#I was going to leave it no context but I realised it sounded angsty I need people to know this is a ship post | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

themotherofblood · 1 year

Note

Dark!Daemyra x daughter!eeader but it’s their actual biological daughter (meaning rhaenyras the mom).

Remember in episode 4 when everyone thought that rhaenyra had her virtue taken by daemon? What if they actually had a kid?

Gosh I kinda made this a little too angsty so bare with me. I’m just really bad at writing to the point, I wanted to add some context to the smut hehe. So I hereby present

Dark!Daemyra x Daughter!reader

tw: incest, infantilism, cheating…(kinda?) murder, talks of more incest babies and kinda non con-ish? jason lannister (🤢) smut! oral, missionary kinda courrpution vibes. Threesome

7.8k words

A mistake, a grave mistake.

Not you, the one that had brightened Rhaenyra’s world with your little laugh, the one that had her hair and her uncle’s charisma - but the deed done to conceive you had been the most terrible of errors.

By right, you were Rhaenyra’s first-born child and heir; however, given the time of conception and the beautiful (pale, too pale) features you had been born with, it was obvious that you were not the offspring of Laenor Velaryon, but of her brutish uncle Daemon Targaryen. What remained were the rumours of Rhaenyra and Daemon coupling at a notorious brothel on the Street of Silk. Bastardy or the Iron Throne, that remained the question of your birthright to many. Your conception was a greater source of whispers and slander than that of your brown-haired ‘Strong’ brothers.

You weren’t raised in the Red Keep; with the brunt of the court upon your muña’s shoulders, she’d hoped to keep you shielded away from the cruel gossip that surrounded you even at the mere age of five. You hadn’t even set eyes upon her for years, making do with the letters that detailed how much she missed you and a chest full of trinkets and dolls to share with the young daughters of the vassal lords sworn to Dragonstone.

Daemon Targaryen, on the other hand was truly banished after word of his murdering his first wife Rhea Royce reached his brother’s - your grandsire’s - ears. While there was no formal accusation nor trial, Viserys was simply at his wit's end with the reckless goings-on of his younger brother. He had left Westeros even before your mother had realised that the moon tea she had consumed had not worked.

Daemon found his family elsewhere. After slaying a sea lord who was promised the hand of Laena Velaryon, he married her and then fled to Pentos with her and her dragon. The word of a Targaryen bastard being born from the Crown Princess was most certainly to spread like a plague, far enough to reach your kepa’s ears. He wanted to come back the second he heard of you, but his brother denied his request. When you were shipped off to Dragonstone, he wished to fetch you - but this time, his wife refused him, not wishing to raise the love child he had with his niece.

He had begun to send letters of Valyrian poetry, old texts of Valyrian romance and many other trinkets. You had written to him the day you claimed your dragon, which happened in a hilarious accident as you had trailed through the Dragonmont to make friends with a silver dragon, a she-dragon named Silverwing. Though the letter you had written had gone without reply, you had waited for a year and then accepted the dark truth. He had other daughters and another family. By request of the King, you were raised by Septas and the handmaidens at Dragonstone.

At present, you waited by the Painted Table. While one might not have been eager at the sound of people returning from a funeral, you indeed were. Mother had spent four moons at Dragonstone, leaving the Red Keep behind for good until the time arrived for her ascension. These four months had been bliss; you were introduced to your brothers. When you had first departed, Lucerys was still a babe suckling at Rhaenyra’s breast. Now, she returned with another little babe. -Your good-father returned as well, the one knight that could have flung your body high to the skies and caught you right in time. He had engulfed you in an embrace the moment he saw you.

Then came the letter of Laena Velaryon’s passing, and the world shifted under your good-father’s feet. With respect to Laena’s memory and the illegitimacy of your station, the Queen Alicent had advised Rhaenyra to not have you come along with the family. You were accustomed to such treatment; it mattered not. Yet the news of your kepa’s return churned your belly. You had never laid eyes on the man, having seen a mere few portraits hung in the grand galleries at Dragonstone. He looked much like you when he was a babe, and yet the older he grew you imagined him to be the embodiment of the courteous knights you read of in your books.

You had worn your nicest dress, and your preparations had begun with digging through all the letters he had ever sent you, having the chefs prepare his favourite foods and procuring a fat sheep for Caraxes. The household staff all lined themselves up by the halls. It had been years since their Rogue Prince returned home. While many admired the man, others feared him. Regardless of his reputation, there had been respect for his name upon every rock on the island.

Rhaenyra had walked in first with your brothers, her face softening at seeing you looking eagerly at the grand doors. She hugged you, rubbing the side of your arms as she stood behind you. Your sisters… You weren’t sure if they would have taken it well if you called them such. They were introduced first as a knight called out their titles. They bowed first, reminding you that you were a Princess and they only ladies. Then, everything went silent - you heard the thudding of boots before your vision was clouded by the image of shoulder-length silver hair.

Daemon Targaryen stood atop the steps, hands held together in front of him. He commanded the room with just his purple eyes. Your eyes. You were so entranced by his presence you almost forgot to ask about your good-father. He approached you, a princely smile upon his lips, and you failed to keep your lady-like composure.

The first thing that came from his mouth was your name. Your name had never sounded so wondrous as it did at that very moment. He greeted you, and your voice abandoned you as you opened your mouth to return his niceties. You must have looked like a fool, mouth parted as no words came forth. Your mother’s voice snapped you from whatever had possessed you.

“The honour is mine, my Prince,” you said, bowing your head. You wanted nothing more than to call him kepa - but there was so much unsaid. It didn’t seem appropriate to you at the moment.

Another two fortnights passed, and you were still grappling with the thought that both the people that created you now sat with you as you broke fast. Your brothers again ran wild in your chambers and now, you had two little sisters - twins.

One night, your mother came to your room, looking far happier than she usually was as she sat at the edge of your bed. You put your book away on your lap, awaiting whatever it is she wanted to tell you.

“Your kepa and I are to be wed!”

You had helped dress her for the very day. Your legitimacy was now sealed with fire and blood as your parents swore their vows to the Fourteen Flames. You had hand-lit every yellow and red candle along with your siblings, being perhaps the happiest you had been in all your life. Maester Gerardys had perhaps shared your joy, having raised you in these very halls and witnessing your disappointment whenever there had been no letter from Rhaenyra nor Daemon.

Their marriage was beautiful. Both looked far deeper in love than any poet could ever profess in words. There was longing, a sense of time lost between them. Perhaps, in a way - as they looked at you after sealing their union with a kiss - you were their love made flesh and bone, their blood running through your veins. Two ears, ten fingers and toes, and eyes that flared with the same longing Rhaenyra and Daemon had so long had for one another.

Both made concerted efforts between the sheets to reclaim the years lost, and they made efforts with you, offering you the attention you deserved from them. Daemon smiled ear-to-ear as he saw you loving up against his grandmother’s former mount, an elegant creature that matched your demeanour.

Daemon had once said “the gods give, as they take away.” Those words had come to royally interrupt the quaint life he lived with his family at Dragonstone. Word was to indefinitely spread about him marrying his niece, and soon did it grace the ears of his brother - and his cunt of a Hand. A white raven, the symbol of urgency, bore the demand that the entire household of the Blacks were to present themselves at Viserys’s court. There was no indication of whether the King approved or not, but naught was to be done other than abide by his brother’s demands. Thus, the older children mounted their dragons along with Daemon and Rhaenyra and set the course for their journey to the Red Keep.

Your memories had been rather faint of these halls. You remembered walking them and all your heart felt was its cold aura. It wasn’t home. Their welcome hadn’t been warm to be sure - a wheelhouse had received you at the Dragonpit alongside your parents, Baela, Rhaena and Jacaerys. Your Septa had squeezed you into a tight corset, one that you had never worn before, your hair braided far too tight for your liking. It was how the ladies dressed at court, they had told you.

The Targaryen guards had led your family straight to the Throne Room. Crowds of people assembled on both sides and the gallery crawled with young ladies, some your age, some younger. You had slotted yourself behind your kepa’s larger frame, finding an odd urge to hide as every eye in the room seemed to have been fixated on you and every whisper called your name. You hoped you were a lady enough to satiate whatever expectations these strangers had thrust upon your shaking hands.

Viserys was furious, as furious as he could be given his condition. He wasn’t the man you remember, his full cheeks and the head of hair that you had inherited and a hand gone. He pulled himself by using his sword Blackfyre as a cane, accusing his brother - your sweet kepa - of terrible obscenities. You wanted to defend him, you truly did. You wanted to scream, lecture the court on the man Daemon Targaryen really was. Of how much he loved his family, so much so that he had abandoned you the day his late wife begged him so.

There was much said and done, most of which made the corners of your eyes water with furious tears as you reached for your mother’s hands. Everything Viserys and Otto Hightower questioned about their union directly mirrored your existence.

It was a sham. You weren’t a sham.

It was a manipulation. You weren’t a lie.

It was a crime, that much was true; you were a bastard, after all. You were Rhaenyra’s first-born, yet stood to inherit nothing. You were the shield that politically protected your brothers. This marriage put everything into question. Who were you anymore?

What you were was a perfect example and a trap for Otto Hightower to lay in the King’s lap, offering you as an auspicious match with House Lannister. Of course, the words were never to be said, but this marriage was a blessing from the gods for the likes of you. You were ambushed by the Small Council on the second day of your return to the Red Keep.

The second the name of Jason Lannister spilt through your grand-sire’s lips, Rhaenyra was outraged. Never had you witnessed her this crazed over something, her eyes dark and voice low. She matched the intimidating aura of your father, perhaps giving you a glimpse of the similarities between them.

“She is to be my heir!” Rhaenyra argued, her voice booming through the chambers. “I will not have you sell her like you tried with me, father!”

The debate had grown heated. Jason was a proud man, from what you had heard, and your mother fought on your behalf for a different right altogether. For once (in your own stupidity) you saw purpose, a purpose you viewed as your grand-sire’s affection; a sense of duty you had never felt before. After so long spending your days wandering in the world of your own head, for once you felt a woman. A false sense of naive hope. When Rhaenyra urged that they in the least listen to what you had to say, your words echoing through the chambers were the last thing she expected.

“I will do my duty if that is what the King wishes,” you nervously mumbled. “The throne would not agree with me, mother.”

That had been five years ago. You were a proud lion now, or so said the letters that you sent home every other moon. You had been a dutiful wife to Jason Lannister, to be sure. Your bastardy had been allayed by the magnificent dragon you claimed, and your womb that would finally bring the glory of possessing dragon eggs to the Lannister name. He had been a good husband to you, showering you with gold and fineries beyond your needs, a perfectly dolled-up Targaryen wife dressed in the crimsons and gold of the Lannister heritage. You wanted to enjoy it, you truly did. You had craved such attention from a young age, but something in your mind nagged that it wasn’t genuine.

You spent much of your time hidden in the library, which Lord Jason had at first said would have made your little head spin.

You had claimed victory over it in a mere year, and so you had asked for more books; if he was to spoil you so, perhaps he could provide you with something of more use. And yet, your chests continued to be filled with more jewellery, the finest dresses and boots. You would scold yourself for not finding joy in this. There were children starving in the country and you complained of fine dresses being too much.

The love-making between you was respectable, quick. It was far easier than the complicated mess your Septa had chastely told you about. You would spread your legs for him and just lay there. However, once the first year of your union passed and you still hadn’t borne a child, things grew ugly.

Jason had been dismissive at first, petting your head and claiming your youth as the impediment of your lack of conception. Then, it was the Maesters hounding you with ways to be with child. from putting your legs high in the air after being pumped full of your lord husband’s seed to avoiding wines at feasts. They recommended positions to be placed in; then, they requested that you refrain from dragon riding. Your favourite foods were targeted soon after, the spices in them after that; and soon, your meals were left with just salt in them.

That bled to the third year of your marriage. The gossip that had been abandoned because of your wedding was now set ablaze yet again. You suffered it all with a stiff lip.

The latest requirement had been for you to remain abed for most of the day, a consequence for going against your husband’s wishes and riding Silverwing after eight moons without. There was just something in her eyes that begged you to ride her, perhaps to save you from your own misery. When you returned, you had been grateful that you rode her.

The flattery that your lord husband had doted upon you with before bedding you had long faded with frustration. Couplings had always been a chore, but now it was painful as you laid there wishing for it to end. He would enter your chambers, undoing his doublet and you just knew. You would push down your small-clothes and spread your legs for him before returning to slumber alone. You had counted every petal embroidered onto your canopy as Jason grunted in your ear. You would run your fingers down his back, his hair, hoping to make him peak sooner.

One night, you simply couldn’t bring yourself to lay with him from how exhausted you had been, barely being able to eat the boiled food and enduring yet another feast that ran from dusk to dawn. You refused him politely, hoping that he would lounge with you or leave you to your endeavours alone. Instead, he lectured you on your duty, his breath stinking of strong wine as he forcefully yanked you towards your bed. You had protested, fought against his hold, but it had no effect on him. He had easily torn through your shift as he had turned you to your belly. All you remembered were the stern words of your inability to provide him with heirs when the whores down at brothels of Lannisport had already birthed bastards for him, your head shoved into the pillow to muffle your protests, and then the dread as you felt his seed from within you spill onto your sheets.

He took you in such a manner twice more, growing further irate with the judgments of his family. He was your husband - he had the right. That was, until your sheets were stained in red once more. The handmaidens and the maesters all huffed in defeat yet again, and you were sure your husband had been at a brothel for his business down at Lannisport.

So you ran.

Silverwing roared as she perched herself upon Casterly Rock, scaring the knights in their golden helms away. She flew you swiftly through the skies, heading towards the one place you felt the safest, the one place you should have returned to years before.

“Dārilaros, Silverwing ēza sepār māzigon naejot se Dragonmont,” a Dragonkeeper hastily informed Rhaenyra.

Rhaenyra’s eyes shot to Daemon who was seated next to her by the Painted Table as they went over season books for the fourth moon. They wasted no time in hurrying past Aegon’s Garden to see you, their daughter, dismounting Silverwing in a red gown. They rejoiced, finally setting eyes upon their blood after five years. The second you laid eyes upon your mother, you rushed to engulf her. Daemon wrapped his arms around both his wife and you, placing a kiss atop your head.

You had returned to your bedchamber in the Sea Dragon Tower, claiming that you were overdue a visit and your duties had freed you for long enough to fly home. Neither Daemon nor Rhaenyra were daft; you had arrived devoid of any riding clothes, dressed in a heavy gown and jewellery. With no clothes nor belongings, it was obvious that something had happened, but they allowed you your space.

You were overjoyed at being able to let your hair down and wear your old gowns. You had slept that night, sprawled across your bed like a happy child, fed and tucked in.

As the days passed, you were introduced to your new siblings - not half-siblings, but ones who shared the same parentage, the same blood as you. You learned of the toddler named Aegon and a babe of one and eight moons named Viserys, and the healthy girl your mother had named Visenya. You found much joy in meeting them. They reminded you of your childhood, though you were perhaps a little envious that they would grow up in much better circumstances than you did.

Rhaenyra had found you one afternoon, humming a Valyrian lullaby to Visenya, the words of which you had forgotten years before but you had hummed to yourself at nights to remind yourself of the memory of home. You were the blood of the dragon; you were the daughter of dragons. That glint of sorrow in your eyes had told Rhaenyra all that she needed to know.

“It is a matter of heirs,” she had told Daemon as he helped her onto their marital bed. “I fear what they might have imposed on her, Daemon.”

Rhaenyra knew first-hand of Jason Lannister’s pride.

“She doesn’t look herself anymore,” Daemon agreed. While Rhaenyra dreamt of a beneficial way of helping you, Daemon had already dreamt of a far more violent one, for years beforehand.

A prideful man with a runaway bride has never been a great song. Jason had set sail himself to retrieve his wayward wife from Dragonstone, winged beast to lead back into your golden cage. His ship was filled with more trinkets and fineries to sway you and your parents to hand you back to him, a place he believed you belonged.

He presented himself at Rhaenyra’s court as she sat the throne at Dragonstone. Without an inkling of enthusiasm or warmth, she accepted her son-in-law’s presence with Daemon standing next to her, also unimpressed by the blonde fool.

“I have come to convey my sweet wife home. Casterly Rock is much too cold without her fire,” he cajoled, his voice echoing through the Chamber of the Painted Table.

Rhaenyra had sent for you the second she had greeted your husband in the chambers. You arrived but moments later, your cheeks filled with colour from devouring your lunch of roast goose. Your feet abruptly halted the moment you saw the hair yellowish-blonde hair, knowing it could mean only one thing. Rhaenyra’s eyes caught yours first, and then your husband turned to find you in what he would deem a distasteful gown.

You hiked your skirts and bolted down the other corridor, paying no mind to the rain pouring heavily outside and running through Aegon’s Garden. Silverwing had already perched herself atop the Dragonmont as she had felt your distress. Her roar echoed with the thundering in the clouds above. Daemon chased after you, his quick feet catching up to yours with ease.The household guard blocked your path from exiting through the gates of Dragonstone.

“No, no! Please!” you wailed as Daemon caught onto your hands. “I cannot go back! Please, don’t send me back!”

Daemon’s eyes flared in concern over your distraught face. He opened his mouth to reassure you, but you only screamed louder over the heavy pattering of rain.

“I will throw myself off the Windwrym Tower if you send me with him! Please, please, do not make me go back,” you cried. Your kepa pulled you closer, shushing your pained sobs as you begged harder.

Daemon had managed to reassure you that no one would force you back to Casterly Rock unless you wished it so. He had been horrified at how miserable you must be to threaten your own life in order to remain at Dragonstone, and his blood boiled to learn the truth of the matter. Rhaenyra had the servants prepare a room for your lord husband in an entirely different tower. You felt secure in knowing that Jason wouldn’t be allowed in the Sea Dragon Tower since it housed your chambers as well as your parents' chambers a floor above.

This is where you were brought after your handmaidens had helped you out of your soaking wet gown, huddled by the hearth crackling with a freshly stoked fire, a blanket of soft furs and a cup of warm tea in your hands. While you chose to sit on the floor, Daemon sat on his armchair, hoping to make you speak. Your wet hair clung to the sides of your face, a face that was once filled with so much light. Now, it hid something from him, and he couldn’t bear it.

“If you won’t tell me what happened, I cannot protect you,” he urged, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. “What has happened, zaldrītsosi?”

You shook your head once more, making Daemon groan in frustration. You played with the rim of the tea cup, circling your finger around it, over and over again. You felt your father’s frustrations, gods know you had endured it yourself for years. In truth you were embarrassed of your inability to be a good wife, perhaps the harshness your lord husband had showed you- you deserved it.

The chamber door opened once more with Rhaenyra finally making her way to you, while Daemon felt clueless about what caused your outburst. Rhaenyra had her suspicions, she shuffled her skirts to lower herself next to you, she didn’t ask a thing but just wrapped her arms around your shoulders. Letting you know that you were taken care of, that you were home. Whatever tactic was this, it worked as the first words of your confession echoed through the chambers.

“I cannot go back,” you said, “He deserves to find another wife.”

You had tried to be the loveable wife your mother had been to both her husbands. She bore three sons for the first and three more children for your kepa, within the matter of five years when you couldn’t even conceive one.

“He is lucky to have a wife like you,” Rhaenyra pressed a kiss to your temple.

You shook your head again “I’m not so…perfect like you.”

Rhaenyra frowned, never once had she wanted you to feel this inferior but your insecurities had been radiating through your skin. Daemon remained silent, letting his wife coax your reasoning out of you, perhaps you would do it quicker so he could fetch Dark Sister and resolve the matter.

“Lord Jason is my husband, he has a right to be sure,” you whispered, nuzzling further into Muña's embrace. “The way he held me down, for refusing to lay with him…” your voice trailed “I n-never want to feel that, ever again.”

Daemon saw red, even more so for the reason that you had not a clue of what had happened to you. A crime he had dismembered many during his days as the commander of the gold cloaks, his wife’s eyes shot to him. Silently begging him to not act on his anger just yet, he agreed - you needed them more. Your cries were silent, calmer than the onslaught before, Daemon let your head as you whimpered in your mother’s arms.

Somewhere along the evening you had succumbed to your exhaustion, Daemon had carried you into their bed and tucked you in. The silence left Rhaenyra and Daemon with a grave decision, they would have to petition Viserys to have your marriage annulled, however to lay the history of what you had suffered bare in court. The plea had to come from you, Rhaenyra had shuffled under the furs that night, her warm fingers trying to soothe the frown you sported even in you sleep. Daemon hummed that familiar lullaby as you stirred, feeling their bodies mould to yours - only this time you remembered the words.

Come morning, Rhaenyra had sent for Jason Lannister early in the morning; she had left her lady in waiting - Elinda Massey - to watch after you as you slept sprawled across their bed. In very distasteful words, Rhaenyra shunned your husband, Daemon stood beside her with his hand eagerly gripped around the pompel of Dark Sister. He paced back and forth, internally begging his wife to let him have the Lannister cunt’s head.

When you awoke, Elinda had helped you prepare yourself for the day. Your shoulders felt lighter, like a burden lifted from your shoulders. A content smile had finally adorned your face as you lounged in your parents chambers (far too elated). Rhaenyra returned from court with Daemon at her heel, trying to walk away the burning rage within her before she greeted you. She had sat you down, telling you of how Jason had returned to Casterly Rock and that the Blacks were to petition the royal court once more to have your marriage annulled. You threw your arms around Rhaenyra, profusely thanking her as she petted your hair.

Rhaenyra’s eyes lingered over your face for a little longer, the fullness of your cheeks, the purple of your eyes; gave her glimpses of herself and Daemon. There was something that overcame her, a subject Daemon and Rhaenyra had spoken at length about - first after their wedding night and second was last night. Her thumbs stroked your cheeks before her rosy lips found yours, it wasn’t a chaste kiss and yet the feeling that churned in you belly. You had yearned to feel it through the five torturous years of your marriage, when she pulled away you were stunned. Eyes glossed and mind in shambles.

“You are the glorious thing that came from us, sweet girl,” she whispered “you are to remain with us now, forever.”

