

"Nothing," she smiled nonchalantly but he could tell it wasn't nothing. Folding his lips, he only hummed. Already guessing what it was.

Her doubts were redudant. He genuinely liked the scarf and he didn't only wear it out of guilt. Besides that it was in his favourite shade of green and unbelievable soft, just the mere thought of her making him something herself despite her busy shifts, warmed him more than the scarf itself could ever do.

"Can I expect a pullover next time?" he grinned then, watching her her eyes widening.

"A pullover?"

"Yeah, since you turned out to also be a knitting-pro on top of everything else," he shrugged to which she only laughed out. She was far from being a 'knitting-pro', the only things she'd ever knitted in her life being that scarf which anyone who took a closer look on it, could tell. So she knew what he was attempting to do there and it flattered her.

"Sure, I can try," she played along, "But can't promise it'll fit."

He laughed under his breath. "How am I supposed to wear it then?"

She giggled, facing him with a smirk. "I don't know. But surely you'll firgure it out."

Taehyung only rolled his eyes, nudging her arm with his.

"Oh, by the way!" Cassandra suddenly exclaimed then when another thought surfaced and she set her cup aside, her hands reaching under her scarf and behind her neck then. He arched a curious brow when catching her fumbling with something and sturggling due to her hair. A golden chain flashing in the light then and he realised she was trying unlocking one of the necklacec around it. "I still got- ah, dammit. I just had it," she muttered frustrated when sending Taehyung's grip on her elbows. His hands gently urging her to lower her arms.

"Keep it."

Cassandra blinked. Taken aback. "I thought.." She paused, frowning. "But it's yours."

He only shook his head though. Plopping the lollipop back between his lips. "Keep it. As a promise."

Her eyes narrowed with an uncertain smirk. Intrigued at his words. "A promise? For what?"

He simply smiled, not meeting her curious glare. "For trading it with something better some day."

"Huh, like what? A platin necklace?" she joked to which he only shrugged. The candy's stick stuck between his teeth as he grinned mischieviously. "You gotta be patient, I fear."

He could hear Cassandra huffing before leaning back as well, nudging his side. And Taehyung chuckled lightly, peeking at her before taking in the afternoon sky.

Those thoughts and worries he had of the past and present still laid heavy on his mind, but when he looked at Cassandra, all he could see was the future. His future.

With her paintings and his postcards decorating their home.

"Cas?"

His girlfriend hummed in aknowledgment. Neither one taking their eyes from the beginning dusk and the glistening lights of the city. White, red, blue, yellow.

"I mean it. Some day. I can't tell you when. I can only promise you that one day, when I can leave this life behind, I wouldn't want anyone but you by my side."

He wanted to believe that one day they could make it real. He'd make sure to replace that necklace with a sapphire or ruby, his opinion not having changed after all: a diamond would be too ordinary for her.

Cassandra's lips parted. Hoping she wasn't misunderstanding his words. But when facing him and meeting his gentle eyes, she knew she didn't. And there, in the afternoon gleam she could swear he'd never looked more entchanting than in that moment.

He was such a dork. But she was quick to realize the one good thing that happened: he was her dork.

Eventually, a smile spread on her features and her hand found his, lacing their fingers together.

"I'll wait for that day then."

»»»

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superprincesspea · 9 months ago

Text

Courted by the Dragon

Chapter 10 - Gallantry and Bravery

Aemond Targaryen is both the cause and witness to the greatest humiliation of your life. You would rather die than see him again. Yet summer at court and the precipice of civil war have other ideas.

Masterlist

~~~

The tourney had claimed most of the afternoon, but there were still plenty of hours left before the feast, and you wanted to spend them alone, lying on your bed and staring up at the canopy.

You just couldn’t stop thinking about the way Lord Glover had died, his body hitting the dirt, and the smile which had filled Aemond’s face. So pleased, no remorse.

He'd never looked more like a dragon than he did in that moment, and you’d never despised him more either.

Yet the tourney had been a success, the crowds had cheered so vibrantly, the entire royal box filled with celebration.

It seemed only you who was disturbed by Glover’s death, and you supposed death at a tourney was commonplace. There had been three others, but they were strangers killed by strangers and Glover’s death felt personal.

Not just because you’d given him your favour, but because of Aemond. Maybe it was unfair to hold him to a higher standard, but he was no stranger, and you didn’t like to think of him as the kind of man who could kill so easily. So senselessly.

More than anything, you couldn’t stop wondering if he had killed Glover for you .

Perhaps that seemed vain, but you could not be blind to Aemond's misplaced affection a moment longer, even if you had no intention of ever returning it.

Rolling onto your side, you stare out the window and Maris burst through the door with a letter in hand.

“Helaena has invited us for tea,” she says excitedly, plopping herself on the bed so all you can see is her bright smile.

You groan, staring back up at the canopy, “can you not go with Cassandra?”

“She’s had too much sun and needs to rest before the party,” her voice lowers with a small but wicked laugh, “her nose has turned quite red.”

“You’re cruel,” you say, pushing her shoulder and she laughs again before clinging to your sleeve, her grip tight and desperate.

“I must find out why Prince Aemond asked for my favour,” she says and, though you’d been wondering the same thing, you can think of nothing you’d like to do less.

“Why can’t you just go alone?” you say, and she rolls her eyes, still clinging onto your sleeve.

“You know I cannot be the one to ask Helaena of Aemond’s intentions, it would be far too forward. But if you ask...”

You groan dismissively as she stands, trying to pull you up.

“Oh please, please, please,” she begs, “you know I would do the same for you in an instant.”

Of course she would, there was no end to her scheming especially when it concerned matters of the heart.

"Please sister,” she begs again, and you know her well enough to realise she will not stop until you give her what she wants.

So you sigh, and roll from the bed, before striding towards the door and yanking it open.

“Well , are we going or not?” you say unhappily, and Maris’ smile is so triumphant as she hooks her arm in yours as though she thinks you might change your mind and abandon her at any moment.

When the guards open the doors to Princess Helaena’s quarters, the first thing you notice is two blond haired toddlers who are playing on a plush rug with their nursemaid. Jaehaerys and Jaehaera.

You’d never seen them before and wave your fingers, hoping for a dimpled smile. But they only stare, suspicious of strangers, their lips in soft baby pouts.

The second thing you notice is Aemond and your heart just about leaps into your throat at the unexpected sight of him.

He’s lying on the chaise; his torso completely bare except for the bandage wrapped tightly around his bruised ribs.

You know you shouldn’t be looking, but you can’t seem to claw your eyes away as they sink to his stomach, where the tight definition of his abdomen dips below the lose strings on his breeches.

He normally wears leather, but these are soft, black cotton and his feet are bare, relaxed .

You’ve been staring long enough for your cheeks to turn pink before you try to retreat back through the door.

“Perhaps we should return another time,” you suggest, crashing into Maris, who not only blocks your escape but pushes you deeper into the room.

“You will have to excuse my brother,” Helaena announces, waving her hand to beckon you both out onto the balcony, but Maris makes no attempt at excusing Aemond’s presence.

She rushes to kneel at his side, her smile more triumphant than when you’d agreed to come here.

“You fought so gallantly today, my prince,” she gushes, her eyes like two saucers which are ready to plate him up.

Aemond groans as though her kind words are an insult, before his attention returns to you.

“Have you come to scold me, Lady Baratheon?” he says.

Maris laughs nervously, “ why would she do that?”

“Because your little sister seems to disapprove of everything I do.”

He presses his hand to his bandage and forces himself from the chaise with a pained grunt.

“I did not realise his grace held any esteem in my opinion,” you reply, but you know it isn’t true and Aemond laughs softly.

“Yet you like to give it anyway, don’t you Lady Baratheon?”

“My preference for the extent of our communication has not changed since the first instance. In that I should prefer to avoid it at all costs.”

“Yet you are here ,” his voice is louder now, “when there are a thousand other places in the Red Keep, or shall I vacate the entire castle for your solitude?”

“I would not expect his grace to vacate anything for my benefit. So I will leave, if it suits the princess,” you say, glancing to Helaena and hoping she will intervene in some way because, despite what you’ve just said, you cannot seem to get your feet to move as Aemond stalks closer.

“I would rather you told me what you thought of the tourney,” he demands.

You say nothing. Waiting until he’s crossed the room, and you can see every shade of purple which blossoms in the bruise beneath his good eye, as much as you can feel the heat radiating from his bare skin.

He killed a man ; you remind yourself as your eyes scrape across his swollen lip to where the cut has crusted over.

“I do not think his grace would enjoy my answer.”

“Try me.”

You glance at Maris who’s giving you a pleading look, but if Prince Aemond wants the truth, you won’t sugar coat it for him. In fact, you’ll give it so harshly that he’ll stop looking at you the way he’s looking at you in this very moment.

His soft pensive expression, almost forcing you to forget how much you’d despised his actions less than 3 hours ago.

You wind your shoulders back as though you’re a knight preparing to strike a blow. “I found the whole thing to be a spectacle of senseless violence with no use but to pet your own sense of grandeur. Ser Glover was the better fighter and-

“Sister!” Maris interjects, the word shrill and horrified.

“No, do go on, Lady Baratheon,” Aemond encourages, his eye levelling with yours, his fingers splaying wider across his ribs.

“You killed him in cold blood like a petulant child who cannot stand to lose a game.”

Silence commands the room, and then laughter. Aemond’s laughter, stifled by the pain in his ribs but still there and not at all disturbed by your stark analysis as he returns to the chaise.

Maris stands, the expression in her eye beyond angry, yet her lips are sealed in a tight line which could never be broken in front of the prince.

“Come ,” Helaena says, offering her hand for Maris while giving you a harrowing look, “let my brother stew in his self-pity.”

When they disappear onto the balcony, you know they probably don’t want your company, but you feel as though you cannot leave either.

So, you resign to follow, but stop short when Aemond reaches out to catch your wrist, the rough touch of his fingers searing across your skin without a glove to mask it.

You look at his face, then to the place where he’s gripping you so tightly, and it's the same place Lord Glover had touched when he’d kissed your hand, yet the feel is entirely different.

Glover was trying to seduce you with gentleness, but Aemond’s touch isn’t gentle, its certain , and your heart isn’t just fluttering, its beating so hard you feel it might burst into flames.

“Your grace?” you whisper, hardly daring to meet his eye.

“You’re right. Lord Glover was the only man who dared to face me, and he did better me. So I killed him to ensure there was no man in all of Westeros who could ever stand against me.”

You look at him now, your voice tight, “then you’re a coward.”

If your words wound him, he covers it well, tugging your arm so you’re forced closer, crouching to stop yourself from falling ontop of him.

“If only you held yourself to your own lofty standards of bravery, then perhaps you would not spend your time at court skulking in the shadows and pretending you don’t enjoy every second you spend in my company.”

“I am not brave and never claimed to be and... I don’t need to pretend.”

"Neither do I, and I don’t give a shit about tourneys or gallantry. I’m no white knight hero from a song and I would kill every man in Westeros if they stood in my way.”

“If you care so little about tourneys, then why bother competing?”

A smile flicks across his lips and you regret your question as his hand sinks between the cushions on the chaise to retrieve a handkerchief.

“I must admit, you have no talent for needlework,” he teases, and your eyes grow wide as you notice the wonky cornflower which is now caked in dust and grime.

You hadn’t seen him collect it from the end of Glover’s lance, and never imagined he would either.

When you reach to snatch it from his hand, he shoves it back below the pillow with a taunting laugh, “you’ll have to try better than that.”

You don’t take the bait. You’re not about to scramble around on top of him for the sake of a handkerchief.

He can have it, it’s just a piece of cloth so it doesn't mean anything . Yet it also means everything , and you know how much it would upset Maris if she knew it was your favour he kept by his side instead of hers.

You wrench your wrist back, wanting to at least take your arm from his grasp but Aemond doesn’t give that up either.

He holds you firm, neither of you saying a word before he chooses to relinquish your arm. Because he decides, not you .

Hastening to your feet, you grip your skin where his touch had been.

“If you think I could ever enjoy your company, then you must be completely deranged," you say before hurrying out onto the balcony which now seems like a refuge, except, when you sit at the table, you feel like the arrival of a dark cloud on a pleasant afternoon.

Maris and Helaena both stop what they’re doing to stare, but they don’t ask you to leave, and you thank the gods for propriety as you drink your tea and pick at your cake as though there’s nothing amiss.

Still, Maris has not forgotten about your little outburst. So when Helaena excuses herself from the table, she pinches your arm with all her might.

“Ow ,” you whisper harshly, trying your best not to squeal.

“You are the worst sister in the entire world!” she hisses, her voice shaky and filled with emotion. “You are ruining my chances with Aemond, is that what you want? For me to be miserable?”

Rubbing your arm, you can’t meet her eye as you say, “that’s not what I want.”

"Then can you at least try to be nicer to him?”

You wanted to scream or shake her, “believe me, if I were nicer to the prince, it would not increase your chances.”

Her eyes flare brightly, her cheeks hot, “and what is that supposed to mean?”

You sigh, your words carefully chosen, you’re not trying to hurt Maris. “I mean you are lovely enough for any man to want regardless of their feelings for me.”

"Well, if you care about me at all, you will apologise to him, or I will never talk to you again.”

You want to tell her ‘no’, but Helaena returns and Maris’ mind is already made up on the matter.

So, when it is time to leave, and Prince Aemond is still lounging on the chaise, she jabs you in the ribs with a pointed look before announcing, “my sister has something she wishes to say...”

You clench your nails into the palms of your hands, and try not to roll your eyes, as everyone in the room focuses their attention on you.

“Please... accept my apologies for the way I spoke before. I am unused to such… gallantry and bravery .”

It seemed your traitorous tongue could not be stopped, but Maris was satisfied with your apology, even if Aemond looked as though he could see into the very inner workings of your mind.

“Such heartfelt words, Lady Baratheon,” he began, “but I cannot accept an apology of which I have no need. If my lady thinks I am behaving like a... ‘ petulant child’ then she must be certain to tell me at her earliest convenience.”

“Well ...” Maris frowns, forcing a laugh, and looking as though she is completely unable to decipher whether the apology had worked in her favour or against.

“My sister also had the most wonderful idea of making you a remedy,” she added, kneeling by the prince's side once again.

“It's an old family recipe for swollen…” she tilts her head, glancing down his body, “muscles and um…” she meets his eye, “ lips.”

You could die of embarrassment for her, but you’re soon distracted by the amused way Aemond turns to look at you, “a remedy? How thoughtful of my lady.”

You shift from one foot to other, meeting Maris’ stern expression and feeling as though you might strangle her for concocting such a ridiculous scheme.

“She will bring it to you before the feast, my prince,” she added as if the mere suggestion wasn’t bad enough.

“Then I will look forward to it,” he replies, giving her, for once, the pleasure of a genuine smile.

When you’re walking away from the room and out of sight of the guards, it's your turn to pinch her arm and she does squeal.

“What remedy?” you demand.

Maris shrugs, “you said you would try to be nicer to him and I thought it would be a good gesture.”

You heave a very heavy sigh, “if it is you who wants the prince… don’t you think it should be you who brings him the remedy for his…” you mock her voice in a high falsetto, “swollen muscles and lips.”

She folds her face into her hands, completely dismayed, “oh no! Why did I say that?”

“Why, indeed?” you ask, annoyed beyond measure.

