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wandaslittlebird · 3 months ago

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Her Special Girl

Stepmom!Wanda x Reader

After being away at college for three years, you finally come home for the holidays. And no one is more excited to see you than your stepmom.

CW: Stepmom/Stepdaughter, MOMMY ISSUES, slight daddy issues, mommy kink, cheating, breastfeeding, fingering (R receiving), mentions of strap usage, flashbacks, mentions of past: suicidal thoughts, loss of virginity, ghosting

Word Count: ~5k

A/N: I think if I keep this up, they’re going to revoke my degree in psychology and bury me for defending psychosexual development.

A/N: I could be talked into making a part 2 for this. And by talked into I mean approximately 1 person needs to ask. I had way too much fun with this.

Part 1 of Her Special Girl

——————————————————--

She knew something was wrong when you had called her to pick you from your mom’s house a week early. You weren’t supposed to be coming home till Christmas Eve, but here you were, curled up in her passenger seat only three days after being home for Christmas break.

Wanda wasn’t supposed to be the one picking you up. You originally called your father, but he was, unsurprisingly, unavailable. Apparently he was off playing ‘not the world’s worst stepdad’ with Wanda’s boys for the week. Probably some bonding time enforced by Wanda. He was never terribly keen on spending time with his family. Plus it got the miserable old man out of her hair for a few days. Merry Christmas to Wanda.

“Mom’s house was that bad, huh?” she asked. You simply nodded in response. She made a sympathetic noise and rubbed the back of your head. “I’m sorry sweetheart. We’ll talk about it when we get home?”

You nodded again, thankful she wasn’t going to fill the car with awkward small talk. You reached for the radio, turning up the quiet christmas music. You rested your head against your knees, absently humming the familiar music to soothe yourself. You didn’t notice the way Wanda’s heart absolutely melted everytime she got a glance at you. As much as it broke her heart that you’d had a bad experience at your mother’s house, she was glad to have you home for Christmas.

—------

Wanda and your father had married when you were around 16. In the first years, you weren’t close. In fact, you had hated Wanda at first. The kindness and gentleness she offered you was so alien and unfamiliar. Everytime she did you a favor without being asked, or made a move to give you physical reassurance, you felt like your inside would turn to mush. By that point, you were old enough to decide when you wanted to go to your dad’s house, and it felt easier to avoid her entirely than confront the gnawing feeling in your chest that arose whenever you interacted with her. So you spent those years at your mom’s house.

But as time passed, something shifted.

In what was supposed to be your last semester of high school, it became pretty clear you were not going to pass. Your life, the one you had planned for at least, fell into a tailspin. You watched all of your friends move on without you. Both of your parents were extremely disappointed with you and seemed to give up on you in favor of the new families they’d created. All of your hopes and dreams of finally escaping to college were put on hold. You had completely lost all direction.

And one night in late July, when there was no school to look forward to in August and no hope of starting a life of your own without a high school diploma, you hit rock bottom. You were lying down in the shower at your dad’s house and you found yourself unable to get up. You couldn’t move. You couldn’t do it anymore. And just when you thought your body would decay into the blue tile, you heard a knock at the door.

“Honey? Are you okay in there?”

It was Wanda. You wanted to yell that you were fine and you'd be out in a minute, but you couldn’t get the words out of your mouth. So you didn’t respond.

You heard the sound of a key pressing into the lock, and the hesitant steps of your stepmother making her way into the bathroom. “Honey?” she called again. She gasped when she found your limp body in the shower. She threw the glass door open, turned off the shower that had long since gone cold, and wrapped you up in a towel. You were too far gone to be embarrassed that your stepmother was seeing you naked at 18 years old. All you could do was throw your arms around her and sob and babble apologies.

“Oh! My sweet girl. How long have you been in here? I just woke up to use the restroom and I heard the water still running. You poor thing, have you been in here all night? You’re freezing. Your poor lips are purple! Come on, let's get you warmed up.”

With impressive strength, she was able to pick you up and carry you to bed. She threw all of your softest blankets around you cocooning you with warmth on all sides. Then she sat on the bed next to you, wiping the cold wet hair from your forehead.

And for once, you were too weak to push her away. Too weak to fight the magnetic draw you had always had towards the woman. You needed her more than anything in the world. You wanted to be surrounded by her. You craved an impossible closeness with her. The hole in your heart had grown so big it nearly devoured you, and she was here to patch it up and kiss it all better.

So you melted into her touch, inching your body closer to where she sat on the bed until you were wrapped around her. You almost expected her to inquire as to where this was coming from, the sudden closeness after avoiding her for so long. You thought maybe she would even reprimand you for your childish behavior, or call you weird for acting like this with her. But she didn’t. “Aww my sweet girl. You’ll be alright. I’m not going anywhere. Mama’s here.”

And she didn’t call you weird when you tugged on her nightshirt, silently asking her to lay down with you. She simply crawled under the covers, kissed your head, and pulled your still naked body into her arms. “You poor thing, you're still freezing. It’s okay, mama will keep warm.”

And she didn’t reprimand you when you decided there was still too much separation, so you pulled her nightshirt up over her head, leaving her bare in bed with you. “Mmm, you’re right this will get you all nice and warmed up. You're a very smart girl.”

“I love you, mama.”

“I love you too, sweet girl.”

She tangled her body into yours, enveloping you in the warmest embrace. Her skin was so incredibly soft against your, pressed into every inch of your body. You could feel the way her heart overflowed with contented joy with you between her arms.

And nothing was ever the same after that. In the span of twenty minutes with her, you’d gone from believing you could die on the shower floor and no one would care, to feeling like the single most important thing in her entire world. You were hers.

And you were hers when she gave you your first kiss over an episode of “Legend of Korra.” You’d been so over eager, it’d felt like you were trying to eat her face, but she didn’t make fun of you. She just calmly pulled back, giving you all the instructions you needed to make your second kiss perfect.

And you were hers when she took your virginity while your father was away on a business trip. She had laid you out on the bed, kissing slow trails down your stomach while you gasped and shuttered at every new sensation. That first night, she treated you like you were made of the finest glass, beautiful and delicate.

And you were hers when she cried into your arms, begging you not to go so far away for college. With her help, you’d finally gotten a high school diploma. You had the funding from your father to go anywhere you wanted. She wanted to want you to go, she really did. She wanted to want whatever was best for you, but she wasn’t ready to let go of you yet.

But when you packed your bags and left anyway, you couldn’t be hers any longer. There were no phone calls, no texts, no apologies or explanations for why you left. You were simply gone like you’d never existed in the first place.

—------

“So,” she asked, helping you carry in your luggage and dropping it in the foyer, “do you wanna talk about what happened with your mother?” She knew you and your mother had never gotten along. She was honestly more wondering why you even decided to go home in the first place. You had spent Christmases with your friends since you’d left for college, but this year you had inexplicably decided to come home.

You shrugged. “Same as always, I guess. There’s never been a group of people I’m so palpably unimportant to. She and my stepdad have a family of their own, ya know? And I’m just… not part of it. Every time I’m there I feel like a ghost haunting a happy family.” Tears welled up in your eyes, falling down your cheeks.

“Oh, honey,” Wanda sighed, cupping your cheek with her hand. You only cried harder at the gesture. It was so kind. So gentle. So familiar. You fought your every instinct to not throw yourself against, clinging to her like a petulant child. You wanted to be close to her again.

The look in her eyes made you feel like you were going to explode. She was listening to you, like actually listening to you. You couldn’t help but pour your heart out to her. “I don’t even know why I tried to come home this year. I just had this idea that I was gonna come home after being gone for so long and she was going to have magically changed. I just had this, like… fantasy that she’d wrap her arms around me and apologize for not being there for me, say that all this time away has made her realize that she can’t live without me, tell me how I’m her most special little girl and she’ll do anything to make it right.”

You turned away from her, suddenly very embarrassed of all the things you’d just confessed. “It was stupid. Whatever. It’s never been like that and it’s never going to be like that. I’m fucking 22, I wasn’t going to be mommy’s little princess anyway.” You felt the urge to run away. You couldn’t bear to look at your stepmother’s face any longer. You made a quick break for the stairs, but Wanda caught your wrist.

“Honey, wait!” she said, pulling you back around to face her. Your head spun and your skin tingled when she touched you. “You know you're still my special girl, right?”

“Of course, but you have your boys and they’re your whole world. And that’s a good thing! They’re really lucky to have you, I just…” You trailed off, unsure of what to say next.

“You just?” she asked after you didn’t speak for a minute.

Another torrent of tears stung your eyes. “I can’t be your special girl. I’m not even really yours.”

Wanda tilted her head in confusion. “What do you mean by that, honey?”

“I’m not your baby,” you said, choked up by your failed attempt to not let your tears fall. You ducked your head, avoiding her gaze at all cost.

She took a step towards you. “Hey,” she started, reaching for your chin to make you look at her. “I’ve missed you, you know? While you’ve been gone.”

“You did?” you asked in almost a whisper.

“I did,” she reassured. “I thought about you all the time. I never let your father get rid of your bedroom, even though he wanted to move his office there. And there’s still a chair at the end of the dining table for you. And in the winter time I always buy that peppermint creamer for my coffee because it was always your favorite.”

Your resolve finally crumbled and you threw yourself around her, clinging to her desperately. “I missed you too, mama. I wanted to come home to see you, but I didn’t think you’d ever wanna see me again. After I… I thought you’d hate me forever!” you were sobbing in her arms, head tucked under her chin as her long nails scratched your scalp, just how you like.

“Shh, baby it’s okay. I could never hate you. You’re home now. Mama’s got you,” she cooed. “Let’s get you a nice warm bath, get you all cleaned up, and then we can watch a movie in my room. Does that sound good?”

You nodded, reluctantly removing yourself from her. She reached out for your hand and smiled when you grabbed her arm with both hands, clinging to her awkwardly as you made your way up the steps. She led you to the master bathroom that had a fancy corner tub. She ran the water, checking the temperature to make sure the water was just right.

“Alright pretty girl, arms up,” she said, lifting the hem of your shirt over your head. She neatly folded your shirt and placed it on the counter. She turned around to find you with your arms bashfully crossed over your chest. She took your hand. “None of that, sweet girl. It’s just you and mama, you don’t need to cover yourself.”

“‘s cold,” you mumbled, goosebumps rising across your chest.

“I know,” she said, bending down to unbutton your pants and push them down around your ankles. You wrapped your arms around her neck, using her for balance as you kicked out of your pants. “We’re gonna have you all warmed up in just a second, sweetheart.”

As soon as you were naked, you scrambled over to the warm tub. Steam was rising from the water’s surface where it met the cool air. You hissed as your cold feet met the water. Wanda giggled at your eagerness, folding your pants and underwear and placing them on top of your shirt. “Careful, pretty girl,” she chuckled.

You sank into the tub, slowly allowing your body to adjust to the temperature. You sighed in contentment, resting your head back against the ledge of the tub. You rolled your head to the side to face Wanda, who had stripped off her jeans, leaving her in a long gray sweater that barely covered her ass. Your eyes glimmered at the sight of the beautiful woman. “Will you get in with me?” you asked. “Please?”

“Not tonight, honey,” she said, sitting down on the ledge of the tub behind your head. She stuck her feet into the water on either side of you, leaving your head between her bare thighs. “Mama’s already had her bath. Now keep your head tilted back for me. I don’t wanna get any soap in your eyes.” Any protests you had were quickly cut short when you felt long fingers massaging your favorite coconut shampoo in your hair. Wanda worked cautiously, careful not to get any soap in your eyes. She somehow managed to keep your face almost entirely dry throughout the entire process.

You nearly started to cry when she started applying soap to your body with a soft washcloth. It had been so long since someone had touched you so gently. You could feel how much she cared for you as she softly scrubbed the day's grime from your body. Each caress left trails of goosebumps rising on your soapy skin. You felt like you might melt into the bathwater.

“Alright little love, kneel up nice and straight for me so I can get you all clean,” she calmly commanded. You hesitantly got up on your knees and turned to face her, reluctant to pull your body from the warmth of the water. Now that you were looking up at her, you felt suddenly exposed again. It was much easier to be naked in front of her with your back turned.

You took in a sharp inhale when the washcloth landed between your legs. “Mama…” you whined, looking up at her with worried eyes. Her touch felt so good you couldn’t help but buck against the cloth while a knot still coiled in the pit of your stomach. You had the fleeing thought that you should tell her to stop and that this was wrong. But as she continued her ministrations, your head seemed to empty itself of any such thoughts. All you could focus on was the growing sensation between your legs.

“Aww, sweet girl,” Wanda cooed. “It’s okay that you like it when you like it when mama touches you like this honey. You don't have to be embarrassed, angel.” She made slow, teasing circles around your clit through the thick cloth. You grabbed her arm, keeping her in place until she finally had had enough of the teasing and gently freed herself of your grip.

“Mama,” you whined again as she continued to wash down the curve of your ass and the inside of your thighs. You weren’t sure why, exactly, you found yourself chanting her name, but it seemed to be the only word you could find.

She smiled. “You’re okay, angel. Mama got you. I love you so very much, sweetheart. I’m gonna take care of you, just like I used to. There’s no need to be embarrassed or guilty or scared. You’re still your mama’s special girl, okay?” She leaned down to kiss your forehead. You closed your eyes and allowed her complete control over your body. “We’re all finished, detka. You can sit back down now.” She guided you back down into the water, turning you back around and resting your head against her inner thigh. She gently started to dry your hair as you settled back into the water. You found yourself wrapping your arms around her calf, clutching at her like she might fly away.

“Mama?”

“Yes, little love?”

“Do you think there’s something wrong with me?”

“How do you mean, angel?” Her voice was laced with concern. You weren’t exactly sure how to respond, so you nuzzled your face into her thigh in embarrassment. “Hey little love.” She bent down so she could see your face. “It’s okay. You can tell mama. You don’t have to be embarrassed.”

You shifted around uncomfortably, unsure of how to phrase what you wanted to say. “I need you really badly mama,” you said, barely above a whisper. “I know I’m too old, but I wanna be your special little girl forever.”

“Oh honey,” she soothed, “you’re never too old to be my special little girl. Even if you wanted me to take care of you forever, I’d love every second of it.” She laid back against the wall, closing her eyes and allowing herself to fantasize about what it would be like to have you back. Forever, this time. A faint smile painted her face at the thought. “Don’t ever let anyone tell you you’re too old to need your mama. They might not understand it like you do, but you are a very very special girl and your mama loves you very very much.”

You nodded against her, shyly tucking your face back into her thigh. You sat like that for a minute, letting her fingers scratch your damp scalp while you smiled in contentment.

But you could only rest naked between her bare legs for so long before the little pings of arousal took over. You turned around to face her, this time straddling a single one of her legs between two of your own. You sat back on your feet, resting your head on her knee.

“Mama, please. I need to feel you again,” you sighed. You desperately craved the feeling of closeness you’d once shared. The feeling that you and her were the only two people in the world, and that you were as important to her as she was to you, and that was the only thing that mattered.

You wanted her inside of you, touching all the parts of you no one else got to see. You yearned for the way she made you feel like the most precious thing in the universe, chasing your pleasure like it was her own. She felt good when you felt good.

Conversely, you wanted to be inside of her, pushing into her like a puzzle piece that had always meant to fit together. You felt like you could rewrite time, finally inside your mama like you were supposed to be all along.

She reached down beside the tub and pulled up a fluffy pink towel. She stretched it out with her arms, welcoming you into a soft embrace. She took such care in drying off every part of you, down to your calves that still stayed in the water.

You sat in between her legs, her arms wrapped around your bare body. She pulled you close to her, your back flush against her chest. Then she wrapped her legs around yours, effectively pinning them open against the wall of the tub.

You pulled at the sleeves of her sweater, desperate to get closer to her. There was still too much fabric between the two of your bodies.

She shushed you pleas with gentle hands. “Not right now, detka. Let mama show you how much she’s missed you, okay? Then we can cuddle up all naked under the soft blankets on the bed just how we like to. Does that sound okay?”

You let out a displeased whine. You were extremely impatient. It had been years since you’d had her so close. But as she stroked your hair with one hand and your clit with the other, you found yourself more amenable to suggestions. “P-promise?”

“I promise, sweetheart,” she reassured.

She kept her pace just steady enough that talking, and thinking for that matter, became difficult. “A-and we stay like that all-all night?”

“All night, angel.”

You finally nodded in agreement, relaxing against her. You kept a ironclad grip on her bicep, feeling the muscles flex as she played with your most sensitive parts.

She moved her fingers down through your folds, teasing your entrance. You tried to force your hips down onto her fingers, but her legs kept you from moving. You settled instead for whining like an injured puppy. “Please mama, please.”

“Mmm,” she hummed in your ear, circling your entrance with the tip of her finger. “I��m so lucky. I get to have my most special girl and all her most special parts,” she sunk her middle finger into you, eliciting a mangled groan, “all to myself.”

“All yours,” you assured, feeling her finger curl and twist inside of you, making room for more. She was always so calculated with the way she pleased you. You were like a present she was methodically unwrapping, peeling each piece of tape off, careful not to damage the paper. She was in no rush to tear you apart. She kept her painfully slow pace, but sunk a second finger into you. You felt your eyes roll to the back of your head. “I’m all yours, mama.”

She leaned your head back onto her shoulder and kissed your cheek. You didn’t even notice the uncomfortable strain the position should’ve caused your neck. There was just her everywhere, caressing each part of your body with a tenderness you’d never experienced anywhere else. Her hand explored your chest, teasing hard nipples with gentle pinches and soft touches. Nails scraped their way down the soft expanse of your stomach, paying special attention to the curve of your hip bone.

“Mama, I love you. You feel so good inside of me, please don’t stop. Oh god please never stop,” you whined. You didn’t even care that she was moving her fingers too slow to make you cum. You were so content with just her filling you up, touching the parts of you no one else got to touch. You got to be hers all over again.

You thought back to your days with her, home alone. She’d let you sit on her lap in her office, arms and legs wrapped around her like a koala bear, her strap nestled inside of you. She was always so impressed by your ability to stay still for hours on end. But how could you want for anything more than to be full of her?

“You’re so tight and warm for mama,” she cooed. “I love feeling you around my fingers, baby. You make such pretty noises.” She sped up her movements, highlighting the sound of the wetness between your legs. You were nearly dripping a trail down the side of the tub.

You tried to buck against her hand, but her legs kept you perfectly still. “Ooh mama. I love you. I love you mama,” you cried, unable to escape the building pleasure of her fingers. She slipped a third finger inside of you, only further spurring your desperate cries. “Please mama! Please, I'm so full. Mama I wanna cum for you. I wanna cum on your fingers. Please! Please let me cum on your fingers.”

Her fingers twisted and curled in all the ways that drove you crazy. You knew you couldn’t cum until she touched your clit, which she was tactfully avoiding for that exact reason, but you still felt nearly out of your mind with pleasure. You were jerking against her now, causing her to wrap her arms around your waist. “Calm down honey. Mama’s got you. You’re doing so good for me sweet girl.”

“Good girl for mama,” you mumbled brainlessly. The continuous pounding of her fingers made your head spin. There was nothing in the whole world but you and your mama. Nothing else mattered.

“That’s right, angel. You’re mama’s good girl,” she praised.

You nodded dumbly, unable to muster any more thoughts than “mama” which you chanted repeatedly. She shoved three fingers in your mouth, making the word come out even more unintelligible. You whined around her hand, but obediently sucked her fingers.

“Can you touch yourself for me princess?” She asked, both her hands too occupied to finally put an end to your abuse. You both knew that just a little pressure to your clit would finally push you over the edge.

You didn’t even acknowledge her question, just hopelessly cried around her fingers. “Aww sweet girl, you need mama to do it for you? That’s okay, honey. Mama will take care of it.” She pulled her fingers from your mouth, now covered in your spit, and reached down between your legs. She kissed the side of your head while she finally attended to your neglected clit. “That’s it, princess. Cum on mama’s hand.”

You were nearly silent as you fell over the edge, unable to do little more than jerk and squeak. She gently led you down from the high, removing her fingers and bracing you against herself so you didn’t tumble back into the now cold bathtub. She cleaned you up with a washcloth and wrapped you back up in the soft towel.

She chuckled when she picked you up and saw your face, blissed out and stupid. She thought back to before you had left for college, when you were 18 and it took a lot more than three fingers and 20 minutes to get you here. “Nobody has touched you like that for a long time, have they angel?”

You shook your head against her chest. “Only you mama.”

She smiled at the admission. Laying you down at the center of her big bed. You pawed at her sweater when she pulled away. “I’m just taking this off. I’ll be down there in just a second.”

She crawled under the covers only a moment later, pulling you closer and discarding the towel onto the floor. You nuzzled into her neck, wrapping your arms around her waist. You were so warm and so loved. You felt so important again, just like you did the fateful night she’d pulled you from the cold shower. In that moment, you couldn’t wrap your head around why you’d ever left. How could you ever have left anything so perfect?

“Mama, can I be inside of you next time?” You mumbled into her chest, unwilling to completely separate yourself from her.

“Of course you can,” she replied, pulling you in to kiss your forehead. “Anything for my special girl.”

You smiled. “Can I use the dark red toy? The one that gives you the little bump right here?” You touched her lower stomach in indication.

She couldn’t help but laugh at the request, recalling the only other time she allowed you to use that toy right before you left. Seeing the bulge in her lower stomach had gotten you so excited you’d pathetically rutted into like a teenage boy. “Only if you can be gentle with mama.”

“Mhm,” you hummed. “Gentle with mama.”

She smiled down at you, noticing your eyelids start to droop. “That’s enough for tonight, little love. Rest now and we can talk some more in the morning, okay?” She gently guided your head down to her chest. She smiled when you almost immediately took her nipple into your mouth, suckling contentedly, just like she’d taught you to do. Oh, how she loved you.

She closed her eyes, allowing herself to drift off into a daydream. Maybe she could convince you to move schools so you could come back, live at home with her. Every stressful assignment or class or situation with your friends could end like this: in this intimate act that drowned out both your stress and hers. Maybe if you’d stay, she could get on hormones and start actually producing milk again. All for you. All for her baby girl. And she'd remind you how loved you were everyday, and you never take her for granted again.

Yes, she’ll have you back in her arms just like it used to be. You’ll come home to her, and you’ll finally see that you’ll never need anyone else ever again.

#wanda x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda x y/n #wanda x you #mommy wanda #mommy!wanda #wanda maximoff x reader #stepmom wanda #stepmom!wanda #wanda maximoff x y/n

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seeingivy · 12 days ago

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bad blood

actor!ryomen sukuna x f!reader

**part of my dream girl fic

songs mentioned: bad blood by taylor swift and obsessed by olivia rodrigo

“are you of the opinion that all PR is good PR?”

sukuna can tell that it’s not the time for jokes. that much is obvious to him from the exasperated looks on everyone’s faces at his ill-timed comment – at nanami pinching the bridge of nose, yuuji shooting him an irritated look (with a whisper of a smile on his face), and his manager shoyo’s eyes pinched shut in frustration.