She had pulled you up to stand in between your kepa and her, he was silently observing your reactions. You felt entrapped, not in the malicious way you had been caged in your marital bed, but the tenderness they had for you anchored you down, engulfing you in warmth. Daemon turned to hold your face in his hands, his roughed digits stroking at your heated blush stained cheeks.

“Let us take you the way you were meant to, let us show you riñītsos,” he requested. What were you to do? Pull away from the affection you were being dotted with after beggin for it for years. You nodded, mumbling a meek yes.

Rhaenyra turned you towards her again, both kepa and her working with haste to strip your body off your gown, leaving trails of sweet kisses upon your pale skin. The back of your neck to the pulsing at your wrists, they showed you reasons to live; showed reasons of why you were the most precious thing in the Known world. The smell from Rhaenyra’s flowered soaps mixed with Daemon’s woody ones, encasing you between their larger frames. You perked breasts spilt free first, your mother’s warm mouth immediately trapped the pebble between her lips. Suckling to harden them, and leave bruises of passion apon your milky skin. Daemon joined her efforts, his lips claiming your neck as he held you hand.

You couldn’t breathe, one would find lust, passion or even contentment within the feel of their lips but a deeper pit bubbles in your stomach. When you blinked your eyes open, they welled in tears and your breath hitched. Fighting to take in a bigger gasp of air, the years went on and you truly felt as beastly as they saw Silverwing. One incapable being found desirable, that your husband would resort to pumping bastards into tavern whores. You face scrunched, scolding yourself to enjoy this and yet you didn’t want them to see you bare; perhaps they would hate you too.

Rhaenyra’s eyes softened the moment she saw your discomfort and kissed your cheek. Hoping you would confess your feelings without coaxing.

“I won’t be to your liking,” you hung your head low, more tears streamed down your face.

“Nonsen - you are the most beautiful girl in the Known world,” Rhaenyra reassured, lifting your face to look at her. Perhaps it was something in her eyes that made you want to believe her flattery.

“How can you know?” You sniffed, wiping the tears with your wrists.

“We made you, who else would know better?” Daemon said, his voice softer than usual as looked down at you.

Mother had been incapable of bedding Daemon since birthing Visenya two moons ago, she was still healing. They believed that it was your husband’s incapacity to impregnate you; all your life at Dragonstone your moonblood’s course had been near perfect. It was to their benefit, your womb deserved to carry pure Valyrian babes anyhow. A witted mind may even see this as an advantage, with you as Rhaenyra’s heir. The silver of your hair, the smile that matched Daemon’s and little Valyrian babes of your own. Your mother’s claim would remain untouchable.

Daemon had led you to their bed, perhaps now your own. Rhaenyra had stripped herself to just her corset and chemise, while she intended on assisting her husband she would be a fool to not find pleasure in Daemon bedding you. Your father had been displeased as you crawled into bed and spread your legs open for him. While he admired the gesture of you presenting yourself to him, he tutted at how bereft of pleasures you were.

“Fucking is a pleasure you see, for the man and woman,” he had sultry eyes set upon you as he devices of ways to have you screaming for him.

Your legs already remained parted for him as you held your inner thighs, you were expecting his cock to penetrate you and yet he was fully clothed. It was horror that filled you next as Daemon kneeled by the edge of the bed, his fingers gently stroked the sides for your mound before he flattened his tongue on your slit.

“K-kepa what are you d-,” a whine tore through your lips as you felt his lips suckling at your sensitive flesh. Daemon feasted on your cunny, like a delicacy with exotic flavours plated just for him. You muña had skittles herself next you, bracketing a leg to hold your thigh open as she paid much needed attention to your nipples. Her fingers toyed with one as her mouth nibbled on the other.

The throes of coupling were all you’d known awhile you dutifully suffered in the sheets, this - this - was tenacious; never ending as it hurtled you further into its depravity. The sounds of your squelching cunt and Daemon humming against your folds as Rhaenyra whispered the sweetest of endearments in your ears, their little girl…made just for them to ruin.

Daemon locked his palm against your, tangling your fingers between in him a silent call of, he was here for you, he would take care of you. Rhaenyra caressed your flushed face, the tickle of delicate fingertips distracted you from your insecurities. Your cunny felt the stretch of your Kepa's fingers, his thick digit knuckle deep within you. You hadn’t realised your body could even feel this way, so weightless that all you felt was the throbbing around your puffy bud. The textures on his tongue fondling with the tender flesh, how soft his actions were along with your mother’s ministrations of keeping the rest of your bare body ablaze.

You found your voice, as your breathy mewls turned to a shameless moans because of Daemon’s finger gracing a foreign spot within you; pumping in and out repeatedly. Your hips hiked off the bed, grinding into your kepa’s mouth. He gently held your hip down, you arched you back, unable to decipher the waves of tingles that ran up your thighs.

“Please, please!” you begged, unsure of it as you pleaded for, all you body seemed to yell at you was to find the ending.

A sudden, furious bliss burst through your core; you hadn’t felt anything like it before. You screamed their name, praying to the Gods to save you. You felt his tongue still laying soft licks on your bed as your thighs clenched around his head. You fell flat back against the beds, heavy breathing as you tried to gather your bearings.

“Wh- what…?” You couldn’t finish the question clouding your mind, your words lost on your lips.

“That sweet girl…was your peak,” Rhaenyra gingerly placed a kiss upon your temple. Her fingers mindlessly trailed up and down the valley of her breasts.

My peak…my peak you had incoherently whispered under your breath. “Will you bed me now?” You looked at your father expectantly.

“Would you like me too… would you like kepa to pump you full of his seed?” He whispered against your folded thighs as he pressed wet kisses across your pale flesh.

Your head eagerly nodded, wanting to feel more of what the art of pleasures had to offer. You wanted this ecstasy that Daemon spoke off. You wanted to drown yourself in it, having someone touch you so brutally broke a part of your aura - tragically - but your kepa and muña sewed your pieces back together. A cascading light that hurtled towards misery now floated high above the clouds, happy as you should have been.

“Say it riñītsos,” Rhaenyra whispered against your lips.

“Please bed me, kepa,” you asked, eyes flaring purple as did theirs. You shuffled against his hold on your thighs, the skin w clawing at your insides.

Daemon looked at Rhaenyra and chuckled, shaking his head at your niceties. “Such a polite thing, our daughter.” Rhaenyra indulged in stripping her husband for you, peeling his doubly away from him before freeing him from his breeches. Your kepa’s member was far more monstrous than your lord husband’s, it spurred a fear under your chest; the memories of bedding and the last night you had shared Jason’s bed were fresh within your mind. Daemon caught onto the apprehension that flared in the purple of your eyes. He pressed a kiss to your knee. “M’ going to be gentle…unless you ask me not to be,”

You hadn’t understood what he meant but your heart eased, preparing yourself to feel the bitter stretch of his bulbous tip at your entrance. Braced in position you waited for the burn to flare through your nethers but it never came. Merely the pressure of the hard line pushing you open, a little uncomfortable at best but the pain you had expected was nowhere to be found. You blinked your eyes upon, pulling yourself to grace upon where yours and Daemon’s body connected. You hissed at the fullness but appeared shocked, you looked to him; his eyes softened at the state of your discovery. Coupling was never meant to be a chore.

Rhaenyra circled her fingers upon your yearning pearl, you greedily raised your head pleading for her to kiss you and so she did. Her rounded mouth moulded against yours, a kiss that once rose bile to your throat - the tongues being far too much - your kittenish hum invited her in willingly. You could taste your shared breath, commanding you with the grape scent of her lips. Daemon had begun rocking himself, determined strokes rutting into your - his sweet cunny - his baby’s warm walls as he could barely contain himself from watching your mother dote upon you with honeyed vulgarity.

Daemon grunted, wanting to feel the touch of your lips as he tucked his hands behind the small of your back. You held your kepa’s face in your hands, lifting yourself just enough to taste the spiced wine that linger on his lips; his tongue raspily greeted yours. You mewled into his mouth, legs wrapping around his rear as your Rhaenyra and Daemon took turns whispering sweet obscenities in your ear. They made this cunny for them to use… kepa would breed you swollen of his Valyrian babes, pure babes. There perfect little dragon

Naught was of importance as you begged kepa to piston within you harder, you body smothered between the ones of your blood (warm, far too warm). Trickles of tears that fell from the corners of your eyes disappear in your hairline, Daemon wiped them - grunting louder - with his adoration directed straight st you. Rhaenyra had pulled him closer for a kiss, tasting you upon his lip as his hammering never once faltered. You wanted to peak again, you wanted to fly again.

“K-kepa, I- so good,” your words muddled at the tip of your tongue, but the way your cunt fluttered around his cock. There was just one reason to be sure. He looked to Rhaenyra, a short nod of his followed with your muña fingers working in tighter - quicker - circles around your throbbing nub.

“Oh - that’s it, pretty girl, come for kepa…wet his cock,” Rhaenyra cooed at you, your back arched off the bed. A longing whine tore through your lip, pleading Daemon to go harder. He obliged, haunching his body over as his shoulders laid flush against your chest. His heavy stones slapping against your rear. You wanted it, your insides clawed at you to peak.

“Our sweet little dragon, come - come now.”

Daemon’s order hadn’t gone unheard, in true fashion of a father’s daughter you peaked for him, your pleasures gushing through you core as your scream lodged itself at the back of your throat. Leaving only whimpers and squeaks behind as your finger nails dug into Daemon’s shoulder.

Days had passed since, once you had tasted the world of pleasures, the next four day you had spent either bouncing on your kepa’s cock; begging him to fill your cunt or muña fingers pulling peak after peak from your body.

The moment of truth arrived sooner that you had expected, you had flown to court once more. Viserys had been gravely ill, as a mourning grandchild your heart ached for what had become of the once proud king. As a wronged wife, you feared if Otto Hightower would have your best intentions in sight. Whil by marriage it would have been appropriate for you to wear an alarmingly bright red gown and jewellery of gold. You had come dressed in the darker crimsons of your house as you stood in between your kepa and muña.

Jason Lannister presented an elaborate case, claiming you as his - how your place was at Casterly Rock and not behind your mother’s skirts. He even made attempts to approach you, but the deathly glare Daemon had set upon your husband made Jason’s cowardice known. The Blacks and Greens had separated them on each end, and by the passing day it had become rather evident that if you returned with Jason, your support of your mother would be squandered under their golden foot.

Otto Hightower then called the Blacks forwards as he sat upon the Targaryen throne as if it were his own. Rhaenyra stepped forward to petition on your behalf but was dismissed by her old bitter companion Alicent Hightower - the Queen.

“Your daughter is far above her age to petition for herself, Princess Rhaenyra, unless she is daft…?” Alicent retorted.

Your eyes darted between your mother and father as they looked to your covering frame, they wanted to protest but what other choice had they given you. With cautious mannerisms you stepped forward, cultivating your sentences of beggary in your head to not stumble upon them. Your fingers fiddled with one another as you stood at the front of the throne room; with the entire court gathered to see your humiliation. Much of everything had sounded muffled to you, they would send you back, he would take you back. You should have flung yourself the first chance you had.

The night before, Rhaenyra had visited her father’s chambers. Maternal tears coating her face as she begged her father for you life. Daemon had told her of your threat to end your existence. What she thought were pleadings fallen to deaf ears, she had hoped to use her inheritance to save you from this curse or have Daemon flee with you to Essos. To remain there until Rhaenyra would take the throne.

Perhaps a call from the heavens answered your pleas (Rhaenyra’s efforts in truth) the grand door to the Throne Room opened, your grand-sire limping his way through a startled court. An old dragon lashing out to protect his blood once more, you moved away. Mouth agape just as the rest, Viserys had come to sit on his throne after four years of sabbatical.

To shield your honour, as your father - Daemon approached his brother to present your case in private. Telling him of the cruelties you had suffered and Jason’s inability to provide you heirs. To which Viserys coughed out his disdain on the Lannister’s lack of providing his granddaughter with heirs.

“Her heir? Tis my family that would be shamed because she is barren. Yet I choose to take my sweet wife back to my noble seat.” Jason scoffed, looking at Rhaenyra like she was delusional.

Rhaenyra passed a knowing look to Daemon before letting go of your hand. She looked right at the vast lords gathered at the court “My first born, my daughter is to be my heir. Your future Queen and a second wife to my prince consort.”

Horrid gasps echoed through the Throne Room, Alicent looked disgusted along with her father. You looked at your mother in shock, unable to grapple the titles she had just placed in your lap.

“Your grace! This is an abomination!” Otto Hightower protested, hoping for the King to see reason.

“She cannot be Queen…” Jason muttered, just as shocked as you.

“And w- why is that?” Viserys coughed.

“Well she is…” his blond brows furrowed tightly, his glare fixated upon you for embarrassing him. Your father raised a challenging brow to him, say it…say it Daemon prayed as he once again clutched the pommel of Dark Sister, he looked to his wife and begged like a toddler to let him end this. Rhaenyra looked at Daemon through his periphery and agreed, subtly nodding at him.

“She is a bastard,” he shrugged, looking appalled, finding this entire situation ridiculous.

Viserys groaned, huffing as he unsheathed his dagger; angered and ready to place his judgement. “I will have your tongue for that!”

Thwack!

You hadn’t realised when your kepa had moved from behind you to trail behind your husband - headless husband - your mother yanked back to look away from the decapitated corpse as knights all around charged at Daemon. He merely wiped his sword away at his cape, before returning to stand next to you.

“You’re a widow now,” he smugly whispered in your ear.

#daemon targaryen x reader x rhaenyra targaryen #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen x rhaenyra targaryen #Rhaenyra Targaryen x reader #daemon #young rhaenyra #queen rhaenyra #princess rhaenyra #rhaenyra targaryen x female!reader #daemon au #ruie writes

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eds6ngel · 8 months

Note

I love the teacher AU! I would like to read about their first fight (as a couple).

I was thinking about something really angsty with Steve being so sad because he's pretty sure they're gonna break up and Alena helps him to apologize. A happy ending! (the cutest little family <3)

of course my love!! and thank you so much for the compliment!! i hope this is angsty enough for you :') ♡

warnings: dad!steve. singledad!steve. 90s!au. fem!reader. use of y/n. pet names. swearing. food mentions. angst. fighting. yelling. everyone cries :'). hurt. angst. comfort. fluff. happy ending!! [1.7k].

author's note: just some quick context! if you haven't read the 'sleeping over' spinoff, it's established that alena calls reader 'mubba' as a pre-mom term before she officially calls her 'mom.'

full 'when i kissed the teacher' masterlist.

It was currently 9:30PM, two hours after Alena was supposed to go to bed for the night. Steve trying everything from reading her favourite book, to tucking her in, to trying to let her fall asleep to the sounds of The Smurfs, she would not drift off at all.

Steve wanders out of Alena’s room, the sound of giggling from the little girl still being heard from the other side of the door. He comes up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and nuzzling his face into your neck. You’re currently cleaning up the dishes from the dinner you made for you and Alena a few hours before, Steve having to work a little later than usual.

He huffs into your neck, mumbling, “I’ve tried everything. She just won’t go to sleep. This isn’t like her at all.”

You move your right hand to stroke your boyfriend’s hair, asking, “Is she just refusing or can she genuinely not drift off?”

“The latter,” he sighs, “I tucked her in at 7:30 as usual, went back in half an hour later and she’s on the floor playing with her stuffed animals.”

“Maybe you’re just gonna have to let her become tired,” you suggest, “You can’t force the mind to drift off, that’s not how it works. Leave the blinds closed, keep her light off, put her toys away, she’ll become sleepy soon enough.”

“It’s just… weird,” he contemplates, “She knows her nighttime routine like a book. She knows when to get ready for bed, what time to fall asleep, and her body has sort become accustomed to that. I just don’t understand why she’s not tired—”

Steve pauses mid-sentence as he sees the plate of chocolate chip cookies perched on the side of the countertop beside the stove. “When did you make these?” he questions.

“Oh, the cookies?” you ask, him humming, “Whilst I was making dinner for Alena and I. Thought it would make a good dessert. Simple to make and not too heavy on the stomach. Why? Would you like one?”

“What time did you say you and Alena ate dinner again?”

You scrunch your eyebrows up, “6PM. Little later than what you normally do, but only by an hour.”

Steve lets out a huff, leaning against the counter and pursing his lips, “So you’re telling me, you gave my seven-year-old daughter a chocolate chip cookie for dessert an hour and fifteen before her bedtime?”

You quickly link the dots, realising the mistake you had made. However, the words that come out of your mouth were not ones of apology, but rather of defense. “You normally give her a treat after her dinner!”

His voice becomes more stern, “Yeah, at 5PM. Besides, I give her a tiny bowl of light ice cream, the sugar levels are small, I checked the packaging. How many cups of sugar did you use for the cookie recipe?”

You look down to the floor, whispering out, “Three quarter cup.”

“Jesus Christ,” Steve rubs his hands over his face, “Plus the chocolate in that too. Jesus Y/N, no wonder she’s so hyper! She’s got so much sugar in her system still, her poor body is still trying to wear it off!”

“I’m sorry, okay?” you snap at him, “I made a fucking mistake, it’s not like I can turn back time, is it?” You take a breather, cooling off and placing the back of your hand against your forehead, “Look, it simply crossed my mind, okay? I picked her up from school, which by the way, her teacher was extremely fussy considering my reputation around there. I brought her home, we completed her homework, and then I got down to cooking dinner for us. I simply decided to make some cookies on the side for all of us to have as a treat when we wanted, as well as cook our chicken curry—”

“Don’t bullshit me with the ‘I made them for you too!’ because that shit ain’t sliding, okay?” Steve interrupts you abruptly. “It is gone nine, my daughter is two hours past her bedtime and she still won’t fall asleep because you decided to make some cookies and give one to her.”

“I’m not trying to bullshit you, Steve!” you try to reason with him, “It’s just every time you make her dinner, you give her a treat afterwards. I didn’t even think about the time, and the sugar levels, and all that shit, I just copied what you did as a parent.”

Steve cannot keep the rage down, the words spilling from his mouth, “You’re not her mom, okay? Stop trying to act like you know how to parent her, because you don’t.”

Before you can say anything in your fit of rage, a small gasp can be heard from the side of you, Alena standing outside of her bedroom door, Mr. Hopps gripped tightly in her arms as tears brim at her eyes. “I thought mubba did a good job today…”

You walk past Steve, the tears from her becoming infectious as you sniffle yourself, stroking Alena’s cheek, and whispering, just loud enough so Steve could hear, “Yeah, I thought I did too, baby.” You power to Steve’s room, wiping your nose with the sleeve of your sweater, the door creaking as you close it behind you, the Harringtons now remaining alone in the kitchen.

The sound of Steve’s hitched breaths and his shaking shoulders lead Alena to tugging at his shirt. Steve quickly rubs at his eyes, lifting his daughter up comfortably onto his hip. Alena gasps again as she sees how red her dad’s eyes are, wiping the remaining tears away with her small thumb, just like he did with her. “Why did you yell at mubba, daddy? She was very kind and nice to me today…”

He walks over to the couch, leaning back, Alena moving to sit on his lap, Steve saying out loud, “I think she’s gonna break-up with me…”

“Why, daddy? You were only arguing.”

He sniffles, “But, what daddy said was really mean, sweetpea. I said that she isn’t your mom and that she wouldn’t be a good parent. That’s not a nice thing to say, is it?”

“No…” she mumbles, quickly cheering back up, “But, you didn’t mean it, right?

He shakes his head, “’Course I didn’t pumpkin, you know I love your mubba and I hate that I hurt her.”

“Hmmm,” she thinks, putting her hand under her chin, looking deep in thought, “Well… why don’t you say sorry? Like, at school, me and Ashley had a fight, and Mrs. Woodstock made us say sorry to each other, and now we are okay again! Why don’t you do that with mubba?”

“You know what?” Steve replies, “I think I will do that, sweetpea.” He begins to stand up, holding out his hand, “You wanna come?” Alena nodding her head and wrapping her small hand in his as they head over to his bedroom.

Steve lightly knocks on the door, not wanting to startle you, “Babe, it’s us. Can we come in?”

With no response, Steve enters the room, you sitting on the edge of his bed, tears stained on your face as you stare off into the distance. He lets go of Alena’s hand, her standing small off to the side as he leans down in front of you. He sighs as he sees your disheveled hair, puffy eyes and red nose, instantly cooing, “C’mere,” wrapping his arms around you.

You cry into his shoulder, him reassuring you, “I know, I know. Let it out, beautiful.”

You manage to contain your sniffles, enough to choke out the words, “I’m sorry. It’s just… I really tried. I thought I did an okay job at tonight with what time I was given after work and stuff, picking up Alena and everything. And the timing of the cookies never crossed my mind and… I’m just sorry. I’ll be more mindful next time. Just… what you said really hurt me, as I am trying my best, honey. I really am. And I didn’t mean to get so defensive, just your words really hurt me, and that’s why I had that reaction.”

He soothingly rubs your back, muttering, “I know. I know. I’m sorry too.” He pulls back, cupping your face in his large palms, “What I said was terrible, and was a complete heat of the moment thing. What you do for Alena is amazing, and I can’t thank you enough. And she said it herself, she thought you did good today, and that’s all that matters, right? Sure, I may have been a little annoyed about her not going to bed on time, but mistakes happen. You simply copied what I did, you’re trying to adapt to this whole parenting thing, and if I’m being completely honest babe… You are doing the absolute best. I could not ask for someone better to be the mother figure to my daughter, okay?”

You nod, Steve muttering out, “Are we okay?” stroking your cheeks, “You aren’t gonna break-up with me or anything?”

You let out a small giggle, “Steven Joseph Harrington, you would have to do something a lot worse than that to make me break-up with you.” He chuckles along with you, looking to the floor as he lets out a breath of relief. It’s now your turn to cup his cheeks, “It’s just a bump in the road. We’re okay.”

“Yeah,” he smiles, “We’re okay.” He hugs you once again, you reciprocating this time as you wrap your arms around his broad back. Suddenly a small head pops up beside you, shyly asking, “Can I have a hug too?”