~~~

Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed it! As Lady Baratheon, what would you put into Aemond's remedy? Are you softening to him or do you like to see him suffer?

#aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond fanfiction #aemond one eye #hotd aemond #hotd fanfic #house of the dragon #ewan mitchell #romance #female reader #enemies to lovers #aemond targaryen x oc #prince aemond #slow burn

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sparklingmineraltequila · 3 months ago

Text

American Wasteland

Note: Finally, a Cassandra POV. Sorry that it's a tiny bit shorter but I have had one of most emotionally traumatising weeks of my life. Don't worry, next chapter I'm back on my shit with smut and all.

Warnings: 18+, drugs, alcohol, sex work, references to past abuse, domestic violence

Hot afternoons can feel like an impending scream. It's the mundanity about them that has always killed Cassandra. All the filth and despair of wide, yawning night with its neon lights and hookers on pavements and aching solitude is manageable; at least she can focus her misery on something concrete. But these baked afternoons, when the hours bleed into one amalgam of humming fans and beading sweat, plunge her into a white hot light of clarity at just how fucking sad she is. She's indulging herself too. Has been for the past three fucking hours, doing nothing but picking at her nail beds and staring at a stack of Crash's books against the wall and studying them. He dog-ears his pages, she already knows that, and from here she can see that he cracks the spines too, not surprising. Cassandra quickly pushes down the bubbling sentimentality she feels at the closeness of Crash in those simple acts. Harder still when thinking about those ice blues eyes, the absent minded twisting of a wedding band that's no longer there but the memory of an ex-wife that Cassandra knows nothing about but her name, that oily scent of tobacco on his fingers when he pushes them past her lips. The trailer door opens and he comes in: Crash holding a pharmacy bag,

'You're up,' he states, not daring to make eye contact after what transpired last night. Cassandra thinks it's the first sheepishness she's ever seen cross the stoic lines of his face. She doesn't reply.

'I got you some aspirin,' he continues, setting the bag next to the bed, regarding her for a moment longer which she returns with a glacial look.

'I don't have to talk to you,' Cassandra deadpans, not even bothering to sit up.

'I know,' Rust returns, with an equal frostiness that sends Cassandra into indignant fury.

'How dare you take that mild-ass tone with me,' she spits, now shifting to sit up, 'I got fucking drugged and fucked and then made a complete goddamn fool of myself spewing my guts on the side of the road like some fucking teenager.'

'You are a teenager.'

'I'm twenty fucking years old.'

'Oh you think that a couple months, some cussing and hard-ass attitude means you ain't a teenager. You've still got your goddamn baby hairs, Cassandra.'

He's right and it makes her sick. All the things that she's done to shed that oppressive sheath of girlhood to become a woman. Woman: the word always seemed glossy and unattainable to Cassandra. Fuck if she didn't practice at whatever she thought it entailed: learning how to properly inhale, switching from tights to stay-ups, conditioning herself to like beer by forcing herself to order Blue Ribbons when she went out. It would also mean a whole new type of navigation in her relationships with men; the idea of sex now lingering behind every exchange. Sex. It's what has practically defined her life since she went through puberty. Who to do it with, who not to, how to use it, how to make that biker think you want him without ending with your head bashed against the stage when he realises you don't. Cassandra has learnt to keep her desire and attraction to a minimum. Like with dope dealers, the dumbest shit you can do is get addicted to what you sell. Then Crash came along and fucked up her whole plan. In and out of stripping, pay for rent and save up for student debt, get away from dad and stay alive and sane. But no, not since that night that he came in that year ago, hair starting to turn from that golden to the caramel brown that it is now and cut surprisingly short for a biker. He'd sat with Ginger and a few other of the Iron Crusaders, nursing a Lone Star with a look. far more terrifying than the feral cruelty behind his companions' eyes: ice cold impassivity. A man with nothing to lose has a degree of violence to him allowed by his complete detachment to anything and anyone. Cassandra knew this and yet still locked eyes with him every time she saw him watching her on stage. Never a lap dance, though. She'd tried once and his disgust had made her feel smaller than any of the copious insults dolled out by her father,

'No.' Crash had said firmly, pushing her off with a surprising gentleness.

'It's fine, y'know. It's my job,' Cassandra had tried to reassure him, sitting next to him. He'd turned to look at her and had asked,

'How old are you?'

That had made her arch her eyebrow,

'19. Why? You like 'em older?'

To a less observant person, Rust's jaw muscle twitching would've gone unnoticed,

'Yeah, I do,' he'd said, shoving a twenty dollar bill in her panties' waistband, Cassandra noticing how he'd chosen to place it on her hipbone, 'Clear off, baby.'

'Want me to send over Rose? Red-head, real pretty.'

As Cassandra had said this, a burly Iron Crusader had called her name from across the club, making her turn,

'Yeah, baby?'

'Come bring that pretty, lil' ass over to daddy's lap,' the man had slurred, making Cassandra wince and start to head in his direction. That was until Rust had grabbed her wrist, halting her,

'Easy, Thunder,' he had called over to his fellow Crusader, 'I haven't decided whether to take this one for a spin, yet. She any good?'

'The best, Crash,' Thunder had cackled back, raising his beer in salute to him. With that, Crash had pulled her down into the booth next to him, lighting and a cigarette with complete disregard towards a confused Cassandra perched next to him. When she'd tried to straddle him again, he'd pushed her off,

'Listen, I have a quota to make so do you want a fucking lap dance or not?' She had huffed with a slight agitation in her voice that she hadn't yet learned how to conceal. In those days, she was hungry for it: money, sex, attention, security. Too hungry to learn how to manage it when it spilled over and tinged her tone in desperation.

'What's your quota?' Rust had asked through an exhale of smoke, seemingly uninterested.

'Around 50 dollars, at least.'

He'd arched his eyebrow at her,

'You tryin' to do one over me?'

'I'm desperate, not stupid. If I was trying to scam someone, I'd have picked some liquored up truck driver who hasn't gotten some since Missouri,' Cassandra had stated dryly, making Rust's lip quirk up momentarily.

'50 dollars, at least, by the end of your shift, huh?' he'd drawled, cigarette pinched between his fingers.

'Yeah.'

'What time's your shift end?'

'About another hour.'

'How much money are you on?'

'Straight floor work? About 40.'

Rust had reached into his back pocket and pulled out a tattered, leather wallet before putting down 5 ten dollar bills,

'50 but you stick with me until you're done.'

Cassandra had eyed the bills with suspicion and Rust dryly stated,

'Don't be an idiot, Cassandra. Take the fuckin' money and just sit your ass down.'

'You know my name?'

He had jerked his head towards a huddle of Iron Crusaders in another booth,

'You're popular.'

'Oh.' she'd nodded, slightly deflated by the implications. Rust had picked up on the tinge of shame in her eyes,

'Ain't no shame in it, baby.'

'You don't have to be nice about it.'

'I ain't nice.'

Cassandra had regarded him for a moment longer, thrown off by his apparent self-discipline,

'So, you're stuck with me for an hour. What do you wanna do?' she'd asked, tucking her knees onto the booth. Rust had barely spared her a sidelong glance,

'What're you drinking?'

'Jack and coke.'

He'd scoffed at that,

'You're nineteen.'

'And you're a biker running meth so who's breaking the law more, here?'

That had gotten a proper look from Rust, almost turning his head in her direction before handing his glass,

'How's straight whiskey?'

Cassandra had taken the glass from him and taken a straight gulp while being watched by an impassive Rust,

'What's your name, baby?' she asked in a saccharine tone, a slight tilt to her head.

'Drop the act.'

'I don't have a fucking act. This is how I talk.'

Rust had hummed at that,

'Crash.'

'Crash, huh?'

'Yeah. Crash,' Rust had replied, fixing her with a cold stare. Cassandra had nodded, slightly intimated,

'Ok, Crash.'

A schoolgirl crush had morphed into a worrying codependency that had left her strewn on his mattress, in a semi-catatonic state. Worst part is: Cassandra cannot bring herself to hate him. The sickest part of her is even hoping that he kind of finds her attractive like this: at her rawest, most ugly state. She doesn't know how much longer she can keep the jig up; this near constant state of self surveillance is weighing on her heavily and this lacquer of practiced indifference is eroding. Fast. Even now, as Crash places a glass of water, a carton of Marlboro Golds and a bag of those plasticky powdered donuts by the mattress, she can feel her resolve faltering; trying to ignore the small disappointment that he cares so little to concede her her cigarettes. The grit in her wants to right-hook him hard and run away from this place, but she can't and she won't. She doesn't have anywhere left to run and the humiliation of having to ask to crash with one of her fancy college friends gnaws at her. She notices him staring at her, crouched by the mattress. Burying her head in the pillow, she mumbles,

'Stop it. Please stop it cause, I swear to god, that I'll cry if you don't.'

'Cry, then,' Rust mutters, 'Ain't no shame in it.'

'Yes, there is. A lot. Crash, I'm-I'm a whore,' Cassandra chokes out in a sob.

'Hey-Hey, you never fuckin' say that ever again. You hear?' Rust says, voice raising slightly as he clasps her jaw with his hand, 'What happened last night was me, all me. You were high out of your fuckin' mind and, even if you weren't, you couldn't had said no if you wanted to.'

'But I liked it.'

Rust ignores the heat that pools in his gut at those words,

'That don't make no fuckin' difference.'

Cassandra brings her hands to her face, trying to conceal her tear streaked cheeks. A futile endeavour, given the heaves of her sobs,

'It ain't even that. I've been a stripper since I was eighteen. Eighteen, Crash. What the actual fuck is wrong with me?!'

'You were a desperate, little girl with a daddy who beat her and no other choice in this cesspit of a fuckin' world other than to strip for men like me.'

'Not for men like yo-'

'Yes, Cassandra. For men like me. Stop making fuckin' excuses, you're smarter than that,' Rust borderline snarls, her chin still grasped in his hand as he shakes it slightly, emphasising his words.

Cassandra stares at him for a moment before she gives Rust the type of embrace that she hasn't given since she ran up to the police officer who pulled up, just as her dad burst out of the house with the jagged end of a bottle of malt liquor in hand. She buries her nose between the seam of his leather jacket and his faded t-shirt, inhaling deeply: sweat, Camels, beer, faint scent of deodorant. She moves her head up to thank him in the only way she knows how to and starts to kiss his neck. Rust gently grasps her shoulders to pull her away,

'Not now, baby. Tomorrow but not today.'

'I can-'

'You ain't in the right state of mind. I can see it. You ain't my Cass, right now. You're that scared little girl tryin' to reconcile the fact that her daddy has hit her for the first time and that it ain't gonna be the last.'

Cassandra flinches at that,

'Why the fuck would you bring that up?'

'To remind you that you should be scared.'

'Of you?'

'Of any man.'

Cassandra eyes him narrowly as he stands up,

'You heading out?'

'I'll be back, tonight.'

'Can you hand me a book?'

'Which one?'

'Something relatively chill.'

Rust goes to his stack against the wall, runs his hand down and stops at a book before lifting up the ones above it and slotting it out. He hands it to her,

'First bit of philosophy I ever read. I think most of what he preaches is placid bullshit but it ain't too intense a read.'