“i would be inclined to think that, but sukuna is over party trending for the past three hours is giving me a run for my money here.” shoyo responds.

sukuna diverts his eyes back to the television, shoyo’s computer projecting the trending hashtag onto the screen, and his fingers darting to refresh every few seconds with another set of irritating tweet about him. sukuna’s gotten the hint from the first three, but he has a sneaking inkling that shoyo’s doing this part just to rub it in his face – that it’s his way of saying i told you so without explicitly doing so.

shoyo was interesting in that way. managers were interesting in that way.

sukuna wondered to himself how many other careers had these types of dynamics, with “mentors” who served as stand-in parents. telling someone what to do, what not to do – in attempts to guide them from right or wrong – that almost never worked in his case.

his gut instinct tells him that almost every single profession does. but it also tells him that the other managers can’t be half as annoying as the special spot that entertainment managers take up.

at the very least, he can appreciate the take that shoyo has on his position. like a firm, strict father figure. he spares no warmth for him – just the way sukuna likes it.

“so what are we going to do? can we just ignore it?” sukuna asks.

it’s a loaded question.

what can you do when you might have possibly tanked every attempt at an entertainment career before it even starts?

sukuna’s first manager, starla, taught him three simple facts about the entertainment industry. among other things.

in particular, that the warmth was something that sukuna needed to run far, far away from.

first – attention is hard to attain. anyone can audition to act in a show, but only one person gets picked. you can be the best in the game but it doesn’t matter unless someone looks at you.

second – once you have it, attention is hard to maintain. if someone takes the time to watch, who’s to say that they’re ever going to watch you again? anyone can be a one hit wonder, but it takes greater skill to stay relevant, to keep people interested in what you’re putting out.

and third. reputation is everything. it’s best practice to avoid becoming a contrarian. it’s social suicide to your career.

it seems that sukuna might have nipped the first two in the bud, by accidentally becoming a contrarian. again. after so narrowly missing it the first time.

that’s the thing that’s the most frustrating in his opinion. that sukuna did almost nothing out of the sorts, that he had followed every single prim and proper rule he could have after his first few tumbles – and that this time, he very simply became a contrarian for dumping the wrong girl at the wrong time.

sukuna had made his own additions to the facts as time went on. especially after he was dropped by his old manager, promptly when he turned twenty-three.

lessons that he learned on his own. this situation alone added three to his list.

first – do not date the daughter of an industry titan. who has a loving fanbase that will attack you if the two of you break up.

second – do not crack jokes about good and bad PR when you’ve inadvertently created a mess for almost everyone around you.

and third – tread lightly the week before the biggest break of your career. things move so fast that they’re in absolute shambles before you know it.

“there’s nothing you can do besides follow the script that the PR team gave you. keep questions about aimee to a minimum at the event tonight. deflect to the show and only the show.”

sukuna gives shoyo a mock salute. he still doesn’t find it funny.

in fact, sukuna can tell that he’s had exactly enough for this meeting, marked by the almost immediate exodus he makes from the room, with nanami following in tow. nanami shoots him an apologetic smile over his shoulder as he exits and it’s one that sukuna can appreciate.

“you know, i really do question your taste in women.” yuuji states.

sukuna rolls his eyes.

“you question everyone’s taste in women.” sukuna deadpans.

yuuji gives him a laugh – the one that he had been holding in from earlier – and smacks him hard against the shoulder. sukuna can feel the pressure that he was trying to ignore compounding in his head, as he sinks down into the couch.

“i’m being serious though. i just don’t understand what you see in these girls. none of these relationships really have a fighting chance, which at this point, you almost have to be doing on purpose. i know you’re not that dumb.”

sukuna shrugs. he can tell that he’s being baited into having a conversation, a conversation that he doesn’t want to have, and makes a mental note to yuuji later that he shouldn’t lay it on so thick.

“your point is?” sukuna mutters.

“i’m not trying to make a point. i’m trying to understand why you’re so…so keen on pursing things you know won’t work out. it’s almost like you don’t want it to work out for you.”

“i don’t know what you’re talking about. you sound like an idiot.”

yuuji shakes his head, almost like he’s giving him a sentencing. trying to tell him, making it a point that he’s been caught red handed, that he has to give into the conversation.

“don’t tell me you’re really not trying in earnest because of what happened?”

sukuna can feel his frustration coming to a head, right in the center of his forehead. it always felt like feelings were concentrated there, right in that sensitive part of his head that made him rush to anger.

“it’s not about that.”

yuuji takes the hint. he jumps over the line as often as he can, but won’t push any farther.

“i just think that you should give things a real, earnest try. i know that none of us can really understand what happened, but…but that doesn’t mean that it’s going to happen every time. you…you shouldn’t be happy that you’re not trying to find love for real.”

sukuna clicks his tongue in his cheek.

“and who said i was doing that?”

yuuji sighs.

“you’re always the same you know. you never try for real because you’re scared you’re going to strike out. you….you still…you’re still afraid to pursue someone you actually like because you think…”

yuuji doesn’t finish the sentence. but sukuna knows the answer, because he’s said it before.

you’re afraid to pursue someone you actually like because you think they’ll realize there’s nothing to like about you.

“do you ever think about pushing yourself creatively?”

you wonder how many times someone can ask the same question, worded differently.

in mimi’s case, you’ve reached a whopping count of six. categorically organized – three times while you were out doing your morning coffee, twice over dinner, and today marked a new first, while writing music at the piano.

each question exactly the same, every response exactly the same.

“no. i want to stay exactly the same for the rest of my life.” you deadpan.

your dry humor earns you a laugh from mimi. in all fairness, it almost always does, because it’s very easy to make her laugh. because she’s a person who is easily pleased, very outgoing, who very simply put, enjoys most things.

“i wouldn’t even be shocked if you said that to me. your google calendar is my very worst nightmare, you know that?”

“my google calendar is perfectly organized. just as it should be.”

“i mean. very organized. i am very appreciative that you’re on time to all of our meetings, which is very rare with your generation.”

“you’re in the same generation as us. you’re not even that much older than me.” you deadpan.

“okay, but being a mother has aged me like ten years. all of my friends do pilates in their free time, make brunch plans for fun.”

“i’m your friend. i don’t do pilates in my free time. and i eat at five in the morning on the dot everyday.”

“yeah. you’ve just take up different odd hobbies, but it’s basically the same thing.”

you scoff, as you flip the page on the stand of the piano.

you wonder how often mimi thinks about that type of thing. the life that she used to live. the fact that you could be doing all the things that she couldn’t necessarily do anymore. it makes you wonder if that’s why she’s so adamant.

“i could be doing drugs you know.”

“you should be doing drugs!”

well, that answers your question.

“i can’t wait to see what your child does in the future. you’ve set such high expectations!”

mimi rolls her eyes. she’s very easily pleased, very outgoing, and filled with an overwhelming well of patience to counteract your stubbornness.

it’s granted that she almost never wins, that your firmness in your decision always stands at the end of the day, but it doesn’t mitigate her efforts to try. you’re betting that she’s going to give her very stubborn daughter a run for her money in a few years when she’s older.

“i don’t mean that you should actually do drugs. or maybe i do. some of my other writers love to drink or smoke weed to get through writer’s block. it just a little shift to push you to some new limits.”

“perfect. i’ll just try to do some ketamine before my next song so that it sounds better.”

mimi sighs.

“i’m not telling you to go do horse tranquilizers. i’m stating a very simple fact, that you tend to gravitate towards what is comfortable for you. in your personal life, in your friends, in your songwriting. you’ve found a sound that you work great with, themes that resonate with people. but you’ve been stuck there, right where you know people want you. it wouldn’t hurt to try pushing the limits here and there.”

you scoff.

“you sound like a shitty inspirational quote.”

mimi shakes her head.

“i often find that stubbornness to approach new things at the end of the day creates a sort of resentment towards anything that stimulates new growth. and keeps you stuck exactly where you are currently. stagnant.”

you don’t like the evaluation. the sentencing that she’s given you, that she’s been giving you for the past few months.

that you aren’t going anywhere.

you not liking it doesn’t make it any less true. but her saying it over and over again doesn’t propel you into doing anything about it either.

“and what if i fail to do this whole moving thing you’re talking about?” you jest.

mimi pinches her lips in a line.

“then it proves to me that you’re just approaching this entire thing wrong. you’re not winning an award, you’re writing a song. it’s not an examination that you’re completing, it’s just something you’re trying to say.”

you give her a dry smile.

“and what if no one wants to hear what i have to say?”

“that’s where you and i will disagree. i fear people are on the edge of their seats waiting for it.”

you snort.

“are you not a fan of me sticking it to idiots like jake nicholson and aimee lynch?”

mimi gives you a smug grin.

“a huge fan. but i can tell that you’ve got something else under the surface that’s dying to be let out.”

“i suppose that’ll just have to wait for today.” you respond.

mimi shrugs.

“i’ll try again tomorrow.” she affirms.

you’re not sure why she tries. you’re still going to say no.

sukuna’s manager’s strategy was very simple. all he had to do was save face for a week – a week until the show came out. tell people to watch the premiere on the red carpet, throw in an anecdote about filming here and there, and that was that.

granted, his job wasn’t exactly hard. the ensemble cast did most of the work, satoru’s loud voice combined with how energetic yuuji is, allowed him to slip through the cracks and make it inside the venue without any unsavory questions about aimee.

sukuna looks across the room to where the two of them are standing near the bar, glasses of ice in their hand, satoru no doubt flicking his charm and stupid pickup lines at everyone. he understood the strategy – that sukuna having the opportunity to talk created a greater risk for him to say something he shouldn’t – but it just made the event boring for him.

sukuna hated being on the sidelines.

quite literally the sidelines, because the table he was currently occupying was pushed against the wall. he would retreat back to the main table in the center when the two of them returned, but judging by how loud they were laughing, it didn’t seem like it was going to be any time soon.

“excuse me.”

sukuna’s thrown out of his train of thought by the voice, only to find he’s accompanied by two girls at his side. sukuna inches his glass of soda closer to him, noting the sparky stars gleaming on their eyelids, accompanied with layers of beaded bracelets on their wrists.

fans. sukuna’s found his in.

“can i help you?” sukuna asks.

the two girls look at each other, a nervous laugh escaping their lips, as they squeeze their intertwined hands together. he prays to god they’re not here for aimee.

“are you ryomen sukuna?”

sukuna smiles, looping his elbow across the back of the chair, and smiling. there’s no distaste in their voice – so they most likely aren’t. he’s won.

“sure am. who might you be?” sukuna asks.

“we’re addison and abigail.” they respond.

sukuna uses his free hand, gesturing for them to take the free chairs across from him. he watches as they both widen their eyes, stumbling knees hitting the bottom of the table as he readjusts and leans back.

interviews and networking he wasn’t allowed to do. that much was clear. but talking to fans caused no trouble, and it wasn’t explicitly off limits.

it gave him time to do what he did best. charm people.

“addison and abigail. to what do i owe the pleasure?” sukuna asks.

“we don’t want to take up any of your time.” abigail starts.

“really, we’re sure you’re quite busy. this is a big event and all and you probably have to do interviews and all that.” addison adds.

sukuna grins.

“i’ll always make time for you.”

he watches as their eyes widen, abigail’s lips pinched shut together by the bluntness in his statement, as he lifts his glass and presses it to his lips.

“i have a question.” sukuna states.

“anything!” addison replies.

her response is too fast. so fast that sukuna can almost clock that she’s realized that it’s too fast – that she’s embarrassed at how eager she was to respond. he shoots her a kind smile in response, before leaning forward and bracing his forearms against the table.

“how did the two of you sneak in here? secret boyfriend let you in?” sukuna asks.

the two of them offer him an awkward laugh, slightly releasing their shoulders, as they lift their hands and very adamantly gesture the opposite.

“not at all. we got selected to attend the event through the fan program.” abigail responds.

sukuna smirks.

“here for me?” sukuna asks.

the two of them widen their eyes, almost like they’ve been caught in an awkward situation. because they’re very obviously not here for him.

the fan invites were given for the singers and affiliated studios. and he’d be caught dead before singing live in front of an audience.

“i’m so sorry. i don’t mean to…”

sukuna immediately retreats.

“you do realize that i’m not a singer, right?” sukuna asks.

“what?” abigail asks.

“i don’t sing. there’s no way that you could be here for me.” sukuna clarifies.

the two of them breathe a sigh of relief, abigail giving him a jokingly irritated glare as he shoots the two of them a smile.

“relax. i’m just pulling your leg. it’s all in good fun. we can take a picture and everything, whatever you want.” sukuna responds.

the two of them breathe a sigh of relief.

“really?” she asks.

sukuna nods.

“that’s so sweet, thank you so much. we have a friend who’s a really big fan, so we were trying to get her a signed shirt.”

“a signed shirt it is.” sukuna responds, noting that they reach into their bag with the shirt and marker prepared.

“oh my god. i thought you were….you were going to be a diva or something.” abigail responds.

“me? a diva?” sukuna jokes.

“you wouldn’t believe it. god, some people can be so rude. one time, aimee lynch got us…”

addison’s quick to respond, shoving her elbow into her side to gesture for her to be quiet. sukuna narrow their eyes at the two of them, before rolling her eyes.

sukuna, in the split second, debates if he should respond. if it would go against the deal he made – to be quiet, to not cause any noise – because they could go running and post about it on twitter.

he decides against his better judgment, only because it’s potently clear they’ve been terrorized by aimee before.

“got you kicked out of an event?” sukuna asks.

“yeah…” addison mumbles.

“she does that often. it’s a whole load of shit. i’m glad you’re here.” sukuna responds.

“yeah. we were just really upset because we were actually supposed to meet y/n that day. we had tweeted to her that we got kicked out before we made it to the meet and greet and her team organized a whole like facetime call and sent us merch, but it was super annoying.” abigail responds.

sukuna nods, only because he knows all too well, that it’s exactly in her character to kick fans out of events. their “desperation” always got on her nerves.

“well, i hope you get to meet her tonight. she is here, right?” sukuna asks.

“yeah. she invited us personally since we missed out last time.”

sukuna smiles.

“that’s sweet. i hope you get to meet her later.” sukuna responds.

there’s a patterned knock on the door of your dressing room. two fast, two slow, two fast. it’s accompanied by the door swinging open and the reflection of megumi standing in the mirror with a cup of iced coffee in his hand.

you shoot him an excited smile, apologetically shooing away your hair and makeup team from the chair, to get up and greet him.

“coffee? for moi?” you ask, exaggerating every syllable.

megumi rolls his eyes, placing the cold cup into the palm of your hand, as you shoot him a smile.

megumi hates when you exaggerate the syllables – which is precisely the reason that you do it. you have an inkling that he secretly loves it, because he’s a secret fan of your antics.

“figured you needed it. you look like a hag.” megumi responses.

you snort down a laugh, as you take a sip from the overly sweet coffee.

“hag is a new one. you’ve always had such a way with words, my love.” you joke.

you return back to your chair, gesturing for him to take the free one at your side, as you reach for your phone and read through the last texts you got from mimi. all confirmations – that your guitar and band have arrived, that you’re all good to go at the end of the hour.

“is romeo here?” you ask.

you can see megumi’s irritated expression out of the corner of your eye, accompanied with a pink flush that creeps up his neck.

“what’s his name again? yuki?” you joke.

“yuuji.” megumi corrects, his voice almost stern.

“okay, relax. pipe it down three notches, juliet.”

megumi lifts his hand, awkwardly rubbing it against the back of his neck, as you drop your phone in your lap and narrow your eyes at him.

“what did he do today?”

“you don’t care.” megumi mumbles.

“and that hasn’t stopped you from telling me in the past.”

everyday, for the past eight months, you received a barrage of texts from megumi. ranging across every emotion in the human bandwidth, but always about the same thing.

his new co-star. how great his hair look, what text he sent him that morning, how his skin looked perfect in the light. you would nip that type of dialogue from anyone else in the bud. but megumi wasn’t anyone else.

“but you’re asking. which means you can’t complain, because you basically warranted it out of me.”

you roll your eyes.

“yeah, yeah.”

“he got us matching pins for press this week. they’re like little cartoon versions of us. but he also got one for our other co-star nobara, so it doesn’t really count.”

you shrug.

“but he still got you one. so it does count. that’s cute.” you respond.

“but she has one too.”

“but did he give it to you as a group or individually?” you ask.

“individually.” megumi responds.

you smile.

“exactly. it means something different when it’s individually.” you respond.

“you’re delusional.” megumi responds.

you roll your eyes.

“you could benefit from being a little delusional, drama queen.”

“and then when we were coming here, i was telling him that you were going to be here and he got super excited. he remembered that i always used to get you coffee before your first show so he actually stopped our car and made sure that i was able to get some from you since you’re performing tonight.”

you grin.

“not technically my first show, but i appreciate the effort. I love him already. especially if he’s so passionate about my caffeine addiction.”

“it’s from his coffee shop that he works at with his brother. they used to work there together when they were younger and like…he was telling me all about it. how the two of them used to work there after school and that the owners were like their second parents. they almost went down under a few years ago but they both had enough acting money so they invested. he was even introducing me to them and shit. like fully introducing me to people he views as family.”

you nod.

“wow, juliet. when’s the wedding?” you ask.

“shut up.” megumi responds.

“but really, that’s actually very sweet. he seems like a great guy.”

“he is a great guy. he wants to meet you too, you know?” megumi responds.

“that would be against your better judgment. i’m going to tell him all about your little crush. and propose marriage on your behalf like you’re my property in the 18th century or something.” you respond.

“your jokes never get funnier.” megumi deadpans.

“and yet you’re still here.”

“his brother is here too. the one who used to date aimee.”

you widen your eyes.

“poor guy. it’s probably a blood bath out there for him.”

“he made it through press unscathed, but they’re telling him to keep a low profile. but yuuji’s all worried because he tends to get erratic and take things into his own hands sometimes.”

“what are they saying again?” you ask.

“fans are mad because the report that went out said sukuna dumped her or something.”

you snort.

“is that even bad when she was like basically cheating on him the whole time?” you ask.

“don’t think he knows that.”

you shake your head.

“really?”

megumi shrugs.

“i get the impression he didn’t care about the relationship too much.”

you nod.

“well, then my song won’t hurt his feelings too bad when he finds out they used to date.”

you push up out of the chair, gesturing to your outfit as megumi gives you an approving nod. you link your arms together, pushing out of the door onto the floor of the venue, and continue your conversation in lowered voices.

“do you want me to punch jake?” megumi asks.

“and ruin your pretty little baby hands? i would never.”

megumi rolls his eyes, as the lights dim, and the two of you direct your eyes to the stage. it’s a long introduction, all of the producers and affiliates taking the time to thank everyone for attending. you’re performing at the end of the hour, which gives you enough time to zone this out and focus on the song.

“our very first performance is from one of our affiliates at dancing lady studios – aimee lynch with guest star jake nicholson.”

you and megumi widen your eyes as you turn to look at each other, as you all but crush megumi’s arm in your grasp. the two of them walk out onto the stage – and you note that her sparkly silver is almost identical to the outfit you had been wearing on tour for the past few months.

and that jake’s using the guitar that you gifted him on his birthday.

you know she’s doing it on purpose. that she knows that about you – that you’ll connect dots and draw conclusions – to exactly what she’s trying to do.

piss you off.

Did you think we'd be fine? Still got scars on my back from your knife So don't think it's in the past These kind of wounds they last and they last Now did you think it all through? All these things will catch up to you And time can heal, but this won't So if you come in my way, just don't

Oh, it's so sad to think about the good times You and I

megumi leans down, voice quiet as he whispers in your ear.

“this is going to do rounds on kids bop.”

you snort.

“they would be so lucky.” you respond back.

'Cause baby, now we got bad blood You know it used to be mad love So take a look what you've done 'Cause baby, now we got bad blood (hey!) Now we got problems And I don't think we can solve 'em You made a really deep cut And baby, now we got bad blood (hey!)

“did you know they were going to do this?” megumi asks.

you shake your head.

“there’s no need to worry. i’m always prepared.”

“unless i’m not mistaken, you didn’t catch any strays tonight. how can one be so lucky?” shoko jokes.

“we can’t all be the chosen ones.” sukuna responds back.

“the night is still young. a girl can only dream.” shoko responds.

sukuna rolls his eyes before smiling at her and trying to shake shoko’s grasp off of him, as he turns his attention back to the stage. with the event in full swing, he was allowed to return to the central table, only because the group of them around him to keep track of him.

shoyo’s doing, he was sure.

but he’s sure that shoyo was somewhere fast asleep in his bed right now, having the most restful nap he’s taken in months. sukuna’s inclined that he’ll feel the same way tonight when he goes to bed, with the promise of no scolding from his team since he did, in fact, not catch aimee’s wrath tonight.

it was attributed to someone else tonight. he’s not exactly sure who, but at this point, all he can do is be thankful that it wasn't him.

“who were you talking to earlier?” shoko asks.

“fans who got invited to the event.” sukuna responds.

“poor girls. they got assaulted by the smell of your cologne and had to lose brain cells by talking to you?” shoko jokes.

sukuna scoffs.

“that already happened when you walked into the room. don’t kid yourself, ieiri.”

“you should learn some manners. is that any way to talk to a woman?” shoko asks.

“can you guys shut the fuck up?”

shoko and sukuna turn their heads to the left to find satoru standing there, eyes razor focused and glued to the stage.

“what stick is up your ass?” shoko asks.

“it’s y/n’s turn to perform.” satoru seethes.

shoko snorts.

“don’t tell me that your dream girl is in attendance? how are you even standing straight right now?” shoko asks.

“pure adrenaline, bitch.” satoru responds.

sukuna and shoko widen their eyes as they share a look – a quiet communication that satoru’s being more erratic than normal and to leave him be – as they turn their attention back to the stage.

the bright lights shine red on the stage as the visuals go up, a twisting and turning illusion against the back screen. there’s a rising platform in the center and all he gets a glimpse of are sparkly star tights.

La-da-da-da, da-da-da, la-da-da-da-da La-da-da-da, da-da-da

If I told you how much I think about her You'd think I was in love And if you knew how much I looked at her pictures You would think we're best friends

'Cause I know her star sign, I know her blood type I've seen every movie she's been in and, oh god, she's beautiful And I know you loved her, and I know I'm butthurt But I can't help it, no, I can't help it

I'm so obsessed with your ex (uh-huh) I know she's been asleep on my side of your bed And I can feel it I'm starin' at her like I wanna get hurt And I remember every detail you have ever told me So be careful, baby

I'm so obsessed with your ex (ah) Yeah, I'm so obsessed with your ex (ah) La-da-da-da, da-da-da

sukuna can feel his heart pounding in his throat. he grabs yuuji by the shoulder, yanking him close from the fabric of his shirt, and whispers.