Thinking the same idea, Steve wraps his right arm around Alena’s shoulder as you wrap your left around her back, the three of you joining in a delicate group hug. It was during bumps like this that you remembered: Even when things got tough, at least you had your little family to lean on, especially your future daughter, the saviour of your relationship troubles.

i hope you enjoyed!! three more asks to go for this series! i'm happy for anyone to send in more ideas if you have some! also, any general feedback and appreciation in my asks too!! ♡

taglist: @livsters @bakugouswh0r3 @nix-rose @ihatepeanutss @cats00089 @suitelif3 @clincallyonline17 @crowssixof @starkeylover @eris-rose-86 @frostandflamesfanfic

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knizuuu · 2 years

Note

Ayo.. could i request an angsty/fluffy Ike eveland of, you confessing, him being unsure.. and right as you're about to leave, he SEES: his heart does indeed want you.

"𝙈𝙮 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙩... 𝙞 𝙜𝙪𝙚𝙨𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚 𝙞 𝙨𝙚𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪, 𝙞𝙩 𝙗𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙨 𝙛𝙖𝙨𝙩."

IKE EVELAND ୨୧⸝⸝

【contains: angst, happy ending!!】

context: you confess to ike, as ike tried to reject you, he hesitates.

ike walks down the road, trying to find YOU. you had called him saying that you needed something. confused as he is, he was already outside, trying to find where your exact location was. he wonders where you hide, not getting where 'somewhere we loved to go' was.

ike never really liked going out, although the time he only likes going out is with a friend. you were one his trusted, if not, MOST trusted friend. yep. a friend. huh.

as it turned dark, lights filled the city. still trying to find you, ike keeps searching and searching until he could see a figure with ______ coloured hair. he sighed as it took him way too long to spot you.

"(name)!" ike calls out. hearing him, you could feel the heat from your face, cheeks turning pink by the second.

"ike! i wanted to tell you something..."

"what is it?"

you took a deep breath before you said your next line.

"ike. i like- no. i 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚 you. i know you'll reject me so please make it quick." you hesitantly say, a huge weight held your heart in place as you wait, nervously.

"i'm... so sorry (name), you're one of my best friends—

𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚 𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙥

and i know that this might hurt you

𝙣𝙤 𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚.

but i can't give back those feelings you feel for me."

ike saying that broke your heart.

"oh no no, its fine!" it wasnt. your heart shattered in a million pieces. you knew he would most likely say that but you still saddened at his words.

although, you werent the only person feeling this. ike felt. uneasy. usually when someone he didnt knew well confessed to him, he normally didnt feel like that, he does feel a little guilty. so why does he feel really terrible? why did his heart feel... empty?

"i-i'll just go, sorry for wasting your time." running. running away from getting more humiliated. running away from your one and only crush.

his heart ached. why? why did his heart do this? as the puzzle gets solved he finally realised. 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙩 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙮𝙤𝙪.

running after you, the rain soaked his sweater. even though water soon soaked his beautiful hair, he didnt really care much. he needed to get to you. he needed YOU.

ike makes it to your home. he reaches for the key under your mat and enter your house. closing the door after him incase there was someone willing to rob you.

"(name)?? are you here?" ike calls out. although, your sobs and cries were enough to him that you were suffering. his heart strings pull in guilt as he steps infront of your door.

"darling... please talk to me."

silence. the silence was cut with the a sniff, before he could hear a response.

"ike. leave. please, im fine."

he would. but he really wanted to know if you were fine in there. it certainly didnt sound like it.

"(name) please... i-i realised that not only were you one of my best of friends but without realising you, i also fell inlove with you.."

silence again.

"so please... open the door for me?"

after ikes request, the door opened to a ______- haired figure. his eyes widen as you pull him into a hug. your head snooping in his neck, sobbing happily.

"you know, my heart? I guess that everytime i see you my heart beats fast..."

MASTERLIST !

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newswcanonprompts · 4 years

Text

Anakin is sent to negotiate with Gardulla the Hutt bc of the success of the Jabba mission (no one in the Council knows Gardulla used to own him)

editor’s note: there is actually a fic that came from this, by the lovely @primeemeraldheiress! here is the link

this one is SUPER angsty, sorry in advance, i missed the original conversation about this prompt and when i got back online everyone was yelling about it, when i read what they did i was in *shock*. like ow. anyways have fun

After being so helpful in rescuing Jabba the Hutt's son, Anakin, Ahsoka and Obi-Wan end up being sent on a mission to help Gardulla the Hutt because Anakin hasn't told anyone about his history with her

Possible reactions from Gardulla:

"Skywalker? I owned a human like that, her brat always caused trouble. Good riddance!"

What if she decides that since he's back in her territory that means he belongs to her again

.....gardulla hears him try to call obi-wan master and tries to buy anakin from him (Gardulla asking if obi-wan is anakin's master and anakin being in such a messed up mental space that he says yes, trusting that Obi-wan won’t let her buy him)

Obi-Wan wondering why Anakin is being so specifically arsey with this Hutt. "Force you're worse with her than you were with Jabba."

"Oh yeah, she bought me and my mother. I think I have a reason to dislike her."

The council meeting afterwards where obi-wan rails on the council...

Obi-Wan suddenly getting a horrible feeling whenever Anakin calls him master because he's known the contexts were different but now it is real and in his face

Like it's a different thing for Obi-Wan to know his padawan used to be a slave compared to looking his padawan's former master in the eye and seeing her current slaves.

Anakin manages to control himself in the throne room but the whole way there and back he can't help worrying that one of the really old lash scars that curls around his shoulder will be noticed, that his identity as a former slave will be exposed

anakin not being able to call obi-wan master on tatooine like. point blank. he starts addressing him as master and just. flinches.

anakin usually wears his heart on his sleeves right?? always shows his emotions, feelings, all that. Well, the closer they get to gardulla's palace the blanker his face gets

Ahsoka calls Anakin master and Anakin just grits out a "Please don't call me that, not here."

Obi-Wan suddenly realising why Anakin comes across as arrogant as times. He's spent his entire life trying to up his value because there's safety in value.

Anakin telling them not to use the name "Skywalker" while they're in the palace

Anakin's accent shifts so entirely to the point where it almost sounds like Obi-Wan's because he's so determined to not slip into old roles

Anakin having to be physically held back from getting into a physical fight. Not even using his lightsaber, he just wants to fight

Or, alternatively, all the fight just going out of Anakin because he knows, here, it'll just make everything worse. So he's almost.... compliant and it freaks everyone out

Ex. from @youngcreativenerdgoddess: Obi-Wan is terrified. His former padawan is the most resigned he’s ever been. He looks so....defeated. A look one would never expect on the vaunted “Hero with no fear”. All the fight was gone from him, and that scared him more than anything else in this force-damned war had.

Obi-Wan actually being the one about to lose his temper and then Anakin just puts a hand on his shoulder and tells him there's no point.

Consider: instead of anakin being angry he was sent on the mission, being resigned because of course he was, he knew Gardulla bes

Anakin comes across as an almost perfect Jedi for once in his life and in the context it is horrifying

Anakin’s report to the council is so matter of fact because he thought they knowingly sent him on the mission because of his past experience with Gardulla

Obi-Wan finds Anakin writing what he thinks is a CV then he sees the numbers next to it and it is his estimated value--"for the gardulla mission, if she finds out who I am she'll try to rebuy me"

After the mission, from @jasontoddiefor: "Failed you, we have," Yoda said, his voice full of grief, and Obi-Wan watched in horror as Anakin only titled his head, for once looking his age and not the years the war has aged him.

"What do you mean?" Anakin asked, not understanding.

Examples of bits and pieces from this prompt:

Ex. from jasontodiefor: Anakin in the corner of her palace having a breakdown because he remembers memories he had thought gone, his mother's shouting and the tearful begging and the pain, pain, pain and he hadn't meant to break the vase, it had been an accident, please stop it hurts, Mom-

jasontodiefor: "A game of chance."

"What?"

Anakin doesn't look up from his hands, doesn't meet Obi-Wan's eyes. He hadn't since they'd arrived here. "I'd still be here like them if not for a game of chance. I'd be worth more than just a few credits too. Force-sensitive, young, good with mechanics, pretty-"

Ex. from Ro: Obi-Wan has never seen Anakin this silent before. There were nights before, when they were both younger, Obi-Wan himself still trying to heal from Qui-Gon's death and Anakin trying to get used to the temple. And Anakin would get quiet, but he was never this stone cold silent. Never this blank. He's so emotional, Obi-Wan's former padawan (his child), so open with his heart on his sleeve. There is none of that here, none of that bright boy. Anakin doesn't fight it, and that is the thing that worries Obi-Wan the most, because when Anakin doesn't like something he fights, he lashes out with teeth and sticks his heels in. But in this, he is resigned. (Anakin doesn't let Ashoka off the ship. She fights and argues but Anakin doesn't move, doesn't joke. He stands firm with it and Obi-Wan watches.

"Master, I—"

Anakin flinches, "You're staying on the ship, Ahsoka, that's final." She huffs and leaves, and the only thing Obi-Wan can see is how relieved Anakin looks. There is something wrong here, but Anakin has never liked talking about Tatooine, and Obi-Wan has never pushed.) Obi-Wan has never hated a mission more.

Another ex from jasontodiefor: "But-"

"You're young," Anakin interrupts her sharply. Ahsoka hates it when he cuts her off. It doesn't happen too often, mostly on the battlefield when he's barking orders at everyone. If anything, he lets her speak out of tune more often than he should or other Masters would, but right now his voice doesn't leave any room for agreement. "Young, underage actually, and female, that's the first 10K. Extra five if they don't sell you as inexperienced, and only stupid slavers would do that, but as a virgin."

Ahsoka pales. Anakin's voice is harsh, but there is an almost easy flow to his words, as if he had recited them in his head over and over again. "Force sensitive, that's next. Another 8K regularly, but you're a Jedi, so that's 20K. A Padawan, mind you, but you're a known face next to mine and Obi-Wan's. Obi-Wan would fetch 40 for his status as a Jedi and councilor alone. And you're a Togruta, you sell better than a human girl. I'd add another 6 for that."

You sell better. Not you would, there's nothing hypothetical about this, Ahsoka realizes. Anakin's narrowing down what would happen to her if somebody just managed to grab her lightsabers, to put a collar around her throat and cut her off from all that she had ever known. "Now, that's just your base value," Anakin continues. "You're also a pretty good mechanic and pilot, though the latter makes your flight risk much higher. Given how dangerous you are, let's say 10K. You're a strong fighter, so you could probably get another 8K in the arena, perhaps a little more depending on what planet you're sold on. Your political value also can't be overlooked. You fight at the front and know much more about the war effort as a whole and that's worth much more, probably another 15." Anakin holds up his fingers like he's counting apples and now how much people would be willing to brand her as theirs. "So we're roughly at 70. That's not bad at all. Not as much as Obi-Wan or I would get, but it's more than enough. You're not coming on this mission. End of discussion."

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leejeongz · 4 years

Text

cravity reaction to you giving them the silent treatment

🔅thank you for reading my work and following! and than you for requesting! i wrote this like giving them the silent treatment, as you can tell, because i’m not sure what other context you would ignore them in🥺 i hope you don’t mind! and not all of them are serious hehe🔅

serim:

reason for the silent treatment: you were jealous when you saw him talking to the stylists and sitting real close to them

he tried his damned hardest to not give in to you. this lasted for quite a while this time actually, an hour maybe? then he started feeling empty. he hadn’t hugged you or bugged you for a whole hour, even you were getting concerned at this point. he came over to you while you were washing your bowl and pan from lunch, standing behind you for a few seconds before deciding to poke your cheek. you tried to ignore him at first, then you tried swatting his hand away.

“i’m not moving it until you talk to me!” he exclaimed. you knew the annoying smile he’d have on his face right now that you couldn’t resist so you chose not to look at him, instead you concentrated on putting the wet dishes on the drying rack. “i can do this all day”

he really wasn’t lying, you wouldn’t put that past him, so you just chose to give up, it was easier than having a clingy serim around you all day. (you get that anyway but what can u do?)

“you should eat” you said quietly. serim smiled at you in response and removed his finger.

“you’re right, maybe i will go grab something with the stylists” he joked, risking another hour of the silent treatment. he was so lucky that you could take a joke.

allen:

reason for the silent treatment: he forgot your 1 year anniversary (this got a lil deep for some reason, kinda angsty, just a warning)

he started by giving you as much attention as possible. usually you’d be loving the skinship and cuddles, but right now you didn’t want to even see his face. you swatted his hands away and stormed off to your room. he sat back on the sofa, eyes and mouth both wide. he’d never seen you like this before. his head soon fell into his hands, which rested on his knees. once the first tear fell, it was soon followed by dozens more. it made him even weaker knowing you were probably crying too. he didn’t know whether to come to you or not but he decided to stay put for a little longer. after a few minutes, he saw your feet across the carpet and lifted his head, apologising profusely as he did so. you sat beside him, and looked at him, which he reciprocated almost immediately. he grabbed your hands instinctively but not before wiping a tear from your right cheek.

“do you care?” you asked.

“of course i care. i care about you, about us, i care a lot.” he pleaded, tears starting to burn at his cheeks.

“okay” you said, licking a tear from lips and nestling into his side.

he wrapped his arm around you and sniffled some more before asking if there was any way he could make it up to you.

jungmo:

reason for the silent treatment: you failed an exam and you think it’s because he kept distracting you while revising

he couldn’t help himself, he just HAD to follow you around like a lost puppy. he tried his best to apologise, knowing it was the easiest thing to do even if he wasn’t guilty, but it just made you ignore him even more, not even giving him the advantage of reading your face. honestly, his incessant following was cute, but he could never know that.

“y/n please” he begged from behind you as you made your way to the bathroom. “don’t make me come in there too” he tried to make light of the situation.

you turned and stood against the closed bathroom door, now looking at him from across the hallway. you raised your eyebrow and he started to talk once again.

“i didn’t realise what i was doing, i just wanted to spend time with you, i will never do it again, if i do you can shout at me, i’m kidding please don’t do that ,i would cry, i know you wouldn’t ever-“ you stopped him with a kiss. you hated how he had you WHIPPED for him, but you wouldn’t really have it any other way.

“i won’t you idiot, although i may accidentally purposely back my chair into you, gently of course” you joked “now can i please go in here… alone?”

woobin:

reason for the silent treatment: he used your toothbrush

“you changed yours to the exact same colour as mine, it was going to happen on day anyway” he announced, rolling his eyes while walking to the cupboard to get himself a different toothbrush. “where are they?” he shouted to you.

you chose not to respond and that’s when he knew he was currently experiencing the dreaded silent treatment. normally he’d be quite thankful for some peace and quiet but the circumstances weren’t great so...

“oh brilliant, how mature of you” he slammed the door to the cupboard shut, still being careful not to damage it though. “you know it’s not going to get you anywhere” he once again rolled his eyes. “i’m going to my room, see you at dinner, sweetheart”. and that’s exactly when you saw him next. he was so stubborn sometimes, you had to give in else you’d never talk to him again.

“here” you tossed him a new toothbrush while he was close to the sink.

“this is still the same colour th-“

“ITS ROMANTIC WOOBIN” you shouted.

“from one extreme to another, clearly” he laughed, throwing you the toothbrush back. “now how about we be romantic in that restaurant down the street?”

wonjin:

reason for the silent treatment: he ate without you

“i swear i won’t do it again” he pleaded in his final words before giving up and slumping his way to his room, leaving you cooking your meal for one.

you wouldn’t normally be this mad about him eating without you, you didn’t even live together, it was just that today you’d planned to have dinner together but you were an hour late due to traffic. surely he could have waited an extra 60 minutes, right?

wonjin threw himself on the bed, sulking for 5 seconds then convincing himself he was in the right all along and acting like nothing was wrong. he pulled out his phone and started playing a game, one that he knew he would spend hours on if he started playing it. half way through the first round, something clicked in his brain. why was he sitting here neglecting you when he owes an apology? he composed himself and made his way back out to the kitchen, ready to start his begging for forgiveness.

“okay so sometimes... sometimes you can be unreasonable” great start, you thought, rolling your eyes “but on this occasion, i think your reaction is justified. take as long as you want, i’ll be standing right here” he said, mimicking a “rooting in place” action by twisting his feet on the laminate flooring.

minhee:

reason for the silent treatment: he accidentally recycled a piece of your homework

“how was i supposed to know you needed this stupid map?” he questioned. but you didn’t respond. instead you just went to his room and sulked, in silence. he followed and stood in the doorway, firing questions at you for the next 5 minutes before huffing and leaving you to sulk alone. he knew he was the mature one here, but he still felt guilty for what he did so 10 minutes later he came back to you and tried again, this time calmer and more willing to listen.

“i can help you do it again” he insisted “but i’m not that great at drawing maps” he admitted. you turned away from him. he probably thought you were just continuing the silent treatment but really, you were trying your hardest not to laugh.

“you know i just printed that out right? i didn’t draw that” you whispered, giving in.

“are you saying i just endured the silent treatment for a map that took seconds to print out? ARE YOU KIDDING ME?” he shouted jokingly, sitting at his computer and bringing up an identical map. “here, print.” he grabbed it off the printer and realised yet another issue “you also used MY printer ink. i should have give myself the silent treatment for wasting ink like that.”

hyeongjun:

reason for the silent treatment: he killed you first in among us

hyeongjun thought it was a joke at first, it was just a game after all it's not that serious.

“you can still do your ghost tasks” he mimicked.

you did NOT find this funny. he made you look like a fool in front of your friends, surely your boyfriend isn’t supposed to kill you first, you thought. you pressed the home button on your phone, automatically leaving the game, and turned your phone back to portrait. you scrolled through your home screens for a while, looking like you were doing something important in hopes it would make hyeongjun jealous but he was too engrossed in the game. it wasn’t until you threw your phone on the bed and got up that he realised you’d left.

“you left the game? why? oh you’re gonna get snacks? can you get me those chocolate jazzle things you bought for us please?” he asked, still engrossed in the game.

you rolled your eyes and let out a very loud “ugh” which he didn’t even bat an eyelid at. you returned with the chocolates in your hand which got his attention, but instead of handing them to him, you ate them and looked like you were enjoying them.

“i’m SO sorry i killed you y/n” he rolled his eyes as you did earlier, but you pretended to not hear him, just as he did.

this went on until he, as the imposter, lost the game, and you couldn’t help but laugh in his face.

taeyoung:

reason for the silent treatment: he laughed at you for getting scared during a horror movie

you hit his chest and got up in a huff. how dare he laugh at you when you were genuinely scared?! the sound of his laugh was always nice, always except now, it just annoyed you. you went to the fridge to grab some of his snacks, the first time you did this without politely asking for permission. he never minded that you wanted food, he wished you’d just get them yourself, you didn’t have to ask, what was his was yours, so you took advantage of that but it really didn’t feel right.

“hey the movie hasn’t finished yet!” he shouted, turning over and seeing you scan his fridge. “there’s nothing in there, i’m the only snack in this place” he said, flipping back over. “oh and you, of course”. you narrowed your eyes and bobbed your head sarcastically behind him, as if you were mimicking what he said. you sat back down again empty handed, this time sitting on the single chair that was far from him.

“oh what’s wrong? you think you’re strong enough to sit alone? you don’t need me anymore?” he laughed once again. you just concentrated on the screen, your heart beating faster than ever before, hoping no scares were coming up.

“okay okay i’ll stop. now please come over here and cuddle me because i think he’s gonna do something again and i don’t want you to be scared on your own.”

you contemplated his preposition for a little, the tv making your decision for you when the music started getting louder and you felt the need for someone’s arms around you.

seongmin:

reason for the silent treatment: he spent the whole of your day off napping

“what’s for dinner?” he asked sleepily. his eyes opened to your figure, stood over him, your arms were folded and lips were sealed shut in a sort of angry pout. “what?” he questioned.

you yanked you duvet from him and threw it on the floor now giving you the perfect opportunity to grab your teddy that he’d slept with and leave. but that boy was gripping on to your teddy for dear life it seemed, he wasn’t letting go. “what are you doing? i can’t explain if you won’t tell me what’s wrong. and i’m not giving up lolly llama until you tell me”.

“just give me the llama seongmin” you broke your silence.

“is it because i slept all day?” when the words left his mouth, you stopped fighting for the teddy, you stopped leaning over him, you stopped trying to hide what had been getting to you all day. “because if it is i’m sorry, i woke up today with a really bad headache and i didn’t want to worry you.” he pointed to the tablets and headache strips on the side.

“is it-” you paused to look at him “is it better now?” you asked, knowing the best treatment for a headache was sleep.

“a lot better” he smiled in your direction “i am prepared to pull an all nighter with my favourite person now”

gifs aren’t mine

#cravity #cravity imagines #cravity reactions #serim #allen #jungmo #woobin #wonjin #minhee #hyeongjun #taeyoung #seongmin

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rallamajoop · 3 years

Text

...and the unironic joys of better living through chemistry

How do I love Venom: The Hunger, let me count the ways…

It’s by far the shippiest Venom/Eddie story to come out of the character’s heyday. It’s the only story of the era to treat Venom’s violent wild-animal instincts not as an immutable fact, but as something that can be managed. It pulls off an aesthetic like nothing else that was being done at the time.

And then there’s the way it says, Does the world around you seem sinister and foreboding? Do you lie awake at night contemplating metaphorical oceans of despair? Well shit, son – have you considered you may be suffering from a mundane neurochemical imbalance, and a round of the right meds could clear that right up for you?

It does all this without breaking the atmosphere, without a whiff that our story has been interrupted for a Very Special Message about mental health.

In the near-decade since I was first prescribed anti-depressants, I don’t think I’ve read another story that lands the message “Sometimes, it’s not you, it’s just your brain chemistry,” so well.

Fair warning: if you have not read The Hunger, I am about to spoil every major plot point. If you have, well, maybe I can still give you a new appreciation for a few details you might have missed.