Cassandra takes The Stranger from Rust's hand and briefly flicks through the pages before landing at the first one. She squints to read some pen scrawl,

Houston, 1987,

For all those sleepless nights and to kickstart those philosophy courses that you've been mentioning,

From Claire to Rust

Cassandra's head snaps up, brow furrowing. She recognises one name, not the other. Her voice is gelid as she ask,

'Who the hell is Rust?'

#rust cohle #rust cohle x reader #rust cohle x original female character #american wasteland

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starry-nights12 · 5 months ago

Text

Baby in Blue(WIP)

Summary: Heaven is super excited because today, her and Jinx are having a girls day out. But unfortunately, Heaven is reminded that good days don't always stay happy.

Tag(s):Fluff,Family Fluff, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Child POV,Parent-Child Relationships.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

I hummed as I skipped into the elevator. "Mommy, do you wanna know a fun fact?"

"Sure! I love fun facts!" Mommy closed the gates and then re-locked them.

"The fun fact for the day is that I'm very pretty."

Mommy smiled at me that made me feel loved. "That's because you get it from your Father,child." She pulled the lever that closed the elevator door and then takes us all the way down.

"You're pretty too,Mommy!" I smiled big because it's true.

I thought she smile big too because it's nice being called pretty. But I felt a little sad when Mommy only nodded, showimg me a little smile, and then petted my hair.

Mommy calls Daddy handsome and pretty all time and it makes Daddy smile. When Daddy calls her beautiful, sometimes she smiles and giggles.

It's always so gross when they kiss on the mouth. I always say, "Ewwwwwwwww!" and have to look away.

We both have freckles,blue hair and I have one pink eye. We all have pointy teeth too! I called them fangs but Mommy said they're called canines-like the dogs!

I guess we be crazy dogs since we like biting Daddy sometimes. Sometimes she hugs me from behind to bite my cheek.

Not in a mean way! She says she bites us in a loving and playful way.

She's like a porcupine 'cause of all the spikes she has. Her earrings,her choker, pants, gloves,and boots are ALL SPIKEY!!!

I tell her if she hugs me too hard that she'll pop me like a balloon or poke my eye out and that makes her laugh and smile. I love making her laugh and smile-it's the best thing ever.

I hugged alot of people before:

My Daddy ,Aunts, Uncle Scar, my friend Anna, Mr. Heimerdinger, Ziggs,Kayn, Great Aunt Cassandra and Great Uncle Tobias.

They're all so warm and it feels nice. But one thing about Mommy is that she's ALWAYS cold. It's like hugging a snowman.

She has blue lines around her around her eyes- and her lips are always purple but not when she puts on lipstick for date night with Daddy.

Her skin is really, very pale. It makes me think of a ghost. I don't tell her that part like the porcupine one 'cause I think that'll be mean and make her sad.

I think that's why she didn't smile. Does she not think she's pretty? I hope not 'cause I love Mommy and I know she's the prettiest girl in the whole wide world.

It's always dark in her hideout but her eyes always glowed. Sometimes I wake up at night and she'll be in my room sitting next to me while she stared.

I like it though.

Mommy said she's been watching me since I was a little baby. I like it more when she's there after I had a bad dream. That way, I can hug her and tell her what happened.

It's with these bright colorful lights and dolls hanging there. There's spray paint everywhere and she even has a bathtub in there!

There are propellers we have to walk on to get to her work table. Mommy said it used to be a thing that was suppose to help Zaunites with clean air but Piltover people gave up on fixing it.

Theres a HUGE,big black hole down there. Mommy's and Daddy take me on their hoverboards really super high and them let me fall.

It's REALLY fun! They always,ALWAYS catch me and been doing it since I was littler so I'm not scared of heights.

I know to never,ever run on it 'cause it's dangerous but Mommy always holds my hand.

She wants me to stand behind the fence thing. Mommy's bigger,so she gets to stand and sit on the propeller. She pulled two chomper pins with her teeth-she's so cool- and watched it beep.

Its mouth started moving faster and its eye blinked really fast. Mommy kicked them and we watched it fall in the pit until...BOOM !

"Yay!" I cheered,lifting my arms up in the air and jumping. Mommy looked at me and smiled big like she always do when I cheer.

We laugh and smile when she did another one. I love watching how the real ones burst into flames as they fall.

Sometimes Mommy gives me her lighter-Well, Grandpa's Silco's lighter 'cause it has an 'S' on it.

She let's me hold it and watch the flames. It's like it's dancing when is moves back and forth. I could watch it forever 'cause it's that pretty.

I love the fireplace at my Aunts and Great Aunt and Uncle. They only use it for winter but I love staring at the fire 'cause it's so warm and beautiful.

It makes me want to take alot of paper and watch it burn. I'm six-years-old now and that makes me a big girl and know not to touch it or I'll hurt myself.

That's why she and Daddy let me sometimes-they call it a controlled fire. We'll go outside in a alley with balled-up paper and a cup of water.

Mommy or Daddy would lit it and we watch the paper turn black and spread to the other ones. I like it but it's always small and that's boring.

When I'm bigger I'm going to do a whole big fire without them 'cause being bigger means you can do what you want without Mommy and Daddy.

#timebomb #ekkojinx #jinx arcane #arcane #wip #wip wednesday #original character #fan kids #kid fic #my post #my fanfics #heaven oc

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elliots-an-idiot · 9 months ago

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Dimitrescu Sisters comforting dysphoric trans masculine s/o and reacting to him coming out!

My first dimi sister work inspired by @muffinsin :3 I’m a transgender man so this is mostly self indulgent lmfao, I hope you enjoy!! I’ll do a smut version if anyone’s interested!!! (@muffinsin has the best stories ever!!!)

Bela

“Love, baby, what’s wrong?” Bela wipes the tears from my face as I wept, feeling so wrong in my own body, “little one, come here.”

I lay on the bed and curl into her arms sobbing, my dysphoria had already been kicking my ass today but with the dance coming up it was getting worse. The crimson dress Bela had chosen made her look effervescent, even more than usual. I haven’t seen the dress she chose for me yet, but the pit in my stomach told me it was similar to hers. Her dress, one suitable for a princess, and mine? I sobbed at the mere thought of being stuck in one for the night.

“B-bels I can’t-“ I took a shaky breath, trying to calm myself, “I can’t do this anymore.”

“What?” She looked down at me with a pained expression, “what are you saying love? Are you brea-”

“No! I can’t do this anymore, I can’t keep pretending to be someone I’m not. ” I grab the material of the skirt I’m wearing and feel more hot tears stream down my cheeks, “Bels I’m not a girl, I’m sick of trying to be one and I-”

“Love, I know, I’ve known since we met. You have the body of a woman but, your blood, it’s not female. You’re a man my love, a real man. No matter what anyone says.” She grabs my face before I can speak and gently kisses me, “I love you nonetheless, if you’re worried about the dance, stop. I chose your outfit for you remember? Do you want to see your outfit for the dance baby?”

I nod, shocked by her love and acceptance. We stand and approach her closet, I turn to her as she grabs the most amazing tux I’ve ever seen. It perfectly matches her dress.

“Bels, darling,” I feel more tears well up in my eyes, “I fucking love you.”

“I love you too my pretty boy.”

Cassandra

“Hey pet- oh shit you’re crying,” Cassandra swarmed over and plonked on the bed in front of me, “who do I need to kill? What’s wrong doll?”

“Cass-” a sob cuts me off and I curl into her lap, the fabric of my bra digs into my back again and I claw at it to take it off.

“What are you doing? Why are you crying?! Also, what the fuck is going on!?!” Cassandra is practically fuming at this point, concern etched into her face. She grabs my hands and takes a deep breath, “Doll please talk to me, I’m here.”

I look up at her and tears well in my eyes, waves of fear and sadness crash onto me as I take a deep breath. Then blurt everything out at once, “Cassieimaboy”

“What?” A smile spreads on her face and she laughs, no, cackles at me, “Fucking-”

“Cass I'm so sorry I've known for a while but I love you so much and I didn't want to ruin anything and-" She purses her lips and puts a hand over my mouth.

“As I was saying, fucking finally dumbass, no shit.” she smirks down at me, and all I can do is stare back in shock "Are you almost done crying? I have a surprise for you and- hang on what?"

"Y-you love me?" She practically whispers the words before looking into my eyes with a mixture of confusion and glee. I get up and kneel above her, straddling her hips. I take her face in my hands and gently kiss her.

"How could I not?" I stare into her eyes awaiting her response Instead, she reaches into her pocket and grabs something.

"Um. I didn't really have anything planned but, uh, well. I made you this." She hands me a small box, a promise ring with the words I love you doll lies inside. "I'm not good with words but, uh, yeah.... I love you too, doll"

Daniela

"Hello, my love!" I hear Dani enter my chambers and call out to me in a sing-songy voice, before throwing something onto the bed "Are you excited for our date?"

"Y-yeah, I'm excited." Im lying, god I feel so shitty! My day was bad enough since the headmaid caught me out of uniform and practically forced me back into a skirt. Right now the last thing I want is for Dani to choose something overly feminine for me for our date today. I only really agreed to let her choose because I don't have anything other than commoner clothing. She comes up behind me and wraps her arms around my waist as she kisses my neck.

"My love, something is different about our date today. I chose your outfit again, but, I couldn't decide between these two! Which one do you like more?" She spins me around and grabs two outfits off of the bed, and I gasp. The first is a brown tux with a vest and the other is similar, except it is black with green specks of something shiny. The dress she's wearing is form fitting and gods she looks amazing in it "I figured since you are a man, you wouldn't want to wear a dress or anything, so I chose these! I like the brown on because it-"

"The black one. Please." I step towards her and press a kiss to her lips, "and thank you love, for everything. You look stunning by the way!!"

"Thank you my handsome pet." she giggles and hands me the tux before swarming away.

#crow is a new author and they need help #bela dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu x reader #Cassandra dimitrescu x reader #daniela dimitrescu x reader

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muffinsin · 11 months ago

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Hello muffin, I was wondering if you could write abt Bela, Cassandra, and Daniela holding their s/o baby for the first time?!?!?

Hi! This is so wholesome! Absolutely! :)

Let’s get into it!

Masterlist 1

Masterlist 2

Masterlist 3

Bela

She’s amazed

Have you ever seen a cat’s eyes sparkling when they look at a Christmas tree? That’s Bela’s expression, 1:1

How can something so tiny, so perfect, be hers?

She is in love with her little one from the first moment on

She knows, she will coddle them, and spoil them rotten, and cuddle them very often

She’s completely lost in her own world and doesn’t even notice you smiling at her or squeezing her arm

The tiny bundle in her arms is all that matters to her

Now, she thought she was prepared. Bela has been fussing throughout your entire pregnancy

She wanted to be prepared and perfect. A perfect partner and mother

Yet, she feels as if overwhelmed. In the good way

She leans close to her little one, and giggles at their tiny hands reaching out to grab her blonde hair

The small one has her eyes. Bright golden, just like Bela. She can’t get over this

And later on they will share your hair colour. For now, it’s clear they share your smile

Even with tiny lips curved upwards, she recognises your smile on the little face

“I will always protect you. Nobody will ever harm you”, she swears with happy tears in her eyes

Cassandra

Mean, sadistic, rough Cassandra. Reduced to a puddle of tears and happiness, gentleness and soft smiles for this moment

She’s so proud. Of you, and of the tiny baby snuggled between blankets in her arms

The tiny one shares her pale skin, and your facial features, even if the little one hasn’t got much to say for itself yet

Little sounds come from the baby, tiny fingers heavy and attempting to touch Cassandra’s finger

She gently pushes her larger fingers against the tiny ones

She’s so meticulous in her movements, her breath held in concentration so she does not graze the soft, unprotected skin with her sharp nails

The small fingers, still weak and heavy, grasp her finger and a squeal comes from the tiny one

She smiles widely

This one will be a fighter- she has a feeling

But the most outstanding, most remarkable thing are the baby’s eyes

Your little one has heterochromia

One eye, the left, shining dark gold. Cassandra’s dark golden colour

The other eye, the right one, shares the colour of your eyes

“You will always be safe, tiny one. If anybody dares hurt you, I will make them pay”, she promises

Daniela

Normally, Daniela is loud. Hyper. Restless

Yet in this moment, she is completely still

Her lips parted and eyes wide, she watches the perfect little baby in her arms

She didn’t even want to hold the small thing at first, too scared of dropping them or doing something wrong

Now, she can’t imagine ever letting go of this little wonder

She cries tears of happiness, and gently wipes at the tiny baby’s cheek. It’s soft, round and warm

The little thing is sleeping soundly against her chest

Little eyes are closed. They share your eye colour, as she was granted to see before sleep overtook the tiny thing

There are also some of her features apparent already, like her button nose the baby seems to have inherited

She is so excited, and yet doesn’t have words

She can’t stop smiling down at your little wonder

Daniela smiles at you, wide and happy, relieved tears rolling down her cheeks. She was so worried, but it all worked out perfectly. You are healthy. Your little one is

Immediately, she snuggles up against you, the baby still against her chest

“I promise, I will always be by your side. I won’t let anybody take you from me”, she whispers, a promise delivered with a kiss to the tiny baby’s cheek

#cassandra dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu #resident evil village

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willalove75 · 1 year ago

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The Estate | Lady Dimitrescu x Fem!oc Chapter 3

Summary: Your second day at work arrives and you meet a few more of your coworkers.