“who is that?”

“were you born under a rock? that’s y/n.”

sukuna watches as you skip around the stage, bathed in the dark red lights surrounding the stage and the visuals with you in the background.

maybe sukuna was born under a rock. he was one thousand percent sure that he would remember something like this.

“the guy that was up with aimee earlier. she’s jake’s ex-girlfriend. they were singing about her.” yuuji whispers.

“is she singing about aimee?” sukuna asks.

yuuji nods.

“they have some weird twisted history. especially with jake, i think. him and aimee have had eyes for each other since like…forever.”

he watches as you walk over to the left side of the stage, crouching down into the view of the camera and right across from where jake and aimee are sitting, irritated looks painted on their faces.

sukuna notes that you're looking right at them. full blown, direct eye contact.

Is she friends with your friends? Does she give great head? Do you think about her? No, I'm fine, it doesn't matter, tell me Is she easy-going? Never controlling? Well-traveled? Well-read? Oh god, she makes me so upset

I'm so obsessed with your ex (ah) She's been asleep on my side in your bed (ah, whoa) I'm so obsessed with your ex (god, she makes me so upset, ah) I'm so obsessed with your, with your ex

sukuna’s frustration compounds again.

because he can’t simply understand how he’s the one getting publicly punished, when aimee’s been in love with some other guy the entire time. and that knowing her, she most definitely leaked the news about how she was blindsided on purpose, just to ruin his career.

“if i was y/n, i’d just punch them both in the face. then start dating one of her boyfriends or something.” shoko states.

the idea comes to sukuna almost instantly. and he makes a mental note to apologize to shoyo later.

when you get off the stage and retreat back to your table near the wall, you quickly scan through your texts from mimi.

[mimi]: Three versions slated for release. Could potentially block you getting the #1 spot.

[mimi]: Fingers crossed, but things are faring over well. People love the song.

[mimi]: Obviously.

you set the phone face down at the table and sink down into your chair. you don’t even get a second to think because before you know it, someone’s slid into the chair right across from you, hunched forward into your space over the small chair.

pink hair, arms littered with tattoos. there was something oddly familiar about him.

“you’re just the girl i wanted to see.” he states.

you narrow your eyes at him. you’re unsure which one he is. producers trying to poach for their studio, people looking to network, or the perverts that somehow get let into events like this.

“is that right?” you ask, tone dry.

the guy offers you an over-eager nod, accompanied with a glimmering smirk.

he’s attractive and you can tell from the look on his face that he knows it. for some reason, you’re almost positive that he makes sure of it. toned muscles, hair so perfect that it has to be styled. to the point where it feels calculated.

you lean forward, placing your cheek in the palm of your hand as you smile right back at him. he leans forward almost immediately. it was almost too easy.

“i don’t think we’ve ever met before. i’d think i’d remember that.” you respond.

“only in my dreams.”

you fight the urge to scoff. you’re sure that one worked out well for him in the past. It's the only reason someone would say something so corny and mean it.

you hold your hand out to him, noting that he extends the handshake for far too long.

“y/n.”

“ryomen sukuna.”

that’s where you knew him from. this was megumi’s co-star. romeo’s brother.

“from jujutsu kaisen, right?” you ask.

sukuna gives you a glimmering grin. you note that he has a dimple on the left side.

“know everything about me, don’t you?”

you snort.

“sure do. you’ve got me all figured out, sweetheart.” you deadpan.

sukuna leans back, narrowing his eyes at the comment. you can tell that he’s rethinking what to say next.

“i know about the show because of megumi.” you clarify.

“we go way back.” sukuna responds.

you lean back against the chair and cross your arms over your chest. you've got him right where you want him.

“really?” you ask.

sukuna nods.

“when did you meet him?”

“elementary school. he was always the quiet type.”

sukuna pauses.

“speaking of types, what’s yours?”

you fight the urge to laugh. there was no way he could truly be this forward. but then again, you figure his deep urge to get back at aimee right now was probably inhibiting his good judgement at the current moment.

“why do you ask?”

“you’re a smart girl. i know you can figure it out.”

you take the bait.

“i’ll give it a shot.” you respond.

“that’s my girl.”

you smile before leaning forward to make sure that he hears you properly.

“your name is ryomen sukuna. indie actor for the most part, but you recently got signed on as part of the lead ensemble for mappa’s new show, jujutsu kaisen. you’ve gotten pretty far considering all things, which i’m sure comes as a byproduct of the whole charm bit that you do and from what i’ve heard, some pretty decent acting. and while you’ve done mostly well, you made the brutal mistake of becoming a social pariah by dancing with the tabloid devil, aimee lynch. you’ve ended up on their bad side and now, in some weird type of way – i’ll admit, i’m not exactly sure how – are trying to elicit my help to get you back in people’s good graces. by lying, of course.”

you watch as sukuna’s eyes widen, before he leans back, his cheeks the slightest shade of pink as he swallows hard. and you give him your sincerest smile before pulling out your phone and digging for the photo in your favorites.

of you and megumi in grade school, standing hand in hand.

“i think i’d remember if the human version of pinkie pie from my little pony was running around my elementary school, sukuna.” you state.

and shockingly enough, he only gives you a smile in response – like he’s almost delighted by the fact that what you've just read caught him in a lie– as he sticks his tongue in the side of his cheek and makes a clicking sound.

“got me all figured out, don’t you dollface?”

“you’re painfully obvious, like most men. i’ll see you around, sukuna.” you respond, as you turn on your heel to walk away.

but he’s almost too fast with it, slithering his hand down from your elbow to your wrist, pulling slightly to beckon you to turn back. and he gives you an…a more earnest smile this time as he raises your knuckles to his lips, and leaves a kiss in between the pointer in the middle.

“that’s a promise, sweetheart.”

next part linked here

an: hi!!!! welcome back to the dream girl universe - I thank you for your patience <3 i'll be using the old dream girl taglist, but let me know if you would like to be taken off!!!

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shadowandlightt · 9 months ago

Text

Of Nightmares and Memories | eight | Azirel X reader

Series Warnings: Kidnapping. Mistreatment. Cursing. Pining. Violence. Depression. Talks of suicide. Eventual smut

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven

A/N: I'm very nervous about this part and the ones coming after it. I hope you still enjoy it, even though it's probably what you're expecting.

When the darkness faded, all you could see was the Moonstone Palace that you’d spent so much time in as a child. You could finally fill my lungs with air, a sweet jasmine scent floating in it. Feyre was gently laid on a couch in the center of the great room. Mor, who didn’t seem to know what to do, ran forward and wrapped her arms around you, squeezing you so tightly the newly fresh air was knocked from your lungs.

“You were dead,” She cried, “We mourned you. For years we mourned.”

“I’m sorry,” You choke out, “I tried, for years I tried.”

But then you gave up. And you accepted your fate in the Spring Court. You didn’t fight hard enough when Amerantha still had control. Or in the days following her fall. You could have made it, surely you could have. You thought you could winnow short distances at that point, though you hadn’t tested it. You should have been able to jump from place to place until you made it to the border of the Night Court. Until you made it to safety. But you didn’t. You threw up in the rose and gave up.

You gave up on them.

Dread filled you. Because how could you explain everything that happened to you? How could you explain that you’d given up on ever seeing any of them again, and that your only thought had been of death. Because then, maybe the Mother would grant you access to your own mother. Maybe she would allow you to look after Rhys and the others from whatever world exists beyond your own.

Guilt swirled in with the dread. How could you tell your brother that you’d been praying for death for hundreds of years? How could you tell him that your mother didn’t beg for herself that day, or her wings, she begged for you. Begged for them to spare you and send you on your way. Begged as they started to cut into your back, leaving behind two long and ugly scars.

How could you explain any of it?

“How are you alive?” Rhys questioned, pain lingering in his eyes.

“Tamlin begged for my life that day,” You reply, feeling an icy cold settle over you.

You hadn’t spoken of it. Hadn’t voiced what happened that day. Saying it now makes it all too real. Before you could imagine that your mother was still alive, flying around Valaris, but now….now saying it aloud you knew she was gone. You could feel it deep in your bones.

“He begged his father and brother, said it would be better to keep me as a bargaining chip,” You explain, “He ended up just keeping me as a toy, after everything happened.”

Then a thought accrued to you. Tamlin was so desperate to get Rhys to release Feyre from their bond, he said he would do anything. Perhaps he would have let you go…perhaps he would’ve finally used you as a bargaining chip against your brother.

“He probably would’ve offered me on a silver platter for you to release Feyre,” You laugh.

“All these years, you’ve been right there?” Rhys asked, voice cracking.

It's been years since you’d seen him cry. The stone exterior was crumbling, leaving behind a broken boy who lost his mother and sister in the same day, only to have one returned to him. You want to move to comfort him, but you’re locked in where you stand. As if there is a spell over you, keeping you from moving.

You’re afraid to move, truly. Because if you move you might wake up and find that this is all a dream. A beautiful and cruel dream. So you stay put as the tears fall from both yours and Rhys’ eyes.

“All this time,” You reply, “I’ve been locked away in the Manor House. I was there that night that you and father came, and I was there when you first met Feyre, and every moment after that.”

“Calanmai,” he says suddenly, “You were there that night. Gods above, you spoke to me.”

The tears are falling harder now. Unstoppable against the emotions you both feel. Mor is still standing close to you, you could almost lean against her for support. But she’s somehow also giving you and Rhys your space to work this out.

“I was praying to the Gods and to the Mother and to the Cauldron that you would be able to see beyond the glamor and see me,” You verify, “That’s why I said I was like the wind, I hoped you would hear it and realize.”

His head shook, “I couldn’t allow myself to believe. I heard you, Mother I heard you, but I couldn’t believe it. You didn’t smell like you.”

“Scents change, besides, I was wrapped in Lucien’s clothing to disguise my scent,” You explain, “I expect I smelled like Lucien for a long time. He was the only constant visitor I had for years.”

“Y/N-” His voice broke as he surged forward to wrap you in his arms, “My sweet baby sister. I’m so sorry.”

You shake your head. If anyone should feel guilty about all of this, it should be you. You should have fought harder that day. Even at such a young age, you could have misted all of them if you really wanted to. But you’d never killed another fae before. Never killed another living thing. So you hesitated and that was long enough for them to overpower you both and kill your mother. They’d come for Rhys that day, but they got a better prize in the form of the Princess of the Night Court.

“No, you don’t get to feel bad about this,” You warn him, “You are not to blame.”

“If I hadn't trusted him…if I would’ve just met you both in the woods thay day,” He all but cries out.

“No, it’s no one's fault but Tamlin and his family’s,” You stay sternly, hoping maybe one day you’ll believe it.

Maybe one day you’ll finally believe that you aren’t to blame for your mother’s death. That none of it was your fault. She had no real power of her own, no way to protect herself. It was on you to do that. It was Rhys’ responsibility to protect you both. Not that you would ever, ever blame him for what happened. He couldn’t have known what Tamlin was planning with his family. He couldn’t have known that his friend wanted him dead because they saw him as such a threat.

Suddenly your body felt heavy and weighed down. You couldn’t move even if you wanted to. All you felt was pure exhaustion. Your eyes flutter and Rhys seems to notice the change in your body.

“You’re exhausted, aren’t you?” he questions.

You try to smile, but you know it doesn't reach your eyes, “I don’t sleep well anymore.”

He sighs deeply and wraps an arm around you as he slowly leads you towards the bedrooms, “I can have a tonic brought up for you.”

“No need,”You shake your head, “I’m sure just being back here will put me at ease.”

You wished you believed the words you were saying. But you didn’t. You weren’t sure that anything would put you at ease again. All you could feel was anxious energy swirling in your belly. Threatening to boil over at any moment. You couldn’t fully wrap your mind around the fact that you were free. Couldn’t fully understand that you were here, and safe, and with your family again. Or at least part of them.

“Cassain and Azirel won’t know what to do with themselves,” Rhys lets out a small laugh as he wipes at his eyes.

“You can’t tell them,” You halt suddenly, “Oh, Rhys, you can’t. I’m not ready.”

“Don’t you want to see them again?” he questions, brows drawing in.

“Of course I do, but I-” You shake your head, feeling your whole body start to shake.

How could you explain it to him in a way that would make sense? How could he understand where your head was at? Seeing them would push you over the edge. Seeing Az…knowing his shadows would tell him your darkest secrets…you couldn’t handle it. You couldn’t handle seeing him disappointed in you…disgusted with you. It would break you in more ways than Tamlin ever could.

To lose Azirel was like to lose the air you breathe. It would kill you to lose him. You could feel it deep within you. You wouldn’t survive Azriel turning his back upon you. So it was best that he just didn’t know you lived. Maybe you could live out the rest of your days in a cabin in the mountains. Yes…that would be good. You were used to the solitude anyway.

“You can’t tell them,” You begged your brother, “Please Rhys. I can’t bear them knowing.”

“But Y/N, they’re our family,” He tried to reason with you.

“Please Rhys,” you shake even harder, “I can’t bear it. I’m not ready.”

“Okay,” He finally relented, “Okay. I won’t tell them.”

Your body sags with his agreement. Your breath comes out in heavy pants, because your lungs seem to be constricting and not allowing the proper amount of air into them. Everything just feels wrong now. Nothing feels right. You feel as if you shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t be allowed to have a moment of happiness with your brother.

You shouldn’t be allowed happiness when it’s your fault that your mother is dead. You should have done more to save her that day, instead of going limp in the arms of Tamlin’s brothers. You should have done everything in your power to save her. Instead you let her die, and you still live. It would have been better if you just died that day.

“Here we are,” Rhys said, unaware of the thoughts you were having, “Try to sleep. I’ll come check on you in a while.”

“Okay,” You sigh, pushing the door open, “Rhys?”

“Yes?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Little Star. Now sleep, before you drop in a heap on the floor.”

You couldn’t sleep though. No matter how hard you try. Because all you could think of was how it should have been you to die. It should have been you, and not your mother. She could have helped Rhys with his transition into High Lord, she could’ve been there for Cassian and Azirel, who desperately needed a mother.

But instead you lived. And now you’re too cowardly to tell them that you lived. Too cowardly to ask to return home to Valaris. Too cowardly to do anything.

Rhys didn’t come back for hours, when he did you pretended to be asleep. All the while tears quietly slid down your cheeks. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Your life wasn’t supposed to happen like this. What did you do to make The Mother punish you so?

“I’m taking Feyre to Valaris,” He spoke, somehow knowing you’re awake, “Please consider coming with us.”

“No,” You say firmly, not rolling over to see him, “I’d like to stay here.”

“It’s your home, Y/N,” He pleaded, “You can’t hide from it forever.”

“I can’t go back Rhys,” You can’t explain it to him. He would never let you out of his sight if he knew.

“Please consider it,” He begs, “Please, Little Star, I don’t want to be separated from you again.”

“Then don’t leave,” You snap at him.

“You know I have to go back.”

“Then take her and get out,” You snarl, “I’m not going back.”

“Y/N-”

“Go Rhysand!” You yell, reaching for anything to throw at him.

You can feel yourself losing control of the little power you had access to. Darkness seeping from your body. There were no stars in this darkness, only a black void. Much like the cocoon that Feyre created. Only this was something you never did. Your darkness always had stars, but now you aren’t sure if you could conjure them even if you tried.

That light inside you had been snuffed out long ago. It was only now that you realized it. It was only now that you accepted it as the truth. Your light was gone, the stars were gone. You weren’t Rhy’s Little Star anymore. You were something worse. Something made hard from years of captivity and cruelty. You weren’t sure you would even recognize yourself if you looked in the mirror.

“Fine,” You’d never heard him sound so defeated. You were sure if he had wings they would be dragging on the ground as he turned to leave your room. He stopped at the door and looked back at you, “I’ll send Mor to check in on you.”

“Don’t bother,” You mumble, “I’ll be fine.”

Only you wouldn’t be fine. You weren’t fine. And You weren’t sure that you ever would be fine again. The darkness threatened to swallow you whole and you wanted to let it. You wanted to give into it and let it take all that you were. Maybe it would be better that way. Easier.

When your door clicks shut and you hear Rhys’ footsteps moving away from you, you allow yourself to fall apart. When the house goes silent you let out an anguished cry loud enough to almost shake the whole mountain. Life wasn’t supposed to happen this way. You were supposed to be overjoyed at being freed, not whatever this is.

You feel as if you’re going to rip yourself apart, and for a moment you wish you would. You wish death would just come for you. You yearned for the sweet release that death would provide. Because at least then you might be able to find peace.

Tag List

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mostlysignssomeportents · 5 months ago

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Emil Ferris’s long-awaited “My Favorite Thing Is Monsters Book Two”

NEXT WEEKEND (June 7–9), I'm in AMHERST, NEW YORK to keynote the 25th Annual Media Ecology Association Convention and accept the Neil Postman Award for Career Achievement in Public Intellectual Activity.

Seven years ago, I was absolutely floored by My Favorite Thing Is Monsters, a wildly original, stunningly gorgeous, haunting and brilliant debut graphic novel from Emil Ferris. Every single thing about this book was amazing:

https://memex.craphound.com/2017/06/20/my-favorite-thing-is-monsters-a-haunting-diary-of-a-young-girl-as-a-dazzling-graphic-novel/

The more I found out about the book, the more amazed I became. I met Ferris at that summer's San Diego Comic Con, where I learned that she had drawn it over a while recovering from paralysis of her right – dominant – hand after a West Nile Virus infection. Each meticulously drawn and cross-hatched page had taken days of work with a pen duct-taped to her hand, a project of seven years.

The wild backstory of the book's creation was matched with a wild production story: first, Ferris's initial publisher bailed on her because the book was too long; then her new publisher's first shipment of the book was seized by the South Korean state bank, from the Panama Canal, when the shipper went bankrupt and its creditors held all its cargo to ransom.

My Favorite Thing Is Monsters told the story of Karen Reyes, a 10 year old, monster-obsessed queer girl in 1968 Chicago who lives with her working-class single mother and her older brother, Deeze, in an apartment house full of mysterious, haunted adults. There's the landlord – a gangster and his girlfriend – the one-eyed ventriloquist, and the beautiful Holocaust survivor and her jazz-drummer husband.

Karen narrates and draws the story, depicting herself as a werewolf in a detective's trenchcoat and fedora, as she tries to unravel the secrets kept by the grownups around her. Karen's life is filled with mysteries, from the identity of her father (her brother, a talented illustrator, has removed him from all the family photos and redrawn him as the Invisible Man) to the purpose of a mysterious locked door in the building's cellar.

But the most pressing mystery of all is the death of her upstairs neighbor, the beautiful Annika Silverberg, a troubled Holocaust survivor whose alleged suicide just doesn't add up, and Karen – who loved and worshiped Annika – is determined to get to the bottom of it.

Karen is tormented by the adults in her life keeping too much from her – and by their failure to shield her from life's hardest truths. The flip side of Karen's frustration with adult secrecy is her exposure to adult activity she's too young to understand. From Annika's cassette-taped oral history of her girlhood in an Weimar brothel and her escape from a Nazi concentration camp, to the sex workers she sees turning tricks in cars and alleys in her neighborhood, to the horrors of the Vietnam war, Karen's struggle to understand is characterized by too much information, and too little.

Ferris's storytelling style is dazzling, and it's matched and exceeded by her illustration style, which is grounded in the classic horror comics of the 1950s and 1960s. Characters in Karen's life – including Karen herself – are sometimes depicted in the EC horror style, and that same sinister darkness crowds around the edges of her depictions of real-world Chicago.

These monster-comic throwbacks are absolute catnip for me. I, too, was a monster-obsessed kid, and spent endless hours watching, drawing, and dreaming about this kind of monster.

But Ferris isn't just a monster-obsessive; she's also a formally trained fine artist, and she infuses her love of great painters into Deeze, Karen's womanizing petty criminal of an older brother. Deeze and Karen's visits to the Art Institute of Chicago are commemorated with loving recreations of famous paintings, which are skillfully connected to pulp monster art with a combination of Deeze's commentary and Ferris's meticulous pen-strokes.

Seven years ago, Book One of My Favorite Thing Is Monsters absolutely floored me, and I early anticipated Book Two, which was meant to conclude the story, picking up from Book One's cliff-hanger ending. Originally, that second volume was scheduled for just a few months after Book One's publication (the original manuscript for Book One ran to 700 pages, and the book had been chopped down for publication, with the intention of concluding the story in another volume).

But the book was mysteriously delayed, and then delayed again. Months stretched into years. Stranger rumors swirled about the second volume's status, compounded by the bizarre misfortunes that had befallen book one. Last winter, Bleeding Cool's Rich Johnston published an article detailing a messy lawsuit between Ferris and her publishers, Fantagraphics:

https://bleedingcool.com/comics/fantagraphics-sued-emil-ferris-over-my-favorite-thing-is-monsters/

The filings in that case go some ways toward resolve the mystery of Book Two's delay, though the contradictory claims from Ferris and her publisher are harder to sort through than the mysteries at the heart of Monsters. The one sure thing is that writer and publisher eventually settled, paving the way for the publication of the very long-awaited Book Two:

https://www.fantagraphics.com/products/my-favorite-thing-is-monsters-book-two

Book Two picks up from Book One's cliffhanger and then rockets forward. Everything brilliant about One is even better in Two – the illustrations more lush, the fine art analysis more pointed and brilliant, the storytelling more assured and propulsive, the shocks and violence more outrageous, the characters more lovable, complex and grotesque.

Everything about Two is more. The background radiation of the Vietnam War in One takes center stage with Deeze's machinations to beat the draft, and Deeze and Karen being ensnared in the Chicago Police Riots of '68. The allegories, analysis and reproductions of classical art get more pointed, grotesque and lavish. Annika's Nazi concentration camp horrors are more explicit and more explicitly connected to Karen's life. The queerness of the story takes center stage, both through Karen's first love and the introduction of a queer nightclub. The characters are more vivid, as is the racial injustice and the corruption of the adult world.

I've been staring at the spine of My Favorite Thing Is Monsters Book One on my bookshelf for seven years. Partly, that's because the book is such a gorgeous thing, truly one of the great publishing packages of the century. But mostly, it's because I couldn't let go of Ferris's story, her characters, and her stupendous art.

After seven years, it would have been hard for Book Two to live up to all that anticipation, but goddammit if Ferris didn't manage to meet and exceed everything I could have hoped for in a conclusion.

There's a lot of people on my Christmas list who'll be getting both volumes of Monsters this year – and that number will only go up if Fantagraphics does some kind of slipcased two-volume set.