It’s a strange book, whatever else you take from it. It’s almost the only thing either author or artist contributed to the Venom canon, and it’s so different stylistically and tonally from the 90′s Venom norm that it feels like a tale from some noir-elseworlds setting instead of 616 canon. When you take risks that big with a property, you leave yourself precious little landing space between 'unmitigated triumph’ and ‘abject failure’: if this book hadn’t absolutely nailed it, I’d be dismissing it as edgy, OOC dreck. Fortunately, if The Hunger is nothing else, it is a story that $&#@ing commits – to basically everything it does.

Now, I'm not going to tell you Venom: The Hunger is a story about overcoming depression, because I don't know whether author Len Kaminski even thought about it that way while working on it. There's always space for other readings, and this one take is not gospel. That said: holy shit is this thing unsubtle with its metaphors. And with that in mind, let’s start by talking a little about Kaminski’s take on Eddie himself.

As I may have mentioned before, I like to divide 90′s Eddie into two broad personas: the Meathead, and the Hobo.

Kaminski’s Eddie nominally belongs in the angsty, long-haired Hobo incarnation, but that’s a bit of a simplification: this version certainly has plenty of angst and plenty of hair to his name – but nowhere, not even at his lowest ebb, does he doubt that he and his Other are meant for each other, which is usually Hobo!Eddie’s primary existential quandary.

He’s also taken up narrating his own life like a hardboiled PI.

So that’s... novel.

The only other time Eddie’s sounded like this is, er, in that one other Venom one-shot Kaminski penned (Seed of Darkness, a prequel that sadly isn’t in The Hunger’s league), so I think we can safely file it under authorial ticks.

Then again, Hobo!Eddie’s always been one melodramatic SOB, so maybe this is just how he’d sound after learning to channel his angst into his poetry. You can’t argue it fits the aesthetic, anyway.

We’d also be remiss not to mention Ed Halsted’s art, which I can only describe as gothic-meets-noir-meets-H.R.-Giger. Never before or since has the alien symbiote looked this alien: twisted with Xenompoph-like ridges and veins.

But Halsted doesn’t treat Venom to all that extra detail in every panel. Instead, the distortion tends to appear when the symbiote is separated from Eddie or out of control – and I doubt you need me to walk you through the symbolic importance of that creative decision. More importantly, Halsted’s art provides exactly the class of visuals that Kaminski’s story needs.

Did I mention this is a horror story? You might be surprised how few Venom stories really fit that genre, but if all those adjectives about Halsted’s style above didn’t clue you in, this is one of them.

Anyway, with that much context covered, let’s get into the main narrative of this thing.

As our first issue opens, Eddie’s world has become a dark and foreboding place. He’s not sleeping, though he mostly brushes this off. (Fun fact: trouble sleeping is one of those under-appreciated symptoms of depression. Additional fun fact: the first doctor ever to suggest I might be suffering from depression was actually a sleep specialist. You can guess how that appointment was going.)

Just to set our scene, here’s all of page 1.

Eddie’s narration has plenty of (ha) venom for his surroundings, but the visuals are here to back him up: panels from Eddie’s POV are edged in twisted, fleshy borders and drained of colour, the people rendered as creepy, goblin-like creatures. A couple of later scenes go even further to contrast Eddie-vision with what everyone else is seeing:

As depictions of depression go this is a little on the nose, but then, you don’t read a comic about a brain-eating alien parasite looking for subtlety, do you?

Eddie doesn’t see himself as depressed, of course. As far as he’s concerned, he’s seeing the world’s true face: it’s everyone else who’s deluding themselves. He’s still got his symbiote, so he’s happy. He’s yet to hit that all-important breaking point where something he can’t brush off goes irrevocably wrong.

But he’s also starting to experience these weird... cravings.

He just can’t put a name to exactly what he’s craving until a routine bar fight with a couple of thugs takes a turn for the horrific.

(I include this panel partly to point out even in The Hunger, the goriest of all 90′s Venom titles, you’re still not going to see brains getting eaten in any graphic detail. We don’t need to to get the horror of the moment across. The 90′s were a more innocent time.)

Eddie himself is horrified when he comes back to himself and realises what he’s done.

Or rather, what his symbiote’s just made him do.

Kaminski doesn’t keep us in suspense about why, though. Eddie may have just done something horrific, but there’s a reason, and it’s as mundane as a vitamin deficiency. He’s bonded to an alien creature, after all, and his symbiote is craving a nutrient which just happens to be found in human brains. And if Eddie can’t or won’t help it meet that need, it’ll do so alone.

Now, giving us that explanation so quickly is an interesting creative decision: this is a horror story, and horror lives in what we don’t know. Wouldn’t it be all the more horrifying had the symbiote been unable to explain what’s going on, leaving Eddie without the first real clue as to where this monstrous new hunger had come from?

The Hunger doesn’t take that route though, and I love it. Eddie isn’t a monster, this isn’t his fault: he has a fucking condition, and wallowing in his own moral failings is going to get him nowhere. You might as well try to cure scurvy or rickets with positive thinking. Just like depression can make you feel like an utter failure at the most basic parts of being human, and all the affirmations in the world won’t fix it when it’s fundamentally your brain chemistry that’s the problem. Or like addicts aren’t weak-willed for struggling not to relapse, they’re dealing with genuine chemical dependency – or even like how someone who’s trans isn’t at fault for being unable to reconcile themselves to the bodies and the hormones they were born with by pure force of trying. Free will is more than an illusion, but we’re all messy, biological organisms underneath, and your own brain and biochemistry can and will fuck you over in a hundred wildly different ways for as many wildly different reasons and it’s not your fault.

We aren’t monsters. But if we do, sometimes, find ourselves identifying with the monster, there might be a reason for that.

(Ahem)

I’m just saying, that’s fucking powerful, and we need more stories that say it.

Anyway, in case you missed it during that tangent, issue #1 closes with the symbiote having torn Eddie’s heart in two itself free to go hunting brains without him.

I’m trying not to get too sidetracked at this point talking about Kaminski’s take on the symbiote itself. Suffice to say there are broadly two schools of thought on how it ought to function while separated from its host: the traditional ambulatory-slime-puddle version, and the more recently popular alternative where anything-you-can-do-with-a-host-you-can-also-do-without-one. I’m not much of a fan of the latter, personally: if your symbiote doesn’t actually need a host, I feel you’ve sort of missed the point. (The movie takes the route of saying symbiotes can’t even process Earth’s atmosphere without a host, which is a great new idea that appears nowhere in the comics, and I love it. Hosts or GTFO, baby!)

Kaminski has his own take, and I can only wish it had caught on. Without Eddie, the symbiote becomes an ever-shifting insectoid-tentacle-snake-monstrosity, driven by an animalistic hunger. It’s many things, but it’s never humanoid.

If you absolutely must have your symbiote operating minus a host, I feel this is the way to do it: semi-feral, shapeless and completely alien (uncontrollable violence and cravings for brains to be added to taste).

Issue #2 comes to us primarily through the perspective of the mild-mannered Dr. Thaddeus Paine of the Innsmouth Hills Sanitarium (yes, really).

Yeah, he’s not fooling anyone. Meet our official villain! He joins our story after Eddie is picked up by the police and handed off to the nearest available institution, on account of how completely sane and rational he’s been acting.

Naturally, Dr. Paine soon has copious notes on Eddie’s ‘crazy’ story about his psychic link to a brain-eating alien monster. Fortunately for Eddie, Paine also runs some tests and makes an interesting discovery.

Congratulations, Venom: the ‘vitamin’ you were missing officially has a name!

Finding the right meds isn’t always this easy. I got lucky – the first ones my psych put me on worked pretty well – but I have plenty of friends who weren't so lucky. In fact, the treatment for Eddie's problems is so straightforward it arguably has more in common with, say, endocrine disorders like thyroid conditions or Addison’s disease, which differ from clinical depression but present many similar symptoms (but can sadly be just as much of a bitch to get correctly diagnosed – please do read author Maggie Stiefvater’s account of the latter when you get the chance, because forget Venom, that is a horror story).

‘True’ depression remains much less well understood by medicine, either in its causes or how to effectively treat it. But simply having a name for what was wrong with me made so much difference, and that’s an experience I imagine anyone who’s dealt with any long undiagnosed medical condition could relate to. It put my life in context in a way nothing else had in years.

(I can’t speak to the accuracy of the way phenethylamine is portrayed in this comic – a quick google suggests there may be some real debate that phenethylamine deficiencies have been overlooked as a contributor to clinical depression, but having no medical background, that one’s well beyond me. Either way, scientific accuracy really doesn’t matter in this context – it’s how it works in-universe for story purposes that we should pay attention to.)

Since this issue is mostly from Paine’s POV, we don’t get Eddie’s reaction to having a healthy amount of phenethylamine sloshing around in his brain again, just the assurance that treatment appears to be ‘completely successful’.

He’s still a paranoid, hostile bastard though. Meds can turn your life around, but they won’t make you not you.

But even if Eddie’s feeling better, he’s still psychically linked to someone who isn’t. Symbiote-vision still comes through drained of colour and edged in viscera.

That’s the thing about meds: they won’t solve all your problems overnight. If you’ve been depressed for a while, there are good odds you have problems stacking up. But working meds can be a godsend when it comes to getting you into a space where you can deal with your problems again, whether said problems are doing-your-laundry or all the way into not-giving-up-completely-and-just-accepting-you’ll-die-alone-on-the-street.

For Eddie, ‘dealing with his problems’ begins with stealing a keycard and busting out of the asylum.

Of course, that’s the easy part. How do you solve a problem like a feral symbiote? Like any good 90′s comic book protagonist, Eddie tackles it by putting on his big-boy camouflage pants and kitting himself out with weapons and pouches while quoting “If you live something, set it free. If it doesn’t come back, hunt it down.”

We can add this to the list of things I love about this comic. Even if The Hunger is a weirdly-stylistic tract about depression at heart, it’s also still a goddamn 90′s Venom comic, and not ashamed to be.

We’re into issue #3 now, and back to hearing the story from Eddie’s POV.

Eddie is very much aware that his symbiote has murdered innocent people while they’ve been separated. Even if this is the result of extreme circumstances, there’s a good case to be made that the symbiote is too dangerous to be allowed to live. Plenty of heroes would treat it like a rabid dog at this point.

But Eddie isn’t a hero, he’s a mess of a character and an anti-hero at best, so we don’t have to hold him to the same standard. He’s well aware his symbiote may be too far gone to save, that he may have to put it down – but that’s only his backup plan. He wants to help it. He wants it back. He’s down in that sewer with screamers and a flamethrower because he knows all his symbiote’s weaknesses, but he’s also carrying a large jar of black-market synthesised phenethylamine, because if he can just get close enough...

Depression can’t make you a literal monster, but it can make you an asshole. Miserable to be around, lacking even the energy to care who else you’re hurting. The depression doesn’t excuse that, but it makes everything harder, and it’s that much easier to sink back into your spiral when everyone around you has given up. It can make you think everyone around has given up even if that isn’t true.

So to have Eddie here say, in effect, I don’t care how many people you’ve eaten, I know it wasn’t your fault. I still love you. You’re still worth fighting for – god, does that get me right in the id.

There’s still a whole issue left at this point – we’ve still got to deal with our real villain, Dr. Paine, who we’ve just learned is into eating brains himself and torturing his patients recreationally, and who wants to capture the symbiote for his own purposes. There’s the scene where Eddie and his symbiote finally bond again, and Venom beats up all Paine’s goons while singing David Bowie because like I said, this is still a 90′s superhero comic and this is what Venom does.

But for our purposes, I'm going to skip to the penultimate page of the story, because the way it mirrors our opening page is really lovely.

Remember that shot of Eddie dealing with a beggar back at the beginning of the story, thinking about how these people would 'get their despair all over you'? Here he is again, cheerfully forking over the last dollar in his pocket to the next man to ask him for change. For all the gothic atmosphere and gore, it’s moments like this that make The Hunger easily one of the most positive, uplifting Venom stories ever written. Funny, that. (I could probably write a whole other essay on sympathy for the homeless as a recurring motif in Venom stories, but that... well, whole other essay and all that.)

What’s Eddie learned from this experience? Don’t take your symbiote for granted. Is ‘symbiote’ a metaphor for mental health here, is paying attention to its needs an allegory for paying attention to your own? I still don’t know how literally Kaminski meant us to take this, but it’s a lovely note to end on no matter how you parse it.

At the end of the day, The Hunger isn’t flawless. The conflict with Paine ends on a thematic but slightly unsatisfying note. Eddie makes much of his symbiote's loneliness and desire for union, but when the two of them are finally reunited, the only reaction comes from Eddie's side. In fact, the symbiote seems to have no response to being able to return to Eddie at all, and that’s an omission that bugs me.

But Kaminski is more interested than any other writer of the era in the truly alien nature of the symbiote, in its relationship with Eddie from Eddie’s side, and though plenty of others talk about the symbiote's love/hate relationship with Spider-man, no-one else had the guts to portray their relationship this much like a romance.

And Venom: The Hunger is no less interesting in the context of Len Kaminski’s other work. You don't have to look far into his Marvel and DC credits to pick up that the guy has a real thing for monsters. (“All of my favourite characters are outlaws, misfits, anti-heroes,” he says, in one of the very few interviews I could find with him, “I wouldn't know what to do with Superman.”) He's written for vampires, werewolves, victims of mad science, and all of three at once, littering his work with biochemistry-themed technobabble, melodramatic monologues, gratuitous pop-culture references, and protagonists who must learn to embrace their inner demons. So The Hunger represents more than a few of his favourite running themes.

For our context, his more notable other work includes Children of the Beast, in which a werewolf must make peace between his human and animalistic sides, and The Creeper, in which a journalist must make peace with the crazy super-powered alter-ego sharing his body. In fact, The Creeper and The Hunger share so much DNA (including an evil doctor posing as a respected psychiatrist who uses hypnosis on our hero while he's trapped in a mental institution) that it’s quite the achievement that they still feel like such very distinct entities beyond that point.

The human alter-egos of both werewolf and Creeper even use prescription meds while wrestling with their respective dark sides. The difference, in both cases, is that these are stories where meds play their traditional fictional role – and that's a role that could be as easily filled by illegal drugs or alcohol without making any substantive difference. You see, if a protagonist is using them, it's a sign of unwillingness to tackle their 'real' problems. Even among work by the same author in the same genre, The Hunger represents an outlier. And that's just a little disappointing – at least to me.

In real life, of course, prescription meds are no magical cure-all elixir. Depression meds that work for one person may not work for another, or may not keep working in the longer term. Everyone has heard stories about quack doctors who prescribe them to the wrong patients for the wrong reasons, about lives ruined by addictions to prescription painkillers, or the supposedly-damning statistics about how poorly SSRI's perform in rigorous clinical trials. The proper way to treat depression is obviously with lifestyle and therapy. People will still airily dismiss medications that we all know previous generations got along just fine without, or suggest that figures like Van Gogh would never have created great art if they hadn't been mad enough to slice off an ear. I mean, the fact you think you need those bogus mediations is probably the best possible sign of just how broken you are, right? Who do you think you’re kidding?

Our popular fiction loves stories about manly men who bury their trauma under a gruff, anti-social exterior and come back swinging at the world that broke them, bravely refusing even painkillers that might dull their manly reflexes. Other genres make space for broken people confronting their demons in grand moments of catharsis, finally breaking down into tears when someone gets through to make them face their problems. "I could barely make it out of bed in the mornings until I found a doctor who started me on this new prescription" is not only wildly counter to the accepted social narrative, it's a hard thing to know how to dramatise.

Even other Venom comics have been guilty of this.

Believe me, I recognise all of this, and just how much progress we've made in the last few decades. But I haven't the slightest doubt that for so many vulnerable people, the stigma against prescription medications does infinitely more harm than those same meds could ever do. And just having the right to externalise my problems into it's not you, it's your brain chemistry, may have helped me more than the meds themselves.

(And again, no, being prescribed SSRI's didn't fix me overnight, but I honestly don't know if all the talk therapy and tearful conversations with family members in the world could've got me as far as I've come without them.)

I love Venom: The Hunger. It's no-one's idea of high art, but it doesn’t need to be. There is a whole other post’s worth of things I love about it that I’ve already cut out this one as pointless tangents, and that may actually be it’s biggest drawback as a go-to example: I fully recognise that I would not be making this post if The Hunger hadn't also also grabbed me as a great bit of Venom canon, being the massive fan and shipper that I am. Other people who are just as desperate as me for more stories with the same core theme, but not into weird 90's comics about needy goo aliens, probably won't get nearly as much out of it as I have.

But if it sounds anything like your jam, maybe you'll enjoy it as much as I did.

If nothing else, it proves that you can make a viscerally satisfying story out of a message that shockingly unconventional. And you may even have people still discovering it and falling in love with it 25 years after the fact.

#Venom: The Hunger #Venom #depression #SSRIs #Symbrock #Venom meta #meta #Venom comics #Len Kaminski

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makethiscanon · 4 years

Text

Hurt [Mashirao Ojiro x Reader]

Kicking off Ojiro month -- because yes, I celebrate his birthday for a full month ehehe -- here’s an angsty piece I wrote last night. Expect more Ojiro stuff (mostly fluff) the closer we get to the grand day~

Summary: Ojiro seeks you out when you start skipping class. He knows there’s something wrong but wants to find out what.

Word Count: 1,600

Warning: Angst

Tags: Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Pining.

------

No one saw you for days after you broke up with your boyfriend. You did not come down to eat. You didn’t respond in the group chats. You started missing classes. That’s when your friends realised something had happened. They didn’t know what, but it wasn’t like you to skip school.

Ojiro in particular was worried about you. He was a close friend and it had been bad enough that you wouldn’t pick up your phone, but when you left message after message on ‘read’ then didn’t show up to class, he decided he needed to see you. It was one thing to give you space when he thought you wanted it, but he couldn’t ignore the self-destructive warning signs.

He bought a bar of chocolate, a bottle of water and a book he thought you might like then knocked on your dorm-room door with his tail, clasping the items in his arms.

There was no answer.

It was only quarter to seven; surely you couldn’t be asleep yet. Not even Bakugou went to bed that early. He knocked again. No answer. He knocked again, louder. Finally he heard your voice. It was quiet and sounded watery, with an ounce of anger from being bothered when you didn’t want to be.

“Leave me alone.”

“It’s Mashirao.” He said, jostling the items around so he didn’t drop the bottle of water. He wondered if knowing it was him would help at all. Maybe not. You had ignored his messages thus far.

But you opened the door. His heart did a happy twist, but then he saw your face.

“What’s happened?”

Book, bottle and chocolate bar hit the ground as he pushed the door open with his tail, afraid you would close it on him, then he hugged you before you could back away. There were tear streaks down your face. Your hair was unwashed, tied up in a messy bun, and it looked like you had been in the same pair of pyjamas for days.

“What’s wrong?” He urged again, hugging you tighter as he felt you start to shake.

“H-he… he lied to me. I-I knew he did it. I even asked him if he’d done it and he said—said no. Why—why do they always lie to me, Mashirao?”

He had to take your weight when you broke down, wrapping his tail around your middle to help keep you upright as you cried, pressing your face into the crook of his neck. It was hard to make heads-or-tails of what you were saying, but the way you said ‘they always lie to me’ gave him some context.

“Your boyfriend hurt you?”

You nodded your head, keeping it pressed into his skin. An ache settled on Ojiro’s heart. He had known you for a long time – long enough to watch you go from one bad relationship to the next.

He had been so sure this one was different; he had seemed so nice. But they always did. You had a habit of finding the ones who acted like golden boys, but they always turned out to be liars, or manipulators, or cheats.

Ojiro squeezed his arms around you, turning his face to plant a firm kiss against your hair.

“What did he do?”

He wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer, but he wanted to be there if you needed someone to talk to. He hated knowing this was why you had been holed up in your room for days. You must have sat brooding, hating yourself, feeling like you weren’t good enough to be loved or trusted or respected because that was the cycle you had gotten yourself into. How he wished he could show you how much more you were worth.

“It-it doesn’t matter.” You said with a muffled voice, unwilling to remove your face from his neck to look at him. He did think you were being strangely clingy and touchy. You were fiercely loyal in relationships, so your willingness to bury your face against his skin struck him as odd. “I broke up with him.”

Ah.

“You broke up?” He asked in surprise. At that point he decided it was best to have this conversation behind closed doors so he walked the two of you backwards then shut the door with his tail.

He felt his heart break for you. He had never seen you happier than with this last guy, but that only made him realise how much he must have hurt you. In the past, you had dragged yourself through hell and back before breaking up with a guy; sometimes enduring the suffering until they broke up with you. For you to end it this time around, your heart had to be in pieces.

Your boyfriend had promised to build you up and protect you.

Why were you cursed to fall for the bad guys?

“I’m sorry.” Ojiro said earnestly. “I’m so, so sorry. I’m sorry this keeps happening. I’m sorry they keep doing this to you. I wish I could stop you hurting.”

He cursed himself as your shaking grew more violent, your tears turning his shoulder damp as a strangled sob ripped from your throat. He did not let you go. He never wanted to let you go again. He was too afraid to watch you walk into danger and get your heart broken over and over.

You clung to him, balling your hands in the back of his t-shirt as your legs trembled and threatened to buckle. Even if you did, he was holding you tightly enough to stop you falling.

“Please don’t do this on your own.” He begged, wishing you had talked to him sooner. When was the last time you ate?

You finally managed to pull away. You stepped back, sniffing as you stared at him with red, puffy eyes. You looked like you wanted to say something, opening and closing your mouth as you struggled to find the words.

“It’s alright.” He offered. “You can say what you want. I won’t judge.”

You bit your bottom lip. But he never expected you to say what you did.

“Will you kiss me?”

Oh. Ojiro had spent many nights wondering if you would ever ask something so wonderful of him. But not like this. He felt a new pain rip through his heart. He looked at you, standing there looking so fragile and hurt, and desperate to be loved, and god he wanted so badly to be the one who erased your pain… but he couldn’t. Because you were hurt. Because you were desperate. You were reaching for a comforter and if he gave in and gave you what you wanted – what he wanted – the damage to what the two of you had would be irreversible.