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI

Tags: Slow burn, flirty

I'll add more tags as needed!

Notes: Chapter 3!

Gif source

Once you're showered and dressed you open the door to Emma's room to wake her up. To your surprise, the toddler was already up and out of bed and rummaging through her toy bin.

"Good morning Emma. What are you looking for?"

"Mommy! I want my baby doll. She has to eat breakfast!"

"Oh she does, does she?"

"Yes, she's hungry."

"Alright, let mommy help you so you don't make even more of a mess."

You walk over to her and grab the doll out from the bottom of the bin and hand it to Emma.

"You must be hungry baby! Lets get breakfast!" Emma says.

The little girl saunters out of the bedroom with her doll in her arms and you can't help but giggle.

Once you get into the kitchen you help Emma into her booster seat and you sit the doll on the table next to her.

"Mommy, can baby and I have waffles?"

"Of course, love."

You pop two Eggo waffles into the toaster and make yourself breakfast. Just as you're finishing up the waffles are ready and you put them onto a plate along with a handful of blueberries. Once they're a cooled off enough so Emma won't burn herself, you cut the waffles up into smaller bite-sized pieces and pour a little bit of syrup over them. You grab your coffee and breakfast along with Emma's and set her plate down in front of her.

After every couple of bites Emma brings her fork to her baby doll's lips and "feeds" her breakfast.

"Is it yummy baby?" Emma asks the doll.

You watch your daughter as she chews on her waffle pieces and fruit while she continues to feed the doll with a smile on your face. Sure, she's getting syrup and blueberry mush everywhere and is making a mess - many of the pieces she "fed" her doll ended up on the floor - but you don't care. All you care about is her happiness and right now, she's the happiest kid on the planet.

When you finish eating you pick up the forgotten pieces of food off of the floor and give it a quick wipe with a paper towel. After cleaning it up you take a wet cloth to Emma's face and wipe her clean.

"Mommy! Don't forget to clean baby!" Emma says.

"Of course not!" You say as you wipe the sticky syrup remnants off of the dolls face. "Alright, how about we get dressed?"

"Me and baby?"

"Yes, you and your baby." You say as you put her down onto the floor.

With an excited squeal Emma runs into her bedroom with the doll in her arms and begins to pick out an outfit for her. As she's occupied you pull out an outfit for Emma and lay it out.

When she finally picks out an outfit, you dress the doll and finish getting Emma and yourself ready for the day.

"Come on Em, we gotta go, mommy can't be late for work!" You call out to her.

"Coming mommy!" Emma says.

She runs out of the room with her doll in her arms and meets you by the door. You unlock it and Emma climbs down the stairs on her butt while you follow her.

"Hi Margie!" Emma says.

"Good morning Emma!" Margie says as she leans down and gives Emma a hug and kiss on the cheek. "Good morning Katie."

"Morning Marge!"

"Ready for your second day?"

"As ready as I'll ever be I guess." You say with a smile.

"I'm sure you'll do great."

"Thank you."

You head out the door with Emma and off to your in-laws house once more.

After you drop off Emma you make your way to work.

As you walk inside you see Cassandra behind the bar again. "Good morning." You say with a smile.

Cassandra either blatantly ignores you or doesn't hear you, but you think it's the former as opposed to the latter.

After you put your things down, you get yourself settled at your desk and turn on your computer. The first thing you do is check your emails for anything you may have gotten after you left and then you go over your to-do list.

Once you outline what it is you want to get done for the day you dive right in. The first item on this mornings list is to work on the next marketing campaign. The campaign is to advertise the new Sunday brunches that are starting in the beginning of the summer. It's only mid-April but you want to start running them by mid-May the latest.

The newly familiar sound of heels clicking across the floor echoes through the hall. When you look up you see Alcina walking past your office. She glances over at you and flashes a smile as she takes off her sunglasses, resting them on top of her head.

She stops at your door and you turn to face her. Her outfit is impeccable, just as put together as it was yesterday. A pair of flowy, high-waisted, printed pants with a sash tied neatly around her waist. A black V-neck popover blouse tucked in. To accessorize the look she has a pair of black heels, her black purse hanging in the crook of her elbow, a black blazer with a leather lapel and her signature gold jewelry. Just like yesterday her makeup is also immaculate. Her winged eyeliner is damn near perfect, eyebrows filled in with such precision you wouldn't think they were even touched at first glance, and her lips are painted with a deep crimson.

"Good morning Kathleen." Alcina says.

"Good morning."

"Bela should be here within the hour, her class should be ending soon. Then she can go over the social media accounts with you."

"Sounds good."

"And you received the invitation for the all-hands weekly staff meeting for this morning, yes?"

"Uh," your eyes widen and you turn towards the monitor that has your email up. "I don't think I did." You say as you check the calendar in your email. There's no unaccepted or pending meetings and no email invitations. "I don't see it."

"If you received it, it would be there." She says with a sigh. "My apologies, I will send you the invitation once I get settled."

"Oh sure, no rush. What time is the meeting?"

"It's at 10 o'clock."

You scribble it down into your notebook.

"I will be there. Email invite or not." You say, nodding to the computer screen.

"Excellent."

And with that, Alcina turns on her heels and heads into her office. The scent of her perfume lingers well after she's gone. As hard as you try to ignore it, it's nearly impossible not to focus on the smell as it envelopes you.

Just as 9:30 rolls around a blur of blond hair zooms past your office and down the hall. A couple of minutes later you hear the clicking of heels once more followed by a small knock on your already-open office door.

You turn to see Alcina with a young blond woman. The same one you saw for only a moment yesterday with Cassandra.

"Kathleen, I would like to introduce you to my eldest daughter, Bela."

"Hi, it's nice to meet you." You say as you shake her hand. "Bay-la," trying to pronounce it correctly. "not Bella?"

"Yup, exactly." She says with a smile. "It's nice to meet you too."

"Bela will go over the social media accounts and-" a phone ringing down the hall pulls Alcina's attention away. "I'm sorry, I must get that."

"No worries mom, I got it."

"Thank you draga." She says, before placing a light kiss on top of her head and disappearing down the hall.

"Alright, lets get to it."

For the next half-hour Bela goes through all of the social media accounts. She shows you what she's been doing, the photos she's been taking, how she's been taking them and where the best places she's found to take pictures are. The two of you walk around the estate and she shows you her favorite photo locations and where to grab things from if you need props or other things for the pictures.

"If you need a specific bottle and mom doesn't give it to you just ask Cass or any one of the bartenders. They can grab you one. Just let them know its for the socials so they don't bring you out one with a ripped label or something."

"Alright, sounds good."

"So, how are you liking it so far?"

"It's been good, I still have a lot to learn about the estate itself but it's nice to be working again."

"How long were you out of work for?"

"About two years."

You know the next question out of her mouth is going to be "why?" and you brace yourself. Just as she goes to speak her phone rings. Literally saved by the bell.

"Oh damn it's 10 already? The meeting starts in a couple minutes. I gotta grab a few things so I'll see you in there."

"See you soon."

A wave of relief washes over you and you head back into your office and grab your notebook. You follow a few other people into the conference room as you all file in.

Everything in the estate had a rustic look to it and the conference room was no exception. It was a big room with a large, rectangle table in the middle and windows overlooking the vineyard lining the far wall. Opposite the windows sat a window wall, the only barrier between the conference room and the rest of the office. The conference room door was a barn door and when it was open, the grilles lined up perfectly with the ones on the window wall - so satisfying. The other two walls were adorned with reclaimed wood that matched the beams trailing on the ceiling from one end of the room to the other. The wall closest to the door had a massive television screen mounted to it, presumably for presentations and zoom conferences.

You politely smiled at a few people you hadn't met yet and went to find a seat. Alcina, to your surprise, didn't sit at the head of the table but right in the middle of it. Part of you hoped you'd be able to find a seat near one of the ends but of course the only seat that was left open was the one directly in front of your new boss.

The rest of the staff got comfortable in their seats as they all waited for Alcina to finish doing whatever it was she was doing on her laptop. As much as you tried to avoid looking at her, she was right in your line of sight.

She really was beautiful. You did your best to look at anything else but your eyes always wandered back to her. Her perfectly curled hair tucked behind one of her ears, putting her pearl earring on display. The way her reading glasses were perched on her nose somehow made her look both cute and incredibly sexy. Like a hot librarian.

The minute you realize your thought you feel a warm flush across your cheeks and you push it out of your head. She's your boss, you can't be thinking about her that way! As you're chastising yourself in your head her eyes flick up and meet yours. You feel the heat in your face grow and you look away but not before catching her flashing you a small smile.

"I apologize for keeping you all waiting." She announces to the group who falls silent. "There isn't much on the agenda today so this should be quick. Before we begin, I would like to introduce our newest team member, Kathleen." She says, gesturing across the table to you. "She has taken over John's position in marketing and will be with us full time. I would like to not overwhelm our newest staff member so if there are any questions related to her department please continue to send them my way until she is acclimated." Alcina says. You notice her eyes flash to the man sitting at the head of the table on your right and she continues. "Now, there are no major updates, sales are steadily increasing as the weather improves and once the advertisements for our Sunday brunches have been launched I have no doubts that sales will continue to rise."

She talks more about how the business is doing in general, updates on shipments due and what orders need to be placed. She mentions new menu items and what seasonal food and drink options are going to be swapped out soon. Once she's finished with her list she goes around the room to each staff member and asks if they have anything for the meeting. A few of the people say they don't have anything, the man at the head of the table says he has nothing for this meeting, whatever that's supposed to imply. Some of the different departments talk about what's been going on, what they need from others and overall departmental updates. As she goes around the table the man next to you speaks and you feel your heart beginning to beat faster. "What am I supposed to say? Would it look bad if I didn't say anything at my first meeting?" You think. When it comes your turn, Alcina skips over you and goes straight to the man to your left. A breath you didn't realize you were holding is released and you feel your heartbeat beginning to even out.

After about an hour the meeting started it comes to a close and Alcina dismisses everyone. Before you get up you catch her eye.

"I hope it's alright I skipped over you today." She says.

"Yeah, that was totally fine. I was starting to get nervous about what I was going to say anyway since it's only my second day."

"I presumed as much." Was it that obvious that you were starting to panic or is she just that good at reading people? "I don't expect you to have to participate in filling in the team of the happenings in marketing until after next weeks meeting. It should take at the very least that long to get acclimated to everything."

"Thank you." You say with a smile.

Well that was a relief you didn't know you were craving. You were safe this week and next week. The following week is when you'll have to discuss anything new in marketing but you're confident that you'll have everything down pat by then.

As you and Alcina gather your things and stand, the man seated at the head of the table walks up to you.

"Hello there, Chris Redfield, CFO." He says, holding out his hand. "It's wonderful to meet you, Kathleen, was it?" You shake his hand.

"Yeah. It's nice to meet you too."

It's not so surprising to find out he's the CFO. The moment he opened his mouth he sounded like a salesman. Like the kind of guy who can get you to buy a cheap piece of shit car and make you feel like you're driving away in a Rolls Royce.

"And where were we lucky enough to snag you from?" He asks.

Alcina's eyes dart over to Chris and they narrow at him.

"Oh, I've had a bit of a gap in my resume the past couple of years." You say, a little embarrassed.

"And now why is that-"

"Christopher." Alcina snaps and both you and Chris look in her direction. Her slate eyes piercing into him. "Wasn't there something you needed to speak with me about? That you didn't mention in the all-hands meeting?"

"As a matter of fact there was. How about we go chat in your office?" He turns to you. "It was wonderful meeting you Kate." He says before sauntering out of the room.

You're able to give Alcina a small smile as a "thank you" before she exits the conference room behind him. It does look as though she gave you the smallest of nods in return.

A few minutes after you got back to your desk you see Alcina briskly walk past and you look over at the clock. The tasting room opens in a few minutes so you figure she's going to do her routine walkthrough before opening. A few minutes later she heads back to her office and you hear the door close.

You dive into your work, getting everything ready for the brunch advertisements. Bouncing between that and a few other things, like A/B testing and running analytics, the day passes rather quickly and it's already time for lunch.

Once you finish up your tasks you pull out your lunch and begin to eat while scrolling mindlessly on your phone.

"What are you eating?!" An excited voice says.

Looking up you see Daniela standing in your doorway.

"Hey Daniela, nothing, just lunch. How was school?"

"It was so boring. What did you bring for lunch?!"

"Just a salad, nothing fancy."

"Oh come on, salads are more boring than school!"

"I won't disagree with you there, kid."

"I thought mom told you to leave her alone." Bela says as she walks up to Daniela.

"I'm not bothering her! She's having lunch!" She says defensively.

"Daniela-"

"What?! I'm not doing anything wrong!"

You sit there awkwardly as the girls begin to bicker. They get louder and louder until Alcina walks up.

"What on earth are you two doing?!" She hisses.

"Daniela was bothering Kathleen aga-"

"I was not!"

"That is enough."

"But mom she was having lunch! I wasn't distracting her from important stuff!" Daniela whines.

"You're such a whiney baby." Bela says.

"Enough, the both of you. Bela, go back to work. You," she looks at Daniela and points to her office. "my office. Now."

Daniela's shoulders drop and she looks at you like a sad puppy.