In the meantime, we've got more Ferris to look forward to. Last April, she announced that she had sold a prequel to Monsters and a new standalone two-volume noir murder series to Pantheon Books:

https://twitter.com/likaluca/status/1648364225855733769

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/06/01/the-druid/#oh-my-papa

#pluralistic #books #reviews #lgbtq #pride #gift guide #graphic novels #emil ferris #comics #monsters

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flowerandblood · 9 months ago

Text

The Fall from the Heavens (13)

[ canon • Aemond x Strong • niece female ]

[ warnings: angst, arranged engagement, violence, swearing, trauma, regret, depression, mention of a suicide attempt ]

[ description: A cool distance turns into friendship and more when two children see that they can find refuge and understanding in each other. However, naïve dreams collide with the reality in which every event has consequences and what once could have been love becomes a dark, newly painful obsession. Angst, sexual tension, obsession, violence, madness, very dark Aemond. ]

The story in this series is an alternate reality from the oneshot Stay and love, leave and die, in which Aemond reads the letters his niece has sent to him over the years. They are the same characters and it shows what would have happened between them − I have changed the background story from their childhood slightly for the sake of the plot.

Characters & Series Moodboard Lady Strong Moodboard Aemond & Lady Strong Moodboard Aemond & Lady Strong Childhood

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

Daemon understood better than anyone what it meant to be the second son, the one who would inherit nothing. It seemed to him that, in contrast to Viserys, he was a blazing fire like a true dragon, giving warmth, light and shelter to those close to his heart, burning those whom he saw as his enemies.

Viserys was always blind, soft-spoken, lacking strong character and clear opposition when things got too far out of hand.

This trait of his had been carefully exploited by Otto Hightower over the years, putting himself in the role of his friend and adviser, playing his part with an extraordinary devotion from which he felt like throwing up.

He knew it was pure courtesy, perfectly calculated, taking advantage of the mourning of the entire Red Keep and his inattention after Aemma's tragic death he slipped his brother his daughter under his nose.

Looking at her on their wedding day, standing in a long, ornate gown he thought she looked like a child on whom someone had put layers of cloth and precious stones; overwhelmed by it all she looked down at her feet, around her nails the red wounds he had seen on her hands ever since.

On that one day, knowing what was awaiting her, he truly felt compassion for her.

After that, however, he stopped.

She could have built her independence, committed herself to the needs of the kingdom, she, however, in the company of that cunt, Criston Cole, gave herself over to prayer and mortification, obediently following her father's orders.

As a woman, she was in his eyes pitiful, weepy, whiny, merely pretending to be saintly and virtuous, having in fact nothing to do with these qualities.

His feelings about her and her father moved involuntarily to her children.

He recognised the dragon's blood in them and treated them differently from the Hightowers, yet he was unable or unwilling to bond with them, seeing how they were suckled to their mother's breasts, which did not allow them to think or breathe on their own.

He watched from the sidelines, observing from afar as Rhaenyra and Alicent's children trained together, how a divide formed between them. He knew that once they grew up and understood what was really at stake, they would throw themselves at each other's throats.

He knew perfectly well whose right to the throne he would support.

Aegon was a drunkard and a cunt, Helaena was quiet and withdrawn, Aemond was sullen and vindictive − he thought with amusement that each of them had inherited the worst from his brother and their mother.

However, he couldn't help but show at least a little compassion and understanding for his brother's second son, who had been punished by the gods, left without a dragon of his own.

Some part of him wanted to speak to him, to get to know him, to see through him as a kind of reflection of himself, but on those rare occasions when he was with Leana and his daughters in the Red Keep he never made such a gesture, which he later, though he did not want to admit it to himself, regretted.

Perhaps things would have turned out differently then.

He could see with what admiration he looked at him, how much he longed to hear at least one word of appreciation from him, any gesture of interest.

He knew that if he could decide who his father-figure would be he would choose not Viserys or Cole but him, and he pretended not to notice that.

Once though, he noticed something that surprised him; strolling through the cloisters of the Red Keep he spotted his nephew and Rhaenyra's only daughter standing side by side in the square, leaning over the table filled with the various weapons. He smirked under his breath as he walked closer, wanting to listen to their conversation.

They were betrothed.

A clumsy attempt by his brother to avoid what he felt in his bones had to happen.

He saw his niece point her finger at one of the weapons lying on the wooden tabletop, a steel black spiked ball hooked on a chain to a special handle.

"What is it? It looks scary." She said with amusement, her voice light and pleasant; he thought with surprise that his nephew's grim and stormy nature did not deter her.

Alicent's son grunted loudly, lifting his chin slightly in a gesture of superiority and intelligence that he hated so much about the Hightowers, clearly proud to be able to speak on a subject in which his knowledge was extensive.

"It's a flail. A very heavy weapon requiring great strength and agility in its use. It literally crushes the opponent." He said, forcing himself into a low, mature, masculine voice, standing with his hands clasped behind his back, his hair in a slight disarray from the few duels he had already had.

"That weapon looks like the kind you die from in agony." Mumbled his niece, tentatively touching her fingertip to one of the spikes – her uncle pushed her away immediately, surprised by her gesture, grabbing her hand by the wrist.

"Are you insane? What are you doing? It's sharp after all, you could have hurt yourself." He said angrily, but she only blinked, surprised by his outburst, and smiled indulgently, showing him her finger.

"I know, silly. I wouldn't want something like that to hit me in the face." She sneered, raising her eyebrows in amusement, joy in her gaze and embarrassment at the fact that he still hadn't let her go.

She took a step closer to him, but he stepped back quickly and lowered his gaze, he noticed in disbelief that his pale cheeks had turned scarlet.

"Not here. Later." He muttered letting go of her wrist immediately. He heard her quiet sigh of disappointment as she nodded and walked away without another word.

He watched as, a moment later, his nephew cursed under his breath, pulling off his leather gloves and moved after her, grabbing her at one of the side entrances by her arm. She turned to him with a smile as if she was sure he would follow her, her lips placing a quick, brief kiss on his cheek.

He let her go, embarrassed and blushing, looking sideways, muttered something, and she nodded and disappeared behind the walls. His nephew returned to the square as if nothing had happened, a lazy, barely visible smile on his face; Aegon looked at him from afar with a look full of pity, as soon as his younger brother came closer he said loud and clear:

"What a twat you are."

He snarled under his breath as he heard Criston Cole immediately respond to his remark by saying that it was inappropriate for a prince to use such vocabulary, his younger brother only gave him a grim look indicating that he himself was torn internally, ashamed of his weakness.

He thought then, moving ahead, amused, that his brother had inadvertently contributed to something that was certainly not his original plan.

These kids really wanted it.

He felt shame because, looking at them, he wondered how he really felt about his wife. He recognised that she was his companion and lover, whom he respected and cherished, but she was not his friend, he could not allow her into the depths of his heart.

Only when he saw Rheanyra did he feel something more; he had the feeling that the air around them quivered when they spoke, he sensed that she understood perfectly the source and reason of his impulsive nature.

Despite this, he found his life peaceful and prosperous, and the death of his wife in childbirth was something shocking and painful to him. He covered his grief with laughter, the thought that he had wasted years of her life, a wonderful, beautiful woman who deserved someone to love her with all her being, giving her something more than a substitute of affection.

Then, however, his nephew lost an eye and everything fell apart like a house of cards, showing how weak their family actually was.

The events that followed wove together in his mind, the closeness of Rhaenyra and their later nuptials brought him a sense of relief, as if two parts that belonged together had been joined.

He watched her daughter from afar, the sadness and grief painted on her after all still so young and innocent face made her seem to him pale and lifeless, at once beautiful, cool and inaccessible, walking around Dragonstone like a ghost, not speaking to anyone despite how much his daughters tried to get close to her.

She was warm, helpful and welcoming when anyone approached her, but did not raise any discussions herself, eating and drinking little at suppers, immersed in her thoughts.

He knew that she was with them only in body.

He decided not to make the same mistake as with his nephew and offer her his interest, his support in the ironic and mischievous form peculiar to him, the only way in which he could show his affection to anyone.

What surprised him was how much she clung to him, how often she cried during their walks together; despite her innate vulnerability she had a strength of character that he appreciated – she was inclined to rash actions or anger, but she was also not docile or naive, she tried to find order in the chaos that surrounded her.

Only he and his niece had been invited to Aegon's nuptials to Helaena; Alicent had expressed in her letter her concern that the meeting of their children might affect them badly and reawaken old wounds, which his wife took as a reasonable argument, and indeed, albeit reluctantly, it was only the two of them who travelled to the Red Keep.

The whole ceremony in the Great Sept dragged on endlessly for him; he looked around, bored, unwilling to stare at the horrified, sad faces of his nephew and niece, testament to the fact that neither of them wanted this marriage.

The wedding supper held in the fortress was lavish with dancing and music, lords from all over the kingdom descended and gathered in the throne room at large, long oak tables filled to the brim with food. Sitting down in his seat next to his wife, he glanced sideways and noticed a figure looking at him intensely, the One-Eyed Prince staring at him coolly, his lips pressed into a thin line.

He raised his eyebrows in disbelief and admiration, finding that he looked like a man, well-built and muscular, tall, his hair much longer, a black eye patch covering the left side of his face.

He grinned with amusement and mockery, wondering to what he owed his attention, and his nephew only hummed under his breath, looking away, apparently discouraged by his reaction.

He wondered, looking at him, taking a sip of wine from his goblet, if he had shown him fatherly concern then, taken him under his wing, separated him from Alicent and Otto, he would be a different man now.

Several toasts were made to the bride and groom, during each of which Aegon drank his cup to the bottom, clearly intent on fulfilling his marital duty completely drunk.

"Stop it. You've had enough." Growled his younger brother, taking his goblet from him with an aggressive flick of his hand, setting it impatiently far from his older brother's reach.

Aegon slapped him angrily on the shoulder, mumbling something under his breath; his younger brother stood up, towering over him, showing him wordlessly that if he touched him again he would regret it.

"Aemond." Said their mother, this green whore, who was looking at them in pain, her hands folded in front of her as if to pray.

His nephew rolled his eyes and left the hall by a side entrance, furious, unwilling and unable to look at it apparently; Aegon with a wide grin reached for his cup again and to his despair took the empty seat next to him that had been occupied earlier by his wife, now conversing with the King.

"Uncle! So many years." He mumbled, tapping him on the back in a friendly, masculine greeting. He rolled his eyes, amused, smelling the stench of alcohol and sweat from him.

"As you can see, everything stays in the family. I don't know how I'm going to survive this. After all, she'll surely cry. Fuck." He muttered, taking a deep, catchy sip from his cup, tilting it so that he drank it all at once.

He ran his tongue over his lower lip, feeling discomfort at the thought that he felt compassion for Helaena for what was about to happen to her.

He glanced at her sad, petite figure; she sat gazing off into the distance somewhere, dreamy.

He wondered as he watched her if she realised what awaited her.

"She doesn't seem to fully understand what I will have to do to her. After all, she's my sister. I don't want to hurt her. She's odd and I don't understand her, but I don't want her to fucking cry." He mumbled out covering his face with his hand, his voice breaking with his every word – he drew in air loudly as if he was out of breath, and he looked at him not knowing what to do.

What was he supposed to answer him?

"Be gentle and kind. Make her feel as little pain as possible. You know very well that how it will look lies in your hands. If you want her to suffer as little as possible, stop drinking because it will take you a fucking hour." He growled, taking the cup from his hand just as his younger brother had earlier, and wondered if that was what he meant then, if he knew his condition would only worsen whatever was to await them next.

"You pity yourself and you smell of alcohol and sweat. Go take a bath or do you want to lay on her like that? Give her some dignity for goodness sake." He said coolly, looking ahead indifferently; his nephew swallowed loudly, sitting beside him like a little rebuked child, playing with his fingers.

He wondered, looking at him out of the corner of his eye if his brother had ever spoken to him about it, if he had prepared him and explained to him how he should behave.

"All my life I've envied him. My brother. He had someone of his own who cared about him. I think he really loved her, uncle. Now I barely recognise anyone myself. I'm not sure any of us are the same person anymore. Only Helaena has remained the same − innocent and ignorant. That's because she doesn't step outside her mind. If she did, she would have gone mad like we did."

It turned out that he was partly right.

What he didn't expect was that when they arrived all together as a family after several years in King's Landing to defend Luke's rights to inherit the Driftmark these two would be lying in bed with each other on their very first night.

"If you tell me you still want to marry him, I will help you. I'd rather you be his wife than lead you and him into a scandal that could destroy your mother. Your betrothal has never been called off, the king will easily prove that no other plans for you can be in force against his decision. But if you decide not to, I will personally see to it that you never see him again and that no letter of yours leaves Dragonstone. Make a manly, mature decision with all its consequences, and stop wallowing over yourself."

He told her then, wanting her to understand that they could not stand in the middle, that they had to choose, or their decisions would drag them all down.

Watching them in the throne room audience, however, the greedy, desperate gaze of his nephew fixed on her as if he wanted to devour her gave him no illusions.

What this boy was telling himself was one thing, but what he was feeling was another.

It was this thought that made him decide to question Alicent's decision in front of everyone, wanting to hear his brother's opinion on the matter, the only one that really counted. He had expected nothing but objections from both sides, however, against the desperate attempts of their mothers, his nephew and his niece's daughter made a decision that did not surprise him at all.

It was enough for her to get up from her seat and walk out to make him press his lips together in rage and follow her out, exactly as he had done then, in the courtyard, when he had thrown himself after her, and she knew perfectly well that he would do so, knowing his nature.

He wondered if she had kissed him this time too, if the tension between them had eased.

He thought that this marriage might actually calm the emotions a little, especially as his brother was over his deathbed.

This union was forcing both parties to be cautious, which could be mutually beneficial.

"She has decided that she wants to stay in the Red Keep until I return." His wife said to him, putting her black leather gloves on her hands, walking beside him towards the dragon's lair. He stopped, looking at her in disbelief, furious.

This was not the plan.

"What?" He growled, looking at her as if she had completely lost her mind. "You're leaving my daughter in the care of that whore and her father-traitor?"

He saw that she smiled at his words emphasising that in his eyes she was his child, that he had taken responsibility for her and protected her as any true father should.

"She asked me to do this. I imagine they both want to clarify a lot of things with each other. Since the nuptials are to take place as soon as possible there is no need to fret, I will personally take her back in a few days." She replied calmly, and he let out a loud breath, impatiently licking his lips.

It was a bad idea, he could feel it in his bones, but he didn't protest and that was his mistake.

The next day he lost two of his daughters.

Rhaenyra, his brother's heir to the throne fell with a groan when envoys reported to her that her father was dead, that her brother had been crowned king, that they had imprisoned their daughter.

She cried out loudly in pain, clutching at her womb; at first he thought it was despair, but then he saw the pool of blood beneath her feet, her terrified gaze, her lips parted in agony.

They both knew it was too soon.

Their daughter already looked like a tiny infant, but sadly her fate was sealed; she wasn't moving or breathing, she was cold, looking more like a doll than a human being.

He felt that he had to leave the fortress; he followed exactly where he always went out with her, with one of his daughters, to the sea itself, and he fell to his knees, breathing heavily, not knowing what he was supposed to do with the rage and chaos that overtook his mind.

He wanted to mount Caraxes and burn them all.

However, his cousin and daughters had cooled his ardour, recognising that they needed to prepare, gather an army, make a plan of action.

He recognised that it was only female sentiment, a weakness that kept them from making the risky decision that his whole life consisted of.

When his wife finally recovered from her brief mourning, despite his entreaties, she did not listen to him and decided to send her sons as her representatives, wanting to extract the pledge of allegiance from those who had paid her tribute many years ago.

He had thought it nonsensical, however, when Luke returned from Storm's End it turned out that his step son had been a naive idiot.

"You flew after him? You flew after him knowing he could imprison you, use you as your mother's weakness? Fucking fool." He growled, turning away from the table with fury, massaging his face with his palm, not believing he could have done such a thing.

"Daemon." Said Rhaenyra in a voice trembling with despair; she looked at her son, trying to calm herself. "What happened next?"

"He brought her. Someone hit her, mother, and I think she tried to take her own life. There were cut marks on her wrists." He muttered, forcing himself into a calm tone of voice.

He turned towards him, looking at him with his heart beating fast.

She had done this for them, so they could attack the Red Keep without fear.

She wanted to make a manly decision, to sacrifice herself, his brave daughter, his little dragon.

"Gods." Said his wife, clutching at her womb, apparently involuntarily recalling the moments when she had carried her under her heart, the maternal tears of pain in her eyes.

"And then?" He finished for her, seeing that she didn't have the strength to get anything else out, Luke swallowed hard, afraid to look at him.

"I told her to run away with me, but she didn't agree. She told me to tell you that she loves you and that she remains faithful to you, mother." Said with difficulty, Jace slammed his fist on the table, furious.

"That fucking bastard purposely made her stay. He planned this, he never had any intention of marrying her!" He said red with anger and he glanced at him indifferently, sighing heavily.

"And then what? He let you just walk away? No one else saw you?" He asked further, pretending not to have heard his outburst; Jace pressed his lips together, furious. Luke shook his head quickly.

"N-no, I was surprised, but no. Forgive me, I had to see her, make sure that she is still alive." He muttered, and he sighed heavily, placing both of his hands on the table, leaning over it, and closed his eyes, trying to focus.

He let her see him without any other witnesses and then let him go even though he hated him, even though he could have trapped and humiliated him.

Why?

A memory flashed through his mind, the way his nephew cursed as he fought with himself to finally run after her, her smile full of reassurance as she turned to him knowing he would follow her, his blush of embarrassment and lazy smile as her lips placed a soft, warm kiss on his cheek, her proof of her devotion and affection that he craved so much.

He had never stopped loving her.

This stone-cold, dangerous man had done something for her, surely after she had tried to take her own life.

"Bring me a parchment and a quill. I need to speak with my nephew."

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes

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dixons-sunshine · 7 months ago

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Soooo headcannons would be absolutely amazing (tbh i'm obsessed with this story-)

Only if your up for it of course, just letting you know that I am interested (and I'm sure i'm not alone) bc you asked :)

Thank you for writing! Your work is amazing!

(I've also lost many drafts that didn't save and it's always so so sad)

Shopping Spree, Hangout Dreams AU Headcannons |Young!Daryl Dixon x Young!Fem!Reader

*GIF isn't mine*

Word count: 840.

A/n: Ask and you shall receive! I have so many personal headcannons and I'm so excited to share it with you all. Maybe I'll incorporate some of these into oneshots one day. Who knows? But I'm really in the mood for Young!Daryl these days, so send in some requests for him if y'all wanna see more!

As always, my requests are open for any TWD requests, as well as Scud Frohmeyer requests.

—

★ Your ages aren't specified, but I headcannon that y'all are 17-almost 18 in this au.

★ As mentioned in Through The Good Times And The Bad, you moved to the trailer park when you were twelve. However, Daryl definitely didn't approach you first. You had to go up to him and start talking to him.

★ You were exploring the woods behind the trailer park when you stumbled upon a river. There you met Daryl, and since he was the only kid there who was your age, you wanted to strike up a friendship, although it was difficult.

★ I also feel like Daryl definitely didn't talk during the first few weeks when you went up to him. With Merle and his father constantly ruining his self-esteem, he was sure that you would recognise what a screw up he was and head for the hills.

★ However, when a month passed with you showing up at the river and keeping him company, he found himself looking forward to seeing you, and with that knowledge, he slowly started warming up to you.

★ The first time he ever spoke a word to you was when you accidentally slipped on a wet rock and fell into the river. He snorted a laugh at your predicament, and couldn't resist the urge to tease you.

★ “Careful. Heard the rocks in the river ain't exactly dry.”

★ You had laughed at him and splashed some water at him, and that was the start of your friendship.

★ Although you quickly became close friends, it took almost two years for him to start opening up about his father.

★ His father's beatings had started to become way worse and he started leaving more visible marks, resulting in questioning glances from you, though you never pressed for answers. That made him feel comfortable enough to gradually start opening up to you.

★ By the time you were both 15, you knew all about his father, Daryl's past with his mother committing suicide and his asshole of a brother.

★ This is definitely the "she fell first, he fell harder" trope.

★ You had started crushing on him when you were 14. However, Daryl only started acknowledging his own feelings for you when he was 16 and you had saved up to get him a gift for his birthday.

★ His feelings had smacked him right in the face, and the rest is history.

★ Moving away from you and Daryl for now, it's pretty clear that your mom is yours and Daryl's number one shipper.

★ She knows about Daryl's abuse, but not to the extent that you do. She only knows the "basics", so to speak.

★ She's offered to talk to social services for him, but Daryl had refused, so she offered for him to stay over whenever he needed to.

★ She totally already sees Daryl as her son-in-law. She knows for a fact that you and Daryl are meant to be together, even if you're only teenagers.

★ This might only be me, but I headcannon that your mom in this was a teen mom—she got pregnant during her senior year in highschool.

★ She's implied to be a single mom, so the dad split when he found out she was pregnant.

★ She lived with her parents to raise you until you were 6. Her parents eventually kicked the two of you out and you've been in and out of multiple crappy apartments before settling on the trailer park.

★ She's the type of mom who tries to give you the freedom you desire while still being strict. Hence the "if anything happens, be sure to use protection" jokes. She knows she can't stop you from doing that, but she can ensure that you don't make her mistakes.

★ She definitely "secretly" buys condoms for you and Daryl.

★ During the first few months of your relationship, she noticed that the box remained untouched. Knowing Daryl's shyness, she knew that it wasn't because you and him were having unprotected sex. The two of you weren't like that.

★ When she noticed after a couple of months that there was finally one gone, she couldn't help the teasing she bestowed on you when Daryl went home.

★ She has met his father a number of times. The man has hit on her more times than one, completely unaware that she knew his son. However, since she was aware of the abuse, she's told him to "fuck off" every time.

—

I have so many more! If y'all want a part two, let me know!

©dixons-sunshine 2024. I do not give permission for my works to be copied, modified, adapted or translated to any other site or platform without evidence of my given consent.

#krys writes .ೃ࿐#shopping spree hangout dreams #young!daryl dixon #young!daryl #young daryl dixon #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl x reader #twd daryl #the walking dead #norman reedus #norman reedus x reader

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fortunafavours · 1 month ago

Text

Welcome to Fortuna, Kingdom of Splendor!

demo • FAQs • bsky

You are the bastard child of the king’s cousin, you’ve never been anyone special. The Crown made sure of that. Taken in by your father after the death of your mother, you were never allowed to speak of your parentage under threat of being sent to an orphanage, so you took on the role of servant to your father's house. Now, just before your thirtieth birthday, you’ve begun having a strange, recurring dream: something beneath the mountains knows your name—something ancient—and it wants you to find it. But the stone isn’t the only thing after you. According to your oldest friend, an elite team of sorcerers from a group known as SCEPTRE are interested in speaking with you—by order of the king. And that's nothing to say of the rumblings of discontent in the streets, led by someone known only as the Crow. Apparently, they've got eyes on you, too. Why have you suddenly become the centre of attention? You’re nobody special. …Aren’t you?