“I… can’t.” He said, feeling a knife through his chest when he saw the way your eyes widened before the tears welled up from them and your face contorted with grief.

“Am I that unlovable?” You demanded, dropping to the ground as your sadness overtook you. “You’re always here for me. You always try to help me and care about me. Then why? Why won’t you kiss me?”

Your heartbroken ramblings were almost enough to make him give into you. He could see you collapsing in on yourself, weighed down by a hatred for yourself that had come on from years of broken and unhealthy relationships.

He clenched his fists, digging his fingernails into his palms to stop himself from rushing to you and scooping you up in his arms like he wanted.

“It’s because I care that I can’t kiss you. I know you’re hurting. I know you feel unlovable but you’re not. You’re not. But if I kiss you now then I’d only be taking advantage of you. I don’t want to mess up what we have.”

“But I want you to kiss me.”

“If you still want me to kiss you once you’ve had time to heal from this, to get better, then I will. I’ll move heaven and earth to kiss you but for now I need you to be strong. Because you are so loved. And you are worth so much more than all these guys that hurt you. And you need to see that. You need to find the strength to stand on your own two feet, to get your confidence back. I don’t want to be that crutch. I want you to find your own strength again. I know how strong you are.”

You broke down in tears. You sobbed, pressing the backs of your hands to your eyes as you tried to stem the flow.

“Have I—have I messed—messed everything up with us?”

Ojiro’s shoulders sagged as he breathed a laugh.

“You could never mess us up. I’m always going to be here for you.”

You cried louder, but it sounded much more like relief than from sadness.

“I’m sorry, Mashi.”

“It’s okay.” He said, smiling with a gentle ache in his heart. “I understand.”

Leaving you for just a moment, Ojiro stepped outside your room to pick up the gifts, then came back and sat on the floor beside you, offering you the chocolate bar as a peace offering. You sniffed, giving him a watery smile.

“Th-thank you.”

His tail thumped happily against the floor but he managed to take control and still it.

“As long as you share.”

You nodded like a teary-eyed child, breaking the bar up into segments, then gave him a piece.

He took it and smiled at you, feeling the ache gripping his heart. You were destined to have your heart broken over and over; it was a vicious cycle that he could not break while he stayed at the side lines. He hoped one day you would let him in for real, and from that day on you would never know sadness again.

#my hero academia #boku no hero academia #Ojiro #Mashirao #Ojiro Imagines #Ojiro Headcanons #Ojiro x Reader #Mashirao x Reader #My Writing #Ojiro Mashirao #Mashirao Ojiro #Ojiro Mashirao x Reader #mha imagines #Tailman #mha fanfiction #bnha ojiro x reader #MTCfics #OjiroFics

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fanishjuli · 3 years

Note

5+1 john carrying sherlock ??? what is that wip???? omg ?? it sounds so wholesome ??? 😳😳🥺🥺

yeah!! I like that one. it was supposed to be 5 times John carries Sherlock (in mostly angsty contexts) +1 the one time Sherlock carries John (in a non angsty context because I can't end shit with angst) but then it evolved into +1 time John carries Sherlock because he wanted to not because he needed to but maybe it'll end up being +1 time he didn't need to. I'm not too sure on the final scene yet. I have some of the first five written down tho! here, have a look at the first one (I gotta edit it still so there's probably errors idk)

And so it happened; he arrived to the lab to find Sherlock pacing around in what John had named ‘Deduction Mode’ and didn't even notice John arriving. The problem was, he was talking in French. John assumed he was deducing things about the body, but honestly his french was poor at best, all he managed to catch was shoe, house and something that, to John, sounded a lot like carpet, but he didn't trust his misremembered french that much.

Molly said he'd been like that, talking french, for almost two hours now, so John didn't have much hope.

He tried everything he could think of; he talked to him, he even tried a few words in French, he used his ‘Captain Voice’, et cetera. He was actually considering telling Molly to lock the lab and go home leaving Sherlock inside, but that was a horrible idea in itself.

So he did the only other thing he could think of; he placed himself in front of Sherlock, made sure he was standing firmly, turned a bit to his right so most of the weight would go in his good shoulder, grabbed Sherlock a bit over his hips, hugged him firmly and pulled him up. Sherlock let out a surprised yell, that honestly sounded more like a squeak, and went rigid on his arms. When he felt all of Sherlock's weight on himself and his feet were definitely in the air he grunted at Molly to open the door and walked outside, carrying Sherlock.

He got out of the lab and halfway through the corridor when he decided that letting him down was for the better, since his grip was not the best one and they would both end up on the floor if he kept going. Once he was rid of Sherlock's weight on himself, Sherlock's feet back on land again, he just then realised that, for the whole time he was carrying him, Sherlock didn't say a word, barely moved at all.

“Ready to walk yourself? I honestly don't think I could carry you all the way back home,” John joked, turning to look at him.

#ask game #bbc sherlock #sherlock holmes #john watson #my writing #mine #Johnlock

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lemonietrinket · 4 years

Text

Broken Crown ||| Prince!San x Reader

Summary: San receives a present from the leader of his kingdom’s governing body that turns his life upside down, and not for the better. His only comfort in life has been you, and now that comfort is being taken away from him. Genre: angst, bits of fluff with a happy ending Warning(s): big sad, description of an item of clothing thrown out of frustration (not at or in front of anyone, there is no one nearby at the time); foul language (2x f**k) Word Count: 3037 Song(s): Ambience AN: well im here hurting myself with this... hope its not too angsty anon (i cant find your ask tho idk where its gone) happy (slightly late) birthday to my boi san! :))

fem!reader royalty au

~~~

Rocks sank to the bottom of his stomach as San’s entire body flushed ice cold, and then fire hot. Eyes unblinking he peered round at the sea of smiles, their sincerity leaving him reeling. It was as if his head had been submerged in a pool of twilight sea water, the sun’s warmth leaving it lukewarm and dark, forcing his eyes to sting and glaze without even his full knowledge.

It wasn’t until he spotted the widened eyes of his cousin, far down at the other end of the table, that he realised something was wrong.

“Oh I can’t wait to see the two of them down the aisle!”

“She’s a real catch, Sannie! You’re so lucky!”

“Aww, look, he’s so overcome with emotion he’s—!”

“Oh my baby is growing up so fast!”

The world span and words merged into one inconceivable mass as San turned. A thick silence permeated his mind, flooding it with nothing but heaviness; the sound of his fleeing footsteps, the echo of confusion behind him, even his own heartbeat—all swallowed up. The only thing that pierced it was a high tone clatter, accented by a delicate crack and the shattering of glass.

Tripping up the stairs, his ankle twinging as he went, he broke through the doors to his room, where he came to an abrupt stop. The doors slammed behind him out of the sheer power he’d shoved them open, and as the adrenaline began to phase his brain back into control, he stood heaving. While fury flourished through his chest, gentle caresses graced his cheeks, painting them flushed when the two met at his throat. The unstoppable heat met numbing cold, and it was as if his throat became carved of hot stone. He was teetering on the edge of screaming, but having silenced himself, all he felt was the urgent threat of bursting.

Seeing no way out through his lips, his hands began wrenching off his numerous layers of clothing. The heat was too much to handle, yes, but feeling the silk burn through his fingers, and then watching the embroidered jewels scarper across the room as he flung them was a release in itself. Enough of one to allow the ice to cascade through him.

A shallow, creaking breath poured from him as he frantically followed where his coat had gone. Chewing on his lips, his hands felt around the fabric, still intact minus a few embellishments that had been torn off in his outburst.

No no... no no no...!

His gaze darted across the varnished crystalline floor, desperate to catch a glint, a twine of thread. With the quartz patterning blurring and yet somehow shining as if possessed, he had no clue if the words were coming from him out loud or were just in his head. There was no way for him to be sure, as days prior everything that had coalesced in a matter of seconds had been nothing more than a nightmare.

Tears trapped themselves between his eyelashes, leaving the world around him in the state of a dream, until he finally gave in. Wiping his eyes with the side of his fist, clenched and weakening, he sucked in air carefully. It felt too humid in his lungs and did little to quell the urge to succumb completely, but it was enough to hold it down for just a few more moments. And peaking up between his fallen fringe, that was all he needed.

He threw himself at the doors to the balcony, hands tugging at the handles until they finally broke open, and the outside greeted him.

It was an abrupt change, freezing wind slapping him in the face and grasping at every inch of bare and clothed skin it could get its hands on, but he could breathe. The shock stunted the tears long enough for him to clear his eyes properly, his murky salmon dress shirt—too loose to actually be comfortable and yet still restrictive at the shoulders firmly placing it as his least favourite piece of clothing he was routinely told to wear—finally serving a purpose he agreed with.

The heels of his palms collided with the stone balcony and sent a small hum of pain through his throat, though he paid no mind to it. His attentions were much more focused elsewhere—that being scouring the gardens below, the canopies of the trees beyond, and finally the lights of the city in the further distance. To his annoyance the damp air, enrolled to be the welcome mat for an oncoming storm, decided to shirk its duties and mess with his hair enough so he couldn’t see. Though what shook him up even more and truly beckoned the suffocating feeling to return was the absence of your silhouette.

It took all the willpower in him left to resist calling your name into the dark. As time went on however, the more he began to worry that he wouldn’t even be able to anymore, if he could. Becoming frantic, he slapped his hand against the stone and cursed. Once then twice, and then again and again until he slumped over the edge. The stone dug into his rib cage, leaving him even shorter of breath than he already was. He let his eyes fall closed, a whimper leaving his lips, leading him to press them straight and firm. San needed to stay together in one piece, and with the cold bringing an onslaught of reality checks in his head, the more he realised he needed to not behave any worse. But his tether was running short.

Luckily, the respite arrived in a matter of moments, and though they may have felt like hours, the ache of waiting soon washed away as warmth reached his side upon the balcony, and the scent of the wild world below was brought to him.

Despite your hands being carved from days of work you always held him so tenderly, as if never wanted to let him go—and for once, not in a precious gem kind of way, but more in the sense of a memory. A story from years before that never failed to bring a smile to your face. One that meant nowhere else felt like home but with him.

He didn’t really know how you got up onto his balcony, without alerting the guards or making the slightest of noises. Nor did he know truly where you were from. It wasn’t like you hadn’t told him—oh, he’d asked you about your life thousands of times and you’d complied in answering every single time with a content smile on your lips—it was just that he had no context to it. You told him of the streets and the lamp-lights, the cheers of the evening and cries of the night, the merchants and the bakeries and the patrols barely on watch, the docks and the promises it held of the future, a new world. But San had never been, so how could he ever fully understand and know of your past, when he knew very little outside his own upbringing? These were the things he lamented when the moon began to sink and you ushered him to finally rest, pointing out that he was moping again.

Your voice was as gentle then as it was now minus the mischievous tones, pressing hushes into his messy hair at your jaw while you cradled him to your chest.

“Shh, my love, it’s ok. Everything’s ok.”

Hands clutching at your leather jacket, ribbed with gashes that even you couldn’t place, he let himself relax. In your arms, his sobs spilled out so much quieter than they had done before, and his shaking slowly came to an end when they could have easily continued long into the night. Sat upon the stone floor with you, his problems seemed to drift away. He almost wished you weren’t as sensible sometimes, and that you’d let them pass. That way he could stay there in silence wit you for longer, just listening to the beat of your heart and how it aligned with his.

It couldn’t happen however, he had to face the consequences at some point, and when you slowly lifted his head to meet your gaze, he knew there was little he could do about it.

Your motions were met with a disgruntled pout as the boy you fell in love with—now old enough to rule a kingdom without an Aide—wiped his eyes and blinked at you, happy to wordlessly pretend that none of that had happened.

“Happy birthday, Your Highness,” you teasingly greeted, cupping his hallow cheeks so you could trace shapes into his temple. Your face instantly fell when his did, however, and you realised that you’d struck a nerve. “Sannie, what’s happened? I haven’t seen you this upset in months.”

His gaze dropped as his head did. Your hand didn’t chase him, instead you settled it upon his own, balled between you against the floor. “San?”

“She promised me, Y/N,” he finally began, swallowing thickly, “she promised me and she broke it in a day. It meant nothing to her.”

“Her?” you enquired. “Your mother?”

He shook his head languidly and you could feel his fingers tense between yours. “The Chair. The Chair—she promised my status would be nowhere in any agreement in the trade talks and the—she fucking lied! Next week—with all fucking expenses paid for by the government no less—I... she—a-and she did it on my birthday! Told it to me now, gave it to me as a gift, so now there is absolutely no way I can refuse her! She did this on purpose, Y/N, she knows what she’s doing, she wants me over there for something and I... I don’t want to play her... her games—!”

“Hey, hey, it’s ok,” you breathed, stroking his white knuckles, “take it easy. What did she do, San? What’s happening next week, where are you going?”

“I’m getting married.”

His abrupt words stunned you into a paralysis. No breath left your lungs, there was no flicker of your fingers. It was like you became a statue.

“She’s married me off, Y/N. To this princess from Lontaiko no less. I won’t be here after it, I’ll move away, and then I’ll be completely at her mercy.” San glanced up at you, meeting your glazed stare with a sigh ridden with guilt—as if he had any choice in the circumstances. The sight of you without your smile was enough to make his heart sink, and so witnessing the colour drain from your cheeks and your touch go limp forced him to blink back tears once again.

He pulled your rigid hand to his lips and planted a kiss to your fingers. It brought you back to reality, throat dry and eyes wet, but his touches left your heart aching, his wound now a part of you too. And it tore your heart gradually apart, one thread at a time.

“Why?” you finally managed, gripping onto his hands almost as desperately as he’d done before.

He spat a laugh of disbelief. “’Peace’, she said. ‘Peace’.”

You scoffed a weak laugh, hiding your face within the shadows cast from soft candlelight behind. San didn’t let you go, his lips soft at your skin, trying to stay strong and encourage you that it would all be fine but you could feel in the caution of his movements that he didn’t believe it either.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, “I’m sorry I didn’t put up more of a fight, I don’t want this, I don’t want to leave, I don’t want to be king—”

“I love you,” you finally whispered, words fragile and very nearly swept by the wind.

His lips fell still. It was far from the first time you had told him, as every time the moonlight shone upon the two of you, the words kissed the night. Now, however, was different. Seeing you so curled in on yourself reminded him of the first time you had confessed to him.

A few nights had passed without a single flicker of your silhouette, no curl of the blossoms and brine that melded with you. He’d let it slip first, all doe-eyed and lips pursed amongst multitudes of pillows, waiting for his first kiss that you would bestow upon him. You had rushed an apology, brushing your lips against his forehead in a promise before fleeing. Every time the moon then rose he waited while dread trickled through his veins, until you finally returned. Your voice seemingly stolen and hands wrung together, gemstone eyes avoiding his at every cost while you waited on the wrong side of the balcony. You’d given him such a fright when he finally spotted you through the bronze embroidered windows—the first time because he couldn’t tell it was you, the second because you could have slipped and fell at any moment, perched where you were.

As soon as he joined you outside, he’d rambled about how worried he had been, not even trying to temper his volume.

You’d interjected him suddenly, “Can I kiss you properly?”

He’d been silenced immediately. And then between a small scowl, a pout and the puffing of his cheeks, he’d huffed, “Yes.”

You hadn’t relaxed until he’d held you, lips meeting in the golden haze of the torches that danced with the silver of a crescent moon.

It pained him to see you in such a way now, for all the wrong reasons. Reasons that couldn’t be helped, he reminded himself, his thoughts possessing a snarl and leaving the pit of his stomach broiling, nothing can ever be done... right...?

Shifting his weight, he raised himself so he was even with you, before at last holding you close. Your hands sprung into action to clutch at his back as he did so, your head nestling into his shoulder while your breaths became shallow. Nose pressed into your hair, he kissed your head as you begged him, “Please don’t leave me, San. Please, please don’t leave me.”

His eyes narrowed as he stared at his bedroom. The grandiose sweeping canopies of his bed curtains, light peach and without a speck of dirt. The hard floor that was always cold to his bare feet without fail, and too hard to welcome him home after a long day of duties. The emptiness of the room’s vast expanse, adorned with nothing but elegant plants twisted around veiled sticks to force them to grow how the keepers’ wished. His eyes changed focus then, coming to glare at the dull reflection in the glass. The faded lines of his hands stroking your back, his intense expression, all stared right back at him, as if in challenge.

And something inside him snapped.

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

Upon the day of the wedding, after a week of flurried throngs of people and preparations being made, just after the clock chimes sang for seven o’clock, a single member of staff sped through the long corridors to the palacekeep at the very end. Minutes later, he marched with her in tow through to the King’s bedroom, where they found the monarch working at his desk, a bright grin upon his face.

At exactly 7:08, as the sun beamed down upon the kingdom of Silarrean—nestled between the rises of two valleys, neighbour to the realm of Lontaiko— the King fainted.

When the shadows of the sundials met the halfway mark for that same hour, those same persons that dotted the palace halls like bees within a hive, made up the crowds of search parties pushed to scour every inch of the city at the castle’s feet.

Within days, the Silarrean Prince San, who the Chair had announced to all the people was destined to marry the delightful youngest daughter of the Lontaikan royal family, was officially declared missing. The wedding was called off, though the King ordered no cease in the search.

It would prove null, however. The young prince was long gone.

Not that San knew of any of what was occurring back in the place where he had once lived. He could imagine it happening though, the images in his mind that hazy vivid that always accompanied him when he let his mind wander upon things he’d never known.

Leaning out to stare into the distance across the ocean waves, the boat proved to have a balcony of its own. This time though he was on the other side of it, and the correct one too: the one that actually involved living how he wished. He ran his fingers across the crown between his hands, the edges of silver carved into entwined laurels still sharp, and he knew he couldn’t wait for them to become rounded with age. He found he kept returning to the centrepiece, with its intricate feathers tinged with blue and the cracked azure gemstone in its centre. The split was shaped like a lightning bolt, and it brought a smile to his face, thinking of just how much of an impact he made upon the world around him. It symbolised how he would never return, and that they could neither replace him. He had taken very little with him, but the crown was his birthright, and so he would take it with him, but also leave its life behind.

Stood by the helm, you watched over him carefully. You would have joined him, but someone needed to steer. The small boat was only a relic, you’d been surprised that it even moved at all. The adrenaline, that had left your heart in your mouth when the rudimentary engine had coughed and spluttered on the night of your grand plan, had long since died down. It remained on the edge of your conscience, ready to cascade through your veins when you needed it. And you were well aware that on the route you were taking through life you were definitely going to need it. Until then though, you relished in the salt of the sea and the calm waters that the rising summer brought for you.

It didn’t matter after all, what would come. You’d find a way, as you were together, and you were both free.

~~~

an: i feel like this would work better as a longer piece, where the process of the week is followed, with more depth of lore and stuff but ill be honest with you, it took a lot of effort for me to write this in the first place. not because the idea wasnt my thing (far from it—this stuff is my shit) but because my creativity just doesnt like cooperating sometimes. maybe one day.

also what do you think of my new paragraph break thing? i think its cute. much easier to implement than the photo ones for sure.

all names of places are fictional

Masterlist

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thesugarace · 4 years

Text

Alright

I finished HLITF season 1 for Kaga and I SWEAR TO ALL 12 ZODIAC GODS

VOLTAGE. PEAKED!!!! AT KAGA’S SEQUEL

THIS STORY IS AN ABSOLUTE

(Early warning: minor/major spoilers and a lot of rants/fangirling/thirst etc etc all bec I just absolutely love this story and I feel the need to share this love with everyone. Also, I keep seeing everyone hating on MC in this but I actually really liked her here and so I MUST defend her)

Okay

First of all look. loOK. LOOK AT THESE CGS!!!!

CAN YOU BELIEVE WE GET A HOT AND SEXY KAGA CG, A LITERALLY STEAMY ROMANTIC CG AND A BOMB AF STORY ALL FOR $3 EYE-

And oh my huedhaut dont even get me started on the story. It was absolutely on point. It has everything a HLITF story promises to have:

justice in the eyes of our straightlaced MC vs the PSD ✔️

Conflict btwn Kaga and MC precisely because of that ✔️

Our girl pulling a vanishing act bec she refused to compromise her values ✔️

the refusal of each side to back down and their love for each other TEARING THEM APART INSIDE ✔️

OUR GIRL SHOWING OFF HOW INSIGHTFUL SHE REALLY IS AND FINDING A SOLID AF LEAD ✔️

MC’S GROWTH in finding a somewhat compromise between her principles and what is required of her as a PSD detective ✔️

And of course, my absolute favourite: ANGSTY ANGSTY MY-WORLD-IS-ENDING-BECAUSE-MY-MC-IS-IN-DANGER-ANGSTY KAGA ✔️

Okay, I need to address the one thing that everyone just hates about this story en masse and it’s MC. Personally, I dont agree with her about the some parts, especially the interrogation because she did hinder an investigation and in law enforcement that is one big No-No but I do see where she’s coming from, especially with the surveillance thing and the whole copping out and literally running away to the countryside. I saw reviews abt her being completely naive but seriously, put yourself in the position of the one being spied. She’s so against it because to the suspect, what they’re doing could be harmful to him, especially so if he was innocent. I think as a person, she believes in the more publically-accepted justice - the kind of justice that everyone wants but is really very difficult to obtain.