"See you later Katie."

"Bye Daniela." You say with a smile. That seemed to cheer Daniela up a bit as she walks away.

Alcina turns to you and you're not sure if the ever so faint flush is from embarrassment or from holding in her anger and not screaming at her two daughters.

"Once again, I apologize for their behavior." She says.

"It's okay, really." You say with a smile.

"I will see to it that she stops barging in on you."

"Honestly, I don't mind. Especially if I'm just having lunch. She seems like a good kid. She's just, excitable."

Alcina laughs through her nose and shakes her head.

"The understatement of the century."

The rest of your day flies by after that and before you know it you're packing up and getting ready to go home. You decide to stop by Alcina's office again before you head out.

It was only after you knocked on the door was when you heard two voices behind it. "Oh shit." You think to yourself. The door opens and Chris is standing in front of you.

"Would ya look at that, the new girl! Kim, right?"

"It's Katie, actually." You say.

"Oh that's right, my apologies Kate."

You adjust the strap of your bag on your left shoulder and Chris looks at your hand.

"No ring, so you're not married?"

"Uh-"

"Christopher." Alcina hisses. He steps aside and you see the glare she's shooting him. If she were to look at you like that you would probably cry without her ever having to speak a single word.

"Yeah you're right Alci, none of my business." He says with a charming smile. She must be used to his antics because the glare she's sending his way only intensifies when he calls her "Alci."

"I am so sorry for interrupting, I didn't know anyone was in here with you. I'll go-"

"You weren't interrupting at all, Kathleen. Chris was just leaving." She says, shooting Chris a look.

"I should probably get goin' myself. The bachelor pad ain't gonna clean itself." Alcina scrunches her nose for a moment as if she smelled bad fish. "Night boss, Kate."

Chris disappears down the hall and Alcina looks to you.

"I apologize for his behavior, he can be quite insufferable at times." She says, rubbing small circles on her temples. "It also feels as if I've been apologizing quite often since your arrival."

"Honestly, it's really okay."

"If at any point you are uncomfortable, with anything, even if it has to do with my daughters, please don't hesitate to speak with me."

"I won't, I promise."

"Good. I presume you're leaving for the day?"

"Yeah, just wanted to see if you needed anything before I left."

Alcina smiles at you and shakes her head.

"No, there is nothing I need from you. Have a wonderful night, Kathleen."

"You too."

The two of you exchange smiles and you head out for the day.

Alcina leans her elbows on her desk and closes her eyes and continues to rub her temples.

"You good there boss?"

She opens her eyes and slowly looks up at Chris.

"Aside from the impending migraine you've bestowed upon me, I am fine."

"All I'm saying is that that property might not be the best invest-"

"I am through with speaking about this. My decision has been made and it is final. When the property is ready to be listed I will be buying it."

"You don't even need it, you just want it so Winters can't get it-"

"Christopher, I understand you are my CFO and that you have good intentions but I purchased the land we are sitting on, I built this winery, this vineyard, this entire estate without supervision. I don't need it now."

"What do you plan on doing with another 30 acres of property anyway? Property that's a mile away no less?"

"I haven't decided."

Knowing he's fighting a losing battle, Chris sighs and shakes his head.

"Goodnight boss."

"Goodnight Christopher."

Alcina continues to work in her office as the tasting room slowly empties. When it closes at 7, Alcina is still at her desk.

"Alright mom, registers are all cashed out and everything is closed down." Cassandra says as she walks into her mothers office.

"Wonderful, thank you draga."

"I'm starving, can we get Chick-fil-a?" Daniela says, collapsing onto the couch in her mothers office.

"Oh, that sounds good. I can go for a milkshake right now. Mom, want anything?"

"From that greasy place? No thank you."

"Do you not like that we go there because they don't like gay people?" Daniela asks.

Alcina scoffs.

"No, I do not care what a business such as that thinks of my lifestyle. I refuse to eat there because it is disgusting." She says, not looking up from her work.

"Are you coming home anytime soon?" Cassandra asks.

"I'll be done soon, draga."

"So you'll be home by midnight. Sounds about right. Come on Dani, lets go eat."

"Cassandra, watch that tone of yours." Her eyes shift to her middle child.

"Why am I the only one you get mad at?"

"That's not true Cass, she got mad at me yesterday and today!"

"What did you do?"

"She was interrupting Kathleen during work, again." Alcina says, eyeing her youngest.

"Who?"

"Katie! The pretty one." Daniela says.

"Oh, the new girl."

"Daniela will you stop saying that?" Alcina says.

"Why? You don't think she's pretty?" Daniela asks.

"No, that's not why I said that-"

"So you do think she's pretty!"

"Daniela Dimitrescu that is enough. You cannot comment on peoples appearances in the workplace. It is unprofessional." Alcina says.

"But you do think she's pretty?"

"Enough. Go eat your greasy fast-food and go home so I can finish what I'm doing and maybe I will be home at a reasonable hour."

"You missed that by about two hours there, mom." Cassandra says.

"Goodbye girls."

"Bye mamă." Daniela says wrapping her arms around her mothers neck and kissing her on the cheek.

"See ya."

"Get home safe, I will be there soon." She says as the girls walk out of her office.

"Why are you so obsessed with how pretty the new girl is?" Cassandra asks.

"Have you not seen her?! She's so pretty!" Daniela says as her voice fades away.

Alcina sighs and gets back to work. Thoughts of you cross her mind. Of course you're pretty - you're beautiful if Alcina was being honest with herself. But you also fascinated her, piqued her curiosity.

She wanted to know why you had such a long gap in your resume. Alcina tells herself its for purely professional reasons but she is also curious outside of a professional manner. It also struck her as odd the way you reacted when Chris said you weren't married. It brought her back to yesterday when she noticed what could be a wedding band on your right ring finger and when you were giving her your emergency contact information. You went to say, what was it? Jack? Jake? Something like that, but stopped yourself. A sadness filled your eyes but was gone in an instant. A sadness Alcina was all too familiar with. But if it was because you were divorced or widowed, she didn't know. She's seen that look for both reasons.

Alcina remembers the blush that dusted your cheeks when you made eye contact before the meeting started. She could have sworn that you were blushing before she looked at you but she wasn't sure. She cursed herself for thinking how pretty you looked as the flush deepened.

Just then Alcina's phone dinged, a text message came through. It was from Alex, the woman that Alcina had been casually seeing.

8 tonight?

Was all the text read. Alcina looked at her watch and saw that it was 7:15. She replied:

The usual place?

Yes

Meet you there.

She knew she should have said no and continued working but between the stress of the week and the extra grief from Chris today, Alcina needed to relieve some of her tension. That's really at that this relationship was. A way for both women to relieve tension without having to sleep with random people.

She drives to the hotel and heads up to the room Alex texted her. As soon as she walks in the rest of her night becomes a blur of limbs tangling, touches, tongues, scratches, whimpers, moans and orgasms - multiple orgasms.

By 9:30 Alcina is pulling into the driveway of her home.

"Reasonable hour my ass." Cassandra says as Alcina walks in.

"Cassandra, you know better than to use that language in my house." Alcina says as she puts her purse and keys away.

"Were you at the office all night?" Daniela asks.

"No, but I was there late. I went out afterwards for a bit."

"Where?"

"The jazz club." She lied.

"On a Thursday night?" Cassandra questioned.

"It's late, you girls should be getting ready for bed, not watching television."

Cassandra groans and Alcina begins to walk up the stairs.

"Turn it off, girls."

The tv is shut off and Cassandra and Daniela head upstairs to get ready for bed.

After finishing up her nightly routine Alcina climbs into bed. For the first time in what felt like weeks she's actually satisfied and drifts off into a deep sleep.

#willalove75 #lady dimitrescu #wlw fanfic #alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu x oc #lady dimitrescu fanfic #lady dimitrescu x reader #lady alcina #re8 lady dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu x oc #alcina x female reader #alcina dimitrescu x reader #alcina x reader #re8 fanfiction #re8 daniela #re8 alcina #re8 village #re8 cassandra #re8 bela dimitrescu

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sheep33hallow · 1 month ago

Text

Creep(SuperBat)

Part 5 of Entrapment Series(Hera!BruceXZeus!Clark)

Link (Story)

Link (Series)

Tags: long haired!Bruce, Childbirth, T-rating.

______

When Clark came home, and saw the unknown infant lying with Bruce. He had questions.

“Who’s baby?” Clark inquired. When he left his home this morning, Bruce was not pregnant.

Bruce was sitting on the floor, clearly exhausted. The child was sleeping in between his spread legs, looking around four months.

“Mine.” Bruce answered with an exhale. He picked the child up, and sniffed it. “And only mine, before you go off, and kill someone.”

Clark walked closer, around the couch. Bruce looked disheveled as he glared at Clark. His long hair covering him, and even the babe.

“So, you had a child without me?” He joked. Trying to lighten the mood. He knelt down, but Bruce shifted away from Clark.

“So you had children without me?” Bruce throws back at him with venom in my voice.

Clark keeps his face neutral. It’s been centuries since he’s had a child outside of their union. Most of their children do not live with them anymore. The only ones remaining are Cassandra and Jon. “You had a child Bruce. So it is mine as well.” Like he would dare Bruce show this child off, and his name not be attached to it.

“It is not.” Bruce hisses.

Clark resists the temptation to sneer at his Queen. So he tightens his mouth. He’ll play along for now.

He smiles. “May I see it?”

Bruce looks unsure. “It is mine.” He tries, as if the child is a precious toy to be kept from sight.

Clark can see how exhausted Bruce is. He was only gone for six hours, but a lot has happened that he does not understand.

“It is yours.” He charms. “But you are mine.” He scoots closer into Bruce’s face as his Queen backs up like Clark is an apex predator ready to pounce. He flinches when Clark raises a hand, but softens when Clark cups his face.

Bruce looks at him with those dark doe eyes, and Clark finds himself really enamored with this version of his Queen. So feral, and less knowing.

A wide grin. “Show me what is yours.”

Bruce looks away, then pulls the baby out from behind his hair.

Clark notices that the child doesn’t have a scent of him on it. Only Bruce’s.

It really is only his Queen's.

Clark doesn’t know how to feel about it.

“What have you named it?” Clark asks. Looking inwardly at how he can deal with this.

“Terry.” Bruce smiles softly. He presses his nose into the child’s head, smelling it again.

“Terry.” Clark repeats dryly.

Should he kill it?

Bruce looks back up at Clark.

No longer smiling, Clark pushes Bruce’s hair out of his face. “What?” He kisses Bruce’s forehead.

“Will you kill him?” Bruce asks shyly.

Pausing his kiss, “I was thinking about it.” He answers, and kisses his forehead again. “Do you not want me to?” Clark rolls his eyes, thinking about how his brothers were laughing at him the other day, for how much he’s been slipping Bruce into his conversations lately. Calling him lovesick.

He’s older now.

He has grandkids now.

He’s only slept with a few people in the last few years, but since Bruce has stopped caring about his outings. They don’t hold the same veil of fun as they used to.

“I want to keep him.”

He can already imagine the jokes his brother, and even children will have about how Bruce had a child without him.

“Why?” He whines. He backs up to look at Bruce. His Queen is pouting at him.

He kisses him.

Soft pouty lips.

The baby starts to whine.

It probably doesn't like Clark this close to him. Jason and Damien were the same way when they were born.

But they were clearly his.

This child is an outlier in the bunch.

It needs to die.

“I’ve missed raising kids with you.” Bruce admits, and blushes.

Clark groans.

Bruce uses his hand not holding the baby, and pushes Clark back. Clark goes willingly, and sits back as Bruce straightens himself up. He notices some of his husband coming back into his eyes.

Less feral, more dominating.

“Clark.” He calls.

Clark groans again like a child. He gathers his knees up, and rests his cheek on his knees while looking at Bruce. “Yes, peacock?” He smiles.

Bruce huffs a chuckle at Clark’s farm boy charm. “I know you won’t kill him. He is ours.”

“He is yours.” His smile looked strained.

Bruce chuckles. “He is mine, and ours. For we are of a union. Have we not raised Jon?”

“We have.”

Bruce nods. “Then he is ours.” He holds out the baby for Clark. “Hold him.”

Clark listens to his Queen, and takes the child. Shifting his legs into a crossed legged position.

It does not cry in his arms.

Bruce stands up, and Clark sees the wet blood on his Queen. “I am going to the springs. If he gets hungry. Figure it out until I am back.” As he walks past Clark, who is still sitting on the floor, he scratches his scalp in affection, and recurls his hanging curl in the front of his King’s forehead.

Bruce looks down as Clark looks up.

“I love you.” Clark says.

Bruce smirks at him, and taps Clark’s nose. “I won’t be long.” And walks off down the hall.

Alone with the babe, Clark holds him.

Clark doesn’t like Terry.

Though, he knows he cannot kill a child that is born from Bruce. Too many titans would rain down on his home if Big Barda found out. Even his children would turn on him.

So the only thing he hopes is that Terry will be a carbon copy of Bruce in all of the ways, and that makes him smile.

Terry reaches up for Clark, and Clark kisses the babe’s fingers which makes the infant smile.

He can do this.

Bruce has done this for him.

Though, he will take the child to Oliver to be sure. For if this child has blood other than Bruce inside of it, the Underworld is the perfect place to choke the child within every inch of its small life.