Fortuna Favours the Bold is a low fantasy, high stakes, romance forward tale about self-discovery and buried secrets. Unearth the truth of what waits under the mountain, find out who you really are, and try not to get yourself blown up along the way!

It draws inspiration from media like Dragon Age: Origins, House of the Dragon, the Elder Scrolls series, as well as a myriad of Dungeons & Dragons campaigns I've been a part of, and other similar stories. If you like any of those, you might like Fortuna!

Fortuna is currently a WIP and, as always, is subject to change!

Play as male, female, or non-binary; gay, straight, lesbian, or bisexual!

Get caught up in a government conspiracy, or expose the corruption within!

Choose from six characters to romance: a chivalrous blacksmith, a charming physician, a socialite lawyer, the captain of the guard, the soft-spoken acolyte, or your mage friend from childhood!

Determine the ultimate fate of the kingdom! Will you lead it to ruin, or improve the state of affairs? Will you be a hero of the people, or a pawn in someone else's game?

Protect yourself, protect your loved ones, protect the city - or don't!

But above all, remember to keep the peace. The Crown thanks you for your cooperation.

Fortuna is rated 18+ for explicit language, sexual content, alcohol and drug use, violence, morally questionable behaviour, and more.

For a full list of content warnings, please see below the cut.

CONTENT WARNINGS: sexual situations (optionally explicit), abuse of power, sexism, misogyny, (occasionally graphic) depictions of violence, elements of horror, unreality, mentions of suicide, classism, alcohol and drug use, mentions of upsetting situations regarding pregnancy (abortions, miscarriages, stillborns, infertility, and birthing complications), confined and dark spaces, and death.

There may be some I've missed, but I've listed all the ones that I know for certain off the top of my head. Please reach out if there's something you've noticed that isn't listed here!

Please note that the MC is 29, almost 30; the most significant age gap is 9 years. Please do not message me about this. Everyone involved in the story is a consenting adult and is treated as such. If the gap in age bothers you, don't feel compelled to read it. I won't be upset.

I, myself, am 30 years old, and am fine with all listed age differences (obviously. I created these characters lol).

Now that that's out of the way, meet the ROs!:

Malcolm Ashford, 36 [M]

The primary blacksmith for the Crown ever since they took over his forge, though he's not exactly happy about it. Malcolm is a good, honourable sort; kindhearted and genuine, he's easy to approach and talk to. He is also the biggest hopeless romantic - a fact that Cyril never lets him forget. He can primarily be found at the forge in the centre of the courtyard marketplace.

Malcolm is 6'4" (193 cm), broad shouldered, muscular, and usually covered in some sort of soot. He has fair skin (but is usually sporting an intense farmer's tan), shoulder length light brown hair, a light beard, dark grey eyes, and a beauty mark just above his upper left lip.

His face claim is Eoin Macken.

Cyril Trevelyan, 34 [M]

An old friend of Malcolm's. If anyone asks, Cyril is a "non-practicing" physician. Previously a member of the Royal Physician's Guild, he has since left and now operates an illegal clinic in the lower quarters of the capital, where he can primarily be found, though he has been known to frequent a local tavern and can occasionally be spotted harassing Malcolm at the forge. Cyril is charming, outgoing, and would love to get to know you. Just don't expect him to be very forthcoming about himself.

Cyril is 6'2" (187 cm), with an athletic build. He has tan skin, short, cropped black hair, stubble, and hazel eyes. He has a small scar across his left eyebrow and another small scar through his upper lip.

His face claim is Miguel Ángel Silvestre.

Dominic / Dominica Trevelyan, 38 [M/F]

Cyril's older sibling and the current Commandant of the King's Army. They care about the citizens of Requiem, but are less idealistic than Cyril about how to go about bringing change. They generally mean well and try to make things as easy as possible for the masses, but it isn't always seen as enough. Their relationship with Cyril is... tense. To say the least. They are taciturn and serious, and could probably do with some lightening up.

D is 6'4" (193 cm) (M) / 6'1" (185 cm) (F). They are broad shouldered and a little paunchy, but muscular, strong, and a force to be reckoned with in battle. They have tan skin like their brother, short, black hair that they keep slicked back from their face, and light brown eyes.

Their face claims are Keon Alexander and Rosa Gilmore.

James Johnathan / Jane Josephine 'J.J.' St. James, 28 [M/F]

JJ is a notable lawyer from the noble St. James household, though they aren't typically the first one that comes to mind when the St. James name is brought up. No, that luxury would go to just about anyone else in their family, given JJ is the only one without magic. They're a hard worker, extremely diligent, but have just a teensy tiny chip on their shoulder. They're a bit smarmy, but there is a good heart in there. Somewhere.

JJ is 5'10" (177 cm) (M) / 5'8" (173 cm) (F). They have a lean, athletic build, pale skin, light blue eyes, and copper-brown hair.

Their face claims are Richard Madden and Philipine Urvois.

Amaryllis / Amaranthus Calyx, 30 [F/M]*

One of the royal twins, but also an acolyte to the Divine Valentine, goddess of mercy. They have chosen to dedicate their time to the Temple of the Divines, honing their healing magic and providing succor to those in need, emulating all the virtues Valentine embodies. They are soft spoken and kind, but sheltered and naive. They want to help, but have an impressive lack of self-awareness and preservation, and are more likely to get themselves into trouble unintentionally. Hopefully, you won't have to babysit them too much.

A is 5'10" (177 cm) (F) / 6'0" (183 cm) (M). Amaryllis has a slight, willowy build, shoulder length, dark brown hair that she wears in a bob, a small dusting of freckles across the nose, and dark brown eyes that (like most members of the royal family) are ringed with gold. Amaranthus has a lean, athletic build, short, dark brown hair kept neat and styled back from his face, and the same dark brown gold-ringed eyes as his sister. He also wears glasses, though he's constantly forgetting where he put them.

Their face claims are Adeline Rudolph and Kenta Sakurai.

*Unlike the other gender selectable ROs, A's gender setting determines which of the two twins you end up encountering as opposed to deciding the gender for one character. The other will appear in the story regardless, but will not be romanceable if you select the opposite gender. The other twin has a separate job, position, and demeanour and an entirely different personality from the chosen romanceable one, which will be determined by who you select as RO.

Elliott 'Eli' / Eleanor 'Ellie' Rosefinch, 30 [M/F]

Your oldest friend and most trusted confidant, they've known you since you were twelve and you've been thick as thieves since. They're one of the very few magic users in the capital, and have been recruited into SCEPTRE, the kingdom's elite training program for budding sorcerers. They're down to earth and easygoing, grounded, and calm under fire. They tend towards being the far more rational of the two of you.

E is 5'11" (180 cm), with a dancer's build. They have brown skin, short, curly black hair, brown eyes, and sparse freckling.

Their face claims are Dev Patel and Nikita Chadha.

#ngl JJ's name is my favourite bc its just goofy and fun LMAO #i really just thought it was amusing to have a character named james st. james lol #but malcolm is my favourite RO bc he caters to Me Specifically #unfortunately i am biased ab him #how the hell do i tag this #int fic #interactive fiction #i track: fortuna favours #WITH A U!!! don't forget the U!!#fortuna favours the bold #fortuna if #IDK???? ive never tagged anything in my life except for jokes and commentary #i dont know how to promo 😔#please support my wild ass endeavors #fortuna favours #if wip #iunno man im not good at socmed lol

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chaoticcollectivenightmare · 4 months ago

Text

🟦My Homelander Headcanons [V1]🟦

Picture from: @redchikittymeow ! Spoilers to The Boys Show (1,2,3,4)

✰ I think Homelander doesn't like his hair to be long now and always keeps it short. His long hair always reminds him of his time in the bad room and his teenage years.

✰ But as a teenager he liked his long hair because he could always play with it when he was nervous or bored. It was the only distraction he had between experiments and so on.

✰ Whenever he sees a camera he automatically smiles because that's how he's trained. Even when he's angry or whatever. When he notices he's being filmed he immediately calms down and smiles at the camera.

✰ He has multiple personality disorder. His two main personalities are John and Homelander.

✰ He can't swim. The scientists never taught him because he couldn't leave the lab and as an adult he never had any desire to learn to swim.

✰ That's why he hardly ever performs with the Deep alone, just for that reason and many others. And when he and the Deep do, they are never at sea or near water.

✰ He’s insecure. He has many different things to be insecure and he is afraid to admit it and if someone finds out they will be killed immediately.

✰ He sometimes has nightmares about Madelyn Stillwell, Stormfront, Queen Maeve, Soldier Boy and sometimes even Starlight and Ryan.

✰ With Madelyn Stillwell Nightmares, I think he would dream that he had used her but could have actually changed the ending. That he shouldn't have killed Madelyn and should have entered into a relationship with her that wasn't just sexual. That he might even have been a father to her son if it had turned out differently. That she might not be afraid of him if they were in a relationship. And then he remembered in the dreams that he was an asshole and had killed her.

✰ In Stormfront Nightmares he would definitely dream of a "normal healthy" relationship with her and the American lifestyle. That they would get married, have children and grow old together and then he would be hit by reality. She was a n*zi, she had committed suicide, she was just using him and then he would remember her condition after Ryan had hurt her and everything bad about the relationship.

✰ In Queen Maeve Nightmares he dreams of how he saw this relationship in his eyes and just loves it. He had the perfect relationship with Maeve but then suddenly Elena would come and take her away and then Homelander would be alone and beg Queen Maeve to come back to him but then he realized the reality. She hated him. She never loved him.

✰ In Soldier Boy Nightmares he dreams of growing up as his son and that Soldier Boy was proud of him and stood in the spotlight with him. Everything would be perfect until the dream goes black and he wakes up again and he fights with Soldier Boy and Soldier Boy lets out his hatred on him. He yells at him and fights until Homelander is bloody and then he grabs him by the collar and strangles him and Homelander says with tears in his eyes.

"Please don't Dad….. I'm scared"

"You're not my son, you just a scared Pussy"

Soldier Boy then said full of hatred and the dream ends there.

✰ With Starlight Nightmares it would be that he dreams that Starlight wins or that he is replaced by her. These nightmares don't happen often but when they do happen they are really graphic and show his fear of losing or being replaced.

✰ Ryan's Nightmares are like Starlight Nightmares but I add a dream type where Ryan is very afraid of Homelander in these dreams and doesn't see him as his dad, so it's a reversed Soldier Boy Nightmare because Soldier Boy doesn't see him as his son and Ryan doesn't see him as his father in the nightmares.

✰ And he has general nightmares about the bad room and so on.

✰ He has actually always been afraid of sleeping since he was born because he is paranoid and because of his nightmares.

✰ If he has the chance, he would never like to sleep alone and tries to have someone nearby.

✰ I headcanon that Ryan's bedroom was very close to Homelander's bedroom because when Homelander wakes up from a nightmare, he gets confirmation from his X-Ray that Ryan is okay and that he is sleeping. He always tries to calm himself down by doing this.

That's all that came to mind right now. Maybe I'll make a V2 or if you want you can message me for headcanons for the boys.

#the boys #homelander #the boys tv #homelander x male reader #homelander x reader #homelander headcanons #homelander x you #x reader #the boys series #the boys amazon

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mayaflowerxs · 2 years ago

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hi hun, if you dont mind can you make a fic of jaemin being all crazy for y/n but it starts off with them just sexting n dry humping till he goes all crazy for her. btw! i loved the affair series would love to see dream ver. :)

CRAZY IN LOVE

Synopsis: It was stupid really, you were bored and treated the app as a joke. You just never would have thought the man you began sexting would be your best friends boyfriend and at that an obsession beginning to develop.

Warning: Smut / Fluffish? / Angst . Swear word usage, Serious!Jaemin x Shy!Reader. Toxic relationship, pick me best friend, cheating,TW! mention of suicide, conflicted feelings. Reader is a bit of a push over + character development. Takes place in college. Blue: Jaemin, Pink:Reader

A/N: Hi love! Hope you enjoy and thank u sm! I haven’t considered making one for dream but maybe after I’m done I may think about it!

Pairing: Jaemin x fem reader

You felt like a shit person. You hate fake people, players even and yet here you are doing the very thing you despise. Being bored isn’t a good enough justification for it, your interest was peaked the second you scrolled by the app in the App Store. A cold rainy day that left you alone, cold and in the dark of your dorm. Roommate was out doing god knows what, your best friend could never really be cooped up for long. The cold rain drops fell on your window that laid beside your bed. Tiktok wasn’t interesting, no movies on any movie platform seemed to catch your focus. Wednesday playing in the background for the sake of keeping the room completely dark and silent.

‘HEARTSTRING, the best most popular app for young adults ready for a relationship!’

What harm could it be if you tried out the app right? It’s not like anything bad could really come out of it.

“And so I was like, Beverly you have to stop shitting around and like fucking cut the chord. He’s not interested in you anymore. I mean yeah have we been having a bit of flirty banter here and there, sure but-“

The chitter chatter of his girlfriend talking his ear off began to muffle as Jaemin focuses his attention on his cell phone. He wasn’t exactly in the best mood, it’s fucking cold outside. His thick jacket he brought with now currently wrapped around his girlfriend because of the refusal she had to bring her own. Currently sitting inside a vegan restaurant and a $50 dish that isn’t all that appetizing and fulfilling. With an hour worth of talking of all the boring shit his girlfriend has to ramble about, he feels it’s the least bit understandable he’s decided to do something he wants to do. Be on his phone.

His social battery only down by its last percentage, a small frown on his face as he scrolls through his feed. Boring and bland, only a small story of Jeno’s in which him and the boys were currently playing the newest game. Months and months of hyping it up, waiting for its release and Jaemin is wasting his time on his 30th date. By now, his bank account is about ready to burst. A cry for help he swears he hears each time he picks up his wallet. Stopping midway scroll when an ad appears, ‘HEARTSTRING!’

Taking a quick glance up at his girlfriend and sees she’s still rambling on about girl drama as she continues to take pictures of her salad and posting them online. To say his relationship with Nayoung was perfect would be the furthest from the truth. If anything, he still doesn’t quite understand how he managed to get in the relationship in the first place. What was suppose to be a quick fling, resulted in Nayoung telling the entire school they were together. Her parents were quick in wanting to get to meet him, a very serious talk from her father had chills running up his arms. “Don’t you even dare hurt my little girl. You don’t know what I’m capable of son.” He’s tried to think of ways to get out of that situation but it’s only gotten worse when Nayoung got in touch with his parents. The thrill look on their faces when they were told their oldest son was finally in a committed relationship. Jaemin felt that maybe he would always be stuck.

And if that was the case, he might as well still have fun if he can’t walk away from her.

Setting up your account came to be really easy. You plan to delete the app by the end of the night, you’re not looking for something seriously and so far the app itself doesn’t look that serious either. It seemed everything was anonymous for the most part. With only using real descriptions and names, not personal pictures are to be added and instead icons. An app for anonymous chatting. For a while it seemed it was a scam, nothing good was happening other than the constant liking of each profile that propped up for you. You weren’t looking for anything specific, you just wanted to have a conversation and just as you were about to log out and delete it. A notification popped up.

na.jaemin0813 is typing…

Hey

Hello…

Did you get the app out of boredom as well?

It’s like we’re one mind

Guess we were meant to be ;)

Haha cheeky

You know it babe

So tell me, what’s your favorite conspiracy theory you can discuss for hours

Ooh getting serious are we?

Chatting with Jaemin didn’t seem so bad. In fact, you’ve come to enjoy your conversation with him, you didn’t expect it to go on longer than anticipated.

“Y/n im home!” You hear your best friend say as she closes the door behind her. Turning off your phone before you can receive the next message Jaemin was about to send you, a figure appears by your door way. “I’m fucking exhausted.” She huffs as she drops the many bags of clothes. A pout on her face as she slumps her shoulders. “Can you make me food, i am in a serious need of a bath.” “I still have some of my left over chicken Alfredo in the fridge-“ “You know I don’t eat left overs.” She makes a disgusted look, “Please! I’ll owe you.” She smiles before wandering off to her room. “You already owe me.” You mumble before getting out of bed and into the kitchen. The running water is heard a few minutes later with the sound of music playing soon afterwards. As you let the water boil for the pasta, you get back on your phone.

Where have you gone darling?

Already missing me ?

Given you’re someone who isn’t all that dry, who wouldn’t be?

So am I safe to assume you haven’t had great chats recently?

You’re the only one who hasn’t made the entire conversation about themselves and the many inconveniences in their lives

Ugh, those people are the worst.

The loud obnoxious singing of your best friend is what interrupted your conversation with him. Focusing back on her dinner as she spent the next hour an a half in the bath.

A sigh escapes Jaemin as he waits for the three dots to appear before exiting out of the app and moving on. The loud yelling of the guys are heard as he enters his dormitory. Busying themselves on whatever video game they’ve bought lately, “On your right!” Haechan exasperates. Taking the seat next to him, Jaemin had kicked off his shoes and rested them on top of the coffee table. “Oh you’re back!” He hears Jisung’s voice as soon as he entered the small living room. “Were you in my room?“. Shrugging his shoulders, he lifts up the cup of ramen in his hand. “You stash them in your room, finally found them.” “Yeah it’s exactly why I stashed them.” He shakes his head, hearing a notification from his phone he lifts it up only to frown when he sees it was Nayoung.

“I’m guessing the date didn’t go well?” Jisung asks. “She’s so high maintenance.” He sighs before closing his eyes and rubs his temple. “Why don’t you break up with her?” Haechan asks him, half of his attention on the flat screen tv. “Because if I break up with her, her father will break my face I thought I told you already?” “Oh right- move you fuck!” Getting off the couch, Jaemin walks over to the kitchen table and takes a seat keeping the maknae company.

Lets go out tomorrow!

Shutting his phone off, Jaemin doesn’t bother responding back. Mentally and socially drained to respond. “I’ll be in my room.” He murmurs not bothering to get a response back. The door to his room gets closed behind him, falling on his bed as he feels himself about to drowse off until he hears another notification go off.

So do you study?

Third year in college :)

Really? Where?

Seoul National University.

No way really? I go there too!

We should get together sometime.

Already desperate to get to know me?

Yeah well, I’d like to be able to see the face I’m talking to instead of a screen.

Mm I don’t know…

Oh come on, are you gonna make me work for it?

Yep

Meanie :(

As the days went by the two of you have constantly texted the other. To the point people began to notice, “why are you always on your phone?” You best friend half heartedly asked one day, on her own as she busies scrolling through her feed. Eyes rolling when she sees one of her ‘friends’ post a picture. “Told her she looked ugly in that photo, can’t believe she still posted it. Eh, A+ for confidence i guess.”

Peeking over her screen she frowns when she notices you didn’t even bother answering her question. Instead, a smile on your face as you continue to text Jaemin. It’s been an entire week since you downloaded the app, an entire week since you began texting Jaemin and a week since you’ve been this lonely looking person. It made Nayoung wonder, you were never this preoccupied with your phone. If anything you never used it mainly because you didn’t have much going other than movies and tiktok. But this, no this can’t be a romcom or TikTok’s doing. “Oh my god!”

Jumping back startled, you look at her shocked face. “You’re seeing someone!” Scoffing, you shake your head and set your phone down. “Am not.” “So why did you set your phone facing down. Mphm?” “I always do that.” Stopping momentarily, Nayoung can’t tell if you were telling the truth. Unlike you, she isn’t that observant, she can’t even remember your birthday and only hopes she hasn’t missed it yet. “Don’t change the subject! Now tell me, who is it.” “No one-“ Poking you with her chopsticks, she leans closer. “Now, now it’s been AGES since your last relationship and we both know how that ended. Just want to see how this one’s like” A small pang was felt in your heart, you didn’t like to remember it. Your last boyfriend only used you to get closer to Nayoung. It hurt to know he didn’t even like you not once throughout your relationship. Broken up with him and getting the reassurance from your best friend is what got you through it.

“He’s not like that-“ “Aha! So you are seeing someone!” Sighing, you smile shyly at her. “Not really seeing if I have never met him. We only started texting each other. It’s only been a week.” You say with a small smile. A ding is heard and you were quick to check, a small chuckle escapes you and you’re entire focus was now back on your phone. You miss the small scowl your best friend has on her face. She wondered who this boy was, how is it that you didn’t tell her when all of this was happening? A bitterness began to bubble inside of her but she keeps it on the low and instead grabs the dishes and puts them in the sink.

“I’m going out, me and Jaemin got a date.” She says loud enough for you to hear her. “K have fun.” You say lowly, eyes still on your screen. Giving you one last glance, she makes her way out.

“Jaemin, are you even paying attention to me?” She huffs annoyedly at her boyfriend. “Of course I am.” He quickly typed out his last text before looking up at her. Rolling her eyes, she huffs and crosses her arms. “Is this how you’re gonna be when you visit my parents?” “Visit?” “Of course, mom has been wanting you to come visit and so I promised her the next time I fly out I’d take you with me! My friend will be coming too of course, poor thing can’t see her parents. It’s this whole drama thing she’s got going on.” She shrugs. Great another weekend ruined.

“Alright see you then.” A grin forms on her face, leaning in for a kiss before she was long gone to do shopping with her friends. Rolling his eyes, Jaemin sits back on his bed and unlocks his phone. His finger hovered over the contact. He wondered what you were up to, he was bored and a little moody that you haven’t texted him yet. Scrolling through your last few messages that he’s noticed have gotten more flirtier over the course of time.

Whatcha doin?

Why, you miss me? :(

Don’t be a brat.

You love it

And you love teasing me smh

Still mad…?

You sent a pic of your boobs while I was in the middle of class

I had blue balls for the rest of the hour

So you don’t want more?

I want you.

Aw what a cutie

I’m not cute I’m hot

Would you like to see?

Photo Sent

The text messages progressively got more flirty, from pictures of abs and cleavages. You made sure your face was no where in view of the camera. You don’t know where this confidence came from. You never sent such pictures before, and yet never would you have thought to begin sexting a stranger you met online.

Fuck y/n, I need to see you.

I’m sure your hand can keep you company

Fucking meanie

;)

“Y/n! I need help packing I just bought new clothes and I need your help making an outfit out of them!” You hear Nayoung enthusiastically shout as she enters the dorm. Slamming the door behind you, opening the camera app you take one last pictures of your chest down, wearing a black corset with a push-up bra you notice Jaemin swoons over. Sending it before shutting your phone off.