And this is where we get to the beauty of this story. As per their MO, the PSD is ready to do whatever it takes to get the culprit even it means breaking the law. They’re desperate to get the culprit because people are actually getting hurt and the longer this guy gives them the slip, the more people are going to get hurt. Even in MSB, its been established that to the PSD, the end ALWAYS justify the means and they dont give a shit if they look like criminals for it. So this is where the conflict arises between MC and the PSD guys. For the PSD, there’s an opportunity where they might get the culprit but its illegal and for MC, what the PSD wants to do is too risky for something only based on suspicion; she wants to stay on the legal path but she has no lead whatsoever and time is not on either side. People dont seem to realise the weight of MC’s viewpoint and have a tendency to think of ‘officers doing something illegal’ as something as light as jaywalking or smt. No, these institutions have a wide reach and one misstep could bring harmful repercussions onto countless innocent people not to mention the implications of their actions on their integrity as an institution of the law and the integrity of the entire justice system. However, the PSD’s side is a lot more true to reality albeit in more complex situations: their duty beyond all else is to prevent crime and there are times when there really seems to be no way. I’ve been working in law for the past few years and this is a classic dilemma that has been simplified but quite well executed in this context. Justice is not as clear cut as the right way, the right end. The law may simply be black words on white paper but different circumstances dye it with their own colours. This is where MC is lacking. She’s like a freshman at law school - someone who truly believes in the importance of justice but actually has little idea what that actually entails. She is not entirely naive but more in a sense that she’s never been confronted with these kind of complex high-stakes situations (she worked in a police box before this for Ichthys’s sake) and that inexperience disables her from seeing and evaluating the entire situation from the PSD’s pov. For her, its like playing poker for the first time and she’s already betting with the million dollar chips.

The second thing I REALLY must defend her in is the whole quitting from the academy. For the love of Zyglavis, she did NOT run away just because Kaga told her she’s not suited for PSD, it was just the trigger. Lemme put it in a different scenario (btw this scenario is not meant to mirror the situation, its only meant to evoke how MC felt in the story) Imagine you live in a city and you and your significant other are living together. A pandemic has struck your city but everyone refuses to wear a mask and the government is even encouraging people not to wear a mask. You know that wearing a mask slows down the spread of the virus and you are trying to convince people to wear one but they just ignore you. The number of cases is dropping and people think its because they dont wear masks unlike other cities but you know that people should still wear masks or the numbers might spike. So you try to convince everyone to wear a mask and people start berating you for being so stupid as to believe that masks will slow down the spread of the virus when the numbers are dropping without the city wearing them. You go home and your significant other berates you for forcing other people to wear a mask and says ‘since you wanna wear a mask so badly, get out of my house and move out of town’ That’s what it felt like for MC: the absolute frustration + sadness from the rejection of what she truly believes in by the people she’s surrounded by. Time and time again in the story, she’s confronted with the fact that the justice she believes in is not the justice PSD serves. For someone who is working towards joining the PSD, that has to be killing her inside every time. It just serves as a reminder that she is not suited for PSD nor is she what PSD wants in a detective, something she has been struggling with since MS1 but she perseveres perhaps because of her dream to become a detective or because of her aspirations to someday be Kaga’s equal or at least be someone he considers he can rely on. I really believe it’s the second one, after all, it was his rejection of her that really broke her inside and finally convinced her to quit. That’s why if you buy the ending set, you’ll see in the extra stories that Kaga gets extremely angry AT HIMSELF that MC quit the academy. He knows that our persistent Kappa doesnt give up so easily, not even when he scolded her for ruining his interrogation. Its because all these factors built up and he was the one to push her over her limit. So yes, our girl is not fragile yall. She’s just been through so much and I honestly dont blame her for leaving like one order of R&R for our MC here, she deserves it thanks.

Okay, I need to end this soon cause its starting to get too long but what made me really love her here is the whole LIME thing. That part made love her so much because even when she quit on the academy, there’s still a fire inside her to do what it takes to achieve justice, even if it meant relying on the people she didnt agree with. Even when she was so broken inside believing that she’s not one of them, she’s not needed by them, she’s not worthy of helping them; she just wants to help!

IM SO FREAKING SOFT FOR HER BECAUSE THIS GIRL WHO HAS BEEN THROUGH SO MUCH IS STILL FIGHTING IN HER OWN WAY AND JKASHFHASKJHAKSHKJHGA BRB CRYING

ALSO

THAT BLOODY PHONE CALL OH MY FREAKING SCORPIO THAT PHONE CALL. I died when he told her that quitting is not an excuse to leave his side. THESE TWO EYE-

Okay, you have to read that phone call scene from both sides because then you’ll see how much these two are being stubborn because they still dont accept the other’s pov abt the case but at the same time how much they love and miss each other is gnawing at them inside AND THEYRE STRUGGLING TO HOLD ALL THOSE EMOTIONS BACK WHEN THEY HEAR EACH OTHERS’ VOICES OVER THE PHONE FREAKING KRIOFF TAKE THE WHEEL PLEASE

Anyways, I really enjoyed reading season 1 for Kaga, especially because of his MC - I see her actually growing from the small police box officer to a PSD cadet and the sequel, especially, shows promise in how she’s going to navigate the world of law enforcement and facing difficult choices. Our girl really decided to return to the academy without finding a proper middle ground between her values and what PSD requires of her but she showed determination to work on it so I really hope we get to see more of that in later seasons. Also, WHIPPED Kaga is my fav but soft Kaga is up there as well. MC SAYING HE SOUNDED SAD OVER THE PHONE AND HER TEARING UP I CANT. THESE TWO ARE BAD FOR MY HEART.

Okay, Im not sure what I’ll be reading next. I kinda wanna start on his season 2 but considering how amazing this season is for Kaga, Im really curious abt the other characters so I might start on them before starting any season 2s. Also, idk if I would make these long argumentative-ish essays a thing but just idk why, my brain is really good at spewing essays out when it comes to HLITF and I think its fuelled by the panic from all my unfinished work so yay

Thanks for reading!!!

#rediscovering hlitf #HLITF #Hyogo Kaga #seiji goto #hideki ishigami #ayumu shinonome #shusuke soma #her love in the force #voltage inc.#otome #voltage otome #voltage romance sims #voltage guys

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buckybabybaby · 5 years

Text

Mr Hollywood (Chapter 7)

Summary: Bucky Barnes, an underpaid teaching assistant in a small English village, dreams of a movie career back in his home country of America. He finally gets the break he's always wanted, and if it wasn't for you, his best friend, he wouldn't have been able to take it.

But is that fact enough to save your friendship when it's tested by the pressures of Hollywood?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Reader (Gender Neutral)

Word count: 1246

Chapter summary: A horrible reunion is on the way...

Warnings: Angsty angst :( one swear word

Previous: Chapter 6

Mr Hollywood Masterlist | Main Masterlist

*****

The daffodils have passed their best now, bright bluebells filling their place, providing bursts of colour in the woodlands you pass through as you make your way home from yet another Saturday spent with Sophia. She's kept you so busy over the last few weeks you feel like you've neglected your other friends, and it's no longer a lie when you tell them you're out at the weekend.

It's obvious what she's doing. Dayton must have told her what is, or is not, as the case may be, going on between you and Bucky, and all these meet ups are an attempt to distract you. Sophia claims that with being a fairly new mum with another baby on the way, and working from home, she herself is the one in need of adult company and actually, you're the one doing her a favour by agreeing to lunch dates and afternoon meet ups in the park.

You half believe that's true. When Dayton was sent to a specialist rehabilitation hospital in the UK after his car crash, Sophia followed him without question, and they both agreed to move here permanently once his treatment was complete. That was over four years ago, but you know she still feels isolated sometimes.

Benjamin now knows he's soon to have a younger sibling, and his excited babbling about being a brother is adorable to the point where any issues surrounding his uncle and you are gone from your mind. You can imagine Dayton at his age, running around with his twin brother in that tiny backyard in New York. The image of the two of them together, making the most of their simple upbringing, has always warmed your heart, and you're determined to only remember the happy times now.

*****

One down side of having a much more active social schedule is not being able to fit in your normal activities, and as such your cupboards are bare, so a trip to the local store is in order, just about rushing through the check out before closing.

The bell on the shops front door chimes as you push it open with your hip, not watching where you're going as you struggle to hold the boxes of cereal you couldn't fit in the overflowing carrier bag, only managing to take one step before colliding with another costumer trying to enter. The box of cornflakes is knocked from your grip and hits the ground, joined with the rest of your shopping as you look up and realise who you've just crashed in to.

“Bucky.”

It feels like a lifetime since you last saw him.

All the past months of zero communication and the resulting heartbreak is forgotten as you scan his face, taking in every little detail, so familiar and foreign all at once. Movie stylists work hard to keep their stars appearance the same for the duration of filming to help with consistency, so his hair and tan is pretty much unchanged, but there's a look in his eyes you've not seen before.

Concerned by his frown, you rattle questions off at him, expecting to get a smile in return. “Where have you been hiding? It's so good to see you! What ha-”

Moving towards him, you reach up for a hug, but instead of him accepting your embrace you're pushed away, none too gently. Staggering slightly to keep your balance, you stare at him in shock, words failing you.

Bucky's expression turns cold as he crosses his arms.

“Sometimes Y/N,” He sneers, “People move halfway across the world to get away from other people, and they still can't quite shake them off.”

It sounds like he speaking from a mile away. It takes a few seconds to process what he's said, and then you can do nothing but stand mutely in front of him, your world crashing around your feet. He's not spoken to you like that before, in fact you've never heard his voice so icy in any context, the unfamiliar tone frightening as it's directed at you.

The lack of texts for nearly four months sent a message he didn't have the courtesy to, but despite that, and knowing that he'd been in England and not bothered to call, you still held on to a sliver of hope that, maybe, when you saw him again it would all be explained away as a misunderstanding and you'd go back to normal. Now that's lost to the wind.

Stuttering, you try to fix this mess, “What do-”

He cuts you off. “I've paid back the money you lent. I should be free of you and you're pathetic clingy-ness. So please, for the love of everything, take a fucking hint.”

Not giving you a chance to say any more, he brushes past you, hurrying in the direction of his waiting taxi. Gasping as the tears start to flow, you struggle to breathe through them as you twist to watch him walk away, at a loss of what to do.

It wasn't meant to end like this. You'd already felt like you'd lost him when he initially left last summer, then all over again with Dayton's revelation that he'd purposefully avoided you, and now it seems there's no coming back for the two of you.

The bells sound again as the door is opened behind you. “Oh, Y/N! I didn't expect to see you until Monday- wait, what's wrong?”

Turning around, partially blinded by your tears, you're met with a worried Peggy. Her gaze slips behind you, eyes narrowing when she spots Bucky closing the car door. It doesn't take her long to put it together.

She tuts. “What did he say?”

“He hates me,” You manage to choke out.

“Oh darling, he didn't-”

“He did!”

Your outburst surprises Peggy. In an effort to soothe you she brings you in for a hug, murmuring apologies to you even though she is not at fault. Crying onto the faux fur of her hood, you break.

“I love him.” Burrowing yourself further into her arms, you finally admit the one thing you've been denying for years, too scared of the consequences. It looks like it doesn't matter any more. “I love him, and he hates me.”

That's why it hurts so much, because you miss him more than you've missed anyone in your life, and you can't believe you didn't realise how much he meant to you before.

Peggy makes a soothing noise as she holds you closer. You're glad she's not gloating over you confirming her suspicions at last, and when she quietly suggests you come back with her tonight, you agree, not wanting to be alone right now. Your shopping is left scattered, long forgotten, as she silently leads the way to her house, giving you a moment to yourself to collect your thoughts.

Walking slowly, you catch sight of the security light at the school, shining from the other end of the road. It's the middle of the weekend already, and you quash the rising dread at entering that building that holds so many memories.

The one thing you do know is that you can't let this ruin your job. You've worked too hard to get to where you are to lose it all because of Bucky, so you'll just have to ignore the ghosts and get on with the rest of your life.

After all, it's a new week on Monday, with more lessons to plan and fresh leaves to turn over.

*****

A/n: Sorry Bucky was so awful! I don't like to but for the story it's necessary :( Hopefully it all works out in the end...

Chapter 8

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #buckybabybaby #Mr Hollywood #bucky barnes imagine

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bloodraven55 · 5 years

Text

The Linguistics of Bumbleby III

Alright, we’re on the home stretch, y’all. This is the third and final part and it includes V4-V6 because it didn’t seem worth splitting them into two separate parts. That does mean this one is slightly longer, though, just so you know 😅

PART THE THIRD

Here we have Volumes 4 and 5, a.k.a. the conversations that Blake and Yang have with other people about each other.

One, Blake and Sun's talk in V4C11. This one's fairly simple. Blake says that she loves her team like she never thought she could love anybody, and that she thinks about them every day. Her voice only cracks when she says Yang's name, indicating that though she means all of them Yang is the person she misses the most.

Two, the initial RWY conversation and Yang and Weiss' talk afterwards. Yang claims not to want Blake around, but then admits that she "needed [Blake] there for [her]." This contrast between want and need highlights that although she’s conflicted Yang would still rather Blake were there if she had the choice. Then Weiss explains why she believes Blake left, giving Yang greater perspective on why Blake did what she did. But this is all fairly straightforward, the noteworthy part is...

Three, Sun's "[...] and I can promise Yang would say the same" and Weiss' "[...] and I'm willing to bet Blake feels the same way." More clear parallels; a friend of theirs reminds Blake and Yang that the other person does care about them despite the literal and metaphorical distance between the two of them. Most striking, however, is that there is no precedent for Sun bringing up Yang here. Immediately before he says that he makes the very romantically charged declaration of "I would do it all again if it meant protecting you"... and then instead of following up on it he kills his own romantic moment by referencing Yang. Combined with the fact that he is flagrantly conflating his own (widely accepted to be romantic) feelings for Blake with Yang's feelings for Blake, this scene is meant to tell the viewer that Sun has realised that Yang has those feelings for Blake, and he wants Blake to be aware of Yang's feelings too so that she can fix her relationship with Yang.

The summary of this third part can be mostly boiled down to: Blake and Yang both pine for each other and are angsty about the idea that the other one doesn't return their feelings, and Sun and Weiss become best wingman and wingwoman respectively.

PART THE FOURTH

Okay, we're near the end now, I promise. The last scenes I want to cover are from Volume 6. This section might not go quite as deep with the analysis since a lot of things became much more obvious by this point, but hopefully this part will still be fun with a few interesting observations nonetheless.

One, the conversation on the train in V6C1. Not too much to go over here. Yang is awkward. Blake is awkward. It's a whole mess of awkwardness. But there are two things I would like to briefly touch on.

First, the way Yang says "Blake, you don't have to do that." This line could have been delivered in an angry or bitter tone to show Yang's lingering doubts about Blake rejoining the team, but it isn't. Instead it sounds almost sad, and a little uncomfortable. What the viewer is supposed to take from this line in particular isn't so much that Yang is still mad at Blake for leaving, but that Yang doesn't want Blake bending over backwards and doing things for her to try and make it up to her.

Second, "I'm fine... we're gonna be fine." Yang initially frames her answer only in terms of herself, but then shifts to referring to both her and Blake. It's not just their individual wellbeing she's talking about, it's the state of their relationship. This is an olive branch, if you will, letting Blake know that even if she's hurt she does still want to see if they can fix their bond.

Two, "Good to see you're not rusty." This comment serves two purposes: 1) it shows that Blake and Yang's dynamic hasn't been irrevocably damaged as they're still able to share the playful banter they did before, and 2) it establishes that Yang's still casually flirting a little.

Three, each of them calling out the other's name first in V6C2. In a moment of panic and fear, Blake and Yang are each other's first thought. Take from that what you will, but it emphasises how much they care about each other even after everything that happened during/following the Fall of Beacon. So far all of these moments are telling the audience that there is something to be repaired here; Blake and Yang's connection is presented as weakened, but far from broken.

Four, the barn scene in V6C5. Oh boy, oh boy. First there's Yang answering Blake's "Are you okay?" with "I don't know", which is not at all the same "I'll be fine [...]" she gave Weiss in V5C6 and "I'm totally fine, I'm great" she failed to convince Ruby or Weiss with in V5C8. Even just earlier in V6 when it's in front of the others she tells Blake "[they're] gonna be fine", but when it's just the two of them she admits that none of those answers were true where she didn't with anyone else. Combine that with the fact that Blake starts opening up about what her relationship with Adam was like later in this scene when before she didn't even tell Sun he was more than someone she worked with and only vaguely described what he was like to the rest of the team after Yang's fight with Mercury, and it's pretty obvious that both of them only really feel comfortable discussing their most intimate feelings with each other. Lastly, also compare the sharp "We're fine" Yang gives Blake here to the reassuring "We're gonna be fine" in C1; while this scene demonstrates the strength of Blake and Yang's bond, it is also its lowest point. From here it can either snap completely, or be mended to become stronger than ever, which is what we get starting with...

Five, V6C10 a.k.a. the gayest scene in RWBY so far. This exchange is just as awkward as the one in the first episode, but for somewhat different reasons. It's flirtatious and lovestruck - there isn't really any other way to describe it. Blake is shy and almost bashful; she teases that "stealth isn't exactly [Yang's forté]" then panics and immediately backtracks with "I mean, you're great, and I'll hurry back." It's all totally unnecessary to reach the objective of the conversation (which is just to convey that Blake is going to disable the tower alone) and it can't be reasonably interpreted as anything other than romantic. The most striking part for me, however, is Yang's "Go." It's one tiny word, yet it serves perfectly to make it clear to the audience that by now Yang trusts Blake not to leave again, and not only that but she trusts Blake to leave and then come back. This interaction is needed in order to move their reconciliation forwards so that they are a united front when...

Six, Adam happens. If subtlety was set on fire and thrown out the window never to be seen again before, then now its remains have also been trampled on by a raging bull just for good measure.

Adam is exceedingly open about the fact that he sees Yang as a rival for Blake's love, and hates the fact that Blake has, as he perceives it, chosen Yang over him. He tries to manipulate Yang by arguing that Blake "made a promise to [him] once that she'd always be at [his] side", but when Yang instantly sees through him he resorts to asking Blake if he "just wasn't good enough for [her]" to which she very rightly replies that "it was so much more than that." Adam's jealousy reaches its most undeniable, though, when it culminates in him screaming "What does she even see in you?!" at Yang. It's a phrase that is never used except in the context of romantic interest, and it removes any remaining doubt that this isn't a personal conflict for Adam. It could make sense for him to hate Yang because she's a human, but he never brings that up and instead repeatedly highlights himself that it's her connection with Blake that he despises.

The other part worthy of note here is Blake's "[...] we're protecting each other" speech, which serves as a direct counterpoint to her earlier declaration to Yang of "I'll protect you", and completes their V6 trajectory from the start with Blake's guilt putting them on an uneven footing to this moment in which she recognises that they need to stand as equals instead. (And I'd like to clarify that this issue was never about Blake seeing Yang as weak--heck, her word for her is "strength"--it was about her feeling like she owed Yang something in truth for the loss of her arm to Adam and needing to let go of that unhealthy mindset.)

Seven, the aftermath of the Adam confrontation. It's only a couple of lines of dialogue, but it says an awful lot. The fact that Blake's first instinct is to reassure Yang that she won't leave again or go back on her word when Yang is already holding her demonstrated just how deep Adam's manipulation ran, and Yang's response is equally significant. She could say "It's okay" or "I forgive you", or something else that would validate Blake's guilt in the process of absolving it, but she doesn't. She says "I know you won't", which is infinitely more powerful because it demonstrates that she isn't just offering Blake forgiveness, she's also making it clear that there was nothing to forgive in the first place since Blake's actions were well-meaning and a result of past abuse.

Eight, and last but very very far from least, "we were there for each other." This is the conclusion of this whole arc in Yang and Blake's relationship. This line emphasises that they are closer than ever before, and that they're finally back in a healthy place from which they can move forward.

The summary of this fourth part can mostly be boiled down to: yeah, they’re in love.

Well, there we are, guys. We have reached the end. Sincere congratulations to anyone who stuck around this long, because this got very very long, but I hope it was worth it 😊

#bumbleby #otp: bizzy buzzy friends #raven rambles about random details #lord this whole thing got way longer than i planned #but whoop there it is #the complete linguistic explanation of the gay XD

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smolbeandrabbles · 5 years

Text

Sway Pt. 6 - Danny Rayburn x Reader (Bloodline)

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Here / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 / Part 10

Authors Note: ‘Better At Being Who I Am’ (Jason Aldean) Is angst theme GOALS. Whilst I always look for lyrics to suit the overall chapter theme, I also like looking for quotes. Two from Bloodline in particular hit me hard during season one; so not only is this part based on them… But I will also be using them during the part… It’s a pretty heavy part, I interspersed some lighter moments, because it’s not always all bad… even when things aren’t going great for our boy…

I wanted to note this chapter takes place over a period of years and is kinda like... the “Lowlights” of those years.

Disclaimer: Direct Quotes from Bloodline season 1 episode 6 & 11 used! Vaguely in context…! This is where I change Canon a little. He is no longer in jail when the resturant burns down... Because I had this idea before I found that out and I didn’t want to change it.

“Okay. Try this. I don’t care about you. You don’t mean anything to me. And if I mean something to you… You mean less than nothing to me.” Danny Rayburn, Season 1, Episode 6.

“I don’t hate you! I could never hate you! That’s my Fucking problem!” John Rayburn, Season 1, Episode 11.

Premise: Danny was known to go off the rails, you thought you’d seen it all. Until the day his restaurant burned down…

Word Count: 9492 (oh yeah. The long haul.)

Warnings: This part is pretty angsty. Essentially it details where in your relationship / pre-to-the-series that Danny’s life starts to fall apart. Drinking/Underage Drinking/Drug Mis-use/Swearing/

What doesn't destroy you Leaves you broken instead Got a hole in my soul growing deeper and deeper And I can't take One more moment of this silence The loneliness is haunting me And the weight of the worlds getting harder to hold up

I'm not OK and it's not all right Won't you drag the lake and bring me home again

Who will fix me now? Dive in when I'm down? Save me from myself Don't let me drown Who will make me fight? Drag me out alive? Save me from myself Don't let me drown

'Cause you know that I can't do this on my own…

Danny’s Apartment, Miami - PM

Whilst Danny had told you he’d move in (Although, it had taken him about five minutes to actually talk in complete sentences) he’d always wanted to keep that little bit of just in case independence for himself. He told you this one morning over breakfast like it wasn’t a big deal – he was simply moving from his apartment into a newer one. “Oh really? Need help?” “Well. As you know the majority is in boxes. But I’d appreciate another car… Yeah.” “So where are you moving?” “First floor, one floor. Detached. Lot bigger. I was just thinking for Nolan, y’know… If he ever wants to come and stay… It’s a little better.” “I totally get it. AND I think it’s a great idea.” You understood Danny’s hesitancy of introducing Nolan to the apartment you lived in, judging on Danny’s own initial reactions. “Do you want to see it first?” “Danny…” You sighed, shaking your head “It’s your apartment! You go for it.” “Well, I want to know if I’m making the right choice.” “…What does your heart say?” “My heart…?” He looked at you questioningly but then changed his mind “…Says yes…” “Then your decision is made. I’ll see it, when I help you move in!”