#superbat #zeus #Hera #bat kids as greek counterparts #greek retelling #greek inspired #batman #superman #clark Kent #bruce wayne

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that-one-light · 1 month ago

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Lost in thought (In which Eclipser is dense and Lottie and Ivy are Multi-shippers)

This is basically me not being able to ship my MC with just on person even after deciding to make Eclipser end up with Daniel and obsessing over jealousy fics. I think I have a problem...

"You look like a stalker." Ivy mused watching Lottie sketch Eclipser from a distance.

The subject of Lottie's current portrait was busy sitting on a windowsill reading a book, pen in hand occasionally writing things down, hair braided back, while baby hairs and smaller strands framed her face, leaning on her glasses.

"You'd be surprised how often I get that." Lottie replied hatching the space that was meant to be Eclipser's hair. Ivy plopped down beside her artist friend leaning onto her shoulder.

"You ever make couple art?" Ivy asked placing her chin in her hand. Lottie paused looking up and glancing at Ivy.

"Of who...?' She asked raising a suspicious brow.

Lottie recognized the smirk on the shorter girls face immediately. The one which always showed up when she was in a mischievous mood. "Oh you know...the seventh years, the kids who get into a new relationship every year...friends."

"I don't draw people in relationships Ivy, it's not right to put people together, when one might not be comfortable, the only couple art I make is of people in proper relationships and fictional characters." She said sternly.

Ivy let out a huff at Lottie's words, "Okay but that doesn't mean we can't talk about it right?"

Lottie closed her eyes, whether she was frustrated or she was considering it, Ivy couldn't tell, only giving a beaming smile when the artist begrudgingly agreed. Quickly becoming enthusiastic with their gossip until the topic came to their dear friends.

"Kevin and Robyn are hopeless, it's been four years and all they've done is hold hands!" Ivy groaned

"Well, I'm pretty sure their hiding something, no way Kev's suddenly started taking hints." Lottie shrugged continuing her sketch of Eclipser who still hadn't noticed her friends across the room.

Ivy blew hair out of her face looking down at the drawing. "What about Eclipser?"

"What about her?"

"I mean, who do you think she likes!" She grinned.

"I dunno..." Lottie hummed, "I don't think she's really into anyone, I mean she's pretty friendly to everyone, except of course Fischer and Cassandra, have you noticed the way she's extra hostile to her recently, it's like she has something personal against her now."

"Meh, Cassandra's a bi-" Ivy cut herself off as a group of first years passed. "Ehem, she's not someone I prefer to waste my time on but Winne keeps insisting that's she's a good friend so I suppose I can keep my mouth shut...for now..." She shook her head. "But that's not the point, I was talking to Miss Flume while buying some caramels, and when we were talking about Valentines chocolate she mentioned that one time she saw Eclipser zoning out staring at the heart candy boxes mumbling about what she should get."

Lottie tilted her head. "And that proves what exactly...?"

Ivy rolled her eyes. "That she likes someone! She obviously wanted to get chocolate for someone!"

"Mmmm she could have been getting it for herself. Like you always do." Lottie teased

"Really Eclipser? Getting HERSELF sweets?" Ivy shook her head with a snort. "Eclipser hates sweets, she hasn't even been able to enjoy chocolate since the whole Dementor incident. She had to have been getting them for someone!"

Lottie considered Ivy's words, darkening the lips on her drawing. "I suppose you could be onto something. Who though..."

Ivy's eyes shinned, "I thought you'd never ask!" Lottie had always wondered what was in the giant book bag Ivy carried around was for, she didn't exactly take notes in class with it, none that she knew of at least. It seemed she was finally given the answer as Ivy opened up the book spreading it across from them.

"A gossip journal?' Lottie giggled.

"You have your poison I have mine." She grinned flipping to a whole chapter seemingly dedicated to Eclipser.

"Why is there a chart...." She started glancing at a full page dedicated to a chart titled. 'Likeliness of Succeeding', with a leaderboard at the top.

Ivy cleared her throat. "Here we have a chart with all of Eclipser's possible suitors-"

"Suitors?" Lottie burst out laughing covering her mouth attempting to stifle her giggles when people looked their way.

"Yes! Suitors," Ivy huffed. "I made a column to document every chemistry igniting interactions, closeness on a scale from 1-10, and finally likeliness of Eclipser liking them back, the leaderboard shows who's most likely to end up with her with the current information!"

"How...much free time do you have..." Lottie asked scooting away slightly with a concerned stare.

"Not important!" The silver haired gremlin cheered.

Shaking her head Lottie read the names in order of the leaderboard. "Daniel...Abigail...Colby?' She shot a glance at Ivy before continuing, "Kenji...? Really?" She tilted her head "The fox one?"

"Her patronus is a fox!" Ivy giggled.

"This is...detailed." Lottie noted adding in Eclipsers patronus to her drawing, a magical touch in her opinion.

"Unless I've missed something, this is everyone our lovely friend has chemistry with."

"Ivy why am I on there-"

"EHEM!!! So far Daniel is in the lead for obvious reasons that everyone but them can see. Coming in strong in second place....ABIGAIL!"

For what seemed to be the third time everyone glanced at them, this time Eclipser raised her head as well in their direction, lifting and eyebrow with a half smile and a wave before going back to her book.

Ivy continued sheepishly. "It's obvious that Abigail has a crush on Eclipser, I mean, remember when they made strawberry cake for dessert and she gave Abigail her slice instead of me...COUGH totally not mad about that, the poor girl turned super red!"

"I can understand Colby I suppose, Eclipser's always nice to him at least, and he's been putting in extra effort to stop Fischer from annoying her, I saw them geeking out over poetry in the library last week.

Lottie paused for a moment. "And Kenji...?"

"Thought you'd never ask. Ok I'll be honest...there isn't exactly much here, he just kinda trusts her I suppose and he's always happy to talk to her, if anything he's more likely to end up with Kevin."

Leaning over to the side table, Lottie sipped her tea, "What were we talking about again...?"

Ivy paused. "Uhhhh...OH! Who Eclipser was buying chocolates for."

"Right...and based off all this data you've collected who did you think it was?"

"Oh well obviously-"

"None of your business" Eclipser huffed grabbing the pages from Ivy's notebook. With a hand on her hip holding the ripped paper, her book in the other.

Lottie and Ivy squeaked in response, Ivy's face falling at her hard work now removed from her journal. "We were just um-" Lottie stuttered.

"For the record, It's not Abigail or Kenji, Abby's sweet I don't really see her that way, and I barley know Kenji. This is a lot of information though...most of it just regular interactions..." Eclipser hummed reading over the paper before walking off,

"My notebook!" Ivy mourned running a hand over the ripped bit still in her book.

"Oh..." Lottie breathed.

"What?" Ivy leaned her head over to look at Lottie's drawing.

"I drew a cat instead of a fox...didn't even realize."

And just like that, floating around a sitting Eclipser in the drawing was a black cat playing with a nonexistent ball of yarn.

"Huh...maybe your leaderboard was right..."

(Ohhhh boy, this one was long...and kinda rambled off at the end, let me know if there are any mistakes, trying to improve my writing while rambling over HPMA OC lore...speaking off...should probably stop making so much ship stuff and get to writing her backstory) @desert-rotten-soul Have fun ^^

#hpma #harry potter magic awakened #hp magic awakened #hpma mc #hpma oc #ivy warrington #lottie turner #Fischer Frey #colby frey #daniel page

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taylorswiftandx · 9 months ago

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Taylor Swift and Myth/Legend/Fantasy

Note: huge thank you to @meandmypagancrew who collaborated with me on this post! This one is very subjective - I ultimately chose to include references specifically relating to the story elements of religion/myth/legend/fantasy/tales, in order to determine what to include here versus what appears on TS and Religious Words/References. TS and Literary References may also be of interest.

'Taylor Swift'

Picture to Burn: State the obvious, I didn’t get my perfect fantasy

'Fearless (Taylor's Version)'

White Horse: I’m not a princess, this ain’t a fairytale

The Best Day: Don’t know if Snow White’s house is near or far away

The Best Day: It’s the age of princesses and pirate ships and the seven dwarves

Today Was A Fairytale: Today was a fairytale

'Speak Now (Taylor’s Version)’'

Long Live: I had the time of my life fighting dragons with you

Superman: I watch superman fly away

'Red (Taylor's Version)'

State Of Grace: These are the hands of fate, you’re my Achilles heel

'1989 (Taylor’s Version)'

You Are In Love: You understand now why they lost their minds and fought the wars

Now That We Don’t Talk: You part the crowd like the Red Sea, don’t even get me started

Suburban Legends: I didn’t come here to make friends, we were born to be suburban legends

Suburban Legends: I had the fantasy that our mismatched star signs would surprise the whole school

'reputation'

I Did Something Bad: They’re burning all the witches even if you aren’t one

'Lover'

(no myths/legends)

'folklore'

invisible string: Isn’t it just so pretty to think all along there was some invisible string tying you to me?

invisible string: A string that pulled me out of all the wrong arms right into that dive bar

mad woman: And women like hunting witches too

'evermore'

willow: As if you were a mythical thing

champagne problems: Your Midas touch on the Chevy door

gold rush: My mind turns your life into folklore

ivy: I wish to know the fatal flaw that makes you long to be magnificently cursed

cowboy like me: Now you hang from my lips like the Gardens of Babylon

'Midnights'

Anti-Hero: Sometimes I feel like everybody is a sexy baby and I’m a monster on the hill

Labyrinth: Lost in the labyrinth of my mind

Would’ve Could’ve Should’ve: I would’ve stayed on my knees and I damn sure would’ve never danced with the devil at nineteen

Dear Reader: When you aim at the devil, make sure you don’t miss

You’re Losing Me: I’m getting tired, even for a phoenix

'The Tortured Poets Department'

So Long, London: I saw in my mind fairy lights through the mist

But Daddy I Love Him: Screaming, "But, daddy, I love him"

Guilty as Sin?: These fatal fantasies giving way to labored breath

Guilty as Sin?: If it's make believe, why does it feel like a vow we'll both uphold somehow?

Guilty as Sin?: What if I roll the stone away? They're gonna crucify me anyway

Clara Bow: Beauty is a beast that roars down on all fours demanding more

The Albatross: Locked me up in towers, but I'd visit in your dreams

How Did It End?: My beloved ghost and me, sitting in a tree, D-Y-I-N-G

I Hate It Here: And in my fantasies I rise above it

thanK you aIMee: I pushed each boulder up the hill

thanK you aIMee: So I pushed each boulder up that hill

The Prophecy: Cards on the table, mine play out like fools in a fable, oh, it was sinking in

The Prophecy: Poison blood from the wound of the pricked hand

Cassandra: So, they killed Cassandra first 'cause she feared the worst and tried to tell the town

Cassandra: I was in my tower weaving nightmares

Peter: Forgive me, Peter, my lost fearless leader

Peter: And the shelf life of those fantasies has expired

Peter: Lost to the Lost Boys chapter of your life

The Bolter: But none if it is changing that the chariot is waiting

The Manuscript: He said, "No, just a good samaritan"

Other Songs written by Taylor

Beautiful Ghosts: Is this hope just a mystical dream?

Crazier: I was trying to fly but I couldn’t find wings

Official Alternate Releases

Cassandra (Clean Version): When it's "Burn the witch" they're shrieking

#taylor swift #lyrics #taylorswiftandx #lyric parallels #myths #legends #fantasy #fairytale

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vilandel · 7 months ago

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Storm of Griffins

Summary It was bound to happen. With that thunderstorm outside, Vanessa and Nozel aren't surprised that their daughters rather want to sleep with their parents, secure in mamas and papas embrace.

A/N @kalolasfantasyworld, I just realized that we both have our own ways to call Nozels children, you have Birdies and I have Griffins 💘 Wrote this today for some fluff, for domestic Nozessa with their four daughters and to show Nozel as a father 🦅💜

Ao3 link

♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣

Vanessa touched her baby’s tiny nose a bit, but Cassandra wouldn’t wake up. Nothing seemed to wake her up, despite the loud thunderstorm outside. It was quite fascinating, especially that none of her other daughters had that deep of a sleep when they were babies.

Covering the silver-haired baby with a blanket, Vanessa turned towards her husband, who was standing at the window, observing the thunderstorm.

“Quite the spectacle, isn’t it, honey?”

Nozel just nodded, without turning around. Since he was already ready for bed, he was only wearing his pyjama pants, leaving his upper body naked. Oh, Vanessa didn’t complained about that, on the contrary. Admiring Nozels not buff but well-defined muscles and imagining those toned arms around her was something she got never tired about. But she couldn’t allow herself to be thirsty, since their youngest daughter was present.

“And she really is still asleep?” Nozel finally asked as he turned around. Gosh, he looked so good with his hair down falling over his shoulders, fluffy, thick and silky, his bangs slightly falling over his eyes, unbraided.

“Don’t worry, this little one has the deepest sleep I ever saw in a baby,” Vanessa smiled while gesturing at Cassandras sleep basket on their bed. “She won’t be afraid of thunderstorms, I’m certain of that.”

“This one is rather heavy, though.”

“Still, Cassandra won’t be afraid. With that, she is more like Nymphea. You shouldn’t be surprised though if Lavinia will run into our bedroom in a few minutes. Maybe Valentina too, but she at least has her twin sister.”