A huff is heard as you watch Nayoung drop down all her bags filled with clothes. “Okay tomorrow morning we should be heading down to my fathers cabin alright?” Nodding, she leads you to her room. Two large suitcases are taken out of her closet as she begins taking down all her clothes from the hangers. Looking at herself through the body mirror as she makes distasteful noises each time she comes across an article of clothing she no longer likes.

Do you like torturing me?

Are you fisting yourself rn?

Kinda have no other choice…

Good, go faster for me will ya?

It’ll send you another picture of me. Maybe something more revealing…

“Y/n? You listening?” “Yeah!” Looking from her bed, a large pile of clothes as she poses in the mirror. She peeked through her mirror to see how engrossed you were with your phone. A small frown as she still doesn’t know much about this guy you’ve met. “Beige or cream?” Showing you a scarf she plans to wear, she pretend to think. “Cream, doesn’t wear out your face.” Smiling, she turns around and continues to check herself out. “So who exactly will be going?” Hearing the sound of another text coming from Jaemin, you take a peek to see he had sent a picture of his own.

“Oh just my parents, some childhood friends and my boyfriend. “ “Speaking of boyfriend, will I be meeting this boy you’ve been messaging?” She wiggles her brows. “Nope, I still haven’t met him yet.” You chuckle. “Huh..” she breathes out before posing in front of the mirror. “So how are things with your boyfriend?” you ask. “Things are great! I’m so happy to be with him, he’s so sweet look he even got me this necklace.” Showing you the Diamond necklace you nod, you didn’t know much about this guy. If anything you never met him. It’s ironic how much she’s mentioned him and yet has never said his name. You don’t know how old he is, how he looks. Just that he goes to the same college as the two of you. Nayoung has even tried her best to keep him from entering your dorm. For whatever reason it is, she doesn’t want him coming over. A bit secretive with him really.

“Okay are you packed?” Nodding she smiles. “God you’re so lucky, you don’t have a lot of clothes to choose.” She sighs “ Well, I better get to finishing you don’t have to help me anymore thanks.” Grabbing your phone you close the door to your room behind you and lock it. A gasp escapes you, eyes widening at the nude he sent.

You don’t beat around the bush do ya?

Gotta show you how much you’re affecting me

Cute

My dick is cute?

Your dick looks delicious actually

Then how about you come over n suck it

Yeah but I love torturing you so keep fucking your hand for now.

Damn woman

Jaemin shut off his phone after he seen you left him on read. He was frustrated. Sexually frustrated, it’s humiliating knowing how affected he is by you. He doesn’t care he’s currently humping his pillow pretending it’s you. Chest heaving, a sweaty forehead as he chases after his release. Never has he had to work for someone this much. He would’ve given up and moved on but how could he, something about you entices him. Makes his want more, to go after you no matter the cost. He loves your banter, he loves how much you tease it keeps him on his toes. His hand going faster and faster until finally he felt the warm white liquid fall on his fingers. In the corner of his dark room, he catches his breath. Receiving another message but only groaning when he sees it’s Nayoung.

Can’t wait for tomorrow!

To say you weren’t cranky would be a lie. You knew you’d be getting up early you just underestimated how early. Nayoung isn’t a morning person and to think she would be demanding you to get up at 3 in the morning was the last thing on your mind of possibilities. Sitting in the back of the car as Nayoung claimed she would be picking up her boyfriend on the way. You didn’t mind, if anything you’d be taking the time to catch up on some needed sleep. A large blanket over you, you don’t hear the door to the passenger seat open and close. A smack of lips kissing and a cheerful voice greeting him.

“Is this your friend?” Nodding, she looks back to see you asleep. “Yep, she went back to sleep. She spent all night texting some guy. Kinda starting to think he doesn’t exist.” Raising a brow at her as she whispered the last part. “Whys that?” Shrugging her shoulders, eyes on the road. “She hasn’t mentioned his name, refuses to let me meet him and anytime I ask about him she tries to change the subject.” Jaemin only hums before looking out the window, dark eye bags beginning to become apparent as he too wasn’t exactly in the best mood. His hair was still a bit disheveled and he was only running on two hours of sleep. Guess his girlfriends friend wasn’t the only one up all night texting.

By the time the three of you arrived, you woke up abruptly by the slamming of a door. “Come on y/n we’re here!” You hear Nayoung shout from outside. Stretching and getting out, you’re left with carrying in the rest of the stuff. The cabin was large, only visited a handful of times. Loud voices are heard from the kitchen as Nayoung busies herself greeting the family. Huffing when you drop Nayoung’s heavy luggage inside you bump into someone on accident. “I’m sorry!” Tall and standing before you, Jaemin props his glasses up. Dropping down his bags and sending you a forced smile. “It’s alright.”

“Oh y/n! This is my boyfriend Jaemin!” The two of you freeze. Watching as she walks over to hook her arm around his. A grin on her face as she cuddles close to him. It couldn’t be right? Looking over and seeing he as well seemed tense but he kept a calm face. “H-Hello.” Giggling, she shakes her head. “Always so shy. Jaemin?” Nudging him, he seems to snap out of it. Clearing his throat before doing a quick half assed bow. “Hey.” Looking between the two of you, she makes a face. “Well that wasn’t awkward, anyways. Mom and dad wants to see you so shall we get going? Oh and y/n sorry we didn’t have enough rooms you don’t mind crashing on the couch right?” Shaking your head she smiles. “Great! You can leave your things in my room, you know where they are right?”

Not waiting for a response she drags him into the kitchen where it erupts in greetings. Laughs and giggles are heard, taking a small peek you see her friends are also in there as well. Gawking at him as he respectfully greets them. Sighing, you grab your things and go up the stairs. “Hey y/n do you mind carrying the rest of our luggages? Please, thank you!” Nayoung shouts as you were half way up the stairs.

You felt left out you weren’t going to lie. But then again, when haven’t you. Nayoung has always made it easy to fit in, to make conversation even though most of the time the topic always shifted over to her but overall, it was easy for her to get involved. Not you, it took a while for you to barely start lowering your walls. Just the idea of forcing yourself out of your shell sends shivers. How can you? You get the feeling Nayoung’s childhood friends don’t really like you as they always stare and mutter things under their breaths. And like all the other times you visited, you spent your time on the couch petting the family cat. “I’m so happy he likes you. He hates people, if anything he still isn’t quite fond of Nayoung.” Her mother giggles as she takes the other couch. Staring lovingly at the two of you. A warm smile forms on your face as you continue to pet the cat sitting on your lap. Her husband walking over to sit next to her, a mug in his hand as he nods.

“Toby hates Nayoung for some reason. Even before she went off to college he’d always hide from her.” By then everyone has shifted themselves into the living room. The group surrounding Nayoung, the smile slowly drops when she sees her parents conversing with you. “You must be a gem if Toby trusts you that much.” Her mother claps her hands. Jaemin takes a seat across from you, fighting back the look of boredom on his face. He can’t help but analyze you. Can it be the same y/n he’s been texting? Since he’s arrived, he hasn’t had the balls to text her. There’s no way the chick he’s been sexting is his girlfriends best friend. If that’s the case, he’s screwed.

A scoff is heard from beside him, looking up and see Nayoung enter the living room. “He’s just a dumb cat. I’m sure he’s only using you as a cushion.” “Well if that’s the case, I’m honored.” You smile down at the cat who purrs. Jaemin notices the scowl on his girlfriends face. He wonders why, it’s not like she particularly likes Toby. Every time he’s come over she’s always going on and on about how the cat terrorizes everything. “You should be, and Jaemin too! Toby loves him!” Looking up and meeting eyes with Jaemin you gulp before looking down. A silence is met before Nayoung speaks up. “Well it’s still pretty early and I’m tired. Jaemin lets go to bed.” One by one, everyone walks off to their bedrooms which leaves you on the couch with the grey and white cat. Head butting your hand, a few hours go by and you haven’t gotten the heart to move him. The sleep drowsiness has disappeared and you made due on being on your phone for the time being. A notification is sent from your phone, Jaemin.

It’s you isn’t it?

I don’t know what you’re talking about..

“Yes you do.” Jumping up, you see him standing at the bottom of the stairs. “Holy shit you scared me.” By the sudden jolt, Toby has taken it upon himself to get off your lap and plop down on his cat tree. Walking closer to you, you shift uncomfortably. You don’t know what to do, what can you do to make things better?

Silently getting closer, you open your mouth to explain yourself but he cuts you off. Instead he takes a seat besides you and smashes his lips on top of yours. A moan emits from you, it was quick and needy and you liked it. You liked it so much you even climbed on top of him. His arms coming around your waist to pull you closer. He smelled nice, his cologne hitting your nostrils and lips were soft and plump. Cupping his face to keep his lips on top of yours. A smile forming on his face before pulling away, “So you were the one teasing me huh?” A blush began to form on your face before awkwardly laughing. “So you’re my best friends boyfriend huh.” Clearing his throat he looks down uncomfortably. “Listen, I’m not the type to cheat okay? It’s just that I kinda had no choice but to be in a relationship with her and-“

“She trapped you yeah I know, she has done that with all of her exes.” Raising a brow he looks up at you. “Really?” Nodding, you sigh. “She can’t keep a man for the life of her so she forces one on them by using her father to get them to agree. He’s rich and powerful, wouldn’t be surprised he’d have you kicked out of college or have you be fired from your job. Blacklisted for any future opportunities and more.” “If I’d known earlier I would’ve tried avoiding crossing paths. Why are you friends with her?”

“I don’t know, I guess she was the only one who stayed.” “Stayed? What happened if I may ask.” “I don’t know, one second I had tons of friends who could rely on me and the next, I was hated.” You look down sadly. Startled when he plants a kiss on your cheek, a grin on his face as his eyes adoringly stare at you. “I’m glad I finally met you.” “I’m glad too-“. Reciprocating his kiss, you begin to grind on top of him. A groan from him only has you doing it again and again. Pushing him down on the couch as his hands roam all over your body. Piece by piece, clothes are scattered on the floor and heavy breathing gets louder. Your head is thrown back when you feel yourself stretch around him. A large hand going to cover your mouth. Leaning in, his mouth attaching itself onto your nipple and sucking. Sensitive, you begin to bounce on his lap. Hands on his chest as he guides you to go faster. Trying to keep the slapping sounds at bay. The feeling of him deep in your snatch had your head spinning, it truly has been a while since you’ve had sex. It was wrong that the first person you sleep with is your best friends boyfriend but you just love it so much.

And it seems you’re not the only one. For the remainder of the weekend the two of you have gotten closer. Sneaky glances thrown and secret meet ups. When in the kitchen alone, he smacks your ass before leaving a kiss on your cheek. A shit eating grin on his face when he meets with the others. Content he’s finally getting you back for all the teasing you’ve done. “Are you alright y/n? Your face is super red?” Nayoung’s mother says. “Probably a bad reaction to one of her creams. I keep telling her she doesn’t have to keep putting on so many products. Going natural is just as pretty.” Nayoung sends you a smile. Speaking up for you, a strong grip on your fork, you don’t bother to explain yourself. “I’m okay.”

Jaemin certainly didn’t like it. And he certainly didn’t like how easily you let her comment slide. “I try to say the same thing to you as well Nayoung. No reason you need fifty bottles of foundation. A day or two without it wouldn’t hurt babe.” He sends her a smile before taking a bite from his food. Tensing, Nayoung is left without words. Embarrassed by the looks her friends sends her. A scowl on her face as she desperately tries to change the subject. “So! Should we hit the beach later on?” “Yes!” Her friends clap. “Okay good! After we’re done we’ll pick out our bikinis!”

Bikini’s? Nayoung never mentioned there would be swimming involved? You didn’t even pack any clothes to get wet in. The closest thing you had were shorts and even then they weren’t comfortable to get wet with.

“It’s a bummer you can’t get in.” Nayoung pouts at you, watching you set your towel on the sand. Sunglasses on as you send her a reassuring smile. “Eh it’s okay, I’ve gotten too much sun anyways-“. “Yeah you’re looking a little dark, how about you stay under my moms umbrella for the time being okay? Hope you don’t get too bored!” She says before scurrying off to her friends. Clenching your jaw, you try to not let her words affect you. Has she always been this snakey? Or is this you trying to justify your actions for hooking up with her boyfriend. Surely she must’ve always been this terrible to you from the beginning.

“Come on.” “Huh?” Looking over and seeing Jaemin has his hand extended you raise a brow. “Where?” “Less questions and more walking, come on.” Allowing him to drag you away, he takes you to a near by store. “Bikini’s?” “Get one, it’s on me.” “You don’t need to-“ “I want to, besides I need to get sunscreen.” He wonders off for it, and as he does so you look around the store. Eyes straying on a red two piece, you go to the fitting rooms and liking the look of it on you. Getting out, Jaemin freezes when he sees you. “How do I look?” Checking to see if anyones watching, he pushes you inside and closes the door behind him. Dropping the bottle of sun cream and picking you up. Leaning you up against the wall he desperately connects your lips with his. Running a hand through his hair, he begins to dry hump you. A moan comes out of you that he muffled with his mouth. A hand coming to wrap around your neck and lightly squeeze. “Fuck you’re so hot.” His pupils dilated as he leans in and press kisses to your chest.

Pulling the top down to reveal your perky tits. Sucking and fondling with them, looking to the side and seeing the mirror reflecting the lewd actions he’s doing. “We should get going, don’t want to raise suspicion.” You tell him with heavy breathing. Reluctantly detaching himself from you and setting you down. “Don’t change.” Grabbing your clothes and lotion, the two of you walk out and make your way to the counter. Ripping off the tag and handing it to the cashier as he pays for it. By the time the two of you make your way back, you hear shouting. “Babe where have you been?” Nayoung gets closer. “Needed sunscreen and got y/n a bathing suit.” Eyes turning to look at you, the plastic smile ready to falter. “Oh! How nice..well come on let’s get in the water feels nice!” She goes for his hand but he takes a step back.

“Yeah I will in a bit, you should join the others they seem pretty lost with out you.” Looking back and seeing her friends looking bored without her. “Oh okay. Glad you can join us after all y/n.” She sends you a smile before going back in. Feeling a tug, you look down and see Jaemin had taken his shirt off. “Help me put sunscreen on yeah?”

You can practically feel the daggers being thrown at you. But you ignored it, you liked making her jealous. A part of you felt proud you had the upper hand than Nayoung. Even more that it’s with her boyfriend. Turning around, you put some on his chest. Running your hands over his abs, his eyes looking directly into yours. “I really badly need to fuck you.” Rolling your eyes, you go to walk away but he stops you. “Now y/n.”

“Are you seeing this?” One of Nayoung’s friends says as they all watch Jaemin slowly put on sunscreen on you. Going up your leg and too close to your ass. “I knew it was a mistake to introduce them.” She scoffs. “Come on hun, do you really think he’ll do anything with her?” “It’s not him I’m worried, poor girl is so deprived I worry she’ll do anything for attention.” She pouts. “Don’t worry, Jaemin’s too smitten for you. He’d never be unfaithful to you.” Smiling she turns over to her friends. “Thanks guys, besides we’re really strong.” “So strong that should we assume he’ll pop the question anytime soon?”

Nodding they squeal. “I’m sure he already has the ring set out for me.” She claps her hands.

“Jaemin anyone can walk in on us any second!” You smack Jaemin’s bicep, currently in a dark small closet the cabin had he had managed to cramped you two inside. It was loud outside, music blasting as the others conversed with one another. Luggages were being packed and dinner was being cooked. In a few hours you were meant to be making your way back home and instead, have a clingy boy stuck to your side. A grin on his face as he leans in and kisses you. “Need you…” he pouts as he nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck. Hands beginning to roam down your side and to your back. Biting your lip when you feel him squeeze your ass, gasping when you feel his bulge after he pulled you closer to him.

“No one will hear us mhm?” He breathes in your ear as he peppers your neck. Massaging your cheeks as he has you pinned against the wall. You can’t ignore the arousal in your pants but it didn’t stop you from worrying of being potentially caught. “No sir.” Pushing him away, you reach for the door knob. Feeling him pull you inside again roughly when Nayoung’s faint voice was heard going up the stairs. “I have no idea where he went.” She tells her friends. “I bet he’s with y/n again. They have been way too close.” “I’m sure he feels bad, I mean she is the odd one out.” Nayoung reasons. “She’s a loner Nayoung, girls like her use that to reel men in.” Clenching your jaw, you don’t notice Jaemin wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Ignore them.” He whispers into your ear. Once you were sure they had left, you don’t utter a word and merely walk out. Leaving him in the closet by himself.

Nayoung always assumed she’d be the first to seal the deal between the two of you. The first to have a boyfriend, to be engaged and to start a family. Unlike her, you didn’t grow up with a lot so she always had more than you. The advantages like starting her own independent life. You had to start from scratch, lots of hours working for you to save. It’s what the world admired about you. It’s what they respected you for, many could relate to you. And even through all the hardships you still smiled. You stayed optimistic and it’s why you had so many friends, why so many guys wanted your number instead of Nayoung’s.

“I’m sorry I’m not interested.” “Actually I wanted to see if you can give me your friend, y/n’s number.”

For a while it seemed like Nayoung was the forgotten one. It was all about her friend Y/n. What you were up to, how you were doing. She just wanted to see what the fuss was about in having so many people care about you. So the cosmetics came in, then the surgeries, the hard diets. But when they weren’t enough, the lies came in.

“Oh sure, but I have to say she’s currently going through something. Chlamydia actually.”

She didn’t mean for the lies to keep progressing but she just wanted to take some of the attention off you and divert it over to her.

“She thinks you’re a freak.”

She did feel bad though when people eventually began to hate you. And before she knew it, she was the only friend you had left. Boys avoided you and girls despised you. Your last boyfriend only cheated on you because Nayoung lied to him saying you had cheated on him.

“I guess she thought you just weren’t good enough, I don’t know what to tell you. But, if I were her I would know I made a big mistake. You’re a catch.” Her hand lays on top of his, a reassuring and innocent smile plastered on her face before leaning in and kissing him.

For years now she was finally on the other end, the one who everyone praised and idolized. And a part of her liked how she can control you, it felt nice to be better for once. And seeing how close you and Jaemin have gotten definitely hasn’t been putting her at ease.

During dinner she made sure Jaemin sat next to her and away from you. Served him and kissed him at unconventional times. By the end of the night it seemed she was utterly in love with him, which is why she just had to rub it in just a little deeper into your face. “I’m going to tell him I love him.” Taking you by surprise, you suppress any distasteful emotion. “That’s great! I’m sure he’ll feel the same.” He won’t. You’re sure of that. “I want to live with him y/n.” Widening your eyes, “Live together? But what about dorms? It’s still mandatory to be in one and you can’t exactly room with a guy.”

“Only for a few more months.” Sighing and sitting back on the couch she smiles dreamily. “I’m telling you, he’s the man of my dreams.” You didn’t have much to say. Which only made you more guilty with how you’ve been treating her behind her back. It seemed she really did like him, after all she has been stuck by your side when everyone else turned against you. “Then tell him how you feel.”

“We can’t keep doing this.”

It’s been three months since the visit to Nayoung’s parents. Three months since you said you’d stop hooking up with him and finally today you’d be calling it off. “Like hell you are, what the hell y/n. Where is this coming from?” A duvet wrapped around your body, you sit up on the bed. Messy hair with smeared makeup as you don’t even dare meet eyes with Jaemin. With only briefs on, he gets out of bed. Disheveled hair, muscles more prominent and the red marks you left on him still apparent. Lip stains on his neck with dark love marks going down his collar bone. A frown on his face as he demands an explanation, even when he’s upset he’s still breathtakingly attractive. “It’s not right.” A sarcastic laugh falls out of his mouth as he searches for his clothes.

“You’re finally realizing that after months?” Looking at you for any other answers, he drops his shirt on the bed and climbs back on. Cradling your face, he looks at you worriedly. “Talk to me baby, what’s wrong?” Feeling the tears beginning to form, you shrug him off. You don’t trust your voice, there’s a ball beginning to form and you know if you dare speak a work you’ll only sob. About to get out of bed, he grabs you by the waist. “No, you’re not running way again. Talk to me-“ “Jaemin you’re in a relationship with Nayoung! She loves you and even wants to live with you and here we are having sex!”

“She’s not you!” Looking away, he huffs and wraps his arms around your torso. “I love you.” Taken by surprise, you turn to face him with wide eyes. “Come again?” “I’ve never said that to any of my exes, and it sucks that this is the situation that we are in but, im not lying. I love you, not Nayoung. It’s why I didn’t say it back when she said it to me.”

“Really?” Smiling, he nods and leans in for a kiss you grant him happily. “I still think it’s wrong. Maybe if we confess then she will let you go. Yeah it will permanently ruin our friendship but you at least deserve your freedom.” Shaking his head he sighs. “It’s her father i’m worried for.” Feeling dejected, you let him pull you into a cuddle. Back under the sheets as he peppers your face in kisses. Until there’s a loud slam on the door, eyes widening Jaemin lifts a finger to his mouth. Your door was locked thankfully.

“Let me check if she’s home…hey y/n! You home?!” Knocking on the door and trying to open it but to no avail. Shaking his head, he covers your mouth. “Guess she’s not home.” She says, she must’ve brought someone. Getting up to change, you can’t but overhear her speak.

“Can’t believe you’re still friends with her after everything she did.” Confused, you lean your ear up gassing the door. “Well I mean, she’s my best friend-“ “Yes but she cheated on her boyfriend.”

Cheated?

“She didn’t know what she was doing.”

Why the hell is Nayoung agreeing?

“Yeah well what about her bullying you?”

You looked back at Jaemin in shock as he as well seems surprised.

“That was years ago, she’s getting better.”

You didn’t understand why Nayoung was agreeing with such false claims. You have never cheated on your boyfriend nor have you ever bullied Nayoung.

“Well at least she got her karma right?” The girl snorts. “Getting chlamydia, having all the guys lose interest in her and having no friends- well except you. I must say I admire you. I don’t know how you put up with such a mess.”

“I try my hardest.” You hear her giggle. “She’s a loner and a social freak, the least I could do is make sure she has at least a companion or who knows she might just end it all.” “Are you saying she’s suicidal?” “I’m saying who knows! You never know what people are thinking now a days.”

Your heart broke. All those accusations weren’t real and to think more people thought they were true hurt even more. You didn’t even realize you began to cry until you felt Jaemin wipe a tear away. They chatted for a few minutes before leaving and by then you have sat yourself down against the door. “Why would she lie?” You ask to no one.

Jaemin stayed quiet. Arms crossed and a clenched jaw, he immediately understood what Nayoung had done. “Isn’t it obvious?” Looking up at him with red swollen eyes you shake your head. “She spread false rumors about you!” “What why?”