You actually had a hard job of moving his boxes. Because your first night together came flooding back at everything you saw and everything you touched. This would be the final time.

Danny clearly couldn't care less - he was always in between with this place - now where he was couldn’t be clearer to him. But you were slow and careful with everything, and it didn't escape his notice. "What?" he walked past you with another box "I dunno I just... This is the first impression I really got of you..." "Yeah. I'd rather not think on that. It was such a great impression you didn't call me for two days. Heck if you hadn't been persuaded into my restaurant I'd still be waiting...!" "...But I was right." "Owww...!" his voice echoed down the stairs, making you laugh as you followed "Having said that... We really should have had one last night here. For old times sake..." he gave a shrug "just have to christen the new place instead." "Do you ever stop!" "When I think about you?" he paused for effect, to pretend he was doing just that "No." He pushed his fingers to his lips "Not really." You smacked his arm, before walking back upstairs "C'mon baby! With a body like yours!?! How can I not!!! That would be injustice!!" "Danny SHUT UP!!" you knew he'd said it louder just to catch the attention of everyone that might be within earshot. His grin told you that too. He followed you; “It’s literally the second thing we ever did. And it was YOUR idea. I'm the innocent party in this." "You knew what you were doing..." you swung around the door, now the place was almost bare it had more space than Danny had ever made it look like it did. "Yeah, well you're still here... Can you imagine if I didn't! Oh, man..." Even he had to hesitate as he looked at the last box. You watched him as he picked it up carefully, but stood for a good thirty seconds, before turning to you like he wasn't so sure what to do. You sighed;" Alright, give this place the send-off it deserves... Take me dancing." He smiled "in Little Havana?" "That exact dance floor." "I still get to take you back to the new place?" "Depends what the new place is like. Don't it." he remembered you hadn't seen it yet. "You'll like it. I've already started on fixing it up, see!!! Your boyfriend is just THAT considerate!" he gave a wink "Whatever he says..." you threw an arm around him "…I didn't spend nearly enough time here..." "Oh come on. You won't miss it and neither will I..." he puffed his cheeks "... I'll give it this. We started here. I guess I just never would have expected it to work out. Not this well." he tapped the wall "guess I owe it more than I realised!"

His new apartment was much bigger. Ground floor and light, with distinct rooms. You were impressed. Or you WERE impressed until you started staring at his decor. It wasn't even like he was trying to make it unnoticeable. About 2ft square the canvas was the only thing on his living room wall. This was the statement piece. Which, you wouldn't have minded. Were you not staring at yourself.

You weren't looking at the camera, but it was taken on your balcony. A bright summers day, you had a glass in your hand. By the dress you were wearing it had to have been a date... And it was recent telling by the 'D' around your neck. "WHAT THE HELL IS THAT!?!" "That is you..." he was nonchalant You pointed at it "Daniel Rayburn you take it down right now!!!! You are NOT keeping that up!!!" You were turning your usual shade of red. "it's damn huge...!! I don't want it there!!!" He scoffed; "Tough. My apartment and I want you on my wall!" "When the heck did you take it!?" "I take photographs all the time! Did you NEVER realise!?" "NO!!!" you were horrified, but it only made him chuckle. "That's probably good, Candids are the best... You look beautiful up there, what's wrong with you!? You ALWAYS look beautiful I had trouble with choosing just one...!" "Well, now I gotta put you up on my wall." Eye-for-an-eye style. If that was the plan, it didn’t work. Instead you were treated to another cheeky wink. “Well, I was beginning to wonder why I wasn't..."

It’d been a few years since that day. And in those intervening years much had happened... Too much... Some of which you’d rather forget.

Beth’s Apartment, Miami - Late AM

You pulled your car up to Beth’s apartment and rested your head on the steering wheel for a moment. Danny, what the hell did you get yourself into!? What the hell did you get ME into!? Beth was nice and all – she’d called you to help Danny out more than once; which had quickly made you see why Danny didn’t want you at a lot of the parties he attended - but she didn’t particularly sound pleased with you. You knew whatever it was was Danny’s fault and she couldn’t tell you over the phone, but she was certainly angry and nothing would do other than you driving out here to pick him up. You hopped out of your car and ascended to her apartment. You barely got to knock before she wrenched it open – she certainly looked angry. And you, without context weren’t exactly sure how to react; “Hi Be-” “Do you have ANY idea what your JACKASS of a boyfriend has just put me through!?!” Oh dear… “No. What’s he done?” “I just had to BAIL him from JAIL. BAIL HIM. ME!!” You furrowed your eyebrows together “…And I can pay you back…Beth, I’m sorry I don’t know why he wouldn’t…” You fished your phone out of your bag in preparation to transfer her the amount “I DAMN WELL DO!!” She stopped yelling at the expression on your face and took a deep breath, still sounding angry, she put her hands to her head “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be yelling at you… I just…” she folded her arms; “He won’t list you, Ms.Ervin because if it gets back to your family or leaks to the press that the daughter of Jack Ervin is dating the guy that held up a drug store with a gun and then was caught selling and in possession of said drugs, he knows he’ll fuck everything up.” You knew your mouth was hanging open; “He WHAT!?” “That’s what they told me!” “God, Danny!!!” You placed a hand to your forehead “Geez… Beth, I’m sorry… How much do I owe you.” “…It’s not even about the money, Y/N… He better damn well pay you back.” She told you the figure and you shook your head “You didn’t have to do this…” You handed your phone over after typing out an almost eyewatering $8500 “…It’ll transfer instantly.” “I couldn’t just leave him there… He’d get stuck in the system… I mean, even I know he’s been through enough… Then what about you?” “Next time, just call me and I’ll go down.” “Well, we both better hope for his sake there isn’t a next time.” She took the phone from you apologetically as she typed her account in; “He’s still here?” “Yeah. I’m not letting him walk out there alone…” she opened her door, “C’mon.” Danny was sitting with his head between his legs and his hands over his face, Beth kicked his foot. “Time to go, Rayburn! Get out of my house.” He looked up to voice the obvious question, when he spotted you and his face almost went white. He turned to her again; “YOU CALLED HER!?!” “Of COURSE I called her!!” “I told you NOT to call her!!” “Well who else was going to come get you Danny!? Hmm? No way after that you are going home alone.” She pushed his back to get him to stand himself; “Now go home!” She wandered into the back of her apartment “Also! You owe your girlfriend the bail money she just paid me! Do not screw this one up!!!” He was silent as his eyes followed her and then he turned back to you. You weren’t intent on staying very long, standing in the doorway you flicked your head and walked outside. He scrambled to follow you; “Y/N! Y/N! It’s not what you…! God, I’m sorry! I’m so sorry..!” You stopped on the stairs and turned to him, you didn’t feel angry but knew you looked it at the way he stopped. “Danny. I don’t want to hear it. I just want to get you home.”

He slumped into the passenger seat and chewed his lip. You took a deep breath and started the engine. You didn’t like it when Danny got quiet – it meant he was calculating, it meant he was upset or worse... And you knew which one it was. “…Can I light up.” “NO.” “Y/N…” “NO! Danny, when has it ever been OKAY to smoke in my car!” “But I really need to-!” “NO. Don’t push it! Ok?!” He got quiet again and just stared out of the window. Fidgeting the whole way with the pack of cigarettes, he tapped his foot to a beat that wasn’t there... Truth was you weren’t exactly sure what to say to him – what he’d done was serious, and he clearly wasn’t blameless. You just wondered how in the hell he’d gotten himself into it. You wanted answers, but he was hurting, and that hurt you. You rolled the 4 x 4 into your parking spot after what felt like hours but was barely a 30-minute drive. You both sat in silence for a moment… You were staring out of your own window, before you took up the same position against your wheel again. Why? He noticed this and turned to you; “Y/N…” When you didn’t respond he tried again; “I know… I fucked up. Like I seriously fucked up. I get it… And I’m sorry… I’m really sorry… and you have, every, right to be mad at me… And I don’t… Well, I guess the problem is I DID know what I was thinking but I… I wanted to protect you from… This whole… God… I’m such a mess…” He sighed and opened his car door; “…Okay, you know what, you’re right. You don’t want to hear it and you don’t need this. Lemmie just call a cab, and I’ll get back to my apartment-” You moved, grabbing his hand as he was half way out of the vehicle; “You are NOT going anywhere. Danny Rayburn.” You shook your head “Yeah. You probably did fuck up. Considering what Beth told me. But don’t you DARE think about walking out of here.” You took his hand again and held it firmly upon exiting your vehicle. Pulling him through the security door and across the lobby to the lift bank; “If this ever happens again will you PLEASE call me?” “It wasn’t even supposed to go down like this…” The lift pinged and you both entered, as you pressed the button to your floor; “So you weren’t meant to get caught. Danny, that doesn’t make robbing the damn store in the first place alright!!!” “I know, and I’m sorry!” “You don’t have to say sorry to me. I’m not mad at you!!” Well, maybe you were a little “…I’m frustrated. You have Nolan, you have your restaurant, you have me!! You don’t need to do this!” “I told you, that restaurant does not pay all the bills.” He owed people, that’s what he was telling you, without saying it. “Danny, look at my family! LOOK at me!! TRUST me, you do not need to go anywhere else for money.” “NO! I can’t take it from you! Or your family!” “It’d be a loan, it’d be fine!” “NO.” He’d point blank refused to let you help out before, but honestly, if he was going to make money illegally you didn’t know why he was being so stubborn about this. Getting into debt with your parents, or you, would not be the same as falling in with bad people. You opened your apartment door and pointed to the balcony; “Now, you can light up… Just… give me a second…” He watched you go… then crossed your kitchen and living room, sliding open the balcony door – he pulled a cigarette from the pack and flicked the lighter taking a drag. Were you mad at him? You said you weren’t. But you looked mad, or maybe you looked hurt. Or maybe both… He could understand why you would be both. He was nearly two cigarettes down when you joined him outside. You pressed your hands into the metal railing and the wind played with your hair as you stared out towards the ocean. He took another drag of his cigarette before he turned to you… Then he stopped and squinted; “…Oh…Oh…Darlin’…” He closed the few steps between you “…Have you been cryin’?” You didn’t answer, so he reached out and turned your face towards him; “God… I’m so sorry…” Just how many times was he going to say that line? You shook your head, dipping from his line of sight, and pulled him close to you; “Do you have ANY idea what could have happened if it had gone wrong!? Danny… Don’t you EVER do something like this again…” “…I promise…” He whispered it softly, “Baby, I promise…” The last thing Danny Rayburn ever wanted was to make you cry… You squeezed him tighter to you, so you could feel that calm and steady heartbeat of his reverberate through your body, then you let him go, gently. Wiping your eyes, you looked into his. “I love you… Danny. I love you. But sometimes, the people you hang out with… some of the things you do. Baby, you scare me…” You shook your head gently, “Please… Stop…” He pondered your words for a moment, taking another drag from his cigarette, but he knew he wasn’t sure what to say. “I feel like I knew that….” And he was sure he did “…I’m sorry… I’m not thinkin’ and I think you know that… But, I’ma try… for you… and for Nolan. Ok?” You nodded, you knew Danny was better than this. But it was a long hard road for him – you just wanted to see him right on it. “Okay…” You leant up to kiss him, and he accepted by kissing you back. “I love you, too…” This time when he pressed his cigarette to his lips his look was sincere. And you knew he meant it. REALLY meant it.

Danny’s Apartment / Miami Coast Line - Noon/Late

You sung along to your radio all the way to Danny’s apartment. It wasn’t often he insisted staying in his own, he just still wasn’t ready to introduce Nolan to yours yet. It made sense, Nolan was a young impressionable teen… Danny was intent on making the best impression. You were dancing in the front seat, windows down, music blasting – shades on. It was nearly mid-day and the sun was high but the breeze off the water today was cool. You turned into the apartment complex and rolled to a stop. Even with the radio off you were still humming along as you stepped out of the car. And you realised you had until you walked up to Danny’s front door to decide on something for you all to do today… Well. There was always the boat… Maybe not the one you’d taken Danny on though… too many memories completely inappropriate to be reminded of around his teenage son. You shouldered your bag and pushed your shades into your hair. By the time you’d looked up you realised they were both already outside… Geez, give a girl a minute…! You began walking up the path, and opened your mouth to greet Nolan. Then stopped when you realised that he wasn’t smiling as he started down the path towards you; “Hey…You, okay?” He barely stopped “No.” “…Nolan!” “No, you know what it’s fine!” “Where are you--!?” “Anywhere else!” He yelled, taking off down the sidewalk. You looked on after him, for a few seconds before turning to Danny, who was standing in the door arms folded; you pointed behind you – “What…?” “It doesn’t matter.” “Doesn’t!?” You turned back to Nolan, now nearly half way down the street “DANNY! Did you guys have an argument?!” You checked your watch, “You can’t have been back from the restaurant 20 minutes! What happened!” “Y/N – It doesn’t matter.” “Of course it matters!” “Why?” He gave a nonchalant shrug, “He’s made it perfectly clear he doesn’t want to see me.” He closed the door behind him and shuffled down the path to you. You looked to him, “But we were gonna…” “Yeah, well. Not anymore. Just let him go.” “You don’t mean that…” You could see he was trying to keep his face from betraying him “…Danny… you don’t…” You turned back to Nolan, “Oh. Geez…! NOLAN WAIT!!” You ran back down the path; “What the hell are you doing!?” Danny called after you, making you turn back; “I won’t watch your son walk away from you Danny. I can’t…!” For one, you knew it would break your heart. You had to run to catch up with him; “Nolan! Nolan… wait up…” It was almost a surprise that he did in fact stop and turn as you jogged to a stop; “…I don’t need to know what it was about…” You held your hands up “Hell, I know – but equally I know I don’t know…!” Danny could be difficult, and you couldn’t fathom what his relationship with Nolan really was. Danny wanted to pour as much into Nolan as he did keep him at arm’s length. It hurt the teen more than Danny thought it did. “…Look, I wanted this to be a good day for you… So… If you want to do something… We can just… I’d just... Really appreciate it if you didn’t leave.” “…He doesn’t care.” “No, he only acts that way. And it’s a dumb way to act… He’s good at pushing people away when he cares… It’s a constant uphill battle. You shouldn’t have to fight it…” you threw your arms as if to say hell if you could ever understand Danny Rayburn “… The problem is having to accept we do. Look, I got a good plan going… And I’d like you to be part of it. But, only if you want to sweetie.” You really really liked Nolan. You weren’t about to watch Danny waste this. He huffed and folded his arms too, looking away from you and thinking on it for far longer than he had spent making up his mind; a typical teenager. “Does he have to come?” You laughed, “Just push him off the Yacht, you’ll feel better. Honest.” You turned back to unlock your car that Danny was now leaning against, watching you both shyly. “Sorry!? Did you just say Yacht!?” Nolan then jogged to keep up with you “You have a yacht!? Awesome!” And it almost sounded genuine. “Can I leave you two alone for five minutes without you wanting to walk all the way back. Because you will be walking from here…” Your question was more directed at Danny, and you only received a half nod. Neither of them had spoken more than about two words yet. You’d rectify that. You were determined to rectify that. You left the car, hopeful it might give them some time to cool off and apologise for whatever... But fully expecting to see your dad’s assistant greeting you with keys, you were surprised to discover that it was him. “Papa?!” “I’m only working on the waterfront,” He pointed in an unclear direction; “thought I’d come see your boys.” “I left them in the car!” You indicated behind you “but I’ll go get ‘em...” “I’ll meet you down there!” He was already walking down the pier. You shook your head, it was all men... you were pretty sure. ALL of them were like this! You wandered back to your 4x4; it still didn’t look like they were talking... “Okay, out you get. Dad is here. Best behaviour.” Today was obviously going to be like having two kids, rather than your boyfriend and his teenage son.

They walked apart down nearly the entire pier... you wondered if it was more a game of who could hold out the longest without apologising. Honestly! They both instantly changed their attitudes as your dad stepped off the smaller vessel. “Jack!” “Danny! A pleasure as always! Nolan!! Great to see you!” He gave Danny a firm handshake, but went for a full hug with Nolan. When you first told your parents about Nolan you were wondering what they would say. At that point you shouldn’t have been surprised by their surprise reaction. You guessed it might be because they had expected a man of Danny’s age to have been in a serious relationship, or married, before. Certainly the kind of relationship where children was plausible. Of course their first reaction was, how did you feel about that and then, seen as you were totally cool with it (obviously), when they would get to meet him. Since then, your parents had invited Danny and Nolan to dinner on numerous occasions, and included Nolan in any family event. If Danny was family to them, it was only natural that Nolan would be too.

You left them to chat with your dad as you checked the boat was ready to go. Considerably smaller than the yacht it was moored next to, your dad had already seen to nearly all preparations in the time it had taken you to walk here. Your dad turned back to you “Sure you’re okay with how fast this thing goes?!” Oh here we go... if he could get a dig in at the first few times you’d been out, when he was trying to teach you how to drive NO less!!, then he would. You wondered how it had factored into the conversation this time... “I’ll be okay. It’s been a while since...!” “I’m only saying you got a couple of strong men here... one of which can actually drive a boat.” You let out a sigh, and heard both Danny and Nolan laugh. “If I can steer the other one, this’ll be just fine.” “Yeah I’m glad I got her back in one piece.” “Guess you’ll be thanking Danny for that too, huh?” You and your father both folded your arms defiantly “Yeah. He’s a good man. I’m only worried about the speed.” “I know what I’m doing.” “My red tape mark says otherwise.” This was leaving the other two cracking up. “... Oh my god... you are kidding!!!” You turned around to check; sure enough, your father had taped back the little marker he used for the top speed you were allowed to go. Back in your teens. You were sure that was just for Danny and Nolan’s entertainment. “Now you boys take care of her alright, make sure she doesn’t go too fast! And not a shade over that line!” Still chuckling they both boarded; “Don’t worry Mr.Ervin we won’t!” “We’ll have her back with you this evening. Say 9?” “Woah. Danny... 8:30, don’t go getting ahead of yourself.” Finally you could laugh at someone else. “Estrellita, no staying at the houses of other men tonight!!” He winked “... You’re lucky I trust you with this one!” “I’m in good hands dad don’t worry!” “Oh I know! I wouldn’t trust just anyone with you!” He had a sincerity that you could tell hit both Danny AND Nolan hard. Your dad held out the keys, “So? Who is getting these.” You pointed to Danny “As you’re so confident in the Rayburn’s.” Danny opened his mouth to protest but missed his chance as Jack chucked him the keys. “Be careful with her!” “I’ll get it back in one piece, Sir...” Your father chuckled, unmooring the boat “Not what I meant...!”

Danny made sure the boat ran smoothly as he headed out across the stretch of water; “You just wanna head out anywhere...” He was clearly addressing you, as you watched the Miami skyline unfurl in front of you. Nolan was at the other end of the vessel running his hands through the sea. You stood and crossed to Danny “Uh... I didn’t have a place in mind... I wasn’t going to take him where we were last time, if that’s what you mean...” “Okay...” he checked the gauges; “I’ll take her a few more miles...” you were still looking to Nolan “I’ll do it.” “What?” He turned his attention to you “Why?” You nodded back towards his son; “I don’t care what happened, but one of you needs to be the bigger man.” “Me?!” “You’re his father, Danny, yes you!” He sighed and gave you something close to a pout; “So you think this is my fault?!” “NO! I didn’t say that. I’m trying to fix it. Go... Go on…” you pushed him gently “I got this. Just... talk to him!!”

You took the boat another few miles out and let her coast perpendicular to South Beach. When you turned back they were at least talking. Both of them hunched over the side and mumbling, looking back towards the city. You left them for a little while, going through what exactly your dad had decided to ‘get ready’... The cooler was a good indication of what he thought the day would entail. You opened it; breathing a sigh of relief when you realise that he remembered Nolan was underage. You guessed as it would just be an afternoon trip you didn’t need anything more than a few good drinks. You pulled one out and popped the top. The sound made both of them turn towards you. “Oh. I notice you heard that!” Danny pointed at you, “That better be alcohol!!” “NO! It’s soda! I don’t want to be the bad influence on this one!” You took a sip, indicating to Nolan; “Aw c’mon Y/N - you really think YOU’RE the bad influence here?!” Nolan looked between you and Danny a few times before Danny realised what he was doing; “Hey-!” You both laughed at that. “But there is alcohol in there, right?!” “Looks like...” “Excellente!” Danny stood and opened the cooler up; before you realised what was going on, he had handed Nolan a bottle. Nolan thanked his father, but you weren’t so keen “Uh! That better be Non-Alcoholic young man!” He hesitated, making Danny laugh; “Aw, C’mon! Like you didn’t do a little underage drinking!” “Yeah – My parents didn’t condone it!” “His mom’s not here!” Nolan took a sip with a laugh, making you cover your eyes “Oh God! I’m not seeing this!!” “Go into international waters! You’ll be fine!” “NO! That might get me in even MORE trouble!”

“Nolan you know how to drive one of these right?!” “What?!” He looked to you, “He doesn’t. But no time like the present.” Danny took a gulp of beer. “I was gonna say, my dad put that marker on as a joke but it’s a good little marker for beginners...” “Are you serious?!?” Nolan jumped out of his seat; “You got a good teacher. I’m not too bad either.” You laughed, realising Danny was referencing you. “Oh. No. Rayburn, he’s your son!!” “Yeah alright, Ervin. Then we’ll do this together...!” “He doesn’t need my bad habits!” “At least you admit you have them!” Danny beckoned Nolan over; “C’mon. I’m sure she’ll help get the basics down...!”