Nozel nodded, while sitting down next to his wife on the bed. A soft smile appeared on his lips as he softly caressed the baby’s cheek. Cassandra didn’t woke up, but a happy baby smile shortly appeared on her face, her dolphin plushie next to her.

Vanessa sighed happily. Cassandra had definitely be a surprise baby. Three daughters was already a blessing for Nozel and her. Not to mention that she had needed to convince her husband a bit to have Lavinia.

Only a bit, though. Nozel enjoyed fatherhood more than he would ever admit. They had feel blessed with Nymphea, Valentina and Lavinia, feeling that their little family was now complete.

But then, Vanessa got pregnant again. A fourth baby had been on the way. A surprise baby, no denying about that. A shock, yes, but more a happy surprise than a reason to worry. Vanessa and Nozel had embraced it, even though they were determined to not have more than four children.

Unlike what most believed, especially the Black Bulls and their bets, it had been another girl instead of a boy. It didn’t matter to Vanessa and Nozel, Cassandra had been another blessing, just like her sisters before her. She was also wilder than their other daughters, when she wasn’t asleep that is.

Their door opening brought Vanessa back to reality. Just one second later, their three year old daughter Lavinia run towards the bed, holding her favourite plushie tightly in her arms. The little barn owl with the pink witch hat Vanessa had made for her on Lavinias first birthday. How time flies by…

Lavinia tried to climb on her parents bed, but sadly was still to tiny for that, her white puffy nightgown with the pink hearts was also a bit too big for her still and she was holding her plushie. Nozel helped her get on and Lavinia immediately went halfway into hiding under her parents blanket.

“Nia, sweetie, is it so scary for you?” Vanessa asked kindly, while she stroked her daughters rosewood coloured hair. She smiled while doing so, Lavinias might have her hair colour, but it was as soft and thick like her father’s.

“Can’t sleep, too scary,” the little girl mumbled, holding her plushie.

“It is just a thunderstorm, Lavinia,” Nozel said, with such a comforting voice that it made Vanessas heart melt. “As long as you are her with us, in this palace, nothing will happen to you.”

“What about monsters?”

“What monsters?”

“Uncle Zora said that when there are storms, there are monsters coming out to scare us.”

Vanessa rolled her eyes. Typical Zora, always trying to be a very cool uncle. But she really should have a talk with him, Lavinia was after all a very shy little girl and for now still easy to scare.

“Was Luck nearby when your uncle talked about those storm monsters?” Nozel asked.

“Yes, papa.”

“Then he was probably talking about Luck, not some storm monsters.”

“Oh. True. Uncle Magna also says that uncle Luck can be like a monster sometimes.”

Vanessa smiled. Oh, she really preferred that than Zora scaring her baby girl because he tried to be a cool uncle.

“But storms are still scary.”

“If you want, you can stay with us and your little sister tonight, Lavinia. So you won’t be alone.”

Vanessa couldn’t help but smile brightly at her husband. Does he realize what a wonderful father he was? He was so worried to end up like his own jerk of a father, he who thought that because of his past mistakes, he would never become a loving parent… But Nozel became a parent like his mother was.

His fatherly side was certainly one of Vanessas favourite traits of him.

The next moment, the door to their chamber opened again and their eight year old twin daughters entered, so adorable in their lavender nightgowns. Valentina was behind her sister, clinging onto her while holding a black cat plushie tightly. Nymphea was more calm, guiding her twin towards the bed, her eagle plushie under her arm.

“Look, Nia. Your two big sisters are now also coming, so that you won’t be alone in the storm,” Vanessa smiled as she caressed Lavinias head, while Nozel helped the twins getting on the bed. Valentina immediately went on her father’s lap and put the blanket above her head. Nozel hold her immediately, giving her a comforting embrace and stroked her hair. Valentina had hair just like Noelle and Acier, but in a brighter shade of rosewood than Vanessas. In the sunlight, she even had some silver highlights, it was truly gorgeous to look at.

“Tina couldn’t sleep,” Nymphea explained calmly, just like Nozel. “And she couldn’t stop moving. Especially when a lightning was seen. So, I brought her here. She only stops moving when one of you is holding her.”

“Good job, little water lily,” Vanessa giggled, while caressing her oldest daughters hair. Unlike her twin, Nymphea had silver hair like her father – with pink highlights in the sun – but wavy and slightly curly like her mother.

“I didn’t want to come!” Valentina protested weakly, coming from out of the blanket for a moment. “I don’t want Lavinia and Cassandra to see me scared, I’m their big sis, I have to be brave!”

Vanessa couldn’t help but giggle at the seriousness. Valentina secretly wanted to come to her parents, but it was true that she wanted to be brave for her little sisters. Currently, she was the most daring of her daughters. Let’s see how Cassandra will grow up.

“Oh, Tina, sweetie, you are very brave and I’m sure that your little sisters know that.”

“Valentina, it is okay to be scared. It is when you can be brave. Sometimes, it takes a lot of courage to admit to be scared.”

“Really, papa?”

“Really. Trust me little one, I know what I’m talking about.”

He really did. More than their daughters even know yet. Vanessa smiled at Nozel and took his hand.

Nozels words seemed to have calm down Valentina a bit. At least, until the next thunder, making her cling to Nozel and to her plushie with fierce.

“It’s okay, big sis, it’s okay,” Lavinia whispered, while still trembling, but brave enough to take Valentinas hand.

“Our baby sister is still asleep, it seems,” Nymphea commented, while looking into the basket with a calm fascination. The resemblance with Nozel was sometimes really obvious, even when she was still a baby. It had irritated a lot of the Bulls back then. And make Yami laugh a lot.

“Really?”

Forgetting their fear of thunderstorms for a moment, Valentina and Lavinia moved a bit to look into the sleep basket. The vision of their little baby sister, sleeping so profoundly while it was so loud outside, seemed to soothe them a bit.

“Cassie is very brave,” Lavinia whispered. She still had some difficulties to say Cassandras full name. Vanessa admitted that it wasn’t the easiest one, but it had been one of hers and Nozels favourite.

“I bet she is going to be afraid of nothing,” Valentina added with pride. Ah, how cute she was being proud of her baby sister.

“I don’t doubt that she will be brave, just like you and your sisters,” Nozel replied with a smile. “But she will be afraid of something as well. Maybe not of thunderstorms like you and Lavinia, but of other things.”

“Like Nymphea is afraid of mosquitos?”

“I have an excellent reason to be afraid of them.”

“Papa, mama, are you also afraid of things?”

“Of course we are, sweetie,” Vanessa giggled. “Papa and I are afraid of various things. Of simple things like you, for example I don’t like spiders. But we are also afraid of things that are more adult stuff. You’re too young yet to know such things.”

“I’m not young, I’m eight, that is old!” Valentina protested!”

“But still too young to have a grimoire,” Nymphea replied calmly. Sounding so much like Nozel. Vanessa couldn’t help but giggle, even more so as she the look in her husband’s eyes as he glanced at Nymphea. A mix of pride and irritation.

Valentina was about to reply when another lightning, followed by loud thunder, cut through the sky. She and Lavinia remembered their fear of storms and both girls dived under the blanket again. Cassandra continued to sleep, while Nymphea was completely unbothered. She was more occupied to stroke her eagle plushie, as if it was invited to some gala and needed to have neat feathers.

Nozel sighed with compassion, before he took Valentina and Lavinia firmly into his arms. The two girls seemed to calm down a bit, hold by their father, while they had a firm grip on their respective plushies.

Vanessa felt her heart melt again at the vision. The most loving father she knew… Okay, she was biased and she loved him deeply, but it was a fact that Nozel was a very loving and very caring father. He could be unsure about it as much as he want, but actions spoke stronger than doubts. Just seeing him like this with Valentina and Lavinia was proof enough.

Smiling happily, Vanessa turned towards Nymphea. “What do you think, little Water Lily? Do you want to cuddle with mama and your eagle friend?”

Nymphea might be the most proper out of her girls, but she never hesitated to cuddle. She got that side from her, that was certain. Nymphea only nodded and moved a bit to make herself comfortable on Vanessas lap. Vanessa pulled her tightly against herself, diving her nose into her daughters silver waves. Just like Nozel, Nymphea had a soft lavender scent. But hers was mixed with a sweet water lily smell.

Which was rather ironic and normal, she was named after those flowers. Who also were the favourites of the late Acier Silva.

“You can sleep with us tonight, little hatchlings,” Nozel said, his voice soft and warm. It was so clear how much he loved his daughters. “There is nothing to be afraid of. Your mother and I are here for all four of you.”

“Will you be there when we’re wake-wake again?”

“Yes, Lavinia. You have my word.”

“Thank you, papa.”

Cradled in his embrace, Valentina and Lavinia soon fell asleep, just as deeply as Cassandra. Nymphea took a bit longer, but Vanessa felt that her eldest daughter was slowly falling back into slumber.

She still whispered softly, with a yawn, “Don’t tell them yet, but I like thunderstorms. I love to think that the noises are either dragons fighting in the sky or giants having battles nearby.”

And she fell asleep as well.

“Do you think we should have a closer look at her reading?”

“Honey, she loves fairy tales and she is already clever enough to recognize what kind of books she can read or not yet.”

Vanessa expected a reply, but Nozel only nodded. His eyes were pensive, but caring, looking at his daughters. And at her.

“Is something, honey.”

“No. I just feel so blessed to have the five of you in my life. Nymphea, Valentina, Lavinia, Cassandra and you… you mean the world to me.”

Vanessa smiled, her heart melting again. She knew that it was never easy for Nozel put this into words, even today it wasn’t always easy. But she also that it came from his heart.

“For me as well, Nozel.”

She kissed him good night and both parents fell asleep as well, their four wonderful daughters slumbering around them. This was their family.

#Black Clover #Black Clover Fanfiction #Black Clover Next Gen ♣️��#My Writing ☘️♣️#Fluffmay #Black Clover OC #My Black Clover OC ☘️#Vanessa Enoteca #Nozel Silva #Cassandra Silva #Lavinia Silva #Valentina Silva #Nymphea Silva #Nozel x Vanessa #Nozessa #Griffins #Just parents cuddling with their daughters during a thunderstorm 💜

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maffickingcowplants · 6 days ago

Text

Day 2 of 7, Winter 2007

The same edition of the Simlandia Enquirer arrives at the Goth Manor, delivered alongside the usual mundane stack of bills and flyers. Phil, always the first to grab the mail, pauses when she sees the glaring headline splashed across the tabloid: “Goth and Caliente Lovechild Revealed: Mortimer’s Secret Family Exposed!” Her stomach tightens as she skims the article. Everything about this is wrong, messy, explosive — the sort of thing that could tear apart the already delicate threads holding her family together.

"Nope," she mutters under her breath, setting the magazine down on the coffee table. She's not dealing with this. She pulls out her phone, quickly texting her girlfriend, Ember: "Something bad’s going down at home. Grabbing Gus and leaving for a bit. You wanna meet up?" Before even waiting for a reply, Phil heads upstairs, grabs her twin brother, and tells him they’re going out for the day. Gus, sensing the tension, doesn’t ask any questions — he just follows. As they slip out the front door, Phil knows things are about to get very loud at home, and she wants no part of it.

An hour later, Cassandra wakes from a much-needed nap. She heads downstairs, still drowsy, and spots the tabloid on the coffee table as she sits down. Nina Caliente’s face next to a dark-haired toddler, glares up at her. Her eyes narrow as she reads the headline, recognition settling in. She flips through the magazine, skimming the article and graphics. She knows Nina’s had a kid — she’s even seen Nina around, and honestly just assumed the child was from her marriage. But this article, though mostly sensationalized garbage, holds one very dangerous truth: the little girl, Catalina, is definitely a Goth. Cassandra doesn’t need a DNA test; she only has to look at the child’s eyes, her hair, her features… It’s like looking at her own baby pictures.

Mortimer passes by on his way to the kitchen, offering a distracted, “Hello, dear.” Cassandra, heart racing, finishes reading the article, her jaw tightening with every sentence. She storms into the kitchen after him, her pulse pounding in her ears.

“Dad,” she says, voice already trembling with anger. Mortimer turns to her, a bit puzzled.

“What is it, Cassandra?” he asks, a faint smile playing on his lips.

Without a word, she throws the magazine at his feet. Nina Caliente’s face and that of her daughter’s, Catalina, stare up at him. He glances down, confusion flickering across his face, and then looks back up at Cassandra, who’s already seething.

“NINA CALIENTE?” Cassandra practically shouts. “How could you do this to us?!”

Mortimer’s face falls. He picks up the tabloid slowly, eyes darting over the headline, then the first few lines of the story. His face pales, the weight of his secret crashing down on him all at once.

“I… I didn’t know,” Mortimer stammers. “I didn’t know Catalina was mine.”

“You didn’t know?” Cassandra echoes, incredulity dripping from her voice. “You slept with Nina Caliente! And this article makes it look like this — this affair has been going on for years! It even suggests that this is why Mom disappeared! You’ve made us look like fools!”

Mortimer, shocked and defensive, shakes his head. “It wasn’t like that. I… It was only once, Cassandra. Only once! I never thought—” He pauses, fumbling with the magazine as he flips through the pages in dismay, reading the fabricated timelines and false claims. The need to sit down is strong, so he turns and leaves the kitchen and takes a seat in the hallway where he reads the article more closely, and notes the resemblance to himself in the toddler's photos.