“Come on baby.” Crouching down, he pulls a strand of hair behind your ear. “You’re gorgeous, sweet, smart. You’re everyone’s type.” “Are you saying she did it out of jealousy?” Scoffing you shake your head. “No, Nayoung is the pretty one. Everyone wants her.” “I don’t. I want you.” “You’re just saying that to make me feel better.” You scoff. “Okay then let’s talk to your ex.” “What why?” “Because we both know the cheater in your past relationship wasn’t you.” The memory still hurt. You never did find out who he cheated on you with only that he was ‘much happier’ and that you weren’t shit to him anymore.

“You’re wasting your time.” Shaking his head, he pulls out his phone and begins to search for his account. “What are you planning to do.” “We’re going to pay him a little visit. Come on let’s get dressed.”

“I don’t think this is such a good idea-“ Cutting you off by giving you a kiss, he gives you a smile. “Just hold my hand, he does anything to hurt you I promise I’ll kick his ass.” Walking into the cafe, you immediately spot your ex. Deep eye bags adorned his face, his hair was longer and dead. He looked much scrawnier and almost exhausted even. Taking a seat in front of you, you don’t have the words to even greet him.

“Y/n. Jaemin.” He speaks.

“What can i do for you.”

“The truth.” Jaemin cuts to the chase. Quirking his brow, he leans forward. “The truth?” “Who did you sleep with?” Jaemin tells him sternly. Scoffing, he chuckles dryly and shakes his head. “Why am I hearing an accusingly tone. Shouldn’t we start with who y/n slept with first?”

“I didn’t sleep with anyone.” You speak up.

“Right. Like I believe that-“

“Did Nayoung tell you anything.” Jaemin cut him off. “Nayoung helped me realize I was wasting my time on her.” He glares at you. “Did she tell you she was cheating?” Staying quiet, his face falls. “Why do you care?…wait aren’t you her boyfriend.” His jaw clenched and he sits up straighter.

“So you’re the guy she dumped me for.” Eyes widening, you look at him. “Nayoung was the girl you slept with?” Scoffing he shakes his head. “I didn’t sleep with her we only kissed.” He huffs. “She told me you cheated on me, she comforted me and we kissed. She had me to believe she wanted to be with me but when I broke things off with you she ghosted me.” The two of you send each other looks, “Why? Was that not what really happened?…”

You felt betrayed. You wonder how long has it been since she’s been a snake to you.

“She told me you kissed my boyfriend.”

“She said you had chlamydia.”

“I heard her say you were mentally unstable.”

You wanted to believe it was all a lie but it made sense why everyone suddenly avoided you like the plague. No one daring to befriend you or ever ask you out. You were sure you’d die a loner if it wasn’t for Nayoung and now you come to find out you were put into this situation because of her.

You couldn’t stop your heart from squeezing in agony. The friend you considered a sister you cared for so deeply had ruined your life out of what? Spite? Jealousy? Fun even?

The guilt you had building in you disintegrated almost instantly. You don’t have quite the perfect idea as to how you plan on getting even with her, how you’re going to help Jaemin get out of his god forsaken relationship with her, how you’re going to let the world know just how a trashy person she really is but you do know one thing, if you’re going to keep sleeping with her boyfriend you’re going to do it without a care in the world. Holding hands together literally behind her back when the three of you go out for ice cream, his subtle hand on your thigh when you go to the movies. The glances you give one another when you two had no other choice but to be dragged by her at a fancy restaurant with friends. Having sex in the parking lot after making an excuse to leave early. Making out while she’s showering and even sexting each other with her around. You no longer cared, and instead it made you just a tiny bit better knowing Nayoung no longer had it all,

“They completely cut me out and I don’t know why! Can you believe that?! After everything I did for them they have the audacity to treat me like dirt? And that’s not even mentioning the weird looks I’ve been receiving from guys. It’s like I’m infected or something.” No but rumors are you caught a case of syphilis

BUZZ…

Come over, I need you now.

Photo Sent

You were finally taking your life back from her. Piece by piece.

#nct x reader #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct smut #nct reactions #jaemin nct #nct jaemin imagines #jaemin scenarios #jaemin smut #nct jaemin #nct dream imagines #nct dream #nct dream angst #nct dream smut #nct jeno #nct haechan #jisung nct

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 6 months ago

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AITA for making my sister lie about her gender for BOTH our financial gain?

Tw for mentions of transphobia, abuse, and suicide

I (26F she/her) and my sister (21X she/they) are both transgender. We're extremely low contact with our father, and moved out together at the first opportunity. Our parents are conservatives and emotionally abused us basically the entirety of our childhood, and after my mother died and after covid it only got worse (think alt-right, flat earther, qanon)

Basically, as much as I would love to go completely no-contact with our father I'm sticking it out in the lowest contact relationship I can manage. My father is severely transphobic, but we live on a "don't ask don't tell" kind of rule where even though we are both obviously queer and transgender (on HRT nonetheless) he just keeps pretending that nothing has changed.

Recently out of nowhere my sister has gotten extremely hellbent on the idea of telling him off in one last "fuck you" before cutting him off. I have been very vocally against this, even if I also would love to because:

1) if we blow this entire relationship up we'll be taken off the will and removed from life insurance, which equals over a fat MILLION as well as a full paid off property. You can imagine as two broke 20 y/os in this economy this is a literal dream. This is our one shot at getting a house and being financially stable.

2) she does not have to interact with him. I'm the one who has to do all the talking over text when he reaches out every few months. She does not see the texts where he misgenders/deadnames her. She herself hasn't had to interact with him beyond a short birthday wish for the past 5 years, so I don't think she has the right to blow this for the both of us just to get the final word

3) not to be crass but he might do it soon, and there's nobody left in his life who's going to talk him down off that ledge. Chances of success are pretty high. Family history of depression, no friends, he's dead to us already, he also made me suicidal from abuse so I have no empathy for him etc etc. Payout is less, but still 5% is life changing for us. Point is I'm not asking my sister to lie until she's 60 here.

Now I think the reason my sister is so focused on getting the final word *might* be related to that last point, wanting to get it in before he kicks the bucket. But I don't think it's a worthy tradeoff for everything else. I've told her that if she does something stupid and blows this for us, she'll have to find another roommate (I would not be kicking her out, I would move out, she just doesn't like the idea of living with anyone else but me).

So, AITA for making my sister lie about her gender to our father, just for a little while longer?

#aita #am i the asshole #suicide cw

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evita-shelby · 1 year ago

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Hi, hello

This is my first request ever, please ignore my spelling mistakes if there's any, I'm French so...

So how abt the femreader /OC (as you want) has an illness and is destined to die but Tommy pursue her and falls in love with her anyway and then she dies and we see how he copes. I'm a sucker for angst.

Thank youuu

You are welcome 😊

I cried so hard i ran out of tp to clean my snot.

Promise

Gif by @manie-sans-delire-x

Cw: death, illness, grief, suicidal thoughts

You hoped he’d forget about you while he was in France, but when he stepped down that platform he was as in love with you as when he had left.

You had broken things off with him before he even left and yet he returned to you as if nothing changed.

No matter how much you tried, Tommy never left your side.

Eventually you had to tell him the truth.

You were dying.

You had a year at most, the tumor was not operable, and it wouldn’t be long before you were dead.

“I can’t leave you, love, not when you need me most.” He had said as he held your face in his hands.

And he hadn’t.

Not when the barmaid showed up and made it clear to all that she wanted him, not when he provoked Kimber and certainly not when Campbell threatened to have the hospital deny you care if he didn’t give him the guns.

Campbell hadn’t expected you to laugh and spit at his face, “Do it, do your fucking worst, Inspector. I am dead anyways.”

You were dying, but you were never going to let Tommy and his dreams die with you.

You had a year.

And you had decided that your last wish was to see Tommy get the hell out of here and be the great man you know he is.

This you tell him as the two of you stand as witnesses for Freddie Thorne and his sister, Ada.

He couldn’t say no to you, he said so as you tied his tie for him and told him to drive you and Ada to the courthouse where Freddie was waiting with his cousins and a rabbi.

“It could be us up there,” he said quietly knowing you’d say no.

“Ask me again in a year.” You love him, and that is why you refuse to tie him to you like that.

Time passes slowly, you encourage him to pursue Grace because he needs the distraction. There was something there, on her side at least.

Not that he budged, said he didn’t need anyone else. Not when he had you.

“I’m going to marry you.” He says the words you feared the most. He did never learn to let go, even when death took those he loved most, he stood there refusing to let go.

“Tommy, I do not want to tie you to me like this. Not like this.” You plead for him to move on weeks later when he takes the barmaid to the races.

“I’m gonna marry you, when you go, I want you to go as my wife, y/n.” he vowed just as you vowed to see him succeed.

You supposed that is what had you say yes.

He wants to do things proper, keeping almost every tradition and custom in place that you find to your liking. Whatever you want for your big day, he and Polly make it happen.

Its sweet and thoughtful you think as he gets the two of you on a table at the Garrison and announced to all that the two of you will be getting married.

He had bought you a ring, a Claddagh ring like the one his mum had worn. Only difference was that the other one was lost in the Cut and yours had a red garnet heart to represent his love and devotion to you.

Tommy was a romantic, no matter what he did to hide it.

You dance in the dark of your room nights later to some old record your mama had since she settled here with your father.

“We could always elope, go somewhere just us and come back like our parents did.” He suggests and you nod.

As much as you’d like to do things properly, you’d rather get the things on your list done before you meet your maker.

Besides, that trip to Liverpool before the war had been lovely and you’d like to see the sea again before you go.

“I’d like that.” You say and that next morning the two of you set off to Liverpool like the wild teenagers the two of you used to be.

The wedding is lovely even if it happens in front of strangers, but the weekend the two of you spend as newlyweds is enough to make you forget your time is running out.

Perhaps when your health becomes worse you could return here, die somewhere beautiful away from everything.

“I wish we didn’t have to go back.” He admits as the two of you lie down on a blanket and enjoy the sun on your faces on your last day here.

“Once its over, we should come back here.” You say as if you knew for sure you’d be alive by then.

Zilpha Lee saw your death in the first chills of December. A black star and blood on Tommy’s heart.

It was late July now.

Only five months left in your clock. And you were going to make the most of it.

And you did, you danced at John and Esme’s wedding like there was no tomorrow. You gave the barmaid a good enough thrashing she never even got to call the police on Freddie and when little Karl was born it hurt your heart to know you would never have this with Tommy.

You wept like a baby in his arms as everyone celebrated down at the pub.

“Promise me you will love again.” You dry your tears and make him swear to live for you.

He cannot die with you, you refuse to let him.

“Don’t make me promise that, love, I’ve only ever loved you.” He shook his head, refusing to even think of a life without you in it.

It becomes the first of October that night.

You can’t hide your illness no matter what you do. A girl from the neighborhood is hired to help you and from your bed you play cupid between the sweet but never spineless Linda and the most unlikely dashing knight, Arthur.

When they finally go out ---with Finn to keep things proper--- it is late November.

And as if by magic, you are bursting with energy enough to leave your bed and make sure there is no loose string left by December 1st.

You are laughing with Polly over something when you see it in Tommy’s carefully annotated diary.

A black star on December 3rd.

He plans on having everything done by then, to deal with Kimber and Campbell that same day and spend the rest of your time on earth in a cottage by the sea.

It was supposed to be a surprise until you answered a call back from the woman renting it.

If only you could live long enough to get there.

But you won’t.

Zilpha had said on the day of the Black Star.

On December 3rd your time was up.

And you had fulfilled your mission, on that day Tommy would have reached the first step towards getting the hell away from here.

Only Polly knows what transpired during that meeting with Zilpha Lee and she holds you as your heart breaks all over again.

“Promise me you’ll take care of him.” You ask her as she holds you tight enough to put you back together again.

“Of course I will, sweetheart. Just like I told Martha Strong I’d take care of her boys and John’s Martha as well.” The older woman promised you as she gave you her Black Madonna.

Its is December 3rd when Tommy leaves the house as giddy as a boy on boxing day.

“After this it will be just us in that little cottage by the sea, love.” He had promised kissing you like there was no tomorrow.

And there wouldn’t be.

The moment the bullet strikes his chest, you collapse at his desk and never rise again.

By the time Jeremiah lets him go, you are gone.

That night, after the undertaker has taken you away to prepare you for burial, he takes your ring, a bottle of whiskey and his gun.

When he pulls the trigger, there are no bullets and he curses you for leaving and refusing to let him leave with you.

He wakes up in Charlie’s Yard, with his aunt and uncle wearing black for mourning.

“I promised her I’d take care of you, don’t make break that promise, boy.” Polly said as she helped him back on his feet.

After your funeral he leaves for the seaside, hoping to have the peace and quiet to finish what he started and yet as he sits there in ghe sand looking at the ring he gave you, he remembers your voice making him swear to live for you.

And he does.

On December 3rd 1922, he returns to the beach with May Carlton now wearing your ring on her finger.

“Thank you.” He whispers to the wind.

#tommy shelby x oc #thomas shelby fanfic #thomas shelby x oc #peaky blinders fanfiction #thomas shelby imagine #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby x wife!reader

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artist-issues · 4 months ago

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You're my new favorite blog! You have no idea how I wish I could peck inside your brain like a chicken. 😭😂😂 I am a Catholic and a recovering agnostic. I struggle with letting go of my old way of life and philosophy constantly, I have been struggling with it since the day I decided to revert - that was back in 2017. (I think you would like to know my journey back to the Faith started after watching HBO's The Young Pope! 👌🏼) At this point I don't know if I'll ever be the person the Lord wants me to be, oh well, I'll die trying and I know that will mean something.

I just know I can't go back to being a non-believer, because as Carl Young said, now I don't just believe, I know. The irony is my struggle to believe in something I know to be objectively the Truth.

I have a question for you though, actually I hope for some advice from you. How do I reconcile with the reality that I haven't become who I dreamed to become (like career wise), but now that a new career has been shoved upon me (a career my parents wanted for me - and they valued safety and stability over "following my dreams" I suppose)? ...which isn't necessarily a bad thing, because it is an extremely noble profession and it pays quite well.

The thing is, as much as I try to accept my new career, I keep telling myself and to others that I'm doing this for my parents and not because I want to be here. I feel terrible about it. But, again, it's not like I am unfulfilled (I am unhappy though, but that comes with the work culture/environment, I feel like I am surrounded by 40+ year old teenagers); as a matter of fact, I do think I know - objectively - in my heart that this is exactly where the Lord wants me to be? But I keep fighting against it, keep struggling against this sense of vocational calling that I'm feeling towards my new job, instead I desperately wanna give into my want to go "live the life I want." Like throw this all away, get new training and start all over with the career I wanted all those years ago.

I want to be better, to be sacrificial like Christ on the Cross. I've always known I had a little depression (comes with my disability from a young age and this whole dream thing); I have been suicidal over this, I actually used to joke with myself that I'd kill myself if I don't achieve my professional goals by the time I turned 25. I will turn 30 this September and even though I haven't been literally dead, I feel like I've been in a vegetative state - mentally - ever since the day I turned 25. I hope that makes sense.

I started seeing a therapist 2 weeks ago since my mental health started affecting my new job - she did say I have depression and is trying to help me but I just don't know if I want to be helped at all, because I am unable to do the exercises she tells me (like create a routine, exercise well, write down good thoughts, etc.) I feel like I'm failing myself, my parents and, most importantly, my Heavenly Father.

I apologise if this is nonsensical, I apologise for dumping all of this on you - random stranger on the internet - but idk I felt like maybe you'd have something wise to tell me to knock some sense into me (without a bump to prove it hehe).

Thank you and God bless! 🥰

You’re very kind, and I’m glad you feel comfortable enough to share all this with me! I really never have anything good of my own to say, or any wisdom to offer, except what I “steal” from God…and I guess what I mean is, if I ever say anything helpful or good or true, I’m just the messenger. I didn’t come up with it. On my own I have zero wisdom or good things to offer.

Anyway, I was surprised reading this because I have gone through (been going through) a similar sort of mindset. I went to school for the career I dreamed about (still dream about) and I worked hard and I wanted it more than anybody around me (very Mike Wasowski in MU of me) and it hasn’t happened the way I planned, or in my timetable.

I mean, in all humility: I work with a studio making a tv show, but it hasn’t got off the ground yet, and I work for a company that writes movie reviews, but neither of those things pay my bills. I have a third job, working with therapists, that’s nothing like what I always wanted to do. That’s my “career,” but it’s not the career I’m passionate about and working toward. And I wonder if I’ll ever do anything “major” in the line of work I love and went to school for. And when I do, I have gotten into some really dark mental places.

Forgive me for not using the words “depression” or “suicidal.” I hate using those words because they’re overused and romanticized and flooding the culture. But more importantly I hate using them because the only thing I identify with is Christ, not any mental struggle I try to slither back into, like a snake trying to put back on old skin. I’m not my overthinking—I’m not my depression—I’m not my suicidal thoughts or emotions—I am one with Christ. Those are things inside me that are defeated and dead—the teeth have been knocked out of them. They just gum me from time to time. So I want you to know I empathize with you, but that’s my point and that’s how I want to answer you:

The only thing about you that really matters is Christ.

Who He says you are, what He has done and how He lived, which is applied to you because He said it is, by grace alone, through faith alone. No matter how you feel.

And I say that to you, as the answer, because I think you and I focus too much on what could be and what “should be” as if God has a set path for us, and if we don’t figure out what it is and walk it, we’ll have a less-fulfilling life. “If I stay at my therapy job and just work with teenagers and write on my blog for the rest of my life, I’ll be fine, but I won’t be as good as I could be.” Or for you. “If I stay in this career I’m in, the one my parents backed me into, I’ll make it, I’ll be fine, but I’ll never be as happy as I want to be.” We’re both thinking, every once in a while, “This is career is what God wants for me, and all my misery is coming from not submitting to it, and if I could just wrestle my contentment into place and give up the thing I want, and submit to what God wants, I’d be fulfilled.”

But how do we know any of those thoughts are true? How do we know God wants us in these boring old careers we wouldn’t have chosen—didn’t choose? Or, how do we know these boring old careers are what we’re stuck in because we didn’t take the plunge and work harder for our “dreams,” which were what He really wanted us to do? How do we know either of those things?

We don’t. We don’t get to know. That’s the point.

Because that’s not how God works. Not from what I can tell in the Bible.

“And whatever you do, whether in word or deed, do it all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him.”. Colossians 3:17.

Whatever you do. Not “the one specific thing you figure out He wants you to do.”

My mom described it to me once when I was in a really dark place trying to figure out what He wanted me to do, paralyzed with indecision, afraid He wanted me to do something I just didn’t want to do, like this: “God doesn’t hold out one flower and say, ‘this is the one I want you to have, so you can either take it or take something worse.’ God makes a field of flowers, and He says, ‘Which one do you want? Pick one, and do it with excellence for Me.’ Then just trust Him to make it good.”

It sounds like you’re in a career, but you are wrestling with whether or not to pick it, now that you have some autonomy as an adult, or to pick starting over. Well. Pick one. Just pick one. And trust God to take care of you. Trusting God looks like thinking it through with excellence, then making the decision—and making the decision means letting go of worrying about the thing you didn’t pick. “Take every thought captive in obedience to Christ.” Once you make a choice, make it all the way, and don’t let your mind wander anymore to “what if this blows up in my face? What if I should’ve stayed back there at the crossroads, or gone down the other path?” It’s going to be hard and God is going to take care of you, no matter what you pick. So don’t let your mind go to those places where you worry; acknowledge the worry, and every time, ask God to help you remember that He’s got you.

Because here’s the point, here’s the thing: He does have you. Because ultimately, your career really doesn’t matter. It doesn’t, it doesn’t, it doesn’t. Neither does your dream. Not ultimately. And now I’ll say “our” because I need to hear it too. Our dreams and careers are not the point of us, and our dreams and careers are not what God means when He says “I’ll take care of you.”

What He means is, “I’ve already taken care of you.” Because the most important thing isn’t our job or our dream. The most important thing is, we’ve been rescued out of eternally being trapped in our broken desires, and now we get to live for Christ, Who is the Way, the Truth, and the Life. That’s the major. And that truth is where our fulfillment is supposed to come from, what our lives are meant for, our purpose. As long as we pick one, and do it with excellence to make the name of Jesus famous, with that goal in mind, we’ll be emotionally fulfilled. We’ll be satisfied. Because that’s the goal. Not making movies, or whatever it is you want to do. Not having secure means of living. Just…living our lives to make who Jesus is famous. We can do that wherever.

So then the choice? It becomes a minor, not a major, and the pressure of “will I be happy?” is off, because happiness isn’t found in that stuff. And whenever I forget, and start looking for happiness in my dreams, goals, career, that’s when it all starts to feel dark and stressful and hard and crushing. Because it was never meant to give me happiness or fulfillment—that’s a need only Christ can fulfill.

Don’t misunderstand me. He cares what you do. He cared about every decision you make, and He does have a plan. But that’s going to happen anyway. So just pray, consider which option is a) wise to go for and takes care of the responsibilities God has entrusted you with, b) which option you genuinely want, when your wants are not influenced by fears, and then c) step out and do it in faith. And do it with the mindset of, “I’m doing this, and I’m not thinking about the alternative if I can help it, and I’m also not putting all my happiness-eggs in this basket, because even if it crashes and burns, hey, I’m still one with Christ and I can still make Him famous no matter what road my career goes down.”

I hope this helps. It’s a subject I’m hamster-wheeling around in my mind right now a lot—but when I just fix my eyes on Christ and think about how the most important things, the things that give real joy and happiness, are already and forever taken care of and I can’t mess them up—then can get off the hamster wheel and enjoy the life He’s given me, right now, today, without worrying about the future.

#love you sib #asked #answered #thanks for asking #Christianity #biblical #faith #careers #options

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deliciousangelfestival · 10 months ago

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Every Time You Lie - Ch 6 || Lloyd Hansen

Character: dark!Lloyd Hansen x female!reader, dark!Husband Lloyd Hansen x Wife!reader.

Synopsis: Any woman is jealous of you, especially with the status of being the wife of Lloyd Hansen—the CEO of the biggest pharmacy company in the country. From the outside, everyone sees you as a perfect family, a successful husband, two kids, and living in a big house.

But the truth is different. You are trapped in this marriage because of the mistake you made. You are willing to give everything you have to get your freedom. Free from him. Free from your vicious mother-in-law. Free from your snobby son.

Both of them shouldn’t be together.

Warning: Betrayal, suicidal thought, harsh language, tragedy. Minors do not read. 18+

Author Note: I do not consent to copying or translating my work.

Any reblog, comment, and feedback are appreciated. I want to know what you guys think.

Series Masterlist || Chapter 1, Chapter 2 , Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6 , -

Main Masterlist || buy me Ko-fi 🥹💓

You and Lionel arrived home from the arcade, and Lloyd awaited them. As you entered, Lloyd greeted you with a gentle hug and a kiss on the cheek. However, his words hinted at an indirect warning about you not letting him know about your whereabouts.