You observed the hysterical exchanges going on between Nolan and Danny the whole way back to port. Glad that now they were at least laughing in each other’s company. As you watched them, framed by the boat, the water, the Miami skyline, you knew perfectly well you could stay here forever. It might not have been that kind of family… But you were a family none the less… You loved them both. Truly, you knew what you already knew. This would be long haul. Ride or die. All or nothing.

Viva Caputa, Miami - PM

You wanted to be in that restaurant. When Danny told you he was doing this you wanted nothing more than to be there. He forbid it. You absolutely were NOT setting foot in that restaurant today under any circumstances. And you continued this back-and-forth until he pulled up outside; “You should let me.” “No. Absolutely not.” “Why?! Are you scared of what I’m going to say to him?!” “I kinda am. Yeah.” You folds your arms to prove your point “You don’t think I’m scared of what he’s gonna say to you?!” No dice though. So in the car you stayed.

This was the most nerve wreaking hour of your life. Part of you thought about defying Danny and just heading into the restaurant anyway... or sneaking in to listen to the conversation. But you knew you would be betraying Danny’s trust, and you knew Robert. If he said anything, no matter how small or veiled, you wouldn’t be able to contain yourself and then there would be problems.

Eventually, Nolan wandered out of the restaurant and to the car. You raised an eyebrow; “What’s going on?” Nolan shrugged; “He told me to wait in the car...” You tapped your fingernails on the dashboard “...Robert has NO idea I’m here does he.” “Nope.” You shook your head, staring back at the door from the window... “What did you think?” “Of Robert...? He’s uh... okay, I guess. I mean, I thanked him... He doesn’t need to send money every month.” You opened your mouth and then decided to hold your tongue. Nolan was right, you guessed, but he was also their Grandson... and if they knew about him they should have been doing a lot damn more than sending money each month. It was another while later that Danny and Robert exited the restaurant. They said goodbye like strangers, and went separate ways... you figured this couldn’t be good. Danny took a deep breath before he opened the car door; “Alright. Let’s go.” “Did it go okay?” “It went Ok.” But he didn’t look at you, and his voice was level. Something was clearly off, because of Danny had got what he wanted he’d be running his mouth. You let it go, if only for Nolan’s sake. Danny started the engine and turned back to Nolan “Thank you for doing this...” “No problem dad! It was kinda good to meet him.” You watched Danny carefully, but he was being just as careful not to show anything on his face... “Yeah... you’re right...” The drive back to Nolan and Eve’s was quiet. Each of you preoccupied with your own thoughts. You clearly desperate to say something and Danny swearing you to silence with his body language alone. Nolan hopefully none the wiser... but he was a smart kid, so he probably figured something was going on.

You only opened your mouth once Danny pulled away from the curb; “Tell me what happened.” He released the breath he’d been holding waiting for you to say it; “With Nolan he was actually quite amicable. Which I’m glad of... because the last thing I want is him to cause my kid any problems... with me? Well... You know my dad.” “Danny...” you shook your head “...So he said no?” “Not exactly.” “Baby it’s clear he didn’t say yes...” Danny shook his head “No. He made me chose.” “What?!” “Money for the restaurant. Or the money he provides for Nolan.” You were almost speechless. That money was hush money for a start, and seen as Danny had already confessed to you his parents tried to stop Nolan from ever happening, it made you even more angry. Robert was making Danny choose between arguably his greatest achievement and his dream. You weren’t having it. “And?” He gave a half laugh “I chose Nolan. No question.” You were grateful. But it was also clear Danny had no other choice. That didn’t stop you from being pissed that after all Danny’s hard work and what he had to show for it his family still treated him SO badly. It was horrific for you to think that after everything Danny still literally couldn’t do anything right in the eyes of his own family. And you damned every single one of them.

“Danny... that’s just... absolutely... your family, your parents, are just despicable...” He knew there was more to your statement than just this single event. Suddenly you realised this has nothing to do with Sarah, Sarah was an excuse. Sarah was long in the past… Danny had made mistakes (with no wonder WHY!!) and you’d seen them. But to tear him down when he’d done all this ALONE was the most heart-breaking thing. It was sick and to your horror you knew it’s never going to stop. It should have ended on his accomplishment with the restaurant alone. Danny had bet on himself and STILL... it was obvious to you now if it wasn’t clear before; HE was too good for them. He just gave a helpless shrug “What can I do about it?” He laughed “He actually asked me to go to my siblings! Can you believe that?! Meg and Kevin - I don’t think so... and John? He’s given me enough... he’s a better big brother than I am...” You folded your arms; “Screw it. Danny you don’t need them...” shaking your head you looked out the window again “You know I’m so angry that I don’t even know what to say but I just can’t shut up!!” He laughed; “Exactly why you being there would not have been a good idea...” “How are my parents friends with yours?!” “Oh yeah cuz this is the exterior my dad gives off...” he waved his hand “... what do your parents know.” “What I know is that my parents are better parents to you than your own.” He tipped his head “That’s not untrue... they certainly treat Nolan like family.” “Well then.” You ran your hands through you hair and breathed out “Danny I’m sorry.” “You keep sayin’ that... but you can’t change them. Or the past.” “If they continue to use what happened as an excuse... then I think it’s them that needs to change.” You placed your hand over his on the wheel “You’ve done enough. And you have so much more to show for it than them. And More importantly Danny. You’re a better person, and they can’t ever take that from you.” He lifted your hand to his lips and kissed your knuckles, mumbling against your skin “…That’s why I have you…”

Viva Caputa, Miami - AM Your phone rang in the middle of an important work meeting. Buzzing loudly against the table you picked it up so not to disturb your colleagues train of thought. Catching a glimpse of the caller, however, made you stop in your tracks. He barely ever called you when you were working. And never on your work phone. “Sorry. I have to take this!” Your boss waved you out, understanding, and you picked up on the final ring which clearly didn't help whatever the situation was; “Dan-” you barely got his name out, “Y/N..! Oh T-thank God-I- I...” He sounded panicked and he was most certainly in tears. “My God... Danny what's wrong??” “Just... G-Get down here. Please.” “To the restaurant? Danny are you okay?” “No... Just... Please hurry.” With that he hung up, and his panic transferred to you. But now was not a time to panic. You tapped on the door to beckon Rich over, “Is everything okay?” “No. Danny doesn't call at work and not on this number ever. Somethings going on... I need to go...” He smiled “Take all the time you need, take the rest of the day at home. We'll be fine.' “You sure?” “You know this back to front. Go...! If he needs you, go!”

You drove as fast as the limit and traffic conditions let you, but a few blocks out you could see the smoke rising. No, please God no... As you got even closer water was running all over the street from the fire trucks present. And you couldn't park up fast enough. When you found him he was sitting in the middle of the parking lot, his legs crossed. Staring at the restaurant but not seeing it. He had a pack of cigarettes and his lighter in front of him, but it was like he couldn't even bring himself to calm down yet. You ran across the lot then slowed as you reached him, without hesitation you crouched to his level and threw your arms around him. “I'm sorry... I'm so, so, so sorry” You were crying too now. This was Danny's life. And it'd just gone up in flames like everything else. Eventually he responded, winding his arms tightly around you as you both sat crying in the parking lot. He was broken enough, he didn't need this, and he certainly didn't need to say anything.

It was early, and there was no-one here yet. But as people turned up for their shifts you decided to start directing them back home. Only Javier and Jason stayed. They were clearly concerned for their friend, but you kept them down the other end of the lot; “Is he gonna be OK?” Jason peered around you. Danny was still sitting in the same position you'd left him in. “I don't think it's even registered yet...” You shook your head “he's in shock. God knows what I tell Nolan...” Javier frowned “Wasn’t this Danny's life? Geez after the remodel we just went through... I feel terrible.” He was right. And Danny still owed a lot of money for that loan. You turned to them both; “You better get off home… I got him… Thank you… For staying.” “If you need anything…” Jason put his hand on your shoulder, sincere “ANYTHING. Help with Danny or… CALL me. CALL us.” You nodded, grateful and thinking you might need it before the week was out. “Thank you. Both of you…”

“Danny...” You sank back down to the floor “Danny, sweetheart we need to go... we need to let them finish up here... Baby, there’s nothing we can do...” “Y/N! N-No-! Just-! Please!” You picked him up off the floor, and he was only a little reluctant to let you tug his arm around your shoulders. You gathered the cigarettes he still hadn’t touched; “Baby, please... let me take you home...” You almost had to drag him back to the car and help him into the front seat. He still wasn’t entirely in the moment and aware of the situation... You’d done all you could here and you couldn’t watch him sit there and suffer anymore. You placed his things in his lap and wandered back around to your side. Without daring to look back at the restaurant once, you started the engine and pulled away.

So as to keep Danny moving, you took the long scenic route back to your apartment. You wanted to keep him lucid, but knew half of what you were talking was nonsense. You were talking at him and not to him... He kept flicking his lighter, back and forth, staring hard at your dashboard... You guessed it was a blessing that he hadn’t told you to shut up yet, because you needed to talk... Eventually, you ran out of things to say but you were still driving. He was still playing with his Lighter... You sighed and slowed your car down... Leaning across him you wound down his window. Danny only moved to steady the wheel for you, you sat up, looking across to him. “If you’re gonna do it... Danny...” you nodded to the window, “Please do...” He looked back to you. Danny smoked sometimes to relieve tension. You’d seen him do it to stop himself arguing, as much as he did when he had finished an argument. Of course, he smoked a lot anyway but this was another one of his ticks... He pulled one out of the pack and held it delicately between his lips. Looking across to you again, his eyes gave his question for him. Signalling you could back out. You wouldn’t. This once, you wouldn’t. When you didn’t respond he flicked his lighter and lit up. It was a long drag, and the sigh he made when he breathed out was the unhappiest you’d heard Danny in a while. **

Your Apartment, Uptown Miami - AM

About a week past where nothing really happened. Danny became quiet, withdrawn and didn’t have much of an appetite to do anything. You guessed that was better than him going and getting himself thrown in jail again. Still, that didn’t stop you from worrying all day when you departed in the morning only to come back to find him in exactly the same place you’d left him – wondering if he’d moved at all during the day. Every time you tried to broach the subject of fronting any money for him to rebuild he wasn’t having it. And you stopped trying when he seemed to only get angry about it, rather than politely saying no.

This weekend was another when you would be seeing Nolan, though. And you thought it might cheer him up. Apparently no such luck, at least not this morning. You wrapped your arms around him and kissed his shoulder; “We’re meant to pick Nolan up… you know?” “…Hmm…” That was close enough to acknowledgement “…So…Are you coming?” “…No…” You guessed it was an actual word “Baby, why not?” “…NO…” You sighed; “Well, you’re gonna be alright when he gets here, right…?” You propped yourself up on your elbow to look at him properly, he just continued staring at the wall. And for once you’d give anything to know what was going on behind those eyes. “…Yeah…Go get him.” It didn’t sound at all convincing, but you knew it would be on Danny if no one turned up for his kid. Eve was pretty much always on the edge of ‘just had it’ with Danny as it was. Better not to make her that way with you too. You dressed and got ready quickly, turning as you went to shut the bedroom door behind you; “I’ll be back within the hour, okay?” “Ok…” “Danny…” “Yes?” “I love you.” “Hm.” You shook your head. If he wasn’t going to play ball you’d just have to do something with Nolan yourself. You closed the door behind you and ran to catch the lift down to the parking lot.

“Hey!” “…Where’s dad?” “Let’s not even go there…” You waved to Eve from your driver’s seat, she smiled and waved enthusiastically back. “…We will have to see when we get back to mine.” “Oh. Well. Shit.” Nolan opened the car door, and also waving to his mom, belting himself in as you pulled away from the curb. “That sums it up yeah…” “He’s really that bad!?” “…I dunno… He’s not really… Talking. That worries me only because he talks about everything…” “I can’t imagine that.” “Yeah…” You agreed with a laugh, “You’d think it’d be okay. It is, for the first hour.” You sighed “Anyway, plans for today?” “Won’t it depend on him?” “No! If he’s not gonna come out I’m determined to take you out somewhere…” “Surprise me.” “…Fine! How’d you feel about ice-cream?” “What?” He had an edge to his voice that let you know he thought you were treating him like 6 of his 16 years. “…That’s a clear No.” “I didn’t say that!” “There’s a great little homemade ice-cream bar I know down by South Beach… Puerto Rican… You can practice your Spanish on someone who isn’t me. I haven’t even taken Danny yet so…” “Yeah… sure…” You liked that he sounded at least curious. If Nolan was to give anyone any of his teenage attitude he never gave it to you. You unlocked the door to your apartment and stepped in. Within 5 seconds, and horrified, you attempted to usher Nolan out and close the door on him before he could walk in. In vain; the kid was strong. “…Is that…?” He didn’t dare voice it either. “Shit! Danny!!” Your alcohol cupboard was also open. A half-finished bottle of vodka stood on the counter. The bottle next to it, you couldn’t read the label of, was tipped on its side and clearly finished. Across your kitchen counter, however, was a line of white powder that you weren’t stupid enough to think was sugar. Drinking was one thing, illegal substances in your apartment was quite another. What do you even do about that!?! You placed your hands against your head trying to think quickly, until there was a crash from your bedroom. At least he hadn’t left. Nolan took a step forward but you pushed him back; “NO. No, no. I got this.” “Y/N..! Do you think that’s a good idea!?” He indicated to the counter. “…If he’s high and drinking then yeah, it is. Wait here.” You crept up the corridor, knocking gently on your bedroom door - your heart was racing. When you didn’t receive a response you opened it carefully. Danny was sitting on the end of your bed, head in his hands. Amazingly the room didn’t look out of place, until you glanced to the wall, whatever liquid was in the glass was now running down it, the remains of the tumbler was shattered and covered the floor. You kicked the door to with the back of your heel; “…Danny?” Dammit, you couldn’t have hated yourself more for the timid nature of your voice. He didn’t look up “…Danny.” You tried again, a little more confident “…Baby… What…?” He groaned “Just. Leave.” “What!?” This was your apartment. And you weren’t about to leave him alone with drink AND drugs “No- What?! I’m not just gonna leave!” He made a sound like he was angry and looked at you; “GO! GET OUT!” You weren’t sure you liked his tone of voice either. “I am NOT leaving you! Don’t you dare ask me to!” He stood and you backed yourself against the door “I am NOT ASKING.” Despite this you still tried; “Danny. You are high and god knows how much you’ve drunk. You need help. RIGHT now. And I can’t leave!” He took a step forward “WHY?! WHY THE HELL DO YOU EVEN CARE Y/N!? Look at me!” You were, and you didn’t like what you were seeing “I’m a fucking MESS!” “I care because I LOVE you.” Why was he being like this!? Well, you knew WHY… But that didn’t mean you understood. He shook his head and advanced on you, and it pained you that you could feel yourself shaking; “Okay. Try this. I don’t care about you. You don’t mean anything to me. And if I mean something to you… You mean less than nothing to me.” Owch. It was like being stabbed through the heart, and you hated even more that your vision blurred and tears started running. He laughed at that, hollow. Not the man you knew. “SEE!! SEE! This is so fucking perfect! THIS!! THIS IS ME!” You couldn’t believe that for a second. You wouldn’t and you knew you were right. But you couldn’t stop how much what he had just said was hurting you, he kept yelling, but you weren’t even registering what he was saying. Only he was getting closer and you didn’t like it. He was trying to push you away, you weren’t having that. “STOP IT!” You were loud enough to stop his tirade. You shook your head, tears still running, your voice trembled, but you would not raise it; not to Danny. Not now. That’s exactly what he wanted, he wanted you to scream at him, he wanted you to tell him to leave and slam that door behind you and never see him again. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of being right “…I don’t know who the hell you think you are Danny Rayburn. But don’t you EVER tell me I mean nothing to you. I don’t know what is wrong with you. But I know you’re high, and you’re drunk and you are going to regret EVERYTHING you just said to me.” You pulled your bedroom door open and slammed it behind you. You weren’t sure if you could stop Danny from leaving, but you could take every set of keys that was here to try. You walked back through into the kitchen trying to dry your eyes before you got back to Nolan. But he was standing there in shock. And you realised he’d heard everything. “He can’t talk to you like that…” You took a breath; “Nolan. Don’t.” “HE CAN’T!” It took everything you had to push him back “Leave it!! Nolan! Please! I beg you just leave it!” “You’re crying! How can you say that…!!” “Nolan… Please… For me. Don’t go in there…” “…Why?” “He is not himself…” “No shit! He’s drinking and has God knows how much cocaine in him!” “Please..! Can we just… go…” Nolan sighed, because you clearly weren’t giving this one up. “Okay…” He headed towards the front door and that’s when you noticed your kitchen counter was spotless, the cupboard was closed and the empty bottle was sat for recycling. “…Did you just do this…?” “Yeah.” “What did you do with the…?” “It doesn’t matter.” “Nolan!” “It’s not here anymore. That’s all that matters.” “Does he have anymore…” Nolan blatantly lied; “I’d say not. I think he did enough to finish it.” You didn’t question that Nolan had likely found the rest somewhere and had disposed of it, but if he wanted to keep that to himself you didn’t blame him.

***

You still weren’t sure what you were going to find when you opened the door. Inserting the key you leant your head against it. “Do you want me to go in first?” You took a deep breath “Nope…” If things were better, you needed to talk to his father first. If not you weren’t about to let Danny say something stupid. The lock clicked open to the apartment looking exactly how you had left it. “Danny?” You were still met with silence. “Could he have left?” “He wouldn’t get far. I’ve got all the keys…” You walked on through, there were no signs of him, and your bedroom door was still closed; “Just let me check…” “If he starts yelling again you can’t stop me!” You turned back to Nolan; “Yeah okay… Get settled!” You opened your bedroom door. No? He wasn’t clearly in your bedroom, you glanced to the wall. The glass had disappeared from the floor, and the bed looked half made. Surely he hadn’t actually walked out of your front door? You said you weren’t leaving so he did? Well, at least he could only go back to his apartment. Then you heard it, faint with the door closed your onsuite fan hummed almost inconspicuously. You placed your bag down on the bed, also noticing his mobile was still on the bedside table. You placed your hand on the cool metal handle but it took you a good minute to open it. He was sitting with his knees up, head back against the cool tiles of your shower cubicle. His eyes were closed and he had one hand against his forehead and one over his knees. The rise and fall of his chest let you know he was at least alive. “…Danny…?” “Ugh…” He laughed, again un-genuine, “…What are you doing back…? Can’t you go hate me somewhere else…?” You shook your head. His voice was dry and it cracked in places. He coughed and took a sip from the glass of what you hoped was water next to him. “It at least sounds like you might be sober?” “Maybe…” He breathed it “Everything hurts and I’ve more than paid for it…” That left you to guess he was in here because his stomach was now empty. “…I’m such an fucking jackass…” You stepped over to the wall opposite him. “This might be the one time I don’t disagree with you.” “…I can’t believe I…” He sighed “Go on… Just… tell me you’re done. Kick me out… I get it.” “...Look at me.” He didn’t. He dipped his head before he opened his eyes. “Danny. LOOK at me.” “So I can see how disappointed you are? Or how angry or… how…” he shook his head “Scared? I can’t get that LOOK out of my head.” “Look at me.” You repeated it again, and slowly he raised his eyes to meet yours, he looked incredibly guilty. You took a deep breath; “I’m not kicking you out. OR leaving you.” “Why?! I would! After saying that!? Even in my state that was TOO far!” “Yeah, I know what you said. I know what you wanted. Because it’s easier for you, isn’t it? To deal with something by not having to deal with anyone else. But you’re stuck with me. As for Nolan…” “SHIT!” “Yeah well, he heard everything, so I’d apologise to him first.” “I haven’t even got sorry out yet. I didn’t even… SEE! This is why you should just…” He stopped for a minute and you thought he might be sick. “You okay?” “Yeah… Yeah… I…” He placed his hands on his stomach “Oh… God…” “How much did you take?” “…I did three lines… and drank something like a bottle and a half…” “THREE lines!?” “I know I know… I shouldn’t even have it.” “NO. There’s that…” He placed his arms across his knees again and rested his head against them; “Y/N... I just lost... everything... there’s nothing left... except...” he waved in the general direction of the kitchen... you shook your head.

“Daniel Rayburn you’ve never been more wrong of anything in your entire life.” He lifted his eyes to look at you, you’d called him Daniel so, this was serious “I know... The restaurant is your life. A symbol of everything you built and everything you achieved... But it is material... Baby... You have me. More importantly than that you have Nolan... And that boy... He’s going to be a great man...” “In spite of me, not because of it.” “... You’re wrong. He is going to be a great man LIKE his father is. Self-made. Resourceful. Smart.” You couldn’t keep from laughing to yourself “One hell of a looker...” You leant on your hand for a second “That’s what I love about you Danny. Not your name, who you are. Not what you came from, what you have DONE. You don’t think I would want to stick around? You’re at a low point and I know it... And you know it... But, baby, I can’t wait to be around to see the bounce back...” He sighed and looked back to you, “…Please… I’m begging you to stop looking at me like that.” “Like what?” You weren’t aware that you were looking at him like anything “Like you love me.” “Well that’s unfortunate…” You slid down the wall to his level. “I DO love you.” “After what I just said…?” “You weren’t you. Half YOUR problem is you want to push people away… I understand why. But I don’t think you understand that not everyone wants to be pushed away…” “Don’t you hate me…? You must hate me a little…?” You smiled, shaking your head with a little laugh; “I don’t hate you… I could never hate you. That’s my Fucking problem...”

@stcphstrange - We made it!! All the way here! 4 to go! ❤

#danny rayburn x reader #Danny Rayburn #Ben Mendelsohn #Bloodline #Sway #Linzi Queues Things #Linzi Writes #danny rayburn x you #Better At Being Who I Am makes me cry every time I listen to it.#Liliana #Holy shit I lost the number somewhere-!#S C R E A M I N G

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