Cassandra crosses her arms, the initial fury fading into something colder, steadier. She follows him into the hallway and sits next to him, “Once is enough," she starts - her voice tense, "we all know that. And now there’s this… child. And what about child support? Why hasn’t Nina come after you for money? What is that about, Dad? What else are you hiding?”

Mortimer, flustered, stammers out, “I don’t know. I don’t… I have no idea why she hasn’t come after me for anything.”

“No idea?” Cassandra shoots back, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “You really have no clue about how any of this could’ve happened? How you put this family in the middle of a scandal that could ruin us? Or were you just so caught up in being a man that you forgot you have responsibilities?!”

Mortimer’s voice drops. “I’m not above failure, Cassandra. I… I’m human.”

Cassandra feels a fresh surge of anger, bitter and hot, rising in her chest. “Human?” she spits. “Maybe. But you sure as hell aren't acting like a father. Anyone else would have been better than Nina.” With a final sharp glance, she turns and walks away, leaving Mortimer sitting with the the magazine — his moral failures splashed across its glossy pages.

Posts about Mortimer: « PREVIOUS / BEGINNING / NEXT »

Posts about Cassandra: « PREVIOUS / BEGINNING / NEXT »

#sims 4 #the sims 4 #sims 4 legacy #the sims #sims4 #the sims4 #the sims 4 story #simblr #goth legacy #my sims #ts4 #ts4 legacy #ts4 story

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blondepomwrites · 18 days ago

Text

Squash Girl (second draft)

One of the first stories I remember asking my mother to tell over and over again was the story of how I spoke my first words.

Most parents try to elicit their children into parroting ma-ma or da-da. I’m sure my mother did, too, but twelve-month-old me had other plans. After all our meals, she would tell me that we were “all done” in a cheery, sing-song voice, and that meant that we would put the food away and move on to doing other things. One day, in a well-intentioned effort to expand my growing palate, she offered me spoonfuls of mashed sweet potato. Squash, she called it.

She managed two hard-fought airplanes in the hangar and one little-engine-that-could before her normally happy, avaricious eater looked her in the eye and spat out through locked lips: “All done.”

It was my favorite story as a kid because, of course, I was the star—the protagonist, the heroine, the Eve that beguiled Satan and refused the Forbidden Fruit. But more than that, it was my favorite because it was the first Truth I would carve into Baby’s First Stone Tablets:

and on the twelfth month, Cassandra tasted the squash, and the squash was Bad. And so She separated the squash from the rest and said, ‘All done,’ and the squash was no more.

As the years went on, still inundated my conviction, I’d patted myself on the back for my steadfast refusal of all things vaguely squash-ish. And it was this rock, this pillar of Truth that I began to build myself around.

I am Cassandra. I am a Girl. I do not like Squash.

Who Are You? was a question I looked forward to answering at the beginning of every school year. My answer varied only as my vocabulary blossomed, but that which was carved in stone at the base of the budding blooms remained unchanged except to state the obvious: I am Cassandra. I am a Girl. I am Strong and Strong-Willed. I do not like Squash.

Even so, I got the distinct sense from my peers that there was something about me that belied my conviction. Was I not girl enough? Sure, I played sports and liked to express that with my boxy t-shirts and grass-stained shorts, but that was just what they called being a tomboy, which was still a girl.

Was I too strong? Where most girls looked like the lean, stringy flowers their mothers doted them as, I grew in like a mushroom on a log: taller, thicker, and notably less fragrant. A bunch of flowers put together is called a bouquet, and it’s something people find so pleasing that they go out of their way to buy it for people they love. When has anyone ever tied a troop of mushrooms together and gifted them to an admiré?

Did they not believe me when I insisted I didn’t like squash? All the other girls whispered and giggled their curiosities about other vegetables, and squash was never one of them. See, I knew the rules. Why didn’t they see that?

I took this lack of understanding as a personal affront, and then as a challenge. What did I need to change to show that I was just like everyone else? I looked for a muse and found the most popular girl in school. I beheld her on a pedestal in the light, bore myself in marble before her--pen in one hand and chisel in the other--and began to look for the negative space that set us apart.

Her name was Kelly Pannos, and she was everything I could never be.

The first time I met Kelly, I knew I’d spend the rest of my life comparing myself to her. It was nearly impossible not to: we were the two sides of the same coin—only millimeters apart, only able to see the other by looking over the shoulder. She lit the sky by day and I could only make a pinprick in the fabric of the night in her absence. Though while the sun would feel honored to call itself Kelly, I was not even lucky enough to fall in her orbit, much less bask in the afterglow of her sky.

She was Kelly Pannos, and I was her Icarus.

In third grade, I didn’t have the words or emotional capacity to understand how a sapling must feel the first time its leaves taste sunlight, how a windmill braces its first gust, how icy cold the tips of your fingers feel on the other side of a looking glass. Or to understand what that even meant.

In third grade, she was just Kelly Pannos. She excelled in every sport she tried, and she tried them all. She never struggled in her studies, except for where it was socially appropriate. She was popular for all the reasons that I was not.

And in seventh grade, she grew into a graceful form and beauty uniquely her own, owed to the round eyes and soft features of her obaasan and the lean muscle that carried the prowess of Hera, Artemis, and Athena.

And she was the apple of every boy’s eye.

At that age, I thought boys a pestilence. I enjoyed playing in the mud as much as the next tomboy, but boy-boys got so unnecessarily dirty. They wrecked anything you tried to cultivate, and ate everything in their path without discrimination. Sure, some made pretty keening noises and looked iridescent in the sunlight, but take one wrong step on a dirt mound and that little ruby-colored cutie will summon the whole kingdom and make your life a burning, stinging, itchy hell.

So, what would I do when a bug crawled through the garden?

Squash It.

That seemed to be where our biggest difference laid. Surely, that had to be it, and it was easy enough, in theory. I had just misunderstood it my whole life: Don’t squash bugs, but offer them squash instead. I didn’t even like it, anyway.

So I made changes that made it clear as day that I didn’t mind bugs in the garden. I planted welcome signs instead of seeds. Aerated for earthworms instead of grass. Made room for Jesus between the vines of string beans and strawberries. Kept my wandering eyes from roaming the gardens of others. The gardens we grew were for the bugs, after all.

Kelly and I continued to walk the same path as we went through school. We played many of the same sports, and took many of the same classes. Even so, it seemed as though our same path led us down mirroring, meandering trails—both blazed, but only one attracted the horde: hers.

We both graduated valedictorian, along with the other students in the top ten percent of our high school class. And as we both moved to attend colleges over eight hundred miles away from home and only one hundred miles away from each other, I felt I finally had a chance to blossom in my own light.

We left in the fall with our arms full of seeds to sow. Some of our own choosing, but so many others placed on us by well-meaning family and public school tax-payers. They sent us off with gleaming smiles like scythes, waiting to reap what their pennies had sown.

So eager was I to see those seeds bear fruit that I planted them in the first patch of soil I landed on. With the sun shining so brightly in my eyes, I missed creeping chill in the air and mistook the red and yellows in the trees for sunspots.

I forgot that we only call autumn and winter the seasons of giving because we are so centered on ourselves. I forgot that, to the earth, they are the seasons of taking.

It takes, and it takes back. It takes sun’s warmth from our skin, and it takes the light from our days; it takes back the life it let lent above the surface, and it takes back the colors to remind us how naked and white our bones are.

She who gathers in the summer is a daughter who acts wisely, But she who seeds in harvest is a daughter who acts shamefully.

It was in the darkness of a fourteen hour night that I was given a chance to prove the strength of my conviction.

The patch of soil I’d claimed in the fall became a cemetery in the winter--a garden of stone and bones, too fargone for even the flies--and I was the ghost that haunted it.

It was then that a visitor crossed into my stomping grounds. I watched her--face freckled from the summer sun, healthy dimples from a full harvest--examining the headstones, a silent prayer falling from her painted lips.

She saw me digging for worms in the dusty soil. She approached and extended a hand, filled with a bouquet of blooming gold stars tied together with a string.

I consulted the stones that had stood with me through the seasons, and they showed me what I could not see.

And so I chased the serpent from my garden.

Where fall strips us into humility, spring is the forgiveness we do not deserve.

I went to the fields with my arms empty, and watched as those around me stained their hands and knees in rich, brown soil. Within minutes I could see their fields buzzing with renewed life.

My stones had always weathered the seasons and stayed with me, but I knew that planting pebbles was a fruitless endeavor. So I scanned the dust and scooped up the first bug I could find. “What do you seek? What can I grow to sate you?” I asked in plea. “Speak and I will grow it.”

Have you ever seen an insect smile? Where we have teeth, they have mandibles--two pinching, clenching, venomous scythes.

Summer is the season of growing, and during each summer sojourn I could see those in my troop of hometown friends doing just that.

After what seemed like a decimating winter, their gardens came back more vibrant and alive than I’d ever seen. They’d brought in the bees and put in a home where they unabashedly reaped what they’d sown, serving zucchini bread, warm soup du cucurbita moschata, and the cutest little pumpkin pies for dessert. No half-hearted welcoming signs, no half chewed leaves, the vines of their tomatoes were allowed to share space with one another—no room for even a garden gnome, let alone Jesus himself—and love, so much brave love, for their own gardens and the gardens of others.

And here I was, a scarecrow in a sunhat, knee deep in a feast for aphids.

Seasons passed, and graduation came both too quickly and never soon enough. As I walked down the aisle to receive my diploma, they called me by a name I did not call myself. I shook their hands anyway and took what I’d earned: the proof that I’d survived the third book of Ecclesiastes for twenty-two years.

Somewhere along the way, too, I’d heard it through the grapevine that Kelly had put together a marvelous, enchanting little fairy garden in her Atlanta apartment she shared with her girlfriend.

Sometimes the harvest you yield is different than the seeds you sow.

I still tell people I don’t like squash, the vegetable. And to some extent, it’s true—though I’m loath to write off a slice of pumpkin pie or some crispy, crunchy zucchini fries. Similarly, my stance on seeing the beauty in others or the occasional bug in the garden is no longer squash, the verb. Since growing in our own light and taking our own paths, it makes me wonder, wandering the tracks barely visible through the underbrush, about the one I encountered back in the fourteen hour night in the dark—the darkness of a nightclub, of inebriation, of binding inner truths and blinding social constructs, take your pick.

Back in the dark, when a girl with hair as vibrant as a jack-o-lantern on Halloween came up to me, wearing a bracelet of gold stars tied on a string. She didn’t say much—not much you can say over the bass of a rave. And, not that I was looking at her lips, but I could read them enough to hear her say, “You’re cute. Come dance with me,” as she put out her hand towards mine.

Even then, I knew buried deep down that I didn’t dislike squash, but did I like it enough to take her hand? Drunk as I was and dark as it was, I knew I didn’t dislike the thought of letting her whisk me away. But after years and years of squash, the verb I lived and the vegetable I proclaimed to disdain, even my drunk self knew what was written in stone.

But stone can crumble, tastes can change, people can surprise you. The memory of her freckled face, dimpled cheeks, and her short slender hand outstretched, reaching for mine—

I may never know what could have grown from her hands, but I know now that nothing worth keeping grows from rooted stones, planted pebbles, or buried memories.

I sat in the ruins of my garden. I’d consulted the stones and they would not hear me, deaf from repeating their verses ad infinitum. I’d consulted the bugs, and they built me up only to feast on my muscle, snip my sinew, and suck the marrow from my bones.

I went to the house of stained glass. Lilies, palm, holly, and water greeted me. I climbed the steps to the one who stood before the light. With the sun in my eyes, the keeper of this greenhouse had worn black with a white halo around his neck.

They’d told me to be blinded by the light is to embrace the light. But after twenty-two years, I knew there was a time to refrain from embracing.

With my dirt-covered hand blocking out the light, the white halo looked like a shackle around his neck, one that multiplied all down his black garb. Antennae like horns rose from his head and a second pair of arms grew from his torso, gesturing his along with the lecture slipping out from between his mandibles.

I ran.

I ran until I reached my own claim of land. The sun overhead said spring, but I plunged my hands in the dirt and finally understood how it yearned for the season of taking.

I ripped up the roots that clutched at the weight of twenty-two years of stones, bugs, and bones. I took the dead roots, I took back the soil they’d sapped, and I purged it all, but the one thing I could not rid myself of was the way the man in the glass greenhouse looked down at me with his dark eyes--two, four, six, until they numbered into oblivion--and tutted:

Let she who is without sin cast the first stone.

And so I did.

I cast them out. I cast them all out: one by one, stone by stone.

I am Cassandra. I am a Girl. I am Strong and Strong-Willed. I do not like Squash.

And then I wrote their words in the dirt, planting their meaning into soil to germinate or not. Let what can grow take root, and what cannot, be left to rot. That is what we leave for the bugs.

#posting here mainly as a failsafe #I nearly lost the entire second draft so. now it's going everywhere lmao #but if anyone wants to actually read it I guess the tags would be uhhhhh #fiction #bisexuality #trans #lgbtqia+#religious trauma #(the author is not trans but a trans reading is completely valid.)#squash girl

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