"Wife, you didn't inform me where you were going. You used to do that before..." Lloyd's tone carried a subtle edge, making it clear that he expected you to keep him updated.

Lionel, upon hearing his father's voice, visibly flinched. Lloyd then instructed Lionel, “Go to your room,” with a stern tone, to which Lionel responded timidly, "Okay," and quickly retreated to his room.

You couldn't help but notice the unease in your son, a stark contrast to the vibrant and playful boy you remembered. It raised questions about the dynamics within the household that went beyond your memory loss.

Lloyd's disdain for the doll was evident in his dismissive words, "What kind of ugly thing is that?" However, you became protective of the prize Lionel had worked hard to win, countered his comment.

"Hey, don't say that. Lionel worked hard to win this," You defended a hint of defiance in your voice.

Surprised by your straightforward response, Lloyd softened, "Alright, alright. I'm sorry."

He held you delicately, as if you were fragile, and said, "It's already late. You have to drink your medicine before resting."

You nodded in agreement, "Okay."

In the quiet stillness of the Hansen mansion at night, Lloyd awoke to find the space beside him empty. Concerned, he donned his night robe and sandals, contemplating whether you were sleepwalking, a behavior you had never exhibited before.

Locating you in front of the expansive French window, he approached you gently, attempting to coax you back to bed. "Honey, let's go back to sleep," he murmured.

However, your demeanor suddenly changed, and you strangled Lloyd, causing him to fall to the ground with you on top. In your rage, you accused him, "It's all because of you!!! Everything is gone because of you, my father, my sister, my brother."

Struggling for breath, Lloyd pleaded, "Wife, wake up; it's all a dream."

“Y/N!!!”

The intensity of his scream finally jolted you awake from your turbulent dream.

You gradually sat up on the bed, and your movement stirred Lloyd. Concerned, he inquired, "Did you have a good sleep?"

You nodded in response.

Lloyd tenderly stroked your hair, "Let's get up. I'll accompany you for your therapy today."

You responded with a soft sound of agreement. While you wanted to convey that you might not need more therapy, there was a small comfort in knowing you would get to see your daughter, Emily.

As you left the bed, Lloyd's hand instinctively touched the back of his neck. He winced, feeling the subtle sting of your nails scratching his skin during sleepwalking. A frown creased his forehead.

Concern etched on his face, Lloyd reached for his phone and dialed a number. He spoke to the receiver in a hushed tone, "Change her medicine. Add the dosage."

The atmosphere seemed lighter than usual as Lionel joined them at the breakfast table. The young man brought his basketball, a tangible sign of the spark reignited by yesterday's outing.

You welcomed him with a cheerful greeting, "Good morning."

Lionel responded with a simple "Morning, Mom," sitting across from you. You patted the chair beside you, "You're too far; sit beside me." Lionel agreed, moving closer.

Observing the newfound closeness between mother and son, Lloyd continued with his breakfast. However, his moment of reprieve was interrupted by an unexpected phone call. The news he received prompted a sudden outburst, "Nonsense!!! It's impossible!!! We have the license."

Lloyd's sudden outburst caught the attention of both you and Lionel, causing an awkward pause in the breakfast conversation. However, Lloyd swiftly regained his composure, addressing the urgent matters on the phone.

As he concluded the call, Lloyd told you, "Prepare the jet. I'll be there in person. Call our PR to handle this." He turned off his phone, attempting to mask the abruptness of the situation.

You who have been listening to his conversation, “What jet?”

As he turned off his phone, Lloyd reassured you, "Ours. We have a jet, my dear. You'll be surprised at how successful your father's company is under my hands." Your grip on the fork tightened at the reminder of the company's ownership transition.

Lloyd, adjusting his tie, approached you and gently kissed your cheek. "I have to go to LA; something happened in our branch there. I couldn't accompany you today, but I'm sure Emily will be there."

You, trying to conceal your emotions, responded, "I'll be fine. Be safe."

Lloyd smiled, assuring you, "I will." Before departing, he turned to Lionel and promptly commanded, "Be good. Don't make any trouble."

Lionel, responding with a subdued "Yes, father," visibly flinched. You sensed your son's unease and comforted him by placing your hand atop his, offering reassurance. As Lloyd left, Lionel found solace in his mother's presence, a reprieve from the looming shadows of his father's authority.

As you underwent therapy for your foot and had various medical examinations, Dr. Gabriel, the head doctor, assured you were healthy. Emily stood by her mother's side throughout, providing a comforting presence.

After the medical appointments, Emily suggested, "Let's take a walk near the hospital lake before you go back." You agreed, although your eyes subtly signaled your discomfort with the idea because of Lloyd's assigned bodyguard to always be at your side.

Sensitive to her mother's feelings, Emily assured you, "It'll be alright. I'll handle it."

While enjoying the beauty of the scenery, Emily suddenly said, "Mom, I left something. I'll be right back."

While you sat on the bench, taking in the picturesque view of the swan lake, you felt someone join you. Shocked, you turned to find Ransom seated beside you, clad in his familiar brown cloak, scarf, and sunglasses.

A surprised smile played on his lips as he greeted you, "Hey, sweetie."

The unexpected presence of Ransom stirred a mixture of emotions within you. Your heart raced, and her mind was a whirlwind of memories from their past. Despite the surprise, you composed yourself and replied, "Ransom? What are you doing here?"

You couldn't help but feel a sense of fear lingering due to Lloyd's intimidating bodyguards. However, after noticing your unease, Ransom reassured you with a mischievous smile, saying, "Rest assured, I've taken care of your bodyguard."

Curious, you asked, "How?"

Ransom placed one finger on his lips, adopting a playful expression, "Bribe."

You chuckled at the revelation, finding it typical of Ransom's approach. "That's so Ransom."

As they shared a lighthearted moment, Ransom couldn't help but gaze at the woman he had once loved, now standing before him, laughing.

Unable to contain his emotions, Ransom wrapped his arms around you, confessing, "How much I miss you."

Surprised by the sudden embrace, you hesitated momentarily but found a strange comfort in Ransom's arms. There was an undeniable sense of rightness, a feeling you hadn't experienced with Lloyd.

Feeling your warmth in his arms, Ransom couldn't hold back his emotions. "How much I miss you," he repeated, his voice filled with regret and longing.

As you, still held in his embrace, you gathered the courage to ask, "Ransom, why did we break up?"

Ransom released his hold, and for a moment, a flicker of fear crossed his face. After a heavy sigh, he admitted, "We had a massive argument. And I..." He paused, the weight of his words hanging in the air.

Your curiosity mixed with concern, pressed further, "Ransom, what happened?"

Running a hand through his face, Ransom sighed deeply. "I ended up in jail."

Your eyes widened in shock, "What?"

Author Note :

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Series Masterlist || Chapter 1, Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6 , -

Main Masterlist || support me: Ko-fi 🥹💓

#lloyd hansen x reader #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen x reader #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x you #lloyd hansen x y/n #lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen fanfiction #ransom thrombey x reader #ransom x y/n #ransom x reader #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x y/n #ransom drysdale x female reader

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flowerandblood · 8 months ago

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The Last Word (Oneshot)

[ canon • Aemond x lady-in-waiting • female ]

[ warnings: angst, humiliation, hard chauvinism, suicide, characters death, a lot of pain, because I felt like it ]

[ description: Being Princess Helaena's lady-in-waiting is her dream come true. However, because of one exchange overheard by the king's second son, Prince Aemond, she may lose everything. The prince gives her conditions she cannot refuse, and she accepts them, not knowing that her life will change forever. This is an Anon Request in which the heroine is flat-chested. ]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

My other works: Masterlist

____

Being princess Helaena's lady-in-waiting was an honour for her. She was a maiden of great beauty and culture, gentle and warm, often immersed in her own world of musings, unable to maintain relationships with other women.

They did not want to understand her, depending on her favour for purely selfish reasons, because of which they acted in an exemplary manner around her, however, as soon as the princess disappeared from their sight, they commented loudly on her behaviour.

"Did you see that disgusting spider she showed to us lately? I believe she even gave it a name. Poor thing." Murmured one of them, a fair-haired beauty, Lord Lannister's niece. She furrowed her brow at her words, feeling discomfort, shaking her head in disbelief.

"You owe her everything you have. Your position, your wealth, your future marriage. Speak of her with respect." She said coolly, the girl approached her, unhappy with the way she had expressed her opinion, the rest of them remained silent, not wanting to get unnecessarily involved in an argument.

"Who are you to lecture me? You came here, some poor lady from the North whose father probably wallows in the muck around his grey castle every day. You don't even look like a woman, your chest is as flat as a child's, I don't know if even the support of a princess will help you find a man to desire you." She snarled, her golden dress shimmering in the sun hovering high above the Red Keep. She swallowed loudly at her insult, pressing her lips together, feeling the tears of shame burning under her eyelids, not letting them flow.

"I see you like to divert attention from your vices. Unfortunately, outward appearances are of little use when the rot has started on the inside. The fish, as they say, rots from the head." She said calmly, she heard a slap and then felt a painful burning sensation on her cheek, Lady Lannister looked at her with wide eyes, red with rage, the girls around them covered their mouths at the sight of her slapping her.

"How dare you, you… my prince −" She muttered, horrified, bowing quickly, she had to look over her shoulder to notice a tall, black silhouette behind her, the face of Prince Aemond, the king's second son, was stony and cold, he was looking down at them with some kind of disgust that sent shivers down her spine.

She swallowed loudly at the thought that he had heard their entire conversation, including what had been said about his sister.

"I will convey to the princess how devoted her ladies-in-waiting are." He said lowly, impassively, throwing her one cool look, turning tense, wanting to leave.

Lady Lannister cried pleadingly behind him that it had been a misunderstanding, and then threw herself at her, the other girls having to drag her away from her as she became completely enraged.

"You will pay for this." She hissed, but she didn't care, thinking only that it was the wrath of someone else that she feared.

She spent the afternoon in her chamber, tense and terrified at the thought that she would have to return home to her three brothers and four sisters, that she would once again be the youngest, unseen child, one of many of the same grey existence.

She shuddered as she heard a knock on her door, and a moment later a servant appeared inside, looking at her with uncertain, frightened eyes.

"Prince Aemond wants to see you, my lady."

She thought she was going there as if he was about to behead her, guessing what awaited her and that she would surely be informed that, like the rest of the ladies of the court, she was going back to where she had come from.

The door to his chamber opened before her and she stepped inside, noticing his silhouette sitting with his back to her with his legs crossed, he was reading a book without even bestowing a single glance on her, he only spoke to her when they were left alone.

"Tell me exactly what you were discussing." He commanded in a low, impassive voice, turning the page with an impatient, smooth motion.

She lowered her gaze, playing with the fingers of her hands in a nervous gesture, feeling her heart pounding like mad, sweat on her back.

"Lady Lannister mocked the princess for naming her spider. I replied that she should speak of her with more respect." She said in a trembling voice, heard him hum under his breath, still looking at the book, bored.

"What did the other ladies-in-waiting said?" He continued, and she blinked, wondering what to answer.

She didn't want to portray them in a bad light.

"They didn't say anything, because Lady Lannister likes to say ill-considered things." She muttered, trying to defend them in some way, not wanting to be vindictive, though part of her mind opted for her to take the opportunity.

"The fish rots from the head." He murmured, and she felt a squeeze in her throat, an all-consuming shame spread through her body at the thought of him hearing this exchange of words.

Gods, what a humiliation, she thought with tears in her eyes.

She did not reply.

She shuddered as he stood up and moved towards her, looking at him with big eyes, surprised, it seemed to her that he was even taller than she had always assumed, watching him from afar.

"Am I to believe that you happen to be the only person who defended my sister?" He asked with a note of mockery and impatience from which she felt a stab of pain in her heart, the fact that he thought she was saying all this out of vanity.

"That is not what I said. You are changing the meaning of my words, my prince." She replied without thinking and lowered her gaze, feeling his whole body tense up after her insolent statement, which could cost her everything.

"You think men desire women who don't know when to be silent?" He hissed, she didn't dare look at him, however, she decided that since all was lost anyway, she wouldn't leave his question unanswered.

"I think men desire what they desire. There's no great philosophy behind it." She replied, and he snorted, as if he didn't believe she still had the courage to speak.

"Do you think men are mere animals, my lady?" He asked with a sneer; she pressed her lips together, frustrated that he was still using her words in a context that did not at all follow from what she had actually said.

"I think this discussion is fruitless. If you wish to send me away, my prince, please do so, just let me bid the princess farewell and express how sorry I am for what has happened and what you have unfortunately witnessed." She said feeling that she had lost patience, tired and resigned, imagining in the back of her mind her return home.

"Just a moment ago you were the one accusing me of not understanding the meaning of your words." He said disapprovingly, and she looked at him surprised, seeing that he had turned away, walking back towards his chair, sitting down on it with a loud creak of wood.

"You stay. You will be my eyes and ears. If any of the ladies who surround my sister speak that way about her behind her back or do other things unworthy of their position, you will report it to me." He ordered coolly, and she swallowed loudly, shocked.

"Do you have anything else to convey to me?" He asked impatiently, looking over his shoulder at her, and she shook her head quickly.

"No, my prince."

"You may leave."

She nodded, wanting to leave his chamber immediately, but stopped in mid-step, feeling her heart pounding fast, wondering if she should do this.

She swallowed hard, turning back, hearing that she had not left his quarters he threw her a frustrated, sharp look.

"Prince Aegon." She started, but he only tightened his lips.

"No."

She grunted quietly and bowed to him, opening the door and stepping out into the corridor, thinking with pain and disappointment that she had at least tried.

She could not count the number of times she had witnessed Princess Helaena's husband entertaining himself with servants, even flirting with the ladies of the court, avoiding her for obvious reasons.

She looked like a child.

Lady Lannister was stripped of her position, which she accepted with satisfaction, the other girls knowing that Prince Aemond stopped her once in a while to speak to her began to fear her, thinking apparently that she had become his mistress.

"How is my sister?" He asked her one day as she was just passing through the courtyard when he was training with Ser Criston Cole, seeing her he ordered a break and approached her, resting his hands on the hilt of his sword stuck in the ground.

She sighed heavily, covering herself more tightly with the thin blue cloak she was wearing.

"She sleeps badly. Prince Aegon wakes her up at night when he comes back drunk from…. we must then lead him to his chamber, and she is restless until morning." She said tiredly, knowing that, as usual, she had been lecturing him about how his brother had a bad influence on her and was the cause of her unhappiness, and that, like always, he would do nothing about it.

She saw him lick his lips in a sign of impatience, looking to the side.

"Anything else?"

"No."

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, his nostrils quivering, she knew her attitude and form of expression devoid of courtesy frustrated him.

He swallowed loudly and pressed his lips together as if he wanted to say something else, shifting from foot to foot, an awkward silence fell between them.

"If I were her husband, I would make sure that she could at least feel safe. My current role ties my hands." He replied after a moment, and she lowered her gaze, feeling a squeeze in her heart at the thought that he had just confided in her. She nodded with sympathy, thinking that his words spoke well of him.

"I know. You are a man of honour. I also regret that such an injustice has befallen her, my prince. She has been deprived of the good husband she deserves." She said looking at him, wanting him to know that she understood his pain, something changed in his face, in his gaze flashed something like surprise and pain.

He nodded, letting her know that he had nothing more to convey to her, and turned back towards Criston Cole.

She moved ahead, thinking that she truly respected him as a man.

However, a few months later, something happened that changed their lives forever.

Prince Aemond returned from Storm's End along with the word that he had murdered his nephew.

A great war broke out, Princess Helaena's son was murdered, her husband suffered great wounds in the battle, and their younger brother flew to Harrenhal only to find that the stronghold was empty and to give his life to the woman everyone believed to be a witch, into whom he had put his bastard child.

Long months passed before she saw him again, a servant entered her chamber late in the evening as she was already preparing for sleep, informing her that Prince Aemond had arrived at the keep and demanded her presence.

She hurriedly put on her robe, covering her nightgown, without even having time to tie up her hair, and headed for his chamber. As she stepped inside she felt a squeeze in her throat when she saw his familiar silhouette sitting as usual in a chair right next to the fire, gazing into the flames, even though they had spoken many times, he now frightened her more than ever before.

"Has her condition improved in any way?" He asked coolly, looking at her only after a moment, she saw something similar to surprise flash across his face when he saw what she looked like, a glimpse of his healthy eye sweeping over her figure.

She swallowed hard, looking down at her hands, feeling the rapid pounding of her heart.

It was getting worse.

"No." She whispered, and heard him sigh heavily, burying his face in his hand, tired and defeated.

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, not hearing any further questions or his words that she should leave, she didn't know what she should do with herself so she stood still, looking around his chamber anxiously. An idea suddenly occurred to her and she licked her lips quickly, deciding that perhaps she should say it out loud.

"Your visit would certainly lift her spirits, my prince." She said finally, but he laughed mockingly at her words, shaking his head in disbelief, she felt an unpleasant shiver run down her spine.

"A visit from the man whose actions led to the murder of her son. Most certainly." He replied, revealing his face, spreading himself comfortably in his chair with a loud creak of old wood, placing his hands on the armrests, looking at her expectantly.

"I'm going to be a father."

She looked at him, horrified, swallowing loudly, surprised that he had said such a thing out loud. She felt her whole body quivering, that this conversation was overwhelming her, for some reason she felt a dull, piercing pain in her heart, something akin to a huge, sad disappointment.

"I am aware."

"What do you think of me, my lady?"

Silence.

"Go on. I've always appreciated your sharp tongue." He hummed, tapping his index finger against the wood on which his hand lay.

"There is nothing I can say on the matter. I'm not well-read on the subject of lovers and mistresses." She replied, and he sneered under his breath, there was something mischievous in the sound, but also a kind of relief, as if for some reason he needed to speak to someone about the matter.

She didn't know if he was aware of it, or if he was trying to confide in her subconsciously, unable to hold it in anymore.

"I'm curious what you would think of her if you met her. About my Alys." He muttered under his breath, the woman's name sounded mysterious and proud, he said it lingeringly, as if thoughtful, as if saying it he saw her face in his mind.

For some reason she felt a burning wetness under her eyelids.

My Alys.

She pressed her lips together and swallowed hard, feeling a tightness in her throat, her body trembling, trying with all her might to stop what was happening to her, not to think or feel, but a single, solitary tear ran down her cheek anyway.

Before she managed to wipe it away his gaze settled on her face and stayed on it, his lips parted in disbelief, as if he had only just realised that his words were inappropriate.

It seemed to her that he wanted to say something, to apologise, but his voice stuck in his throat as she covered her mouth and laughed desperately, tears flew, flew and flew down her face, as if something inside her had burst.

"− she is surely a wonderful woman − and now, with your permission, I would like to return to my chamber −" She muttered with a grief-stricken smile, wiping her cheeks, eyes and nose, knowing that she was now as red as the tomatoes from which she had eaten soup that evening.

She left immediately when she saw that he had nodded, and it was only behind the door of her quarters that she burst into a loud, uncontrollable sob.

She had never gotten her hopes high, she had watched and loved him from afar, in silence and humility, but his words seemed downright cruel to her, as if he knew he would hurt her with them.

She had always been faithful to him and his family, so why had he humiliated her?

The next day she avoided the places where she could meet him, spending all her free time in his sister's chamber, who lay in her bed, gazing at the sky outside the window. She sat beside her and held her hand, as she had always done for many months.

There was nothing more she could do for her.

She helped her bathe, dress, walk and lie down.

Although she tried to engage in conversation with her, the princess locked herself in her mind and did not leave it.

She did not come out of her chamber until late in the evening, heading to her rooms, exhausted, walking inside with a loud sigh, throwing the books she had been reading in the meantime onto her bed.

She shuddered and screamed, frightened, catching her heart when she heard movement behind her, saw his silhouette rise from a chair standing on the other side of her quarters.

"− gods −" She muttered, sighing heavily in relief, thinking that perhaps it was some kind of assassin again, trying to calm herself down.

He didn't even say a word when he approached her in a lazy, unhurried step, towering over her with his figure, holding his hands entwined behind his back, his face impassive and thoughtful, his lips clenched into a thin line.

"I am returning to Harrenhal. Another uprising has broken out." He began, and she felt that painful tightness in her throat again. She nodded and clenched her eyelids, wanting to show him that she understood and that he did not need to explain anything to her, he continued, however. "I trust only you. I wish you to keep me informed of what is happening in the keep."

"As you wish, my prince." She said quietly, looking blankly at his chest, angry and bitter that she felt a pleasant heat in her lower abdomen and a tickle in her fingertips from his distinctive scent, a mixture of male sweat, dust and smoke.

She didn't understand why he stood there and remained silent, why he couldn't leave her alone, why he was torturing her.

"After what happened in Storm's End, for many nights I considered taking you by force. I came close to doing it many times, close to taking you with me to Harrenhal, but I spared you." He whispered in a quiet, trembling voice and she shook her head quickly, horrified by his words and how much they hurt her, she wondered how he could be saying this to her now, what purpose it would serve.

"I am grateful to you for your mercy. It will not be forgotten." She said in a hollow, impassive voice, from which he swallowed hard and tense all over, she heard him draw in a loud, impatient breath.

"Do you resent me for this? Would you rather I made you my whore? Hm? Nothing is lost yet." He hissed, taking a step towards her, and she stepped back, looking into his face with a fury from which she saw the hesitation in his eye.

"Get out. Run to her. Enjoy the birth of a child similar to those you have despised all your life." She said coldly, saw something flash across his face and for a moment thought in disbelief that her words, her rejection had hurt him.

He swallowed hard, turned and simply walked away, as he always did, leaving only a void behind him.

The word of his defeat, that he and his uncle had fallen from the sky, that Daemon's sword had pierced his skull, reached her and sliced through her heart like a dagger.

She wept that day in her bed thinking of all the things she had never told him, of how deep inside her even though he had broken her heart, she recognised as an act of his warm affection and respect that he had not stripped her of her dignity, that in thinking of her he had given up himself and his desires, even though a part of her wanted so much for him to destroy her.

Helaena threw herself from the window a few days later, and her death, the most innocent of them all, made her lose her reason for living.

She thought of following in her footsteps, but instead, before the troops of the Blacks occupied the keep she fled, heading along the king's tract to Harrenhal and then beyond to where he was last seen.

She felt a sense of relief when she jumped off the cliff, as if she was free at last, the water she fell into was icy.

The thought of death terrified her and calmed her at the same time, she thought for a moment her body would struggle for one more breath and then it would resign itself to its fate and become silent forever.

She felt a squeeze in her throat, the last warm sensation surging through her lower abdomen as she sank down into the darkness and recognized in the distance his long, white hair.

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